#sorry i kinda just up and disappeared

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 15: Sŭrtse

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader

word count: 3.5k

a/n: thanks for the lore dump, pops

first|next

Oh man. You haven’t slept that good in ages. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept so soundly. Years, maybe? Since you were a child? Typically when you slept, it wasn’t ever really long enough for you to have too complex of dreams - if any at all. Usually, your past haunted your mind when you slept which is why you struggled with sleeping in the first place.

Lately, you’d only been sleeping so much because all of the emotions you were feeling were knocking you out cold. No dreams accompanied either.

But this time around, you slept well. No tossing or turning, no nightmares. You caught glimpses of dreams, but nothing to really string together to make something coherent. The feelings were all good, though.

When you slowly came to, however, you came face to face with a chest. And, completely forgetting that Corazon had shown up, you jumped, accidentally launched yourself off the bed, and crashing to the ground. You groaned, laying there flat on your back.

You saw Corazon scramble awake, looking over the bed with a face full of concern. “Y/n!” He jumped out of the bed, helping you sit up. “Are you alright? What happened?”

You only grunted in response, taking a moment. Man, your back was going to kill you later, you could already feel it. “I forgot you were here,” you mumbled. “Startled the shit outta me.”

The man frowned. “I’m sorry.”

You snorted, looking at him. “What the hell you apologizing for?” You just grinned, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “You just helped me sleep so well I had completely forgotten what was going on.” You winked, his face turning a bright shade of red as you watched his brain reboot. 

Marco burst into the room. “Aha!” He stopped, blinking. “Oh. Well. That’s not what I thought was going on. I heard a crash and thought you guys were having some wild sex or something.” He shrugged.

You felt your face set itself on fire. “Marco!” You stood up, running after him. He yelped, taking off. You ended up tackling him, quicker than he was and in moments you had him in a headlock. “Why can’t you just mind ya business, ya damn pineapple head!” 

Marco was letting out a strangled laugh, making your grip tighten slightly. “I yield! I yield!” he ground out and you let go of him, leaving him panting on the ground. “C’mon now. It was funny. You would’ve done the same thing to me.” He was sprawled out on the ground, trying to catch his breath.

You snorted, shrugging. “Yeah. That’s true. I definitely would’ve done the same thing.” You paused, looking at him. “Shithead.”

He grinned at you. “Glad to see you’re back in business. It seems like calling Corazon was a good idea,” he mused. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You called him?” The man in question was standing at the edge of the hallway, leaning against the wall. “He did. But only after I sent him a million texts asking how you were doing.” He frowned. It was clear he had been worried about you and neither of you had provided him any insight. You started to feel kind of bad for just…going radio silent on him.

Marco sat up, nodding. “That’s true. We were a bit preoccupied with trying to figure out what to do with the staff that suddenly lost their jobs. Sorry, Cora.” The large man shook his head, pouting slightly. “It’s fine, but an answer would’ve been nice.” 

You grinned, standing up and walking over to him. You reached up, taking his face in your hands. He looked at you with a startled expression, quickly turning red. “You’re cute when you pout,” you mused, squishing his cheeks slightly. 

“I am not pouting,” he said as he, in fact, pouted. You just laughed, kissing him softly before pulling away.

“Now, where’s Pops? I have questions for him.” You turned, looking at Marco. 

“Probably in the den doing his breathing treatments.”

You nodded, heading that way.

--

In the den, Pops was relaxing in a large chair with his feet propped up. He held an oxygen mask over his mouth, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. It was something you had him do for about an hour two or three times a day to help with his ailments. Mostly because the man refused to wear the oxygen tubes. This was the compromise.

He popped open an eye as you walked in with the other two. “Good to see you up and around, kiddo. Even if I did think you were going to tear down my damn house in the process.” He chuckled, setting the mask to the side and turning things off. 

“They used to do that all the time, you know.” He looked at Corazon, who looked frightened that he was being addressed. “The two of them were always fighting and wrestling like that. True siblings at heart, they are.” He laughed loudly, the sound bouncing around the room.

You just rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you plopped onto the couch, pulling Corazon with you. He seemed very stiff and you looked at him. “You don’t have to be so tense. Pops won’t bite.”

“I think you forget that I’ve only ever heard terrifying rumors about him. He was dubbed the strongest man to ever live at one point,” he mumbled to you and you just laughed. “I also had the same reputation, remember?” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that when I met you,” he grumbled, his face warming up. A small snort came from you as you patted his thigh. “It’s fine. I’m just giving you shit.”

“It’s good to see you in good spirits, y/n,” Pops mused and you looked over to him. “I was a little worried we wouldn’t get you out of that rut. Seems like we should’ve called your little boyfriend here a lot sooner, hm?” 

Your face immediately went ablaze and you felt Corazon start having a coughing fit next to you, probably choking on air from surprise. Marco laughed and you glared at him while trying to calm down the one next to you. “Well, better late than never, I suppose,” you mused, trying to move on from the topic. “Breathe, Rosinante.” For a moment you were worried he might actually pull something from his little fit but he calmed down quickly after. 

“Don’t scare me like that,” you mumbled. “You really gotta lay off the cigarettes.” You narrowed your eyes at him. His own face was already red; from Pops’ comment or the coughing fit, you weren’t sure. “‘M sorry,” he muttered, pressing himself further into the couch like he was trying to be invisible. 

“Anyway, Pops. There’s something I’d like to ask you.” 

You looked over, seeing that the old man was watching you with a fond look on his face. You couldn’t help but feel your own face warm up. It…somewhat hurt, knowing your father would never look at you like that again. Though, now that you looked back on it, was anything ever genuine? 

“Shoot.”

“I need to know what happened between you and pa-” you cut yourself off. He didn’t deserve his title of ‘dad’ anymore. “Between you and…Anthony.” It felt foreign saying his name in such a way, but that man wasn’t the man you used to know. He was nothing more than a stranger now.

Pops was quiet for a moment. “Were you ever told of the story of how your parents met?” 

You blinked. This isn’t what you asked, but you expect nothing less of Pops. An old man tangent, might as well just go with it. “Not really. I was still too young to really ask questions like that when we lost mamma and Anthony didn’t like talking about her after that anyway.” You shrugged.

The large man nodded slowly, thinking. You wonder what he was planning at this point. “Well, as you know, I’ve known your father a long time. We grew up together, being from allied families and all along with the fact we were the same age. I knew your father better than anyone. He was…much different than he is now. Even him pretending all these years with you wasn’t even your real father.” Your eyes widened. All this time, he couldn’t even pretend to be the man he had used to be? “Then what was he really like?”

Pops thought for a moment, stroking his large mustache as he did so. “Your father was a lot more playful, silly, and overall goofy.” You couldn’t help but glance at Corazon from the corner of your eye before looking back to Pops.

“This also made him very charismatic. Your father could talk his way out of any situation and get anyone to do just about anything for him.” He folded his arms, a fond smile on his face. “Came in handy most of the time, other times it got us into trouble. At our peak, we were unstoppable. We were a force not to be reckoned with. A dynamic duo. Though, it wasn’t as if we sought those titles. We kind of minded our own business and just defended what we had. We weren’t ones to seek more turf or go out of our way to steal other people’s cargo or anything like that. We just did our thing and kicked ass when someone messed with us. It was a pretty good deal we had going.”

You started to wonder where Pops was really going with all this. He seemed all over the place. You supposed that it has been a long time, so he was probably saying what he remembered and filling in the blanks as they came to him. You just kept quiet, letting the old man reminisce. 

“He met your mom in a coffee shop. She had just moved into town, wanting to start fresh. Your dad, the absolute goofball, tripped over something in her store, almost face planting before she caught him. He said it had been love at first sight.” You blinked, glancing at Corazon who glanced back at you. That’s exactly how the two of you had met back up. Well, you had been going to a coffee shop, but all the same. You looked back to Pops.

“However, your father didn’t want to drag your mother into all of this, so he tried not to see her again. As much as he wanted her, he knew she was starting anew and didn’t want to muddy her life. So, he avoided her. Only to meet her again in a park. He was on a jog and someone’s dog had bulldozed him, tripping him and he almost fell until-”

“Mamma.” You were astonished at this point. The second time you had seen Corazon, it was in a park. 

Pops nodded. “Mhm. Your mother. Your father had been a blundering mess but thanked her and ran away essentially. Actually, quite literally. He was breathless because he ran all the way to my place.” The large man laughed, the sound filling the den that all of you sat at. You couldn’t help but think that’s also exactly what you had done. Helped bandage up Corazon before somewhat running away so that no conversation could’ve happened.

“I had tried to tell him to go and ask her out, but he was still on about not wanting to drag her into his lifestyle. He did compromise though. If he had seen her again, he’d ask her out.” He grinned. “Then it happened again. He went to a restaurant, bumping into your mother and almost dropping everything, but she had so expertly caught everything and him as well.”

Again, it was the same as you and Corazon. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, your mind was spinning. How the hell was this possible? You looked at the man next to you who looked just as floored as you were. You reached over, closing his jaw. “Careful, you’ll get lockjaw,” you muttered before turning back to Pops.

“I know what you’re thinking. When Marco told me everything, I couldn’t believe it myself. The stories mirrored each other.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Seems that you and your mother just had similar taste in men.” You felt your face turn red at his comment. Seems like you were more like your mother than you thought. Sure, your father always told you that you were like her but that was because you didn’t like that lifestyle, not much else. At least he didn’t say if you were like her in other ways. The last comparison to your mother he made was being ‘weak’ like she was.

“The parallels are a little uncanny,” you mumbled, running a hand through your hair.

“Anywho, he asked her out the moment that happened. He knew he couldn’t fight Fate and it was obvious that she was at work. They hit it off. I had never seen your father so over the moon and happy with someone. It wasn’t too long after that that they became engaged, then the wedding. I’m sure that was your father’s best day of his life at that point.”

You thought for a moment, thinking back to your father’s words. “But, he said that he never really loved my mother.” You turned your attention back to Pops.

The large man shook his head. “That was a blatant lie. Your father loved your mother. He loved her so much. I could tell in the way he looked at her, the way he acted. He was head over heels. I think that’s a lie he tells himself. That he never loved her and just needed an heir. After all, your father had planned on leaving the family anyway.” 

Your eyes widened. “What?” Your own father planned on leaving?

Pops nodded. “Yep. After the wedding, it was announced that your mother was pregnant with you. Again, I’d never seen him so happy. At this point, your mother still didn’t know about your father’s real work. She still believed him to be a realtor. She was convinced your father would never lie to her. Which, she was right. He didn’t lie to her, except about that.” He thought for a moment, recalling.

“He had said that he wanted to leave the family. That he didn’t want to raise a child in a lifestyle like that. He had grown up in it and it was no place for a kid. At this point, I had been pulling away from the lifestyle myself. I had started settling down and I didn’t want to raise a child in the scene either. We both agreed to leave our families.” You were astonished. You never would’ve guessed and your father had held the same views that you did at one point.

“After you were born, your father was on cloud nine. It was the happiest and most joyous he had ever been. He was more convinced to leave the family. And he was on his way out.” Pops sighed, shaking his head. “He always kept in contact, but mostly minded his business, as he always did. Life was bliss for a few years. He was mostly out of the family business, he had you and her. You and Marco used to play together actually when you were real little. Before the two of you could even remember.”

You looked at Marco, who looked just as surprised. It was clear he’d never heard of this before either. What a lore dump from Pops on this fine day.

“Then there was your mother’s passing. Your father was distraught, as you know.” He paused, thinking. “What…do you remember of your mother?”

You were tense for a moment. Talks of your mother always made you incredibly emotional. “Uh, she was kind and never raised her voice at me. She was always warm too.” You hated that you didn't have many memories of your mother. The few you did have, they were happy. But it's been so long that you weren't sure how much was real and how much was fabricated. 

“Well, that's not wrong. Your mother was one of the sweetest and warmest people I'd ever met. She was patient and kind, always caring about the well-being of others. Sometimes even above her own. She was also incredibly patient, never raising her voice or growing agitated. I don't think there was a bad bone in her body.” There was a fond smile on his face. 

You felt Corazon interlace his fingers with your own. It was at that moment you realized you were crying. Anything involving your mother was instant water works. You sniffled, wiping your tears. “Sorry,” you mumbled. 

“Don't apologize, y/n. It's okay to cry.” Corazon’s voice was soft and comforting. “Seems like you really do take after your mother, though.” You just looked at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. You had always been compared to your father. People had always told you how much you were like him because of how well you fought and how smart you were. They always said you were a mini-him, perfect to take over the family.

“After your mother passed, your father was never the same,” Pops continued, bringing your attention back to him. “All of the light in his life seemed to disappear. Shortly after that, he completely delved into the life again. He took over the family and took you with him. That’s what your father and I ended up fighting about. I tried to make him change his mind, or at least keep you from being in that lifestyle.” 

He sighed, shaking his head. “He yelled at me, telling him that I had no right in telling him how to raise his child. But, it just went against everything that he had wanted. He wanted you out of that life and your father did the exact opposite. He started spewing nonsense. Saying that this had always been his plan. You were only an heir and that he never loved your mother. That it was all an act of some kind. I don’t know if he was trying to convince me or himself.

“I tried a couple more times to talk some sense into him and the last time was when he really tried to fight me. I couldn’t fight my own brother, so I ended up yielding. And I never bothered him again. The Anthony I knew died when your mother did, who he is now…that’s not the man I knew.” 

You just stared at Pops, not knowing what to say. Your head was spinning from all this information. Your father had always been kind, but he was never a goofball like he mentioned. There was always that wall that said he never fully let you in and you knew that, but he was still very fatherly. Now, you had no idea what to think. Was anything he said or felt genuine?

“I think, in the end,” Pops began again. “Your father does care for you. Or at least at one point it did. It’s possible that he has lost himself so much that he’s cut off any ties to anyone.”

Then you realized that you don’t think you told either of them what happened at your father’s estate. “He has another child.” Pops’ eyes widened. “Said he had her just so he could raise the perfect soldier. That I was too weak just like mamma. I could tell by the way they interacted that there was no warmth there.” Your face darkened. He had tried that route with you and when it didn’t work, he used a different method to bring up your half-sister. 

You couldn’t help but feel bad for her. She must’ve grown up in a cold environment.  From the sounds of it, she never knew who her mother was. Just Anthony. Ugh, everything was so fucked up and you didn’t know what to do.

“He purposefully didn’t tell me about her because he said he didn’t want me to convince her to walk away from the business like I did.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You hadn’t told anyone all of this yet, mostly because everything had happened so fast and you shut down even faster.

Pops let out a long sigh. “At least he knows that you have power and influence just as he had. You have the same charismatic charm that he did. People just naturally listen to you.”

You puffed out your cheeks, thinking. What were you going to do now? Now, you knew what happened all those years ago. There was a lot of information thrown at you. A lot of information that contradicted what your own father told you, but you were more inclined to believe Pops. After all, he’s never betrayed you in such a way that destroyed your entire life.

next

[royaltea000]

Rebirth

[isogenderskitty]

tw suicide mention

this is extremely dark, but like... hear me out. what would steph even do with herself if she had ended up killing pete? she has no family to go home to, no clear aspirations... and i'm sure she doesn't even want to think about the possibility of someday getting over pete and finding someone else. i can't get the idea out of my head that she would've just... hung around long enough to see the lords in black make good on their end of the deal, and then... created a parallel to romeo & juliet, if you catch my drift.

[chiimeramanticore]

[tiddiesoutwhenthetisout]

not me curling my laptop charger wire the way you curl band equipment cords HAHAHA god i miss it

[sinshckled]

★ |  * ⋆      -   -  - –  INBOX !  *  ﹡                  ﹡     ✧ * ☇  ( @nocentis ! )

Suddenly, the walls feel like they’re [ closing ] on him – and Jellal is suddenly much, much too aware of the GRIDS OF METAL that surround him - them. He feels trapped. Not by any binding, nor by any cuffs - but by an all too familiar gaze of hazel. .

Ever since his identity had been ( accidentally ) revealed, the children’s behavior toward him changed drastically - and UNDERSTANDABLY. His disguise was one of their jailers’, but his face is the one of a friend ; ( regardless of how the years had changed it. ) And while his heart fills with fondness at the way Millianna and Sho run to hug his leg & at the awe in Erza’s eyes, it is not enough to dissipate his apprehension. Looking at his younger self has been harder ever since. Jellal knows the child has questions – can SEE IT in his body language, FEEL IT in the weight of his stare, and HEAR IT in his voice. && To these inquiries, he has no wish to answer.

But the ghosts of the past have never failed to catch up to him.               WHY WOULD THIS TIME BE ANY DIFFERENT ?

.

He gets cornered at the end of his “mission”, once the dust has settled back down. When the threat is no more, and they can all breathe a little easier. While checking up on the wounded - taking advantage of the first aid supplies he always carries and knows are scarce within these walls - 

He feels a shy tug at his cloak, and turns around to cobalt strands, a familiar marking, and a [ request to talk ].

Right there and then, he knows he cannot run from this anymore.

Alas, even though the Heavenly Body mage had started preparing, as much as he could have, for this discussion to occur  - this was him, this had been him, he should know better than anyone what he could ask . . . and yet, 

                              he still finds himself at a LOSS FOR WORDS.

                " … "

     What is he supposed to say ?

     He swallows thickly. His tongue feels HEAVY in his mouth, burdened with the knowledge of the last decades. He knows that child is DOOMED ; from the peek he had gotten in the office, it was only a matter of weeks… days even, perhaps. 

     These eyes – HEAVENS, he was so small; pale skin upon frail bones, muscles built from years of labor and stolen childhood. He looks so fragile, but his eyes, despite it all, burn alight with a ferocious SPARK ; one that has not shone in his own gaze for a very, very long time.

     His fingers crackle with starlight. He tastes an anger the likes of which is foreign to him – old, bygone. He feels an urge to defy the flow of time - to let the stars bring JUDGMENT upon this wretched island, sending this ATROCITY of a R-system crumbling to the ground, and take him - take them, all these poor innocent children, so so very far away from here. & yet he cannot ; 

       Why here ? Why now ? Why him ?             What is he doing here ?

     Memories of this time are nothing more than movie sequences in his head now, decades later ; so far away, so distant. This part of him has been laid to rest alongside the WICKEDNESS of his teenage years, and both only ever come back to haunt him as a form of torture. As a result, this child was no more than an ACQUAINTANCE, a figure erased by time, wrath, grief and BLOOD.

     But being there, quite literally face to face with his past - it all comes back to him. Flashes triggered by the long-gone architecture of these walls, by the stench of rot sitting heavily across the perimeter, by the crackles of electricity, the whirring of heavy machinery & the haunting sound of children sobbing a few cells further - quietly, by fear of being whipped into silence –      He now remembers being that boy. Forcing a smile every single day of his life, for the sake of the young who looked up to him. He would tell stories upon stories, wiping tears while holding his own grief tight on a leash. ( because those stories had been his brother’s, and his mother’s, and the village elder’s, && they had starred his cousin, his neighbor, the shop clerk and the fishermen – and all these people were DEAD, by now BONES buried underneath stone and charred wood and ash. )

       ... What was HE doing here ?

     He thinks he’s struck by all five stages of grief simultaneously.The thoughts crossing his head are a blur. He feels dizzy, knees one gust of wind away from buckling.

Blaming yourself for your own weaknesses is easier when you don’t have the 11 years old version of yourself standing before you.

Looking into your eyes with – one last sliver of hope.

––– How could he ever put the blame of his anger upon him?

HE WAS A CHILD. He was a child.

            ( It hits him all at once. )

.

He knows the intricacies of time travel. He knows he doesn’t remember going through this. He knows his younger self will not walk away with an answer, nor with a solution. This is Fiorean history – and it is set in stone.

That doesn’t mean he wants to LIE to him.

( Not when he’s been standing wordlessly for this long. Not when he has let silence stretch so far. Not when the tiny, fragile version of himself is catching on to what it means. Perhaps, if he’d been quicker, it could have been an option. ) 

.

     And so Jellal does the only thing that, amongst all the possibilities offered to him, feels undoubtedly, irrevocably right. 

     He closes the distance between them with a few steps and crouches down to meet himself at eye-level. Looks – really looks at him, commits every detail to memory. From the slope of his nose to the tangled, soiled strands of blue decorating from his head ; from to the fainter scars he still sports to the swirls of angry red framing his eyes, pools of sage & amber in his irises. And then he reaches out, wraps his arms around the scrawny frame and gathers him slowly, carefully, in a hug. 

     He hides him in the crook of his shoulder; gives him a shelter, an adult, where the hastily-built foundations of his mask of strength can crack, if he so wishes. 

He lets him be a child once again.

     ――――― Just for a moment.

.

━━━ ━━ ━ ╸╺ . * ✰

“ is all this countless suffering for my own good? ”

.

Later on, shortly after finding his way back in the present, Jellal will ponder this further. The Heavenly Body mage will stand on a beach, amongst speckles of sand, and watch the sun gradually DISAPPEAR beyond the vast sea that once held him [ hostage ] ― painting the sky in shades akin to the burning fire that took everything away from him. 

He will think of his younger self - so far away in time, yet now so close in memory. 

He will close his eyes, push open the door to his history, rush past the whispers and shadows crawling its walls, and find that child still within him. He will dig him out from the grave he was buried within, and he will give him his SIGHT - his HEARING - his TASTE - his EVERYTHING.

He will let himself feel breeze upon his skin, breathe in the smell of sea salt, taste the freedom of a boundless life.

     And when his eyes open again, he will gaze upon that landscape, && he will find it beautiful.

.

✔ ― ACCEPTING

[nervocat]

man.

[dawntheduckrb]

I'll stop posting wips eventually but it's been five days since I've said anything and I don't want anyone to think I'm dead/dying/stuck in a ditch and withering away, so here's 10% of the reason I disappeared (the duck is stuck in rendering hell) (and my little baby laptop is screaming at me every time I open up this file)

I might still be mostly lurking for a little bit so please be patient with me in the meantime 🙏🙏

[qqqqqqqqqqq0]

i've been having some trouble falling asleep lately

[13eyond13]

.

[jackross-v]

Serious post for once;

I've genuinely never cared about anything /this/ much before and I know it's kind of silly but please, if at all possible, spare a thought for my cat. He's gonna have to undergo brain surgery tomorrow and as he's already pretty old the chances of him making it out of it are not great to say the least.

I love that cat more than I've ever loved anything or anyone and I've seen how hard he's been fighting for months against all he's been going through. He doesn't want to leave and we don't want him to go, not like this. So please, root for him, even though I know it's silly to think that'll do anything.

[trashcanbutterfly]

hi . not dead and will (probably) post cytus again, in the meantime anyone interested in seeing cytus mlp designs maybe

[angelizs]

hi guys guess who's back 😁

[spaceratprodigy]

was thinking about somethin somethin nicky "breaking up" with iris while slow dancing with her

[leatherbookmark]

aaaaah the lxc poll is assuming he’s going to survive the 100 years. i see i see. well,

[t1taniumninja]

hmmm