#living on that boat is struggle sometimes

[itbemydrawlings]

Have some side eye Nami, cause she deserves it

[ashterblaster]

My life would be so much easier if I was just a constant yes-man who didn't question anything.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ lakeside kisses ] l. hughes

paring : Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary : Luke finds his best friend out on the dock one night while Jack, Quinn, and all their friends are partying inside the lake house because she didn’t want to keep watching the guy she loves flirt and dance with other girls at the last party before the season begins

warning(s) : jealousy, mentions of alcohol, some use of alcohol, a heavy makeout (and a few lil ones but nothing too bad)

author’s note : friends to lovers w some jealousy ? i’m a suckerrr for combining the two

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One of the things she promised herself years ago was that she would never get jealous. Luke has had his fair share of girlfriends and casual flings over the last few years, and none of them made her as jealous as she is right now.

She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s had a handful of drinks or what but her entire body is shaking with jealousy.

Luke is in the living room with a red solo cup containing some kind of alcoholic drink. He has some rhythm as he dances to the music blaring from every corner of the house.

The thing is though — he’s dancing with some blonde girl that was invited. She stands in the doorway watching as Luke grinds his hips against the girl that was invited by one of the Michigan boys. She knows all of Luke’s friends, but this girl is nameless. She doesn’t recognize her.

She sips from her own red solo cup and feels her blood get hot when the girl says something to him and gives her a smile. The smile on Luke’s face is one she’s seen him give when he’s into a girl. He’s been giving it to girls since he was in high school.

Never to her. She’s the last person he’d ever smile at like that.

The amount of things she would do for Luke to look at her just once like that is endless. She often wishes that she was the girl on the dance floor with him. She wishes she would get that smile.

Luke wouldn’t look at her like that though. They’ve been best friends for years and she’s positive that he’s never even thought of her as more than his friend.

Meanwhile, she found herself falling in love with him the summer before he went off to Michigan. Quinn tried to help her out that summer but she let Luke go without telling him how she felt.

Two more summers have passed and here she is. Jealous of yet another girl that will have his attention for the rest of the night. Smiling at her with plans of spending the rest of the night with her.

Her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach at the thought of Luke abandoning her for another random girl from Michigan. It wouldn't be the first time and it appears as if it won't be the last either.

She downs the rest of her drink and leaves her spot. The room is getting too hot and stuffy while her head gets too full. She needs to cool off and clear her mind so she dodges everyone and ignores the looks she gets until she gets outside.

There are people crowding the deck so she heads down to the dock on the lake where the Hughes' boat floats so she can be completely alone. She pulls off her sandals and sits on the edge of the dock. Her feet up to her ankles are consumed by the water, but it helps her cool down a bit faster. She stares up at the moon and the stars that surround it and gets lost in her thoughts.

There is one thing she loves more than anything, and that's coming to Michigan every summer and spending the hot months with Luke, Jack, and Quinn. She's starting to think that next year, she'll stay in New Jersey because she isn't sure how much longer she can keep breaking her own heart by seeing Luke bring back girls all summer. She struggles with that enough during the season.

He should be hers every summer with no distractions, but Luke still goes out and finds a girl while he's with his brothers or he invites a previous girl out for a weekend. Sometimes, like tonight, one of his friends from Michigan will bring multiple girls to the house when there is a party.

Needless to say, she's sick of pretending like everything is okay when it's not. Maybe she and Luke aren't as close as they claim to be if he can't even see that.

Her phone buzzes a few times with a few texts about five minutes after she sits on the dock and she checks them to see if any of them are from Luke.

from: huggy bear - 10:38 pm you okay ? saw you walk out a lil bit ago. let me know if you need some company or anything, or if you need someone to vent to

from: lil jizzy - 10:40 pm you good ? or no ?

from: eddy - 10:45 pm are you bein a party pooper ? where did you run of to ? luke is gonna need his cup pong partner in a few mins

Nothing from Luke.

Disappointment floods her veins. She resists every urge to throw her phone into the lake and scream in frustration because why did she have to fall in love with her best friend? There are eight billion people in the world and she fell in love with Luke Hughes.

There's no way that she'll be able to come to Michigan next summer if this is the way she is feeling. She can't do this again. It hurts too much to keep doing this.

Footsteps sound on the dock behind her. They get louder as they approach her. There is movement beside her and looks to her left to see Luke sitting down next to her.

"Why are you down here?" he questions. "You usually love the last party of the summer so why did you leave?"

She sighs and looks out over the moonlit lake in front of her. "It got too warm," she lies. "I needed some air for a few minutes. You can go back. I'll be fine in a little bit."

Luke quiets down, but he doesn't make an attempt to get up. She tries her best not to look next to her at the man she loves.

It breaks her heart that she needs to start backing away from their friendship because of her feelings. She never wanted this to happen. The last thing she ever wanted was to ruin their friendship over her feelings. Another broken promise to herself.

Tears roll down her face and she quickly wipes them away. It's too late though when she does wipe them away because Luke notices.

"Okay, you're not out here because you got too warm," Luke says. "Do you want to tell me why you're really out here? Why are you crying?"

"It's nothing, Luke," she snaps. "Go back to the party. Please. I'm sure your guest is missing your presence." The word 'guest' rolls off her tongue like venom.

He remains quiet for a beat. "Why won't you look at me?" he asks. "Did I do something wrong? It sounds like you're mad at me and I don't know what I did."

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth before she finally turns her head to look at Luke. He's blurry with the tears in her eyes but she can clearly see in his eyes that he's worried that something is wrong.

"I'm angry at myself," she admits. "That's all. It doesn't have anything to do with you. It's literally me, not you."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he questions. "Because you're my best friend and I don't want you to carry this by yourself.

There are those words again. You're my best friend. That's all she will ever be to her.

With a heavy sigh, she looks back over the lake. "I feel like no one ever sees me as more than a friend," she begins to say. "I'm always looked at as a little sister to most of my friends, including most of the people here. No one finds me attractive. No one loves me romantically. Guys always describe me as 'cute', not 'beautiful' or 'sexy'. 'Cute', Luke. Sorry that I needed a second to come to terms with that."

Luke goes silent after that. He doesn't say anything when she's done talking. She presses her lips into a line and closes her eyes so she doesn't lose it.

"You are beautiful," Luke softly tells her. His voice is so soft that she barely hears him say it. Her head snaps in his direction when those words pass his lips. "I mean it. You're beautiful. You're probably the most beautiful woman I know. Your smile, your laugh. You're smarter than me in more ways than one. I don't think there is anything about you that isn't beautiful."

She raises her eyebrows. "You think I'm beautiful?" she questions.

Even in the dark, she can see how red his cheeks get as he nods in response. "Yeah," he sighs. "I can't believe no guys has snatched you up yet and made you his."

Words spill out of her mouth before she has the chance to think about them. "Because every guy I go out with can see that I already have feelings for someone," she admits. "But that guy has never seen me as more than his best friend."

His eyes widen at her confession. Her heart beats loudly in her chest. It's so loud that she thinks that Luke might be able to hear it.

"You should've told me," he eventually tells her. "I could've done this a long time ago."

Before she can ask what he means, Luke leans into her and captures her lips in a soft kiss. It's so gentle that she feels as if he's testing the waters between them. See how she reacts to the initial kiss.

She moves closer to him so her thigh is pressed against his. One of her hands comes down on his knee so she can turn toward him.

Luke pulls back from the closed-mouth kiss. She meets his eyes and asks, "Can you please kiss me like you mean it?"

With the smile she's always wanted to see, Luke brings his both of his hands up to cup her jaw. His fingers quickly find their way to the nape of her neck and he pulls her back in, kissing her deeply. It's a more confident kiss for both of them. There's passion behind his intentions, and she returns those same passions.

His parts her lips with his tongue and slides into her mouth with a soft hum when he gets his first taste of her. She wraps her free hand around one of his wrists to stay close to him.

The kiss leaves her breathless. She struggles to catch her breath the longer Luke kisses her, but she doesn't want to break the kiss. She's too afraid that this is a dream and she doesn't want to wake up.

When the opportunity arises, she slips her tongue past his lips. He tastes of beer and some kind of whiskey like he's been taking shots, but he tastes the way she thought he would. She smiles against his lips.

Luke drags out one final kiss before he breaks it so they can catch their breath. She can't get over how quickly his lips got swollen and red from the kisses they exchanged.

Giggles pass her lips and Luke smiles at her. She lightly sucks on her bottom lip with her own smile as she realizes he's giving her the smile she never thought she would get.

"How was that?" he questions. "Feel like I was kissing you like I meant it?" She nods. "Good, because I don't think I can stop now."

"I don't think I want you to stop." Her eyes fall back to his kiss-bruised lips. "Ever."

He starts to slowly lean back into her. "We should probably go back inside," he hesitantly says. "They're probably missing us in there."

She hums as her nose brushes his. "What would we do when we go back inside?" she questions with a soft voice. "Because I can't go back to how things were with us after this."

"I'd kiss you in front of everyone," Luke admits as his lips brush hers. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

"Even that girl that you were dancing with earlier?" she asks.

"I was just using her to make you jealous," he confesses. "Because I have been in love with you since we were in high school. I wanted you to finally notice me."

She pulls back a bit and meets his eyes. "I have always noticed you, Luke Hughes," she tells him. "Every time you would walk into a room, I noticed you. It's not because you're built like a tree either. You're always the first guy I find on the ice or coming out of the locker room. It's always been you and it'll always be you."

Luke smiles at her words. "Yeah, I think I wanna kiss you in front of all my friends," he explains. "I want everyone to know that I finally have the girl I've been in love with since we were 16."

With a gentle shove, she asks, "You've been in love with me since we were 16 and you're just now telling me? God, Luke. I've been in love with you for three years. You’re an asshole."

He laughs and stands up. “Well, I’m sure everyone has been waiting for us to get our heads out of our asses so let’s go show them we finally did,” he says. Luke holds out his hand for her to grab. She reaches up and grabs his hand so he can help her stand up.

Even once she’s on her feet, Luke doesn’t let go of her hand. Not that she wants him to. She grabs her sandals with her free hand before she walks back to the house with Luke. The wooden dock turns into grass then they reach the deck. That’s when she puts her sandals back on.

Together, they walk up the steps to the deck that looks out over the lake. They get a few looks as they walk into the house.

Luke guides her to the kitchen. The blonde girl that Luke was dancing with earlier intercepts them before they turn into the kitchen. “There you are, Lukey,” she giggles. “I was wondering where you ran off to. I’m happy you’re back though because we can start where we left off.”

He takes a step backward when she takes one toward him. “I’m good,” he replies. “Thanks for the dance though. I’d rather dance with my girlfriend now that I have one of those.”

The girl looks dumbfounded then looks between the two of them. “Whatever,” she snaps. “Eddy would never treat me like this.” Then she walks off with a flick of her blonde locks.

She looks up at Luke. “Girlfriend?” she questions.

“Uh, yeah,” he replies. “If you think for one second that I am going to look at you as a friend again, you’re wrong. I am always going to look at you like the girl I love. You’re my best friend and my girlfriend all in one person, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Without even thinking, she reaches up to drag him into a kiss. Luke steps forward until she steps back against the wall. He towers over her but she doesn’t even care at this point. She kinda loves that his entire body covers hers. He pins her waist to the wall behind her at the same time her fingers find his curls.

She plays with the curls on the back of his neck as Luke deepens the kiss. She presses into his mouth and he lets out a groan that only she can hear.

Luke wraps his arms around her waist but before he can do anything else, a voice comes from beside them.

“The fuck?” Jack questions. They break the kiss and look at the middle Hughes brother. “Oh my God. They finally did something. Quinn! Quinn, come here! Before you miss it!”

She leans back against the wall when Jack runs back into the kitchen, but Luke doesn’t let her go so she doesn’t get that far. Jack remerges with Quinn, Cole, Z, Ethan, and Seamus. “Well, holy shit,” Trevor laughs. “Baby Hughes finally grew a pair and did something.”

Quinn claps for them and Luke groans before burying his face into her shoulder. “Tell them to leave,” he mumbles. “I changed my mind. This is so embarrassing.”

With a smile, she plays with his curls while looking at his friends and brothers. Quinn winks at her before he walks off and suddenly it makes sense why it took so long for someone to go check on her. Quinn probably went and got Luke so they would talk.

She makes a mental note to thank him whenever she gets the chance. He tried helping her three summers ago, but they never ended the way this summer did. She got some lakeside kisses this summer and is bringing a boyfriend back to New Jersey in a week.

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MASTERLIST

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[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 23 SUGAR DADDY SIM

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes

NOTES | finally got the gangs to hang out 🙏 also jaemin's little nickname for y/n comes from the symbolism of a peach (idk personally I think it's tooo cute) and I'm so excited for them to have that like eye locking moment and he explains why (there's a lil more to it) he calls her peach and they kiss and live happily ever after 🫦 also I try my best to find pics that aren't specific to any certain demographic of ppl when it comes to pics for y/n but sometimes it so hard 👺 this is a long ass note BUT JAEHYUN???????? I have no words, and to announce it on the day jeonghan enlists?? criminal.

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[bethanythebogwitch]

It's October and I want to talk about something creepy, so this Wet Beast Wednesday is about the lancetfish. These things look like what would happen if a fish became a vampire. Lancetfish are the only members of their family, Alepisauridae and consist of two species: The longnose lancetfish Apleisaurus ferox and the shortnose lancetfish Apleisaurus brevirostris. While they are often caught as bycatch, there is still a lot we don't know about them.

(image: a lancetfish held by an angler. Its body is long, skinny, and silvery. Its dorsal fin extends down most of its back and is supported by a series of long, thin spines. Its head is pointed and the moth is very wide. It has a large, green eye. The tail is out of frame)

Lancetfish are long and skinny fish capable of reaching up to 2.08 meters (6.8 ft). Their dorsal fins are especially notable, stretching down most of their backs and being spiny, resulting in one common name for them being the "handsaw fish". The fin likely gives stability when the fish swims fast and can fold down. The fin is situated in a groove so when it folds down, the top of the fish is smooth and reduces drag. Lancetfish are also one of the relatively few fish to have an adipose fin. The mouth is large and opens very wide. It has long, skinny teeth that point backwards and are adapted to hold onto struggling prey. Their bodies have no scales, only smooth skin with pores for the lateral line. The name "Alepisaurus" means "scaleless lizard", a reference to their body shape and lack of scales. The stomach can expand to hold a very large volume. Lancetfish lack swim bladders and are simultaneous hermaphrodites, posessing male and female gonads at the same time. They show some anatomical differences from other hermaphroditic fish, including testicles that are independent from the ovaries.

(image: a lancetfish held by a child on a boat. More detain can be seen on the dorsal fin, which includes four spines that grow long past the webbing. The tail ends in a forked fin.

Lancetfish are found worldwide except for arctic regions and are more common in temperate to tropical waters, but have been found as far north as Greenland. They are found in the mesopelagic (twilight) and bathypelagic (midnight) zones, but sometimes swim closer to the surface and can be found at a huge variety of depths. They are unusually large for fish that live in those areas. They are generally believed to be solitary, but may gather together to mate. They may also be migratory, as they have been reported seasonally appearing and disappearing in some locations. Lancetfish do also travel to colder waters if food is scarce. They are predators with extremely wide diets that include fish, cephalopods, tunicates, and crustaceans. They are also notoriously cannibalistic, as lancetfish show up in the stomachs of other lancetfish very frequently. There have even beec cases of scientists finding a lancetfish inside of a lancetfish inside of a lancetfish. They are so well known for cannibalism that they are often named "cannibal fish". Lancetfish are likely ambush predators. Their muscles are gelatinous, which is unsuitable for chases but does work for sudden bursts of speed. They most likely hang motionless in the water, waiting for prey to pass. How lancetfish reproduce is unknown, but they are probably broadcast spawners.

(image: a lancetfish in its natural habitat. It is suspended vertically in the water, with the head pointing up. Its dorsal fin is folded back)

One interesting feature of lancetfish is how slow their digestion is. Lancetfish are often found with undigested or partially digested food in their stomachs. One hypothesis is that They digest food slowly wile living a low-energy lifestyle to make the energy gained from each meal last as long as possible. Another is that the stomach acts like storage and will only begin digestion if the fish is low on energy. This provides an interesting avenue of research. Lancetfish caught as bycatch or that was up on beaches can be dissected to investigate their stomach contents, which are so much more pristine than those of other species. This means each lancetfish acts as a net, containing tons of specimens that give us a good (if biased) look at the bathypelagic food web and local biodiversity. Scientists are starting to find a lot of plastic in lancetfish stomachs. It is hypothesized that some of this plastic may be ingested by prey who practice daily vertical migration bringing tiny pieces of plastic down into deeper waters where they are ingested by larger predators. Some plastic pieces found may be too large to be explained by this method alone, such as a fragment of a black plastic bag around the same size as a hand towel found in one lancetfish. This is part of growing evidence that shows plastic pollution is not just a problem for the surface as was previously though, but exists throughout the water column.

I told you, its a vampire fish (image: a close-up of a lancetfish head. Its mouth is open, showing the teeth. They are long, skinny, and sharp. Most are short, but a few on the top and bottom are much larger than the others)

Lancetfish are not commercially caught as there is no market for them. Their gelatinous meat is considered unappetizing, though it is also said to taste sweet. They are considered pests in longline fishing industries for taking bait intended for other species. The amount of lancetfish bycatch is increasing, possibly indicating population growth due to overfishing of their competition and prey. Known predators of lancetfish include tuna, cod, opah, salmon sharks, and sea lions. Because of how deep they live, not much is known about any conservation needs

(image: a juvenile lancetfih. Its body is green and translucent and much shorter than that of the adult. The head has the same shape as the adult. The dorsal fin is much smaller and less distinct. The body is curved at the spine and the internal organs are visible through the skin)

[boredmadamoiselle]

You don't even have to ask

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Synopsis: After the qualifying at the Grand Prix of Monaco, you look for Charles to give him comfort... and in search of his forgiveness.

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. English isn't my first language, so it probably contains some mistakes. I tried my best but if you want to correct or help me, you are welcome.

Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is always appreciated and is important for me. If you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to write them and I will take into consideration. 

The sun had already set and the moon had taken its place lighting up the dark sky above you. 

As you approached the port, you could hear the music from downtown getting more and more distant. Absolute silence reigned in the port, it was just you, the sea and the many boats docked. Everyone, except one person, was celebrating. And you knew, or at least you hoped, you’d find him on his yacht. Away from everyone and everything, probably lost in his thoughts and thinking back to what had happened just a few hours ago. 

Once again, in fact, Ferrari and Charles’ team had screwed his race, jeopardizing his victory and proving to be incompetent. Although they were the ones who made the mistake, Charles would pay once again the consequences, just when for the first time he had had the chance to get on the podium in Monaco. That was the thing that pissed you off more. 

Even though you were on a break, you couldn’t help it but support him. Because in the end and despite everything that had happened between you in the last months, you loved him. You still wanted him to win and be happy. But instead, he was struggling once again. 

Charles ran to win every race but Monaco was different, it was special. It was his home race, the place where he had grown up and lived. 

He loved Monaco, its people and he wanted them to love him equally, to make them proud. That was the reason why he wanted to win… for them. The thing was that they already loved him… or at least you did. You loved him more than everything else and seeing him sad broke your heart. After you had tried to call him and had received no answer, you had decided to go find him and see for yourself how he was. You wanted to comfort him, but you were also dying to see him and have him a few meters from you after weeks away, to hold him in your arms. You would have told him that everything would be fine. Even among you. 

The break had been your idea and Charles, even though he didn’t like the idea, had agreed. He loved you and he knew that being in a relationship with him, always under the spotlight wasn’t easy, that sometimes it could be a little suffocating. So, he had let you go with the hope that you would return to him sooner or later. You were now as you had thought enough. Being with him wasn’t easy for sure but being without him was even more difficult. Those weeks apart from him had strengthened your feelings for Charles. 

You needed him just like he needed you. Those weeks, those days must not have been easy for Charles and your distance must have made everything worse. Part of you felt guilty for not being there for him. 

His yacht was for both of you your second home, your refuge. Whenever he could, Charles would come and take the yacht out to sea. As he wanted to stay alone with his thoughts during those moments, he almost never allowed anyone to accompany him, except you. You were always welcome. Would you have been even now? Did he still love you? These questions had been nagging you all along the way. 

You got on the yacht and it didn't take you long before you saw him. He was standing with his back to you and looking up at the sky. You were approaching him when the sound of his voice instantly paralyzed you. 

“I said I wanted to be alone.” 

You could hear the sadness dripping and it broke your heart. You wanted to run to him but you were unable to move. Would he have appreciated that? Were you welcome? As he had his back still turned, he had no idea it was you.

“Does that apply to me too?”, you asked, scared of being rejected. Your voice made Charles instantly turn around as he realized who you were. 

His face immediately lit up upon seeing you just a few feet away from him. But you could still see the sadness in his eyes. 

“Y/N…”

“I just wanted to see how you were… you know after everything that happened, but if you prefer being alone, I can…” 

He didn't let you finish the sentence. “You know there is always room for you on board”, he said smiling. 

You smiled back. You were tired of that distance between you, it was time to fill it. You approached him filling the gap between you. Now you were inches away from him. 

“Even in your arms? Because I think a hug would do you so much good”, you said.

Without answering, he reached out to you and wrapped his strong arms around your shoulders and back. 

“You don’t even have to ask”, he whispered burying his head into your neck. 

You tucked your head into the curve of his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist. The contact with his body sent a shiver through you. It was like the air was taken from you as you melted onto him and your eyes began to fill with tears. You could feel he was crying too as a slight wetness was soaking your blouse. 

Charles sighed as he felt immediately lighter between your arms, relieved. After all those weeks of being away from you, Charles felt he could start breathing again. Without you by his side and with all the pressure leading up to his home race, he had felt like he had been drowning for the past weeks. You were his anchor, the one who kept him afloat when everything else was failing. You had arrived just in time to rescue him. 

You hugged in silence for a few minutes. Words weren't necessary, at least not now. Your hearts beating wildly, in unison with each other spoke for you. That was enough.  

After a while, you broke the silence. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really, not now that you are here with me… That's all that matters now, I don’t care about anything else”, he whispered.  “But there is one thing you could actually do for me.”

You pulled away gently and looked into his eyes, your faces inches apart, noses touching and his hands still on your hips. 

“What is it?” You were feeling a mixture of curiosity and fear as you were waiting for him to talk. 

Charles placed his forehead on yours. 

“Would you stay here with me tonight?”

You closed your eyes and sighed, part of you feeling relieved at his words. 

“You don’t even have to ask”, you simply said. 

His lips curved into a smile satisfied by your answer. His hands cupped your cheeks, as he slowly leaned in and placed his lip onto yours. Your spare hand gripped his shirt gently, pulling him closer until you were pressed against each other. You needed to feel him. But first you needed to do something else. 

With your hands on his chest, you took a step behind leaving Charles confused and visibly worried. 

“I’m sorry, Charles, for everything. I should have been there for you, especially knowing how difficult it would have been today…”

He took your hands in his and placed his forehead on yours. “Shhhh… You are here now and that’s enough for me. Tomorrow, if we want, we will talk about us but for now I just want to hold you in my arms. No racing, just us. Me and you. Okay?” 

You nodded and let out a small whisper “I think it’s perfect”.  And you kissed again.

 

A few weeks later you were back on the yacht, Charles had taken you on a date.  

Between Charles’ arms and rocked by the sound of crashing waves, you were staring at the starry sky and enjoying the silence away from the city.

“I’ll be right back”, he whispered into your ear and pulled gently apart from you. 

You kept looking at the starry sky when a streak of light crossed the sky and then immediately vanished. 

“Look, Charles! A falling star!”, you screamed and turned around to face Charles. 

You were speechless and couldn’t believe your eyes. 

Charles was in front of you... on his knees. He was holding a small velvet box with a diamond-set ring inside. And it wasn't just any ring but the one that Hervé, Charles' father, had given to his mother when he had proposed to her.

You put a hand in front of your mouth trying to hold back the emotion and the tears. 

“Charles…” 

“Y/n, a few weeks ago I asked you if you would stay with me for the night. Now I ask you, would you stay with me a little longer?”

Tears streamed down your face as you weren't able to hold them back anymore.

“Forever, Charles”, you finally said. “You don’t even have to ask.” 

[the-californicationist]

he doesn’t disappoint

Wrote this fic as I was inspired by the challenge from @sky-is-the-limit that asked for Price getting fed up with hearing his hot neighbor have really terrible sex.

“I came to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

MDNI/18+

AO3 Version here

Four long stories above the people and the pigeons, she sat, legs on the railing of her amazingly small balcony, reading and writing. Always dressed in that huge jumper with the fraying collar, it swallowed her, covering her little spandex shorts that barely managed to keep her thick arse from slipping out of them, and she had her hair in the braid again. It was his favorite. He liked the ponytails, too, but the braid did something to him. When she plaited her hair and let that heavy rope hang limply over her shoulder, she became Repunzel, and he was Gallahad - or whatever muppet was meant to be at the bottom of her tower.

Captain Price knew that, the moment his fingers flipped the lock on his window, he’d disturb her peace. She’d startle, like a doe, and turn to smile at him. He lived for that turn. Every few nights, he’d catch her out here again, and he could make her turn to him. Make her smile at him. Make her laugh and talk with him, until she went to bed. But, that was the problem. Lately, her bed was filled with the one thing that made Price’s body fill with frustrated rage: The Boyfriend.

The Boyfriend was such a typical Yank, it made Price’s eyes roll back in his head. From the boat shoes to the bad fade haircut, the lad looked like an Abercrombie advert had escaped from one of those oversized shopping bags and landed in her apartment. He was small, first of all, despite the gym-made muscles. And he was as smooth as an otter, fully hairless. Price shuddered back to the memory of watching him try to put up the fire escape ladder shirtless, struggling to lift it with those tiny hands of his, making a disgusted face at the dirt on his palms afterward, wiping it on her blanket without her seeing him. Disgusting little gremlin.

She kept giving this wanker chance after chance to figure it out in the bedroom, and Price had heard just about enough of it, and his gut twisted in his belly knowing he’d have to hear it again tonight. He knew The Boyfriend was here because she was doing her work outside. The Boyfriend insisted on playing his Battle Zone videogames on full volume, bothering her, and complaining like a child if she asked him to put on his headphones. Price enjoyed imagining how quickly he’d expire on a real battlefield. That little prick could scream all the obscenities he wanted but he’d be dead in milliseconds against a man like Price.

His darling didn’t know about that, though. She knew he was in the military, but she didn’t know that he was the leader of the deadliest special forces team in the world. He imagined explaining it to her, pictured the fear flooding her face, confusion and shock hanging out of her open mouth. No. He couldn’t tell her about himself. Usually, when they talked together on the balcony, he would smoke long, densely-packed cigars and sip his whisky while she confessed the sins of her day to him. She told him about grad school, about her poetry, maybe showing him a sample or two. It was beautiful. When she was upset, she’d even tap on his window to see if he was home, sometimes tearful, asking for advice on how to handle something The Boyfriend had done. On really bad nights, she’d lean in and hug him, crying on his enormous shoulder, telling him what a good friend he was for listening to her. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, and her warmth made his cock swell with furious need.

As the night dragged on, The Boyfriend would eventually remember her and call her inside. He’d croon all sorts of things to her. His little whining “come on, baby” and pathetic “I just really need you to” quips were the opening lines to the worst song on Earth. He’d then spend the next five to ten minutes whimpering away on top of her, the headboard slamming into Price’s wall without rhythm. If the gorgeous woman suffering beneath him ever had the audacity to actually be enjoying his attempt, he’d shush her, shaming her for making noises, telling her “the neighbors don’t need to hear that shit.” Meanwhile, The Neighbor would be plotting his slow, painful death.

The banging started, and Price wanted to burst through the wall and stop this trainwreck from happening to her again. Eventually, a short time after it had begun, the banging stopped. Then, an even shorter time after that, the jingle of keys and the “I have an early day tomorrow” and “I have to go” were the outro to The Boyfriend’s opus.

Enough was enough. Before he even knew what he was doing, Price had his hand, raised in a fist, knocking on her apartment door. 23B. Shadow in the peephole. The click and clatter of a lock chain.

“Oh! John, it’s you. Is everything okay?” Her voice was low and smooth. Her cheeks were flushed. She was standing in her doorway, wearing those shorts, that jumper, still full of her need.

“No,” was all he could manage as he looked at her, his blue eyes blown, mad with desire.

“Oh, okay. Come in, I’ll make us some of that delicious tea you bought me. What are you doing here?”

Price followed her inside, silently relocking the portal, stalking her into the tiny kitchen, a mirror to his own. He came up behind her as she was looking in her cupboard for their mugs. When he put his hands on her hips, she froze, startled, eyeing him over her shoulder. His voice was just above a whisper, gravelly and accented, and he said,

“I came to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

She was on her tiptoes, reaching for the cups, but as she registered what he said, she slowly lowered herself back down to the tile of her floor, turning to face her neighbor with a look of shock on her face.

“What?”

Price played with the end of her braid, turning the end of it over in his hand, wrapping it up along his knuckles like a rope. He snaked the other hand up underneath her sweatshirt, fingers lingering on her warm belly, searching for the smooth swell of her breast. He told her, snarling,

“If I have to hear him continue to use you like a warm fucking towel, leaving you wanting, I will lose my bloody mind. Call him. Tell him he’s done.”

“You could hear us?” She flushed quickly at that, recalling all of the times she’d been punished for her noises.

“And I always hear you afterwards, after he leaves, making up for his…shortcomings. Bit sad, innit? Needing to take care of yourself when he should be the one looking after you. Time for someone new. Get your phone, love.”

It took her a moment to register what he was suggesting, but she was fed up, too. She smiled at his comment, and she reached for her phone on the countertop.

“Put it on speaker, sweetheart,” he commanded her. She obeyed.

One ring.

Two rings.

“Uh, what do you want?” The Boyfriend answered.

“Hey, Dick,” Price snarled, “We got some bad news, lad.”

“I’m breaking up with you, Richard,” she spoke into the phone very clearly, wrapping her free hand around Price’s huge bicep, not able to cover even half of its circumference, exploring him as he fondled her, one fist still holding her plait cruelly.

“What? Why? Who is that?”

“Why?” She scoffed, “Because every time I’ve come, for as long as we’ve been together, has been when you’re not here.”

“Are you serious? Fuck you, bitch. You’re just a -”

“Tha’s enough, Dick,” Price barked into the phone, “Look, no worries, mate. I’ll take it from here.”

Click. Price hung up her phone and turned it off, tossing it back across the counter. It made a loud, plasticky bang as it fell. He pressed his heavy erection against her body, crushing her hips with his, and moved his hand back under her jumper, plucking at her nipple like a soft petal, pinching it to make it stand at attention, watching her watch him.

“John, you… you never said anything,” she looked up into his eyes, begging him to tell her the truth he’d kept locked away for months.

“This isn’t even the half of it, girl,” he started to kiss her neck, sucking at her skin, his body writhing on top of hers, mimicking actions it would soon employ once he could get her out of her clothes, “I’ve wanted you for so. Fucking. Long.”

She moaned at the way he was kissing her throat with his bearded mouth, licking her with his long tongue. She cradled his furry cheek in her hand, enjoying the feel of its coarse hairs, whispering to him,

“When he leaves, you’re the one I picture. In my head.”

She might as well have lit a bomb. That was all he needed to hear.

He was strong enough to hoist her up onto the counter with one of his arms, wrapping it around her waist and setting her on the edge, her thighs spread wide to accommodate his huge body in between them. He tugged on her braid, using it to expose her smooth throat. She gasped, reaching out to steady herself.

The captain stood over her, looming like a dark beast, warning her in his quiet, steady voice,

“If I ever, and I mean ever, hear that little prick banging your headboard on my wall again, it’ll be his last day above ground. Am I crystal clear, love?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, a little uncertain how serious he was.

“Good girl.”

Price let go of her hair and scooped her off of the counter, carrying her with her legs locked behind him, through the small flat, and crashed to the bed where she’d just been disappointed. He vowed to her, silently, that he would do anything but disappoint.

Clothes started coming off in peeled layers; shirts, bras, pants, underwear - everything was shucked away like the rind of a melon, leaving only the soft, sticky inside, ripe and ready to be devoured. Price made his way down her body, biting and sucking whenever he wanted to do so, leaving a trail of teeth marks behind. Eventually, he could feel the heat of her pussy against his cheek, and it made him shudder.

He had pulled her phone into his pocket, and now he wanted to twist the knife. He called The Boyfriend and sent his own number straight to voicemail, preparing to leave a delicious message.

As he began to eat her juices, sucking them off her folds like the drippings from a popsicle, he started to hear little mewlings, soft and sweet, but very reserved. He glanced up at the rest of his meal, wondering why she was holding back. Then, he remembered The Boyfriend’s number one rule.

“Look at me,” Price ordered from beneath her thighs.

She hesitated, trying to hide her shame, putting her face in her hands, breathing heavy and ragged.

He reached both hands up to grab her ribs, coming up and out from his position to let her get a better look at him.

“Look at me, love.” It was a softer, lower tone, and she came out of hiding to obey him. He continued to command her, gently, “I want to hear your pleasure, sweetness. The louder you get, the harder I get. I hope the whole bloody city hears you tonight.”

“Are you sure? You like it?” Fuck if he wasn’t about to hunt that man down and execute him, authority or not.

“God, yes, love. Let me make you scream.”

This voicemail was going to be incredible.

He returned to his duty post between her legs, excited to start his work anew. This time, as his tongue worked her open, fucking liquidly in and out of her pink hole, swirling up around her clit, and exploring every hidden gem between them, he listened to her keening. It was soft at first, but then, when he began to stretch her, pushing down with his two, rough fingers, thrusting them slowly in and out, she started to come. Her cries were incredible. She was screaming for him to fuck her, to take her, to do anything to her, and he loved it.

Crawling back over her, Price used his heavy cockhead to paint drooling precome all over her slick slit, soaking himself so he could more easily fit himself into her core. He didn’t want to hurt her, and other lovers had trained him to know that his was big enough to be a weapon.

“That’s my good girl. Do you feel good, you sweet little thing? You’re a fucking dream. Tell me that you’re ready for this cock in you. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me, love.”

She was shaking from her orgasm, looking at him, bewildered, and she rushed the words out of her mouth like fire,

“I need it, please. John, I need you to fuck me. Fuck me, please, John. Put your cock in me,” and, like magic, Price obliged. Just as good at taking orders as he was at giving them.

Feeding his length inside of her wasn’t the issue, it was the fact that she was coming while he tried to do it. Price had a hand steadily working her clit, wetly pressing it where she needed it, and she was clenching against him so tightly, like a wet, molten fist, that it nearly pushed him out of her. He grabbed her body, looping his enormous arm behind her back, and shoved her down, locking her against his hips, deliciously impaled.

Her face was twisted into the most beautiful kind of agony, and as she came down from her high, he began to move in her. After she bloomed around his cock, opening like a flower, he was able to fuck into her even deeper, groaning with each of his thrusts. She gasped,

“Oh, God. John, you’re so good. You’re not done yet?”

He laughed, out loud and brazenly, holding her tighter,

“Oh, lovely girl, no. No,” he smiled down at his pretty little neighbor, “Those days are gone. I’m going to be inside of you all fucking night.”

[brucewaynehater101]

I have a really soft and cute au for Lesbian Janet that could work in any universe but I think works best in the Young Justice TV Show Universe.

See, everyone gets really confused when Tim talks about his Mom, sometimes referring to her as Mama. Tim thinks that using two different titles like that should make it Obvious that he has Two Moms but well. The Bats may be Super Geniuses but they are still Idiots. Tim is also an absolute Mama's Boy with Both his Moms. He loves them both So Much.

Oh, where is Jack you ask? He doesn't actually exist. He's the fake name and personality that Tim's Mama came up with and used Magic to disguise as so they could get Legally Married For Tax Benifits. Also to get his Mama a legal identity. Why would she need one of those? Well... as was mentioned, Tim's Mama has Magic with a Captial M. This by extension means Tim is Magic With A Capital M as well. Totally has nothing to do with Janet and his Mama sculpting him from clay and breathing life into him. Woes of pregnancy who? Not Janet that's for sure.

Also Tim does Not tell anyone that he has Magic and he doesn't show it off. The only reason the Bats found out about it is because Tim came to a meeting with Bruce and Diana went "you. Your Magic is Familure but I don't know from where." And Tim was sweating while saying, "Magic? What magic??" And after getting questioned by Diana and Bruce he Caves and tells them a half truth, "fine. I was made from Clay, like you. My Mom didn't want to go through the struggles of Childbirth but still wanted a child. Instead of adopting like any sane and rational person, she made a deal with a God or Godess. I don't know all the details but she owed them something in exchange for Me. I do know the debt has been paid already though."

The debt was simply a tea spoon of blood for the ritual and A Kiss. Janet over paid the second part by a lot.

As for how Janet met and wooed A Goddess? Well, she was on a dig in Greece when her boat she was using to get to another island was caught in a storm and washed up on a different island. The Goddess was expecting violence or anger at being stranded, perhaps even Sorrow. But no, Janet took one look at the Temple in the distance and was pushing past her saying she needed to get to the Temple because it's clearly in *amazing* condition and could bring So Many insights into Ancient Greek culture and building practice. For the first time in decades, as this Random Woman ran her hand along a pillar and started rambling about the design and what the type of collums were called, Circe felt herself blushing.

CIRCE?!?!?

FUCK YEAH.

Anyways, this is absolutely adorable. Fuck. I would love an entire fic of Janet. Here's a general plot line:

Janet hasn't ever really been interested in romance. She's tried dating a few guys in high school for appearance sake, but she usually broke the relationship off when they became too affectionate.

This is when others started referring to her as "cold." She wasn't, but few people got close enough to her to listen to her rambles about ancient civilizations, archeology, and sociality impacts of culture. She enjoyed other stuff, but nothing quite lit her up like those topics did.

In college, she did find and make a few friends with similar interests. This is where she figured out she was into women and not men. The relationships lasted longer, but she was single by the time she graduated with her bachelor's.

Her master's ends up as some sort of work study where she travels the world. She's more invested in her studies and work than relationships at this point. She enjoys learning about people's lives and cultures but doesn't seek out more than friendship.

I'm not sure if Janet has already or is working on her doctorate by the time she ends up lost on an island (or really how archeology even pays bills).

When she arrives on the island, there's a beautiful woman there as well. Janet notices this, but doesn't give a flying fuck in comparison to the architecture.

And Circe? Finds herself amused and confused by this woman who, although is into women, doesn't care about Circe's looks. Janet just keeps asking questions about Circe's life, the temple, the plants, the culture, etc. It becomes endearing watching her work late into the night with her research.

Janet is so enthralled in all that is going on that she doesn't notice Circe's continuous flirting. It's so fucking frustrating for Circe, but makes her unbearably fond as well. Janet starts to consider this drop dead gorgeous woman a close friend of hers as they "work" late into the chatting about ancient Greece, their past experiences, and their lives. Janet, who has some experience with romance but not much, even flirts back. After all, women call each other beautiful all the time and hold hands and shit. Surely Janet can platonically cuddle with her friend while Circe compares Janet's eyes to the night sky.

It's only when Janet is ready to leave that she realizes that she's willing to give up everything she's worked for, all of her findings and education, to have more time with Circe. Janet is in love with her best friend.

Also, Circe is able to get a fake ID as "Jack" due to magic and Janet's connections

[kiragecko]

The Canadian Shield

Apparently, the Canadian Shield is a “geologic province”. That just means a large area with a lot of geology in common. I like it because it’s really WEIRD.

The Shield was created by glaciers sliding through. They scraped off all the topsoil and softer rock, and messed up all the watersheds. What developed in the ruins was a maze of endless rivers and lakes, large rocks covered in mosses and lichens, and trees. Lots of trees.¹

There are several things that I think are cool:

the rocks, moss, and lichen

the deranged drainage system

the endlessness

Rocks, Moss, and Lichen

Much of the Canadian Shield is covered in boreal forests (also called taiga). At least, wherever there’s enough dirt. But there is a LOT of exposed rock. And growing on those rocks are the coolest plants/animals in the world – lichens.

Lichens are a symbiosis of algae, fungi, and yeast! Some look like moss – all soft branched stalks. Some look like crunchy fungi or seaweed – growing off the rocks in weird ruffles. Others look like … paint? You know how some rocks will have coloured crusty spots that can be peeled off? Those are lichen! (Some are even powdery, but we don’t get many of those in the Shield.)

Then there’s ACTUAL moss. And moss is almost as cool as lichen! All wet and squishy and ridiculously complex if you look at it closely. Gorgeous stuff!

And finally, there’s the rocks themselves. If you live in an area with rocks, possibly you do not find them breathtaking. But I remember excitedly talking to my parents for SEVERAL MINUTES after seeing a rock in a field, because here in the prairies, you don’t see them.

And these are COOL rocks. Bedrock. Super hard igneous rock that doesn’t wear quickly. It forms cliffs and ravines, despite the fact that the area is quite flat on the macroscale. Canoeing under a cliff face that leans over you is an awe-inspiring experience. Staring down into the depths of the lake below you, seeing that it goes straight down, and then a few feet later the water is shallow. The rocks are big, and full of neat cracks, and pretty coloured, and … they’re good rocks.

Deranged Drainage System

Since the land is made of super hard rock that weathers slowly, and all the watersheds got messed up by the glaciers dumping rocks around the edges of the Shield, water struggles to form normal drainage systems. Rather than starting as small rivers and then combining  as they flow downstream, water just collects in every lowpoint. Thousands of small lakes form, connecting to each other at odd, sometimes hidden, points, with very little predictability. Rapids and waterfalls are common. Shorelines are very irregular, with all sorts of hidden coves. It becomes difficult to figure out what is an island, and what is the mainland.

Looking down from the air, the landscape seems fractal. Sitting on a rock, staring at the opposite shore, it’s obvious that this is true.

Navigating these waterchannels takes a LOT of skill. Mapping them barely helps – the maps are complex enough that it’s hard to absorb the correct information. The Nîhithaw (Cree) navigate by attaching stories to the landmarks, which makes it fun to travel with a guide.

Endlessness

The Canadian Shield is HUGE. It covers over half of Canada! The features that make it up are small, and complex. Most of it is sparsely inhabited. There are few roads; and a lot of areas, travel is either by boat or float plane.

The effect is that of an endless landscape. By plane, you can see more lakes than you can count, all difficult to identify. They stretch to the horizon in every direction.

By boat, you can see many, many interesting  and unique-seeming features. But half an hour later you’ll discover yourself in a spot that looks identical. You’re frequently slipping around blind corners and into narrow, hidden channels, which increases the sense of covering ground. But because you’re rarely going in a straight line, it’s difficult to figure out how far you’ve actually gone. It’s a maze, and it’s possible to travel it for days without seeing a single other human.

(Or you can see multiple groups of people over an hour long trip. It’s very unpredictable.)

That combination of isolation, scale, constantly changing view (that still stays the same TYPE of view), lets me truly  FEEL the vastness. Everything about me gets quiet in the Shield. I’ll suddenly find my face aching from smiling so big for so long. The world is endless and peaceful and not designed for me in the slightest.

It’s exhilarating.

-

¹ There are a few different biomes in the Shield. But the main one, and the one I’ve mostly experienced, is the boreal forest. So that’s the part I’m focusing on. Especially the landscapes of the Whiteshell and northern Saskatchewan.

[bozers]

Random Mk character headcanons Pt.1 THE MENFOLK

Raiden

Sweaty. Sweats like a mf even when he isn't working. Has to wear undershirts to combat the waterfall coming off him.

Never struggled with anger issues until becoming a champion and getting the amulet.

Secretly a bit freaky. Is down for pretty much anything eye emoji

Reiko

Has a mild ED. Was worse when he was younger, but he's getting better about it. Used to hoard food. Struggles with body dysmorphia due to unrealistic expectations, comparing himself to Shao ( a completely different species...)

Allergic to cats.

Loves the ocean. Dreams of one day owning his own boat to take out sailing whenever he wants.

Kung Lao

Weirdly enough? Introvert. Raiden is one of very few people who doesn't deplete his social battery.

Struggles with bouts of depression. Self medicates with Marijuana.

He is incredibly secure in himself and none of his confidence is an act. That doesn't mean he can't get discouraged sometimes, but he won't try and hide disappointment behind false smiles.

MOAR BELOW vvvvv

Johnny Cage

Struggled with contamination OCD tendencies all his life and coped using substances. His lifestyle is in direct conflict with his illness and it acts like immersion therapy in a way.

Cancer runs in his family so he is vigilant about getting screened once a year.

Life in Hollywood almost crushed him into an apathetic cynic, but somehow, he has managed to stay hopeful if not a bit delusional at times. His hunger for recognition rivaled only by his boundless curiosity.

Smoke

He had a tongue ring for many years and wants to eventually get a tattoo but can't settle on a design.

Can "Slav Squat" and isn't shy about showing off to friends.

Struggles with unhealthy attachment styles.

Rain

Is actually an extrovert. He may think himself above others, but he still requires validation and gets sad if he doesn't get to talk to those close to him.

Iron deficient

If he had never been appointed as High Mage, he would have gone on to teach magic theory at the academy.

Geras

He may be immortal, but that doesn't mean he just sits in a room all day. Geras is endlessly curious, as this is a core part of his very being. Observing and learning new things is both his primary function and an endless font of joy.

He knows how lonely Liu Kang is. Knows that even he can't fill the void left in his masters heart. Time for him is just a function, whereas for Liu Kang, it is and endless road of isolation

Will search up humans in funny situations on the hourglass to watch. It's like his version of FAILARMY.

Liu Kang

Is and has been incredibly lonely for eons. He really thought he would fill the void after reuniting with his old friends, but the feeling isn't the same. They don't know him. Not really.

Once he found a way to connect to his Titan friends, he visits them often. Being able to talk with Lord Raiden again alleviated the strain on his heart tenfold. Reuniting with Kung Lao, (his boy, his bro!!) has also helped give him hope for the next few eons. Same goes for Kitana. (She was the one to find him again after the dust settled.)

His brother is alive in his timeline. Of course they have no relationship, Liu choosing not to intervene due to fears of drawing danger to him. Instead of becoming a shaolin monk, Chan lives happily in the united states as an Ice Road Trucker.

Shang Stung

Has BPD and narcissistic personality disorder. This severely impacted his ability to live peacefully in society and pushed him to grifting. Taking advantage of others was less exhausting than pretending to be a friendly employee to some shopkeeper.

He is half human. Shang's mother traveled to outworld during the last tournament 100 years ago. She was a servant to Liu Kang's champions but ended up running away with a disgraced Edenian.

Doesn't identify as a specific gender, especially after learning shapeshifting. Will often times swap between whatever he feels like that day.

Syzoth

Double jointed and hyper flexible. Shang Stung had to find a way to control him other than shackles, cuz he could always slip out no matter how tight they were.

He is very at ease around children, and falls back into dad mode immediately. Is also a purveyor of terrible dad jokes.

Has Gilberts Syndrome. His species use of bile/acid attacks puts a lot of strain on his liver. Due to his rough living, he didn't get adequate nutrition and now his body struggles to keep balanced out humors.

Only needs to eat once a week, but will happily snack if something tasty comes across his path.

Shao

Has no biological children. Despite his family's standing and pressure to continue the prestigious line, Shao has never taken a wife. Multiple concubines and bastards, but no wife or suitable heirs.

He doesn't view any of the young men and women he mentors as children, just tools. Even though he saw himself in young Reiko, his affection is entirely dependent on his loyalty. Reiko is more of an extension of himself, a way to overcompensate for what he lacks.

Has IBS.

Kuai Liang

He left the Lin Kuei a few years after Tomas was adopted. At odds with his father at the time, he left to go live with their allied clan: the Syrai Ryu. He was born a cryomancer like Bi Han, but chose to pursue pyromancy to distance himself from his lineage. Though able to wield fire, he is still weak to it. When he finally returned home, his father welcomes him back like the prodigal son he was. Bi han deeply, deeply resented this.

Got his tattoo in Hong Kong while he was totally plastered (not a reputable place. They even got the tattoo wrong lol)

Unreadable poker face. DO NOT play cards against this man.

Kenshi

Was forced to drop out of high school to support his family when his older brother was killed, and subsequently got wrapped up in yakuza shit. Has since taken his high school equivalency test (GED) and passed with flying colors

Is addicted to caffeine.

LOVES holidays! Especially Christmas. He may not get all his friends gifts, but the ones he does give are very well thought out and personal.

Bi Han

Doesn't take care of himself or maintain his appearance very well. But he basically won the genetic lottery so it's not that noticeable.

Has a type A personality and is a perfectionist. But he is actually a very gracious person at heart, and will silently shoulder the brunt of responsibility to spare his brothers.

Was happy to mentor Tomas when he first arrived, even though Kuai and Tomas had the stronger friendship. His attitude changed, however, when Tomas choose to stay after Kuai ran off. Instead of seeing the loyalty of Tomas's decision, he saw it as a shallow way to win his fathers favor.

(he couldn't see it was actually jealously. That Kuai could have a choice to leave but he didn't. Tomas had an actual valid reason to want to leave, but he is the one remaining? Bi Han has big feelings and does not process them well )

Quan Chi

Once he started losing his hair, he decided to go bald.

Much prefers to spend his time in the Netherrealm. His dominion there is near absolute, and he would much rather be in the company of those subservient to him. He doesn't see anything wrong with this dynamic, believing this the superior to mutual friendship. (this is laughably hypocritical given his relationship to Shang mf Tsung)

Indulges in all kinds of delicious foods. Sweets, fine drink, rare cuts of meat- the works. Even if he dislikes it, he will eat it anyway just for the sake of it. He made himself ill by eating an entire box of chocolate once.

Havik

Was born in secret to slave parents. They hid him from the government for as long as they could, and so he was able to live a relatively carefree childhood. Other's his age, and of unsanctioned birth, would be seized by the state and put to work as soon as possible.

Fierce passion aside, Havik is very introspective. When not fighting, he often sits in silent contemplation for hours at a time. Before his mind begins to degrade from the blood magic use, he would sit and scrutinize every action he took.

Unlike Quan Chi, Havik cannot bring himself to indulge in luxuries. He feels tremendous guilt given how many of his people are still unable to enjoy even the barest bit of comfort.

He leaves his dick and balls at home for safe keeping.

[flameswallower]

Sometimes one has a naive assumption that other disabled/neurodivergent/mad people are not going to judge you for the things you can't do, can't do well, can't do consistently, or can't stop doing even though they are very annoying, disruptive, upsetting, dangerous, etc. Sometimes one also has a naive assumption that because one has struggles along these lines, one will automatically be able to empathize well with others in a similar boat and not become upset or disappointed with them.

I am here to tell you these assumptions are baloney.

On one hand, it's true that kinds of empathy and solidarity can exist within these categories that it's hard to find outside of them. On the other hand, most of us also have less capacity, time, and energy to help others in our lives, especially if they have intense or extremely specific support needs, than non-disabled people. And many of us have more trouble than average with things like concealing and controlling anger/frustration, not becoming anxious when other people don't do things exactly the way we were hoping or expecting, understanding that other people have different perspectives than we do, and even just, like...perceiving reality and remembering things accurately.

Do your best, apologize to people when it's called for, and try to give others a lot of grace/benefit of the doubt. Also, remember that when you start having thoughts like "I bet that person's problems aren't really that bad, I bet they're just lazy. Why do they feel entitled to all this help when no one is helping me? I work a lot harder than they do, and I feel like shit all the fucking time," that's a sign that you're operating way past your limits and are on the edge of burnout, and the fact that no one IS helping you is an indictment of your environment's (lack of) social safety nets, not of your also-disabled friends' laziness, selfishness or lack of care.

[lieslab]

Blood, bones, and teeth erode

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: After not being able to land a job in the field you want to pursue, it feels like it might be the end of everything and that's when your boyfriend finds you.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.5K

Trigger warning: Anxiety, depression, insecurities, implications of starvation, self-harm, and suicide.

A/N: I didn't mean to make two back-to-back Chan posts, but here we are. I had some free time and I finally wrote this request and I just think you should know that I cried a lot, so buckle your seatbelts. After this, there's another Chan request, but before that, I'm going to throw up a Minho one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

_ _ _

When you’re a kid, the impossible seems possible. Full of life and optimism, the world is your oyster. When you announce you’re going to be an astronaut and fly to space, people smile and laugh. It’s one of those childish dreams that most adults understand will fade over time. 

Working through the ranks, performing all the training to become an astronaut, it seems impossible in their heads. Too much work, too much time, and it turns into one of those dreams that fizzles out and turns into stardust. Blown just out of sight and out of mind, you reach in your back pocket for another dream, so you can try again. 

Childhood is full of dreams like this. Race car drivers screeching around the track and leaving everyone in the dust. Professional football players that do a celebratory dance when they score the winning touchdown. Supermodels that travel the world and walk the runway. Marine biologists who live on boats and spend their time exploring and studying the life below water. 

For you, your dreams didn’t really change much. You knew what you wanted to do and you had your sights on making dreams your reality. You planned on doing anything you could to reach your dreams and it never changed. 

When you’re a kid, the adults leave out the grueling part of reality. Nobody wants to be responsible for crushing the innocence that comes with childhood. Not yet grown, kids don’t fully grasp the magnitude of everything they’re speaking about. 

They don’t understand that becoming a good race car driver requires lots of practice races. Football players struggle with sore muscles and a body warped with bruises and aches. Supermodels obtain a certain image and no matter what, they’re supposed to carry that look, even if it means you’re unhappy, anything for the camera. As for marine biologists, a variety of science classes, no matter how boring, must be sat through. 

Dreams are always possible, but it’s up to you to conquer them. They’re always evolving and changing and so are you. Another birthday, another year older, and another year full of experiences and opportunities that help you grow and learn. 

You did everything you could to obtain the knowledge to grow your craft. Whether it was attending classes about it, gaining a degree in the field, or even networking and trying to find your people. You felt like you did everything right, but the answer always seemed to be no. 

Every job application you jumped at, you were always turned away. When you managed to get an interview and truly thought you’d aced it, it always went the opposite of how you expected it to. The industry was hard to break into and you knew that, but you were burning with passion. 

Your resume wasn’t the greatest and you wanted to improve it. By adding a portfolio along with it, you assumed that was the trick, but you had nothing to put there. No matter what you did, you couldn’t catch the eye of the management teams. 

The journey started at the beginning of the year and now it had been months. You couldn’t remember how many interviews you attended. You always expected a call back, but it never happened. If you were lucky, sometimes someone was nice enough to reach out and reject you. Other times, you were left in a silent limbo. A constant wondering and waiting, but it never came to fruition. 

You had a job, yeah, but it wasn’t in the industry you craved. It wasn’t the kind that lit a passion within you and made your heart quicken with excitement. You didn’t get a sense of inner fulfillment. In fact, every day you were faced with an influx of dread. As more and more time passed, it began to feel more and more pointless. 

It was getting harder and harder to hide your irritation and sadness from your boyfriend. Lately, you had been turning away meals. Staying up late at night, you wanted to extend your me time. You did, but getting up in the mornings was like hell on earth now. 

The bags began to become more and more prominent beneath your eyes. Once upon a time the small brown bags shifted into purple. You were emotionally and physically exhausted, but you’d never admit it. 

To make it all worse, lately your thoughts had been spiraling out of control. The things you thought about and the direction your brain crept towards, you were sure Chan would lose his mind. 

He loved you a lot and you appreciated it a ton. At least, you used to appreciate it. Your confidence levels had begun to droop lower and lower. Lately, even dating your boyfriend, seemed to feel pointless. He was a rich k-pop idol and you? Well, you were stuck at your miserable job. You were horrified at who you were morphing into, but you didn’t know how to stop it. 

How do you stop the restless thoughts? The anxiety and worry that suffocated you every night? How did you stop running from your problems and letting them swallow you whole? Would it ever stop? 

“Hey, it’s getting late. Why aren’t you in bed yet? You should be asleep, I thought you said you had work in the morning.” 

You blinked, trying to focus on Chan’s words. Outside in the darkness, crickets chirped and you were left alone in the pitch black. The only thing saving you from blending in with the cloudless night was the faint porch light a few feet away. 

Moths fluttered around it without a care in the world. Their fuzzy bodies lightly plunked against the glass shell covering the bulb. They were the only thing to keep you company this late at night. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

You shrugged at the words and let your gaze venture off into the darkness. Off in the distance, frogs croaked somewhere near a source of water. Nostalgia trickled through your veins, but it was faint. The sound reminded you of childhood, fresh cut grass, and the warmth radiating from the summer sun. Humidity snuffed out any small breeze from the air. 

“I just needed a moment,” you finally uttered. 

“Is this about the-” 

“Please don’t say it. It’s already embarrassing not being called back by anyone. I don’t want you to say it outloud. I know, it's so much worse than expected. I don’t want to hear a pep talk from you right now. I love you so much, but maybe sometimes…” Your voice began to trail off as it softened. You sucked in a deep breath and went on. “Maybe dreams are meant to be just dreams.” 

Someone jammed a needle into his heart. He physically felt his heart strings twist and then his heart popped. Slumped back into your chair, you looked utterly defeated. Your chin curled towards your chest and you were trying so hard to be strong, but he knew you were internally distraught. 

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he whispered. “I want to tell you how much you mean to me and how much they’re all missing out on. However, if you don’t want to hear that right now, I’ll respect it. Whatever happens, please just don’t shut me out again.” 

Again. 

It was a piercing and heart-wrenching reminder that you had been down this road before. Insecurities and judgment clouded your vision. You became your own worst enemy and it spiraled out of control. No words could describe the utter hate and anguish you felt towards yourself. 

You began to inflict damage to yourself. Pulling away from meals just to feel the aching pain of hunger. Forcing yourself to stay up late to finish work because you felt like you deserved it. Every little thing barrel rolled until you got to the point where you wanted to end it all. 

You walked this path before and it was the exact path you were striding towards again. The missing meals, the staying up too late, and the scorching hot showers that burnt your skin. Pushing your vulnerable mentality to its limit as you scrolled through the social media posts of your favorite celebrities and idols; another fleeting reminder that they were doing so much better than you were. 

It was so easy to lay down and rot. Fighting for your dreams was so difficult when they seemed so far away. Even worse, you hated to know that your boyfriend knew just how far you’d take this self-hatred and loathing. You hated that he viewed you like some glass paperweight, but it was true. You were free falling and you could shatter apart at any moment. 

“Bang Chan?” 

He reached out and slipped his hand into yours. Warm fingers curled around your palm and he gently squeezed your hand. “What is it?” 

“It’s getting bad again.” 

“Where you feel like you might-” 

“Yes,” you cut him off. “It’s not even that I might. I feel like if things don’t turn around soon, I might just…” The words cut off in your throat. You hated feeling so vulnerable, but you loved him. 

Maybe you said the words because you wanted to warn him that within the next few days, he might find your corpse. Your thoughts were growing darker and darker and darker. As selfish as some might see it, you just wanted it to stop. You wanted the world to go silent and you wanted inner peace. 

There is no escaping when your biggest critic is your own brain. No matter what you do, your brain screams that it’s wrong. You’re trapped in a cage with your own worst enemy and there’s nothing you can do. It was so bad that the usual things weren’t helping. 

You tried to watch tv, but you kept zoning out and replaying scenes from the past. The embarrassment and stress of previous conversations felt like drowning in a tsunami. You tried to read, but you couldn’t get through a page. Your brain would whisper between the words and soon you’d lose your place. 

You loved music, but even your brain was stealing that away from you. You were attached to the sad and sappy stuff. It was how you felt right now, but listening to those songs made the sadness so much worse. It was like adding water to a grease fire; the flames of sadness rose higher and the smoke was suffocating. 

“I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. No matter what I do, it looms overhead like a shadow. I’m scared, I’m sad, and I’m terrified. I don’t know how to get my brain to shut up.” 

The tears welled up in your eyes more. Your breathing was growing more uneven as you struggled to stop the sobs from falling from your lips. “I’m trying s-so hard, but-” 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, I understand.” Chan gently tugged your arm, a gesture for you to rise to your feet. You allowed him to and when you did, he pulled you into an embrace. 

He pushed your head into his chest and your ear to his heartbeat. Your eyes slipped shut and you clung onto the sound of the steady wallop. One arm wrapped around your back and the other went to the back of your head. 

“Sometimes we all feel a little lost and defeated. That doesn’t make you worth any less to me. No matter what your brain says, I still love you.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what? For being upset and frustrated when things aren’t going your way? I understand what that’s like, honey. I’ve been there and I still find myself drifting back there sometimes.” His hand began to rub along the length of your spine. 

“Life can be so hard sometimes, but you know what the most important part is?” 

You didn’t respond. The lump in your throat was far too much. You were sure that you’d break down if you spoke right now. Your nostrils flared and your fingers dug into the lower fabric of his shirt. 

“The most important part is that I’m right here. You’re allowed to fall apart and grieve. I’m not going anywhere and I’m here for you. You don’t have to allow yourself to drown in this alone. I know what it’s like to have your brain be against you, so listen to me.” 

“You are one of the most amazing and loving people that I’ve ever met. You fight like hell to make your dreams come true when most people would have given up after a few weeks. There are people out there who are where you are and made something of themselves, even if they had to think outside the box.” 

“Maybe you’re not where you want to be, but I have no issues with believing that you’ll get there. You’re stronger than most with a good head on your shoulders. You’re intelligent, talented, and you have a passion. Don’t let this be the end of your story, let it be the beginning.” 

Caught off guard by his words, your eyes opened. It took you a few moments to let the words settle into your soul. You stared off into the darkness and let the words reply in your head. 

“You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. You don’t have to be perfect. The most important thing is that you’re trying to get where you’re going.” 

“Walt Disney was fired from a job and told he lacked imagination. Thomas Edison created the lightbulb after a teacher said he was too stupid to learn anything. Stephen King had a book rejected thirty times before he found someone who would take a chance and publish it.” 

“My point is that you never know what kind of life is waiting for you. If you give up now, you’ll never see what’s on the other side of the rain clouds. Sometimes rainbows are just out of reach.” 

He leaned forward and rested his chin on the top of your head. Your eyes slipped shut again and his arms wrapped around you tighter. The sounds of wildlife continued on in the background. 

“Thank you,” you finally managed to get out. Your voice was hoarse and you still felt like crying. It was nice to be reminded that other people had failures before their dreams came true. 

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart. I think you need some love, so I’m just gonna-” He shifted and pulled you on top of him as he sat in the chair you were in. Your ear remained pressed against his chest and his arms resumed their rightful places. “I’m going to hold you for a while, okay? I think you really need that.” 

You couldn’t get the words to come out, but you wanted to say you loved him. You did. You loved all of him. You loved all of him and you’d never stop loving him. Giving up meant losing this; the warmth, the words, and the wildlife. As much as you struggled with it, you were still going to fight like hell to make your dreams come true. 

After all, the inner child in you deserved it. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[erebusbabylon]

'90 millennial here with a request if you have the time

I'm struggling w overstimulation and depression and anxiety today (ok, tbh it's most days) and would love to read about Celebrimbor helping his love deal with such issues

Also 你的中文怎么样？

Yay! A fellow not quite elder, not quite younger, Millennial!

I am in the same boat most days as well! I live in a perpetual state of overstimulation. Living in China as a foreigner is not for the faint of heart. I looooved writing this! It was very therapeutic for me haha! Thanks for the idea! I hope you like it <3

我的中文还可以。我在中国已经六年了。我需要多学习!

Calm Within the Chaos (RoP! Celebrimbor x F! Wife)

Celebrimbor sat at his desk, poring over dispatches from other Elven lords. The papers were filled with updates on the affairs of Middle-earth, but his mind wandered far from the matters at hand. He sensed a heaviness in the atmosphere of their home, one that had settled over the past few weeks. His wife, once vibrant and filled with laughter, had grown quieter, her spirit dimmed by an unseen weight.

As he turned his focus back to his work, he cast a glance toward her. She was curled up in a corner of the room, lost in her thoughts, her gaze distant. The gentle flicker of the lanterns illuminated her features, but Celebrimbor could see the shadows lurking in her eyes.

“Beloved,” he called softly, setting his quill aside. “Would you join me for a moment?”

She looked up, her expression a mix of surprise and reluctance. “I— I’m fine,” she replied, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

“Please,” he urged gently. “Come. Sit.” he said patting his lap.

She quietly approached and settled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. The warmth of his presence brought a small comfort, but she was still tense. He set the dispatches aside, turning his full attention to her. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Talk to me.”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to the floor. “It’s just everything… I feel overwhelmed. The endless flow of meetings, the tasks, people always requiring more of my time… I can’t seem to find peace.”

Celebrimbor nodded, his heart aching for her. “Oh, my darling! Being the Lady of Eregion is a demanding position, and you take on more than your fair share of duties while I work in the forge. You deserve rest."

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Let’s find a way to lighten the load. You deserve moments of quiet, of joy—away from all the responsibilities.”

She looked up at him, her expression softening. “I want that, but it feels impossible sometimes. Even now, I can hear the echoes of the forge and the voices of our people.”

“Let us escape the noise together. What if we took a walk down to the river? The beauty of nature often brings peace, and I would love to spend that time with you.”

A small smile began to break through her worries. “That sounds lovely. But what about your work?”

“Let it wait,” he replied firmly, his gaze steady. “You are my priority. The dispatches can wait until tomorrow. Right now, I want to focus on you.”

As they walked hand in hand down the winding path toward the river, the soothing sounds of nature enveloped them. The air was filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant song of birds, a welcome contrast to the tension that had clouded her spirit.

However, their peaceful moment was interrupted when a herald approached, his expression serious as he bowed slightly. “My Lord, My Lady,” he said, breathless from his hurried pace. “I have urgent letters that require your attention.” he said looking at her.

Celebrimbor’s brow furrowed, and he stepped protectively in front of his wife. “Leave them in my study,” he replied firmly. “I will take care of them.”

The herald hesitated, glancing at her. “But, My Lord, these letters are specifically for the Lady of Eregion.”

With a raised eyebrow and a hint of sass, Celebrimbor crossed his arms. “I am the Lord of Eregion, and whoever is demanding her time will have to go through me first to get it.” His tone was light, but the protectiveness in his posture was unmistakable.

The herald looked taken aback but quickly regained his composure. “Yes, My Lord. I will leave them in your study.”

“Thank you,” Celebrimbor said, waving the messenger away. As the herald retreated, he turned back to his wife, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “See? You are not to be burdened with such trivialities today.”

She chuckled softly, appreciating his fierce loyalty.

As they continued walking, the gentle sound of flowing water grew louder, promising a moment of tranquility that they both desperately needed.

As they reached the riverbank, the gentle flow of water sparkled under the warm sunlight. Celebrimbor scanned the area, searching for the perfect spot. He spotted a patch of soft grass nestled beneath the shade of a willow tree, its branches swaying lightly in the breeze.

“This looks perfect,” he said, guiding her toward it. They settled down, and she immediately lay her head in his lap, feeling the coolness of the grass beneath her and the warm sun above.

Celebrimbor smiled down at her, his fingers instinctively finding their way into her hair. He began to play with it gently, weaving his fingers through the strands, creating soothing patterns. The rhythmic motion felt like a balm against the worries that had plagued her.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the moment. The warmth of the sun kissed her skin, and she focused on the sensations—the gentle tug of his fingers in her hair, the soft rustle of the willow branches, and the distant songs of birds flitting about.

In that serene space, the weight of her responsibilities began to fade, replaced by a profound sense of peace. “This is perfect,” she murmured, a small smile gracing her lips.

Celebrimbor looked down at her, his heart swelling with affection. “I could stay here forever,” he replied softly. “Just you and me, away from all the demands of the world.”

Celebrimbor leaned down, his lips brushing softly against her forehead before lingering there for a moment. The warmth of his kiss enveloped her, and she felt a surge of comfort wash over her.

“Whenever you feel overwhelmed,” he whispered, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes, “come to me. No matter what I’m doing, I promise I will stop everything to care for you. You are more important to me than anything else in this world.”

His gaze was earnest, filled with a depth of love that made her heart swell. “You don’t have to carry your burdens alone. I’m here for you, always.”

She smiled, feeling a sense of safety in his words. “Thank you, my love. That means more to me than you know.”

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 6: Cruise

Pairing: Noa x human!reader

Warnings: None!

Summarize: A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words: 3k+

A/N: Hi there! After all this time, I've decided to post the first part of this chapter. So it's not complete in what I wanted to tell entirely about this chapter. However, I find myself with a rather significant lack of inspiration and motivation, which has been going on for over a month now. I hope that working in this way will enable me to start the rest of this chapter under better conditions.

In the meantime, I hope you'll like this first part!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper Masterlist / Planet of the apes Masterlist

Gifs credit (1) & (2)

Your brain was about to collapse. Its cogs were running at full speed in an engine flooded by years of letting yourself sink. Reaching the bottom of the ocean and letting yourself be carried along by the sea currents, getting used to seeing nothing but the crushing blackness of the abyss. Getting the engine running again made the rusty nuts creak, and no matter how many times you jabbed the storm-shaken screws with a screwdriver, it felt as if every turn sheared through your temples.

And everything was suddenly too heavy. The weight of your head ended up in the palm of your hands as your fingers desperately tried to cling to the hairline that defined your forehead.

Your cogs floundered in the muddy sand of the seabed that had become your brain. A flooded, clogged and slimy wading pool that struggled to rid itself of the stagnant seaweed that had accumulated until it filtered out the slightest particle of emotion that dared to try and find its way back to the surface. Drowning in your own wading pool. In your own brain, so as not to see the immeasurable extent of the damage inflicted by the tidal wave that had left you shipwrecked.

Shipwrecked. Today, it was difficult to remember when the boat had capsized. Had it happened gradually? As each crew member fell overboard? One after the other. And despite the lifebuoys, despite the rafts, all you could do was watch them sink, helpless as the ocean slowly took what had always belonged to it.

Shipwrecked on a wandering ship, meant to stay afloat despite the shattered hull and torn sails. Sometimes you still wondered why the ocean had chosen never to come and get you. The one that decided to toss you around like a lost buoy in the middle of the blue vastness, the one that made you swallow water at will, knowing full well that salt water couldn't carry you off. The one that dragged you to the open sea with no promise of ever seeing the end of it. Now the ocean was offering you the chance to wash ashore on a white sandbank.

But how do you dock without a captain at the helm?

A broad hand came to rest on your shoulder, engulfing half your shoulder blade, and a few comforting taps pressed against your shoulder.

“How do you know his words?”

Raka. He seemed to have a better grasp of the concept of empathy than did his friend. But you couldn't blame Noa. Even you didn't know how to steer your boat. So to ask a near-stranger to trust you to navigate between waves and sea rocks and reach that sandbank…

And how could you dock without a captain at the helm?

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

The world was changing.

And the more you watched it burn away, the more you realized there was no one left. There was no one to tell the story. Radio, TV news, newspapers, books… no one would run them or write them. The human ability to convey an event around the world as we would slip a letter into a mailbox had gone to ashes when the virus had set humanity ablaze.

You no longer knew what the world was becoming, and only its progress could be observed directly through the lens of the camera you'd found in the ruins of a crumbling city center.

There was no one left to hold on to a lost humanity… except you. These history books, these tales of the years that modern society had never had the pleasure of exploring in its own lifetime, but only through the remnants that others recounted - in those historic eras of the birth of societies - were going to be the last. And the world you knew would eventually die in the memories of the few humans who would in turn die out without being able to ensure an offspring.

Only you would be left to remember this humanity. And if you dared to hope that the memories of the apes around you would be passed down through the generations, there was little hope that humans would live on in their memories and the tales you imagined would come to life around the rise of simian societies.

Perhaps that's what prompted you to bring back that camera. A Polaroid you knew would only last a year, or as long as you could find enough to keep it going between the batteries and photo paper it consumed with every click to capture an event, a group of apes fishing, or the sometimes gigantic wooden constructions rising several meters above your head.

Those pictures that were instantly printed would stay. They would tell the story. They would remember the time when humanity had been turned upside down and could not turn back. They would remember the new world that was being built under your admiring gaze. And they wouldn't forget. They wouldn't forget what the world had been, what humans had done and what the world was about to become.

It was important. You couldn't fully imagine how significant it was, but you'd been steeped in history classes and there was something comforting about knowing about a past you'd never witnessed. Perhaps because it was proof… the only proof of the existence of the past.

And if you'd been willing to give up the humanity you'd lived in, you weren't yet ready to forget its existence.

Through the lens, you could see the symbol made from pieces of wood hanging at the entrance to the village. A circle containing the shape of a four-pointed star. The symbol of Caesar, his words and the ideology he embodied. It was the kind of memory one shouldn't forget.

“Why… symbol?”

A sudden jolt.

Your finger pressed the button, completely out of focus on the image you'd just tried to center, and the click was followed by the distinctive sound of a photo printing. Your eyes turned for a second to the owner of the baritone voice as an amused sigh escaped your lips when you saw the blurred picture emerge from the polaroid.

“Because it's important.” You answered casually, a small smile on your face.

Caesar puffed through his nostrils, lips pursed in a brief upward movement as he tried to grasp the interest you had behind every picture you took. He'd seen it all before, thanks to Will. He knew humans liked that sort of thing even if it made no sense to him.

“It's important to remember.”

You went on, again looking into the lens to adjust the image of the symbol. This time, the photo came out clearly and the four-pointed star stood proudly in the center, the angle of the picture making it even more imposing than it was.

Caesar remained silent, his face eternally scowling, but you had a well-trained eye, you spotted a certain curiosity well hidden in the corner of his solemn gaze and you handed him the picture with a big smile.

“Long from now, the apes will be able to remember, thanks to this photo.” You carried on, lowering the camera to observe with your own eyes the life of the apes displayed in front of you.

Caesar listened carefully, and the ridge of his eyes hardened, puzzled by your words.

“Why… keep… the past?”

A very human notion, certainly. What's the point of remembering what yesterday was when today brings everything you need? And you seemed to be asking yourself the same question. Caesar didn't often see you with your eyebrows furrowed, your facial features slightly tense as your eyes sought a suitable answer to give him. Your hand went to the back of your neck to try and soothe the tension in your muscles, and he knew from this simple gesture that you were going to need time to build up a thought that you probably hadn't even considered yet.

You kept this attitude only in those moments when a simple question made you question again everything you were sure of, and Caesar took a certain pride in it. An ape making a human doubt. There was something exhilarating behind this feat. Even if you'd never seemed narrow-minded in your ideas, it was pleasant to see you reflect on a notion that seemed so obvious to you.

Humans were always like that. Sure of themselves and their beliefs. Confident that their values were the best, without questioning for a second their credibility or the nuances that might exist.

Why remember the past? What was the point of knowing about the advent of human societies? The horrors and destructive wars? The great names of men and women who have left their mark on history in one way or another? The great dates, whether of atrocity or freedom?

And beyond human history, and in the more mundane events of everyday life, what was the point of remembering our childhood home? Or that old aunt telling of her travels to the other side of the world? Or that birthday when nobody came?

Your fingers traveled to your wristband, tracing the outlines of the polished bone pieces under Caesar's gaze. If not for this wristband, or this lame hip, what would drive you to remember why Caesar and his kind had taken you under their wings? There was nothing else. Your body had forgotten the torture and pain. There was nothing tangible to prove the existence of abuse apart from that wristband and that hip. The brain was quick enough to forget what was of no use to it or what was too painful to remain in living memory. And if the brain forgot, if there was nothing to remind it to remember, how could one prove the existence of what had been?

And… why should one prove it?

“Because it existed… and… if we forget, how could we do any better?”

Caesar snorted, and you watched his eyes widen dubiously. Had humans done better? He wasn't very knowledgeable about humanity's past, and on second thought, maybe he wasn't interested enough: whatever had been, good or bad today, that's what was important.

“Humans… have they done better?”

Caesar was skeptical, and had every reason to be. On second glance, perhaps humans were doing worse today. The lesson was never learned, and the human was diving headfirst back into his bad habits, making sure to choke on them. This made you smile. His skepticism was right in spite of you, and you even suspected that he knew more about the human species than you did.

“No,” you answered with a giggle. “But apes might.”

There was a glimmer of hope in your eyes. The human cause was lost, and had been for a long time. Even before the virus had spread, humanity had already begun to dig its own grave. Beyond the wars and hatred, the Earth itself was rotting from the inside out under the impact of the human hand. It had only ever been a matter of time before humanity came to the end of its reign.

You weren't even sorry to see your species die out. You were only sorry that it was taking everything else with it.

There was a form of supplication in your eyes. Let the apes do better. Better than wars, better than hatred, better than the destruction of nature, better than the aggressive ambition of some men, better than… the human species in all its consequences.

Caesar raised his head proudly. He was sure of one thing: apes were, in all their consequences, better than humans.

“Apes… don't need… to remember… to do better.”

His gruff voice was adamant, and despite his assurance, a twinge of anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. How could one do better if no one remembered what had been? You looked up at him, and couldn't help admiring the self-assured features Caesar wore on his face. Broad-shouldered and imposing, his chest puffed out in defiance of anyone who wished to argue with him, what would become of simian society if he were no longer present in the minds of the apes?

You saw it every day. All you had to do was say his name and the apes would bend their backs without batting an eyelid. But none were afraid of him. Caesar had earned the respect of his people because they knew how, thanks to him, they had won their freedom. They respected him and his words, because they remembered.

“In 300 years, don't you want to become the legend of Grumpy Caesar?”

Your gently teasing laugh was greeted by a grumble, probably offended by the nickname you kept harping into his ears, but for the benevolent smile that followed every time, Caesar could never take it the wrong way. It was you, and he'd learned that your words of affection sometimes resembled those teasing words. Those words always followed by a slight, playful shove of the back of your hand against his biceps as your lips stretched happily. He'd also noticed that this was the only time you dared to touch him. And that made him smile.

To become a legend, there was no such thing in the minds of the apes. When his body had breathed the last breath of oxygen that life would grant him, and the sun had decided to stop shining on him, the apes would find another sturdy branch on which to stand. This was how it was meant to be, and his name would become nothing more than the caress of the wind, forgotten once it had gone by.

“Too faraway, apes will forget.”

Caesar preferred to sign these words. Sign language always seemed to have a deeper meaning. When audible words didn't speak loud enough to resonate emotions swallowed up far beneath the ribcage, signs spoke with more truth. A truth that seemed very heavy to you.

The apes will forget. Perhaps that was the truest and saddest thing of all. His name will crumble in the memory of the apes like wood devoured by growing flames. And once the wood has shattered, it will simply lie in a pile of ashes, waiting for the breeze to carry it away and scatter it as it pleases until there's nothing left.

It was his truth. At least, if there was nothing to remind them of him. Your eyes fell on the camera hanging around your neck before settling back on Caesar. He was looking at his people the way he looked at his sons, and if that's all it took to save his name, whether he understood it or not, you'd immortalize the little stones that were building his empire as many times as he'd let you.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

An empire shaped like a ship to endure the years, and when it was the captain's turn to walk the plank to fulfill the ocean's call, the rudder had slipped into your hands. And you accepted it. You knew that sailing against wind and tide would be an arduous task. You knew it. And it seemed to you that you had fought well. Sails wide open to catch as much wind as possible and the remaining crew paddling hard against the pull of fallen anchors. The endeavor had been going on for a long time.

For so long.

For too long.

Every crew member was an anchor desperately dragged along by the ship you were trying to keep afloat until the mainsail gave way. The increasing weight and the fading wind had worn away the fabric until only the tatters floated scattered in the wind. And the boat that had sailed at full speed for so long found itself slowing down… more and more, until the natural swell of the blue vastness became its only driving force.

No matter whether you wanted to go to port or starboard, the ocean pushed the boat in the direction it thought best without ever consulting you, sometimes leading it into storms where the sea grew high above the masts. You often watched helplessly as the huge waves crashed over the deck, washing away the rubble that an earlier storm had caused, and soon, shipwreck would be bound to occur.

How long had you been at the helm before you let go? A rudder that had let you down long before you gave up. And how long had you just watched that rudder go from left to right at the mercy of the ocean without doing anything about it?

You weren’t sure how to act upon it. As natural as it had been in the past, navigating Caesar’s memory again across this ocean had become a mystery.

If time hadn’t run its best sprint, perhaps there would have been a time when explaining would have been easy.

But today…

Today, the sand bank on the horizon might just become a mere illusion.

Your glassy gaze fell on Raka as he watched your fingers run over the frame and brush against Caesar's image. Such a simple question demanded an equally simple answer. But was it really? Telling them that you'd known him would most certainly trigger a cataclysm that would turn your dilapidated ship upside down, and you were already lacking strength at the mere thought of having to put it back afloat. Swimming to the end of an endless journey was not in your plans, even if the countdown to impact was already ticking away in front of your eyes.

Raka's green eyes eventually found yours, and a series of soft hootings encouraged you to speak as you could only swallow as you spoke anxiously.

“ What about you… how do you know them?”

You watched his gaze slide from your eyes to Noa's, who was listening to your conversation with great interest. His curious stare dropped like a domino to the gauntlet on his left hand, and with a precise gesture, Noa pulled out a pendant crafted from what looked like white wood.

A pendant in the shape of…

“The order of Caesar, naturally!” Raka exclaimed as if it was an obvious fact.

A four-pointed star.

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Tags list:

@callsignwidow

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@katzykat

@koshi-sama

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@sciencewithottsnpotts

@sparks0918

@moonlightnyx

@analuw

@night-shadowblood-writes2

[valeovalairs]

Smiles, here’s a Legend of the Riptide Pirate AU character lore dump (slash info about them just compiled into one place)

Chip

The “Riptide Pirate”

Uses his bandana to appear alive and eternally 19, despite being undead and being an actual skeleton at this point.

You know that meme, how do you do fellow kids? That’s how I envision Chip in this AU. He desperately wants to still appear young and cool once he meets the girls and warms up to them but he is an old man in a modern world. My guy is struggling.

He is very sad.

He kept the Albatross busy and alive with people for a very long time, at least a good hundred years, until it became too painful and he stopped letting people on. That’s when he became more of a legend, when he retreated into the shadows.

He still hangs out in Zero. He tries to spend most of his time there because he wants to enjoy what time he has left with Ollie, but sometimes he’ll get restless and go off on the Albatross.

He has grey streaks in hair- because when he realized Jay and Gil had both started greying and looking older and he still looked 19, they all got really sad and he gave himself grey streaks and said, “look, we match now.” There were tears.

Ollie

He’s alive!

He is a very very old man though. Like maybe even 200ish probably (half-elf’s can exceed 180 which is probably for them what 70 is for humans).

He did travel a lot with the Riptide Pirates in his adulthood, but eventually settled in Zero.

Chip still comes to visit him and his family, who know him as “Uncle Chip”. A lot of them also traveled with the Riptide Pirates at one point or another while he still had a crew.

He has dementia:( Sometimes he’ll see Chip and ask where Gill and Ms. Jay are and it hurts Chip every single time.

Jay

Guys she’s dead, I’m sorry.

She traveled on the Albatross for decades before retiring/settling (with who, idk, but I do really like clockwork/birdbolt wives, so with Ensa maybe?)

I don’t know if she had kids (definitely not bio kids but maybe she like raised some kiddos at some point idk)

She still would join Chip and Gil occasionally on the Albatross until she physically could not anymore, and then Chip would visit her.

She died of old age.

Gillion

He’d dead, but I don’t know what happened to him.

I mean it’s Gillion Tidestrider do we really think this guy is going to live his entire possible 200 year lifespan? No. Because it’s Gillion Tidestrider. He’s going to die heroically in some way. Maybe it’s before Jay, maybe it’s after, idk. But he was too slow. That’s what happened he’s gotten older and one day he was too slow. 

Fnc? Im more leaning towards this au being one sided fnc on chips side but there is for sure a whole other kind of angst potential for fnc being an established thing in this au.

Phoebe

The Ferin!

A descendant of one of Jay Ferin’s cousins. (The Ferin’s feel like a big family too me, one with lots of cousins and twice removeds and stuff like that)

One of her parents, the not Ferin, was never too fond of the Ferins practices and so they tried to keep Phoebe distanced from them. (This included the name thing but they caved and allowed her to be called Phoebe May Ferin) And her Ferin parent agreed, despite having been in the Navy themself, that their family was a bit intense.

The family has pushed her to the point of joining the Navy academy, and her family wasn’t given much of a choice, so she was sent off.

She’s heard about the Riptide Pirate, through stories- but her favorite part is that one of his earliest companions was also a Ferin. She hears rumors that he’s still around, being spotted at various docks and Zero.

She decides to risk it and run away, looking for the Riptide Pirate. She escapes the evening the Champion is in the city as all attention will be on that. She panics when she realizes that the champion is also trying to run away.

She knows how to sail (small crafts) I feel like she’d canoe and paddle and know how to man like one of those tiny sail boats.

She has reddish hair but it’s a lot more mute than Jay’s. She also has darker eyes and a stockier build.

Class wise, she’s a fighter, I think. I’m not one hundred percent sure.

Edyn

Edyn is also still alive!

She’s “The Champion’s” grandmother

I think she never returned to the undersea, and ended up settling somewhere on the surface. She ended having kids. The Undersea found out about this, and at someone point sent some people up for them, and offered the kid (now an adult) money, status, community, as long as they returned to the undersea. All they want is for them to sire a child to be “the chosen one”, someone from the same lineage as the original. They like seed some distrust in their head and it turns into a whole argument with Edyn and they never speak again.

She hears about the Champion coming to All Port as part of some diplomacy delegation, several months before, and she really wants to see her granddaughter, get to meet her, so she ends up getting a job for the place they’re staying at as like a maid or an attendant or smth under a different name, and no one suspects anything of a sweet old lady. And they end up promoting her to serve the Champions room because a) sweet old lady b) shes a triton and a triton who has never been too the surface will probably be more comfortable around another triton.

Edyn gets to speak to Calypso and reveals first of all that she is her grandmother, and second of all that she is not actually the chosen one.

Calypso

The “Champion”!

The “Chosen One” who is not actually the chosen one! Just a person meant to replace Gillion as a religious figurehead after his “failure” she and most other people do not know this (they pushed Gillion under the rug and waited for people to forget about him before trying again)

She is a Tidestrider

Her thing is mostly the Elders trying to remain relevant in an increasing secular world.

Her training is less strict and started at a much earlier age than Gillion’s, and it followed a lot less combat and fighting and more religious and magical 

She’s literally just for ceremonially purposes, they keep harping about the prophecy and destiny but the elders all know it won’t come to pass for her. She does not.

She goes as part of a diplomacy thing to All Port and there meets Edyn. She had already been discontent with the undersea and uncertain of her place and she had thought about the possibility of leaving but Edyn finally sows the final seeds of distrust and she leaves- Edyn helping by creating a distraction and letting her slip out the window.

She realizes she has no idea of where she is going until she meets Phoebe. They put the dots together and once Phoebe understands she offers to bring Cal along with her, to join the Riptide Pirate. She follows.

She has a crown of coral that looks a lot like Gillion’s but it’s a crown that she can take on and off. It’s not real.

She has lighter hair than Gil and she has a more willowy build (she is also taller than he was)

Class wise, I thought about her being a paladin, but with there being less focus on combat and being a holy warrior, I think she’s a cleric (my heart is telling me she’s a cleric)

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 4: placeholder

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'It’s like doing every little thing that you used to do with Tsumiki, and Megumi, sometimes, too— time spent after or during school, time spent laughing and giggling over the phone, time spent over snacks that keep you so full you don’t even want to eat your next meal— the same, but different.'

---

Yeah, no matter what happens, no matter what changes— you'll live, probably.

word count: ~5k; tws: brief mentions of menstruation maybe?

12-2-2017

Out of everything you wouldn’t have expected this. 

It could have been her telling you about how Valentine’s Day is coming up, complaining about how that one teacher’s been giving her class quizzes every lesson, or gossipping about frivolous things like the drama happening among the girls in her grade. 

But you don’t expect the phone call to go like this. 

“Hello?” you ask into the phone, “Tsumiki?” 

“Hello,” the voice over the phone says. This one is older, more masculine, and you know whose it is. 

It’s Gojo Satoru’s. 

“Ah, Mr… Mr Gojo? Is Tsumiki home?” 

There’s a long pause after that, the silence like paint filling in the gaps of a puzzle when the pieces are lost. 

“…not now,” he says, his tone low and heavy, “Sorry, kid. You should…. you can call on another day, okay?” 

“I… okay. Thank you. Could you help me tell her that her friend [Name] wants to call her? She hasn’t been talking to me anywhere since, um… the start of the year, I think?” 

“Yeah,” he goes, voice aching to the point it makes your heart twinge, “I’ll let her know. Thanks.” 

Then he hangs up. It sounded as if he was holding the phone with all the weight in the world, and had his voice drenched in all the pain in it. 

And you don’t know why. 

-16-2-2017-

It happens once more, and you’re convinced that every time you see them after a while Tsumiki and Megumi slip away completely from your grasp. Tsumiki hasn’t called in months— again, hasn’t responded to nor read any of your text messages and doesn’t even wish you a good morning when you start the week anymore. She always used to do that. You’re sure they would have a reason— you’re definitely sure— but why would they have to go missing on you right after you left? 

And you didn’t even want to speak to Megumi at first. Though the two of you had shared your contacts during your trip in Tokyo and agreed to catch up every so often, you struggled to face him. Perhaps it was childish pride— your wish to have been right and to have him apologise to you, apologise to his sister, too; your wish for him to call you up admitting he was wrong. 

You suppose you wouldn’t mind if he never did, though— you just didn’t want to apologise to him. You didn’t want to lose or give in, not when your life has revolved so much around these two, not when this is the only time you can control things. Your relationship with them is a journey on a swaying boat, and each time they move it you feel you’re about to fall into the water and drown from them turning it over. This is the only way you can do it to them, do it to him in particular, because you’d let only Tsumiki prove you wrong. You’d let both of them do anything to you— at this point you have because no matter how much they promise to call you back, to listen to your voicemails, to meet you again, you’re the one arranging plans to move to Tokyo; you’re the one calling them for what feels like over and over and sitting with your phone pressed to your ear for an eternity only to hear nothing. You moved all over the country, so why did it feel like you were the only one stuck in place as they moved forward from you? 

At this point it’s even hindering you from making any new friends. You choose so much to linger on these two, on two people you met at the age of eight and only knew for a year before you decided to devote yourself to them, that you miss the chance to speak to anyone else your age who could be a lifelong companion no matter where you moved. 

Yet at the same time you can’t handle not saying sorry— if there’s one thing that’s festered in you for years it’s the guilt that’s accumulated from being who you are. Guilt from being a burden, guilt for not having been a better daughter or an easier child to raise, guilt for not apologising after scolding someone over something that never really mattered. What you fought over: in the end, it didn’t matter, right? 

Still, you’d rather be immature than lose control the first time you’ve had it; you’d rather be immature than apologise for something you refuse to say is your fault even if your greater conscience tells you to apologise either way. 

Your thoughts are scribbles on paper, and you can’t decide, really; you can’t make a stand on what you really want: an apology, to apologise, to be proven right, to be able to talk again, to completely refrain from talking to him at all for the rest of your life— 

This really shouldn’t be that big of a deal. So maybe it’s because Valentine’s Day has just passed and you’re lonely and he’s the only one you’ve ever had feelings for, or because this is the compromise you can come up with the part of yourself that wants control and the part of yourself that thinks the world is better off with you being less of a weight on someone’s back. 

Anyway, you phone Megumi up. 

Slowly, you key his number in— you swore not to forget it when he gave it to you last year, when for a few days you had rebuilt your friendship with him through awkward conversations and beating around the bush, only for it to crumble and come crashing down. 

You press the phone to your ear. Its screen feels cold as the side of it grazes the skin on your chin. It vibrates and rings, its hum like a bee’s buzz, as you wait for the reply. 

“This is Fushiguro speaking. If you’re hearing this, I can’t be on the phone right now, so just leave a voicemail message—”

You’ve never felt more hurt after feeling his voice reach your ears. 

-20-2-2017-

You try again. The beep seems to mock you as you put your phone down and collapse against the mattress. 

All of it, the frustration, the melancholic nights spent dialling numbers over and over again, the emptiness that greets you after like an old friend who knows you all too well— 

— it has all happened before. It’s happening again and all you can do is watch as it does, forbidding yourself from interfering with what you’ve claimed is now a relapse of the distancing that you had no control over two years ago.  

10-3-2017

“We may be moving back to Sendai for a while, since we’ve got to settle some things with our old house there,” your father states— you know that you’re guaranteed to be spending your last year of junior high there, though, since it’s less than a month until the next school year— “Are you okay with that?” 

“Yeah, sure.” You don’t have the number of any of your classmates at school, and you don’t really care to ask anymore. “Want me to help with anything?” 

4-5-2017

Anticipation for the summer vacation breaks into your school calendar. The summer of 2017 is the first one you’ve had while having a friend close to you besides Megumi and Tsumiki, with Yuuji and you heading off for arcade games every Tuesday, laughing about goodness knows what in between classes and sending each other videos of old vines on Youtube before Vine died at the start of the year. It’s like doing every little thing that you used to do with Tsumiki, and Megumi, sometimes, too— time spent after or during school, time spent laughing and giggling over the phone, time spent over snacks that keep you so full you don’t even want to eat your next meal— the same, but different. 

With a skip in your step, you head to class. Yuuji’s in there, and hey— it’s a Thursday, so today you’re especially excited. 

That’s what’s been happening to you recently: excitement. Colour. Before meeting him it felt as if things were bleak, dull, grey like piles of dust. Yet you suppose becoming his friend has brought that colour back to you, because now you look forward to days instead of dreading them, all for the sake of him. How romantic. 

“So? Which girl in our class do you like, Itadori?”  

“I don’t like any of them.” 

“Yeah, but if you had to pick one!” 

The other boys don’t even mention you. It does make sense. At this point you may just seem to be someone desperate for his attention: of all the people in your class, you talk only to him, mostly because you’d struggle talking to any other girls, even more so any other boys. They were all intimidating at times: the baseball pitcher who dragged Itadori near his table every now and then, the pretty girls always willing to lend you bobby pins and hair ties with the best makeup you’ve seen and rolled-up skirts you feel you could never replicate and look good in, the smart student council leaders sitting at the front of the classroom completing their homework during lunch periods. Even if what would meet you while talking to them was not ridicule, it would be, at the very least, an uncomfortable silence frozen in the air from your awkwardness. 

And hearing all this kills you because you know it would never be you. You wonder why it does— liking him was fun. It was supposed to be something you dallied in for your own sake, because doing what a girl your age should do instead of rotting in your room comforted you. 

Yet your feelings were fickle, you supposed, because what was a source of joy slowly became a slightly painful twinge in your chest that you ignored each time you waited for him to tell you anything that could have indicated any feelings towards you. It was over from the start: you knew you’d never be the type of person he’d like; your handwriting wasn’t pretty, you were an inelegant klutz, weren’t gentle or caring or anything like that, just awkward. Tsumiki could, though, you think. Tsumiki had a natural grace, and a soothing charm that followed her like the scent of eucalyptus from her shampoo and conditioner. If it were Tsumiki, anyone could fall for her— any boy or any girl, anyone. But it’s you, and you find yourself wallowing in self-pity as you hear him say it before noticing one of the girls— Ozawa Yuko, you think— standing in front of you. 

You don’t know her well enough to say anything about her. Still, you know that she’s a good few inches shorter than Yuuji is, and that whenever you walk past her you can vaguely pick up the scent of camellia shampoo. 

That’s the type that people— boys, at least— like. Graceful girls with elegance emanating from them, radiant and warm and friendly, even if they may be shy. You know how some other students have spoken about Ozawa, mocking her for things she couldn’t control. And it was stupid as hell: you guys were teenagers, there’d be no need for her to want to lose weight now— she still had so much time to grow and losing weight would stunt it, plus she would be adorable either way, too. 

In the few months you’ve known him you know Yuuji isn’t like that. There are boys your age, with their boisterous laughs and common cruelty, and then there’s Yuuji. He’s never said a wrong word about anyone; he likes Jennifer Lawrence and tall girls with big asses but he’s like others in the sense that he loves people who are kind, sweet— someone like Ozawa. 

So when you see Ozawa waiting by the door, about to listen in with a light blush on her face, you know you don’t even need to hear his answer. 

[Name]

Yuuji

Sorry

Is it ok if we don’t go today

I think I’ve to stay home and study

[Yuuji]

aw ok its all good

good luck studying man

[Name]

Thanks

You should have fun with the other boys

 And walk home with them

Sounds kinda gay ngl but eh

[Yuuji]

nah not the same when i’m not walking bakc with u

It hurts a bit as you walk home on your own, but you don’t cry. 

Now it’s time to be useful. 

The next day, you talk to Itadori as usual. Nothing changes. 

But then during lunchtime you head to where Ozawa sits— today she’s in the classroom for a change, and she’s all alone, and you should’ve tried your best to prevent that so that others wouldn’t be like you. If Itadori was the one to be sitting by your desk, you’ll be like that for her whenever you see her. 

“Um, Ozawa,” you mumble, tapping her shoulder. 

She looks up. “Ah… hm?” 

“...good luck!” you say, holding your thumb up as support, “I’ll cheer you on…! If you ever want to talk to him, I’ll help you, okay?” 

You run away before things get too awkward, but a connection established is a connection regardless, and you’ve won for today. 

1-12-2017

Your parents seem on-edge these days, your mother stressed and tired as she always is, your father worried about nothing you seem to know. 

One night your mother places her chopsticks on the rim of her plate. The way she does it is in defeat— silently, firmly so as to show that she wasn’t quite done, that she could still hold them with all her strength in defiance. You only see her that way after your parents fight: that frown, the passively violent, deafeningly soundless aura from her actions. Because it was always your father who “won”. You didn’t have a place to judge— your parents were a sterling team together; even if they fought things would be resolved and you’d have no say in the matter. It was only theirs and if they treated their arguments like fights they brought war weapons to, they would agree that you had neither the life experience to stop them nor the wisdom to solve their problems. You couldn’t handle it either: their fighting and how it froze the air solid, the way it could erupt into them shouting at the tip of their throats so long as they were in their bedroom, because they knew you wouldn’t hear. And so beyond words your father always won their arguments, each of them treating the other like an enemy on the battlefield. 

Your mother turns to you. 

“Your father has to go to Tokyo on the 24th,” she states, “They need him back for something.” 

“Jujutsu sorcerer stuff?” 

“I won’t take long,” your father smiles, as if he had not hurt your mother’s feelings to get her to give up, “And I’m not going to be involved in the actual fighting like last time.” 

“Then why do you have to go?” 

“It’s something really important.” 

You frown. 

He sighs. “There’s going to be an attack on the 24th,” he says, “Something planned by a man named Geto Suguru, a curse user with an extremely powerful cursed technique. I’ll just help with healing anyone’s injuries,” he explains, “…you know, I actually wanted to bring you there and see how things work in real time, since it seems you’ve been interested in your cursed technique lately, but someone didn’t want you to do it.” 

“Don’t bring me into this again,” your mother spits at him. 

“I already told you it wouldn’t involve any of us getting hurt,” he retorts, “If I bring her there I won’t even let her use her cursed technique, I just want her to see how Dr Ieiri and I do it—” 

“Ah!” you go, “Dr Ieiri Shoko, right? Megu— ah, I heard about her last time, from… someone.” 

“From Megumi?” your mother says, “Darling, don’t think about those two anymore, it’s better if you don’t get involved with that or that world at all—” 

“Anyway,” your father interjects, “Do you want to try it, sweetheart? And if it all goes well with most of Tokyo still being intact and us having some extra time left, I can see if Dr Ieiri is able to teach you about reverse cursed technique—” 

“I told you, she’s not going anywhere near all of this—” 

“You and I both want the same thing. It’s not like I want her to be a jujutsu sorcerer, I’m just looking out for my daughter’s interests in healing and recovering things—” 

“Wait!” you interrupt them, “I— let me think about it, actually. Could you let me think about it, please? And I promise I won’t do anything near the battlefield, I swear. I mean— I just thought, um, that since they’re going to do some, like—- actual stuff, I guess?— that I wanted to see how it works. I still don’t want to fight. I just want to see if I could help, you know, and it would be good if I could see how Daddy and Dr Ieiri do it so that I can learn from it and stuff and in the future I can make myself useful to other people and all so please don’t fight—” 

“You’re rambling,” your mother states, her hands on her lap. Ultimate defeat. Absolute resignation from it all. 

You almost want to cry at the sight of it. 

“Of course,” your father replies, “Give it some good thought, okay, darling?” 

8-2-2018

Time moves like tennis balls against rackets. Yuuji will always be a great friend, you’ve decided, even if he doesn’t like you back. Besides, now, things are back to being fun: you’re going to crush on more people and have fun and see if one day someone confesses to you, and maybe by next Wednesday— the fourteenth— your sweet sixteenth Valentine’s Day will be the first one not spent alone.  

Sighing, you close your book again after a long day. There’s pencil lead stuck to the side of your pinky finger as you stack everything together and straighten it against the table so that everything in your bag gets inside all neat and even. 

“Man, [Name], you always keep everything so neat,” Yuuji comments, “I just stuff everything in my bag. Surprised I haven’t lost all my stuff yet.” 

“That’s why all your stuff comes out crumpled,” you say, “Your notebooks come out like they came out a rat’s nest— no offence.” 

“None taken,” he replies, bending down dramatically, “Seriously, [Name], you’re a really good student! Smart, too.” 

“You sure?” you ask, standing up with the straps of your bag slung against your shoulders, the two of you exiting the classroom, “I fell asleep during class and only woke up when she gave us those questions. I’m gonna have to check the textbook to finish it up tonight…” 

“Still smart to me, honestly,” he states, “I’m a pretty dumb guy.” 

You hit him playfully on the shoulder, and he jerks forward for a second before coming back up again. “Nah, be confident! You’re, like, good at sports and English and stuff. I can’t do any sports to save my life.” 

“Well it’s not like I can do maths for shit, honestly.” He slumps down. 

Then— “Ah, wait, Yuji, sorry— I’ve to go to the bathroom for a second to check something—!” 

“Huh? Check what? Wait, uh— want me to hold your bag for you?” 

“Sure—” your pads are in there— “Wait, nonononono— I’ll be fine, don’t worry, just something quick, hold on. You go without me first, ‘kay? I’ll meet you at the famima we always go to.” 

It turns out to not be a false alarm, and the thing comes early by a few days. You’re lucky you at least have some of your emergency supplies with you so that you can still have a fun day with Yuuji as long as you don’t drink too much green tea or coffee. A little should be fine, though, right? 

Still, you could always cell-manipulate your way out of unexpected situations like these. You just choose not to— it’s not worth the trouble of headaches or nosebleeds. Who’d want to willingly bleed from the top and the bottom at once, really? 

You check your appearance in the mirror afterward, and everything looks okay— your hair is normal despite school air’s penchant for ruining it, your uniform looks alright even though your skirt pocket may look a little weird later once you put your phone in it, and your face is the same as earlier today, so… well. You don’t know what that says about whether your face looks good or not right now, but you guess this is alright. 

[Yuuji]

yo

you okay?what happened

who spends ten hole minutes pissing

[Name]

*whole***

Sighs incredibly loudly

Itadori Yuuji. 

What the fuck did you think I was doing

It was my period

Came early :(

[Yuuji]

OHHH SHIT

SORRY…

thought u had a stomach ache or smth

everything okay? 

i can like buy more pads or smth for you

[Name]

Mhm yeah I’m okay

It’s okay I’ve got enough at home anyway

If ur buying drinks could you not get me any kind of tea

Or coffee

Like nothing with caffeine in it

[Yuuji]

yes queen o7

i can go back and bring it up to u yknow

[Name]

Nah

I’m fine

[Yuuji]

ok i bought u a sandwich nd a seasonal drink thing

no coffee or tea 

[Name]

aw thx man

coming soon, otw rn

Though it’s a bit far away, the sight that greets you as you finally arrive shocks you immediately. He’s got a little blood on his face— that’s already way too much then you can handle being on his face. It couldn’t be from anything like acne or a popped pimple; the guy’s got clear skin for days and though there’s nothing but a tiny scratch by the side of his cheek you’re running over to him. 

But this is what’s worse: high school students, about three of them, lying on the floor, passed out like animal carcasses. There’s another one standing, with straight light-coloured hair and enough fear on his face to seem as if he’d just witnessed a war. 

And Yuuji’s expression, which is clear as day even with the distance between you: eyes uncharacteristically cold, face distorted away from his usual boyish grin, aura radiating off of him, lacerating through his usual self like a wolf’s claws through raw, cold meat in the tundra. 

“…what about you?” Yuuji says to the guy with light hair. 

You run. 

“Yuuji!”

“Huh?” He notices you. “[Name]?” 

“Yuuji— what happened to you?” 

“No, just—” He’s back to normal. “Saw some of them picking on someone, so I started beating them up.” 

“What— seriously? You could’ve, like, called the police or something, you idiot!” 

“But it wasn’t in school, so I didn’t know what to do… plus, we’re in different schools and all…” 

“W-well if you call the police, their punishment would have been worse, right?” you sigh, “Alright, what happened to the one getting picked on? Are they okay?” 

“He ran away,” he shakes his head. 

Poor guy.

“…and this one, the one standing up here?’ you ask, “Is he okay? He looks pretty traumatised.” 

“I’m right here, you know!” the standing guy answers. So besides standing in silence, he can talk after all. 

“Oh, this one?” Yuuji points, again not acknowledging him. He was just standing there, stunned like a deer in headlights, instead of lying on the ground. “Just seemed like peer pressure or something. He didn’t hurt the guy.”

“Ah… what’s your name, guy?” 

“…Rin Amai,” 

“You okay?” 

“…yeah, just, I guess, surprised? I mean, by the pink-haired guy’s strength and all. You guys are middle schoolers, right? That means he’s crazy strong.” 

“His name is Itadori,” you sigh, “Yeah. He’s a strong guy like that. He stands up for good things.” 

Yuuji chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “Aw, thanks, man!” 

“Well, now that they’re knocked out, I can kind of say I didn’t like them that much to begin with…” Rin remarks. 

“Ah, I get that. Nobody likes people like them. When you can, stand up for others next time, okay?” you advise him, “Got any injuries?” 

“No, just a scratch here and there. I’ll be fine. Thanks, you two.” 

“No worries.” 

“Still wanna go to the arcade?” Yuuji asks. 

The two of you say your goodbyes to Rin, who offers to wait with the knocked-out students after that— you’ll probably only ever see him once or twice after this. Yuuji offers to take your bag but you deny him, and the two of you stroll to the arcade. 

This has happened before, really, and there’s some kind of anticipatory grief sticking to you as you ruminate over what he’d done. It’s like you’re waiting for things to worsen: either you tell him that he shouldn’t have beat students up even if it was for the sake of others, or you don’t and make decisions conflicting with your own moral code. The last time you’d seen someone get back from a fight, your relationship with them ended up severed, whether due to your commitment to your own ideals or not. 

You debate on asking him not to do the same next time, not to get hurt and not to hurt people who pick on others, and—  

—the arcade is closed. 

“Aaaahhh! Seriously? Sorry, [Name]. Forgot they said they’d be closed today. Last week one of the employees told me they’d have to settle some issues or something.” 

Of course he’d befriend the employees. It still surprises you that every now and then he’s so kind it hurts. 

“No, it’s fine,” you reassure him, “You know, I don’t really feel up to it today either. Still kinda shaken.” 

“Don’t worry about that, honestly! I’m fine, and they’re fine too.”  

“Will they be, though? Have you gotten any injuries?” 

“Don’t think so. I’ll be okay anyway, though, ‘cause I’ve got a high pain tolerance— ow!” 

“‘High pain tolerance,’ huh?” you sigh, “Is it a strain? Are you okay?” 

He winces, “I don’t know if it’s a strain or a sprain,” he answers, “But it’s on my ankle, and it hurts a lot.” 

“Can you walk?” 

“Yeah, but— it hurts…” 

You rest his arm on top of your back, taking hold of his shoulder, guiding him on the way back to his home. 

His grandfather— a man with grey hair yet enough energy to wake up at 6am before exercising and going on walks every morning— nods after you explain the situation to him, and lets you stay with Yuuji for now due to your worrying. 

The first thing to do with a sprain or a strain is to rest the injured area. 

“It’s strange that you got it on your ankle of all places,” you say, outstretching his leg for him, “Were you walking funny or anything?” 

“Nope.” 

“Maybe you’ve been overusing it, then,” you theorise, “Okay. No running and all for a few days, okay? Or just, until it feels better.” 

“Huh? But I’m in the track and field club…” 

“Spend some time with the occult club or something,” you tell him, “You can just tell the student council president or the track and field club president that it hurts, so you’ve got to go to the occult club to still be able to support your other interests and stuff as you recuperate.” 

“Nah, they’d call bullshit.” 

“Pft. You don’t know if you don’t try,” you joke. “Wait a second, let me go get some ice.” 

He lies down, his arms resting by his stomach. “You know, [Name]…” he starts, his voice louder for you to hear. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m happy you’re my friend.” 

If you were a dog, you’d be wagging your tail and kicking your feet up into the air, so happy that your smile is uncontrollable— and the last time it had been that way was more than a few years ago. 

His voice stays as loud but you hear it better, clearer, as you move up the stairs with the ice pack. “I mean, I thought I was a pretty lonely guy, and sometimes I still do. Like— I mean, you’re a lonely girl too sometimes, I think.” 

You sit down beside him, probably a little too plaintive in your actions than you intended. “…yeah. Guess people could tell…” 

“But, hey. I met you and we get to do all sorts of cool and dumbass shit together. So I’m happy I met you and that we became friends, you know? I’m happy you’re even here. So now we’re both a little less lonely, and the world has two new people who are a little less than lonely.” 

It’s warm despite it being winter— you hope his hoodie and his student jacket are enough to keep him from freezing. Every time you enter his house, you wonder how he must have lived as a child. You imagine a smaller-sized Yuuji,  with wild pink hair and a tired grandfather, living in this house with its wooden tiles and untorn paper calendars from the year 2000, in his endearingly tardy room and boyish clothing choices. The thought of it melts your heart, almost. 

“Yeah. I’m happy you’re in my life, too, Yuuji,” you beam, “I’m happy you said hi to me that day, because I probably wouldn’t have made any friends. Like, I thought every time we moved somewhere we’d move again to somewhere else, so I kind of gave up. I didn’t want to get attached. Because there would always be something happening after, like us moving and eventually I thought every day was a chore, because I had this kind of… how do I say it— this kind of ‘I’ll escape one day’ mentality, like I didn’t move forward to each day anymore. But being friends with you brought that back to me, kinda.” 

“Really?” he says as you wrap the ice pack in a towel and press it to his ankle, turning his head to meet yours, “Makes me pretty glad. Thanks, man.” 

“I’m glad too.” 

“You’re a great nurse,” he grins at you, before leaning his head back against his bed. 

It feels good. The praise feels good. 

Now you really don’t know what to do with him. Or what to do with how you feel about him. 

For a moment you consider this: pressing your hand to his ankle, healing it immediately, placing your hands on his ankle and healing it with your cursed technique. But even so you’d have to explain the whole of jujutsu society to him, and that was meant to be a well-kept secret anyway. Yuuji wouldn’t be the type to do well as a jujutsu sorcerer— he’d save everyone, care for everyone, not because judging who would be right or wrong to save was often convoluted or unsolvable, but because he was a good person. If he failed to help people in dire need, whether it was his fault or not, he would be so guilty he wouldn’t live. You supposed a part of you was like that, too: driven by fear of potential guilt, yet you were driven even more by a need to be useful. If at the end of the day you could help, even if you couldn’t offer someone salvation, you’d accept it— that certain things were out of your control. There would be no point in lingering over not being able to change things you couldn’t change, and your experience in Tokyo last month was part of that. It was what changed almost everything. And you swore you’d never let Yuuji go through anything that would change him, that would take that pure love for the world from him. His name is fitting: his humanity is unwavering, a soldier fighting a losing battle, Sisyphus rolling his boulder up the hill and living through his suffering, the indomitable human spirit against the cruel indifference of the world and the universe. 

You’ll tell him one day, you decide. 

For now, though, you’ll have to make yourself useful another way: by using the knowledge you have to be at his aid. That’s how you’ll like it anyway. 

“Thanks, Yuuji,” you whisper. 

Yuuji dozes off. You sit next to him as if he’s a patient at a hospital, watching his breath rise and fall. A part of you wants the moment to stretch out into perpetuity, his steady snoring lulling even you to sleep. It’s creepy as hell. And knowing that you could have all of this: seeing him like this, going to the arcade every Thursday, minding each others’ health; all of it without it leading to him liking you the same way you do him— 

—it still hurts. But it’s getting easier to handle it. You’ll deny that it still hurts for as long as you can, staving it off until it really does go away. So you’ll keep silent, no one beside you knowing of your feelings, trying your best to be utilised and useful. You’ll take it to the grave, you’re sure. You’ll continue to be by the sidelines, a helper for convenience and someone to serve, someone to be used.

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