#your ship is on the verge of falling apart

[karinadele]

Budget Walmart Medic

Ratchet x reader

ch7.

Prev (AO3)

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Warnings: Graphic descriptions of incorrect medical procedures, Character on the verge of death, Bad writing, Drugs, Mentions of suicidal ideation, PTSD, its 4am and im not proofreading of reformating, saving that for when i post on ao3

“Fuck this shit.” You utter to yourself as you slam the door of your apartment closed. Sliding your back down the door to fall to the ground as you clutch your hair. Is it really too much to ask people to respect your decisions? Besides, it was just a metaphor for what you were feeling. Everyone says ‘Oh I’m gonna fucking kill myself!’ but most don’t mean it. Are all Cybertronians this stubborn? Sighing as you push yourself off the door and tossing your keys to the kitchen counter. Fine, sure, you���re a little suicidal, but just passively. It’s been years since you’ve visited grippy sock jail anyways.

But you’re just so mad. Respect is always something to be valued. You didn’t choose to be in this world, and you’d be damned if others don’t respect the choices you do. Even if it means death. Slamming your head against the fridge as you reach to the cupboard and grab a pill bottle. You haven’t been this pissed since your ex. The little white bar with the letters XANAX engraved twirls in your finger before you decide to pop it down. Not even bothering with a glass of water as you just dip your head into the sink and drink it straight from the tap.

Why are you so pissed? It’s just a passing comment that you’ve heard a million times before, yet something boils in you. Is it because your past few days have been nothing but chaos? Have you even had a chance to take a breather and process it? –And no, a cigarette break does not count.

No. There’s something more to it. Is it because Ratchet said it?

Giving up, you decide to end this shit before it gets even more complicated. Classic too scared and scarred to be involved in anything, so you cut off everyone before anything happens. But in this situation, it’s completely acceptable. Alien robots telling you want to do?! If you weren’t being locked up for trying to hurt yourself, you’d be locked up for psychosis at this rate.

One more all-nighter. You tell yourself. Contact Raf and ship the damn guy off and be done with your problems. Poor Raf. Being such a young age and already wrapped in otherworldly business. Either he has a will of steel or just doesn’t know any better. Or maybe it’s not actually that bad. Refusing to admit that thought, you slide your computer chair back and flop into it.

A child wouldn’t be awake at this time anyways. Typing away as you let your thoughts wander. He’s on the run too right? You feel a pang in your chest as you realize a child can’t even enjoy a good night’s sleep. Probably with that sleek muscle car napping in the back. How you wish you could offer him a hug and a good night’s rest.

Wait.

So why don’t you?

You’re not affiliated with any governments, the Decepticons don’t know you, and you have a spare bed. Besides, you were already on your way to contact him.

Hastily typing out a message as you feel the effects of the Xanax kicking in. Another day saved by drugs. Lord have mercy you probably need rehab after all this. Locating Raf’s number wasn’t that hard, everyone has a social media account these days. Even kids. The real kicker is getting it through without detection. Opening up Scapy as you slog away encrypting each packet.

By the time you’ve hit send, It was already dawn. Another successful all nighter. You take a moment to lean back and relax, knowing it’s now done. Sluggishly dragging yourself over to the fridge as you nibble on a block of cheese –hey protein right? And flop back into your chair, pulling up your music to relax.

You were so engrossed in your music and just catching up with your breath that you didn’t even notice there was a little figure outside your window. Being on the ground floor meant not only bugs, but apparently also creeps.

What the fuck.

Carefully, you pulled back the curtains. If it was any other day, you would have ran into the bathroom and locked yourself up. But viva la drugs! What you find… Is Raf. Along with the black muscle car fully transformed standing on the lawn. Your landlord is gonna be pissed. She spends hours planting those flowers and now..? Yikes.

Hurriedly, you grab your keys and head on out to meet Raf. They sure got here quick? How even? Has it been that long since you sent the message, or can that car just drive insane speeds? Under the dark, you don’t notice much, but the moment you let Raf in, –and told the autobot to lay low and get off the lawn, you realized a surprising problem. Raf is hurt. Barely holding it together.

Scrambling as you pick him up and lay him on your bed, you check for his vitals, the ABCs. Airway seems to be intact, breathing is there, if a little bit shallow. And circulation.. well you don't know. but he’s bleeding with wounds everywhere and you feel your blood boiling. He’s only 10! (he’s 12) how can anyone do this to a child?! You wanted to offer him solace and a good night of rest, not like this!

Flying out your door once you made sure Raf is breathing, as you head to his car companion to find some answers. Only to be replies with bleeps and bloops. Great. An autistic boy with an autistic car. And Raf is in no shape to translate, so the next best is… ah shit. Ratchet. The same one that’s got you all stressed out. Shoving your emotions aside for the nth time of the day, as a life is more important, adrenaline pumping through you, you bolt downstairs into the garage.

“RATCHET! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!” You yell out at him, huffing and panting from running.

Ratchet, still in his little world, under stasis, does not budge. You don’t have time for this! For fuck’s sake! Not another near death’s door! Completely pumped on adrenaline, you smack him, kicking his wheels, banging on his windows and eventually climbing into his hood to smack the windshield. Gosh you wish you brought a crowbar.

Just as you were about to pick his lock and just drive him out, when the medic stirs.

“WHAT IN PRIMUS’ NAME ARE YOU DOING?!” He shouts back. Clearly not liking being forcibly woken from stasis, or appreciating some human crawling all over him causing damage to him.

“We have a situation, Ratchet.” You try to explain to him as calmly as you can. But underneath that, there’s a tinge of stress and panic. “Raf’s not doing good. He’s here.”

For the second time of the night, Ratchet nearly forgot he’s underground and smacks the ceiling trying to transform. Pieces of concrete fall down between the two of you.

“IS HE INJURED??” Optics widened, half transformed, half kneeling down. Raf. He’s been through so much. Dark Energon, and now this! FRAG! And he can’t even contact June or anyone without endangering everyone. He feels so helpless again. Panic also waves through him. realizing just how useless he is again. Again.

Your voice snapped him out of it. “He’s in my apartment right now. His breathing is shallow, airways are clear, he’s losing blood as we speak… ah! But that Camero is here too. I can’t make out left or right about what he’s saying though! Ratchet! Lets go!”

Still grounded in fear, his processors disconnecting as he’s reliving his trauma of how he couldn't do anything for Raf the first time, and how Bumblebee is here too –Another reminder of how he’s failed everyone. Optics widened as he shakes in place.

“RATCHET! FUCK! PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!”

You call out again, as you kick his leg.

“OW! YOU FRAGGING-”

He caught himself before he did anything, realizing you just snapped him out of it. Transforming fully back into his vehicle mode, as you scramble in and direct him over to the main streets, where the other Autobot is.

You let the boys figure out what happened, as much as you’d like to stay back and have a full recount on what happened, Raf is your priority. Running fast as you can back into your building, with how stressed and uncoordinated you are, slamming into the door before you even turned the doorknob like an idiot. When you finally make it in, you’re greeted with a child that’s half your side barely hanging on a thread.

You want to just break down and cry. You don’t know him, but this is not it. Everyone deserves to enjoy life. With the last of the Xanax countering you adrenaline, you get to work. “Sorry Raf. Sis is gonna have to take a look at you. Or try anyways.”

Ratchet and Bee are busy arguing about what happened. That a decepticon managed to trace his alt mode– even with the new paint job. Particular because they noticed Raf. Gunning for the child, relentlessly firing one after another to him. Bumblebee did everything he could to protect Raf, but it was not enough. Both of them sustained severe damage. Ratchet nearly wanted to scream and shout at Bee for being so reckless to have gotten Raf into this situation, but Bee interjected that after they managed to get into hiding, Raf’s phone got a notification. With whatever strength the kid had, he relayed that contact with you was established. And instantly they peeled off, going way above traffic limits, speeding off on the highway in the night to meet you. After all, Ratchet is with you.

Ratchet’s energon lines were nearly boiling. He snapped at Bee. He can’t do anything for humans! And he can’t even contact June! He couldn’t even fix Bumblebee’s voice box! He feels like a failure! And Raf! The one child he’s gotten close to, is now utterly helpless!

As the two boys argue outside, you’ve already started to work on Raf. Context to what happened would be nice, but a critical situation does not afford time for it. Raf is drifting in and out of consciousness, but with whatever words he can explain, he’s pointed out he’s gotten shot, as well as several metal shrapnel had embedded into him.

You’re full of rage. But thankfully for you, stress fuels you. Instantly snapping into work mode, you bring out your medkit. A kit that’s more of a duffel bag littered with supplies that’s probably half expired. Regardless, it’s the best we can work with. You don’t even noticed the two autobots staring outside your window as you work away on Raf.

Do they send him to a human hospital? They certainly can, but will human doctors know what to do when these are energon infused weapons? Would Raf’s family be contacted? Will that endanger the whole hiding in secrecy more? Ratchet is losing it, kicking away plants and punching trees, while Bee is desperately trying to calm him down, despite being hurt himself.

You hear the commotions outside, but are completely tunnel focused, locked into working on Raf. Raf explains he’s struggling to breath, and you noticed one of his lungs is working over time, and the other is very shallow, rather than breathing together, they’re alternating. Considering he was hit with a chest, its not uncommon for it to have developed into tension pneumothorax. You really hope it isn’t, as that’s not a procedure that should be performed in some drug addict’s apartment, but shortly after, his breathing stops. This is not good. There wouldn't be enough time to call for emergency services. Technically you have an emergency vehicle already, but said vehicle is not versed in human medicine. The good Samaritan law right? Either you do something now and hope it brings him back, or he’ll die. or die trying. There’s only one logical option.

Hurriedly cutting his clothes off, as you feel around on his collapsed lung. A child should be two ribs down. Digging on your bottom shelf for vinyl gloves, shoving it on and praying Raf isn’t allergic to anything, you grab your box cutter and quickly swap out the current blade with a new blade. Snatching the vodka on the coffee table and pour it all over your hands, the blade, and a plastic tube you’ve managed to fish out.

Following along the collapsed lung, tracing along his ribs till you’ve counted two, as you press the tip of the blade into the skin, slowly with accuracy, cutting in inches deep before making the cut horizontal across his ribs. If you had more supplies and time, you would have done this with a needle for safety, but fuck! You're convinced you've used up the last of the needles shooting up morphine! Coming back to reality as you work swiftly inserting the tube into his lung, and instant 'pppssshh' hisses out from it.

Ratchet and Bee at this point, have basically glued their faceplate and optics by your window, zooming in into what’s going on. Ratchet recalled that you said you were not a medic, but yet you’re performing with accurate precision. This may be illegal in both Earth and Cybertronian terms, but he can't help but be in awe with how steady your hands and focus on Raf is. Bumblebee however, noticed that you’re completely stressed. Vibrating like a leaf as he points it out to Ratchet. He takes notice as he pulls his optics away from your work, to realize just how scared you are. Clenching your teeth until it’s sore, then swapping to biting your lips until the blood is cut off, moving back to gritting your teeth. He can sense your breathing is all over the place, mostly forgetting to breath as you hold your breath until tears are welling up.

With a gasp, Rafael manages to suck in a breath.

“Easy there Raf. don’t breath too hard. You have a collapsed lung. It probably hurts right now." You tell him.

Subconsciously, Ratch runs a scan on both you and Rafael. You were correct. He did in fact, had tension pneumothorax. And he now is breathing. Still gravely wounded with blood leaking, but able to breath. You on the other hand, physically are safe, but the amount of adrenaline is sky high, and he can see your blood pressure and heart rate reaching the unhealthy range. Powerless to help you two, he wanted to beat himself up. Thankfully, Bumblebee bleeps a few beeps reassuring that you know what you’re doing, and Raf is in safe hands. (Little did Bee know, you in fact, do not know what you’re doing.)

The poor barely conscious boy gives you a nod and you can feel your adrenaline wearing off. Not yet. We still have things to do. He still has bleeding wounds to stop before he’s stabilized. Poor kid is bleeding all over your bed. Fishing in the first aid kit as you grab an EpiPen (totally expired) and stab it into yourself, followed by popping a few pills of Ativan to help sedate the effects.

Ratchet does not understand what is going on, but detected the adrenaline wearing off, cortisol levels rising, only to instantly be replaced with another wave of adrenaline. Is that what you injected?! Why would you purposefully do that?! He was caught in these thoughts when suddenly, a flashback came to him. When he was so desperate to figure out the Synthetic Energon that he tried it on himself… You weren’t testing drugs on yourself… you were desperately doing it to make sure you can continue to save Raf’s life…

Last push you tell yourself. Stop the bleeding and you can have a break. Fueled with too much adrenaline, you instantly start working. Raf will be in such pain you thought. Digging your hands back down the bag for the last vial of morphine you have, -graciously stole from the hospital during your last visit. You mentally calculate how much you need, for a boy this age. You have his age and estimate of height… but his weight? You’re terrible at guessing weights. With no time to think, you suddenly realized something. If Ratchet was able to scan out that you had energon in you, can he scan Raf’s weight? Last thing you want to do is accidentally overdose the poor boy into death. Spinning your head back as you nearly get jumpscared by two bots glued to the window, you slide open the glass.

“Quick Ratchet. What’s Raf’s weight?”

Caught off guard as he was completely focused on your wellbeing, he quickly resets his vocalizer and take a look at Raf’s weight, Giving you an estimate.

Wanting to be on the safe side, you decide 1mg should be enough, not enough to knock him out, but at least subdude the pain. Not like you have local anesthesia or have time for lidocaine creams to work. Realizing you in fact, did have one last sterile needle that you saved from safe needles exchange clinics. Never did you think this was what it was going to be used for. Drawing out what you feel is about 1mg as you tie a tourniquet around Raf’s arms, slapping it a couple times until you can see the vein. Children have small veins, and you’ve opted for a butterfly needle. Thankfully he seems to have better veins than you, and you push the morphine into him. Telling him he’s okay, he’ll feel better soon.

In a moment’s time, Raf is peaceful sleeping, no doubt from the stress and his body finally giving up. But also a symptom that the drug has kicked in. It’s showtime. Making an effort to clean his open wounds with rubbing alcohol as that vodka is totally gone. You work as swiftly as you can, with nothing but a fucking sewing needle and nylon fishing wire, you zone in and start his sutures. It’s been a while since you’ve ever sewn up anything, but once you got into the groove, it was surprisingly relaxing.

Half an hour later, you find yourself done with the major bleeds, finishing off the smaller cuts with a mix of butterfly bandaids and normal one, you proceed to apply medicated gauze over the larger more likely to be infected wounds. Mentally drifting off to how expensive these were, but instantly pulling back to the problem at hand. Finishing up as you bandage him up with rolls of gauze and securing it with medical tape.

Ratchet at this point, could not believe what he was seeing. You, who claimed to not have been a medic, just went through with a complicated surgery, as well as sutures. He wondered if the day he met you was also a life saved by you.

By now, the adrenaline has started to subsided. The parasympathetic nervous system is now starting to take over. Making your way over to the bots as you tell them, Raf is out of critical condition, but he still needs to be in a hospital.

Ratchet is in a turmoil, he know Raf needs to be seen by a proper medic, yet he also know they not only need to lay low, but humans would not know how to even begin diagnosing Raf with energon blasts. “If only we could contact June…” He mumbled.

“June? Who’s that?”

“Jack’s mother, a nurse. Someone who’s aware of our presence.” He curtly replied.

Who is even Jack??

“So– We just need to contact her right?” You already know where this is going, seems like the day is far from over.

“Without detection of course.” Ratchet tagged on. “I have her number if you need it.”

That’s all you needed to hear. Giving him a nod as you flop back into your computer chair and once again, send an sos signal –fully encrypted to this said “June”. You’re fighting your body to stay awake now. The cortisol and benzodiazepines are practically taking over. With the message sent, you slice a little of your windscreen open, and shove the spare keys into Ratchet’s servos.

“I sent her a message. You let her in when she gets here, okay?” As you look out the window. Ah shit. They’ve ruined the whole front yard now. Is that a broken tree?

Ratchet, still having a hard time processing what in Primus’s aft just happened, and Bee just as lost. Without a second thought, you pass out right at your computer desk. You could just hope the bots don’t get in any trouble until June arrives…

[blep-23]

I think Ussop has attachment issues.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 IN A SKY FULL OF STARS, I SEE YOU

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai is on the verge of falling apart. he can feel it happening, it's just a matter of whether or not he's going to be able to get out of your apartment before you come back and catch him like this. he has the opportunity for it—he does—but when he realizes that you might be in just as bad of a state as he's in, dazai decides to swallow his pride and put aside his own struggles to try to help you in the same way you've helped him in the past. {sfw, 3.2k}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: the first time fic stays hoarded for another week ... but i think this one is just as good eheheh. fun fact, when they're 22, reader acknowledges that this is probably the night she fell in love with dazai.

(warnings: fem!reader, pm!reader, in the beginning of the fic dazai is on the brink of a major depressive episode, reader is not in a good headspace when she shows up, reader has ambiguous injuries)

Dazai is not in a good headspace.

He arrives at your apartment in a whirlwind, not even your doorman dared to say anything to him on the way in. He’s wet and cold, his mind is in turmoil; he can’t stop the way his body is shaking no matter how hard he tries. The bandages on his wrist are fraying and the cool air conditioning of your apartment washing against his bare skin makes his body crawl uncomfortably. As he rushes into the bathroom, he nearly stumbles over his own feet, grateful that you’re not there to see the onset of what he knows is going to be a bad episode.

He doesn’t even know what triggered this one. 

The air getting to his lungs feels thin and shallow like he’s on a mountain peak and not in the comfort of your apartment. His fingers tug at his button-up as he falls to his knees in your bathroom, rifling through the cabinet to find his bandages—he needs to replace the ones that are coming off and then he needs to leave because he thinks he would rather die than let you see him like this.

His vision spins as he unwinds the bandages around his forearm, leaning his shoulder against the cabinet as he tries to keep himself steady. His fingers are cold and clunky, he can hardly wrap the fresh bandages back around his scarred skin, can hardly breathe. He tilts his head back, trying to force himself to get more air to his lungs but it’s just so difficult.

Fuck.

He drags his knees to his chest trying to calm himself down, resting his forehead on his knees, rocking back and forth slowly. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. He needs to focus—for ten minutes, he needs to focus. He can’t let you see him like this, can’t go out of the apartment with his bandages coming apart; he has to finish his left arm and then he can drag himself out of your apartment and rush back to the shipping container and ride out the worst of the episode alone, without your lingering eyes to see him at his lowest.

But as he unwinds the bandages of his left arm and starts to rewrap it with the fresh bandages, he finds his chest caving in because he doesn’t want to go back to the shipping container. The thought of not being able to curl up in the soft sheets of the bed in your spare room makes Dazai’s stomach churn, waking up cold and alone on the metal floor of the shipping container… all of the dark claws tearing his brain apart get sharper at the mere thought.

Maybe he can just lock the door, he thinks desperately. He can lock the door to the spare bedroom and he won’t let you in until it’s passed. He’ll rot in bed for days until he can force himself out from beneath the covers and then he’ll pretend like it never happened, evade all of your questions and brush off your concerns until you get frustrated and stop asking him.

Yeah, he thinks, this could work. It could work, and it means he wouldn’t have to go back to that cold, damp, uncomfortable container. 

No, he realizes, it won’t work, because you’re you and you’re frustratingly observant and have a quick mind to rival his own. More than that, you seem to actually care about him for whatever reason. You probably won’t let him rot there when you realize he’s not even coming out to eat and it just won’t work because he doesn’t want you to see him like this. 

He doesn’t want you to see him weak. Doesn’t want to lash out at you while he’s too consumed by his own mind to control himself. Doesn’t want to lose one of his only friend. (Maybe his only friend—is Chuuya actually his friend? Dazai is never sure) Not for the first time, Dazai wishes he was anyone else in the world, wishes that he didn’t have to constantly be at war with his own brain, wishes that he was normal. 

He’s tried so hard to keep up that facade around you even if he does know deep down that you know it’s a front. He’s been so careful, so meticulous in his efforts to act the way he thinks a normal sixteen-year-old would act and now it’s all going to be blown because what?

No, he can’t let that happen. He has to get out of here before you get home.

He doesn’t even know how this happened. Usually, he can feel a depressive episode coming from a mile away—he’s so used to them by now that it should be impossible for them to sneak up on him like this. The telltale signs are always glaring, always all-consuming; it’s impossible for him to ignore the way blackness edges at the corners of his vision, the way his chest becomes heavy with an indescribable weight, the way his feet become anchored to the ground, an effort to even just drag them against the ground. 

It’s impossible for him to miss all of this, he doesn’t know how he managed to do it this time. 

His nails scrape against the floor as he pushes himself to his feet after he tucks the edge of his bandage in to keep it in place. Even that takes an agonizing amount of energy, his lashes flutter as he tries to brace himself for the walk across the city. He steps out into your hallway, takes another deep breath of the familiar air of your apartment, trying to savor it before he leaves to deal with days of hell on the cold floor of the shipping container he used to live in. 

And then-

And then the elevator up to your apartment slides right open and you walk out.

Dazai’s lips part in horror—he can’t even rush to his bedroom because he would have to get past you to do it. His mind races as he tries to figure out what to do, but it feels like the equivalent of wading through waist-deep water, his thoughts are slow and sluggish and stupid—he feels like Chuuya—and he desperately tries to mask his internal struggle with a smile, forcing his face to light up at the sight of you.

He can fake it—he can fake it and then he can make an excuse to leave and then-

You walk right past him.

You walk right past him.

It startles Dazai so bad that he finds himself freezing, head turning to follow you as you walk past him to sit right on the couch. There’s an empty expression on your face, distant and unreadable and entirely too familiar to Dazai—something that he sees in the mirror every night, something that he’s never seen on you.

This is his chance, he realizes. He can leave in the elevator you just came from, make a break for it before you notice he’s there, but… his gaze lingers on how you sat so rigidly on the couch, staring at the black TV screen, hands folded in your lap, so lost in thought that you’re seemingly blind to your surroundings.

Instead of making his way toward the elevator, his feet move toward you and he finds himself sitting primly on the couch next to you. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, unsure what to say, and then glances back down at his lap. 

You don’t even acknowledge his presence.

Finally, he clears his throat and asks, “Where were you?”

“A mission,” you say, voice bland and you still don’t look at him. “Had to get information.”

“Oh.” 

Dazai has never felt uncomfortable in your presence before, but he feels uncomfortable now because he just doesn’t know what to say when you’re like this. A part of him still wants to flee but you wouldn’t flee if it was him and something isn’t settling right in his stomach about it.

He glances over at you, eyes catching on discolored marks staining your wrists and forearms. He pauses, reaching out hesitantly to grab one of your wrists—your skin is soft beneath his fingers and a spark shoots up his arm from the pads of his fingers. You don’t pull away as he gingerly pulls your arm into his lap, frowning when he sees the bruises on you.

“Who did this?” he asks quietly, jaw tightening. “Who-”

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. 

Dazai gives you a sharp look, careful to not tighten his grip on your arm. “You’re hurt, it does matter. Tell-”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, voice sharper this time. “Drop it, Dazai.”

Dazai falters at your tone—you’ve never spoken to him like that before. He doesn’t let go of your wrist but he does lower his gaze, unsure of what to do.

He doesn’t like this. He’s becoming increasingly more uncomfortable with each passing second. Doesn’t like the tight feeling in his chest. Doesn’t like seeing you like this. Doesn’t like the way he has no idea how to approach this. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t know how to help you. Doesn’t like that he wants to help you. He doesn’t like any of this.  

Dazai stares down at your hand. It’s still resting in his lap, you haven’t pulled it back to you. You’re just staring ahead again, you’re sad, and he feels a bit lost. And Dazai never feels lost, he always knows what to do but he doesn’t know now when it matters. He can talk his way out of every situation, makes plans to win any battle, but he doesn’t know how to fix this.

“I-”

Dazai doesn’t even finish what he was going to say. Honestly, he doesn’t even know what he was going to say. He turns his head back to look at you, feeling increasingly more helpless, and he doesn’t even notice the way the dark claws that had been threatening to tear him open slowly start to recede, doesn’t notice how the emptiness in his chest starts to disappear the more he focuses on trying to help you.

How do you help him? 

You sit with him sometimes when he starts to get lost in his own thoughts. You try to be casual about it so it doesn’t seem like you’re hovering. He figures it’s because you know he’ll get shifty and defensive if he knows you’re lingering because you’re worried about it, but Dazai knows, he just pretends like he doesn’t because everything feels less painful and lonely when you’re around even if he doesn’t understand why. And then that first time-

The first time.

“The roof!” Dazai suddenly says loudly, jumping to his feet. You twist your head to look up at him, a hint of curiosity in your eyes, and Dazai reaches down to snatch your hand, pulling you to your feet. He yanks you so hard that you stumble right into him but Dazai is unperturbed, dragging you forward to the elevator. “We’re going to the roof!”

“O-okay?” 

Dazai doesn’t have to look back to see your confusion, but Dazai has tunnel vision now. He bounces on the balls of his feet impatiently as he waits for the elevator to come back up, staring as the numbers as they tick upward. His fingers entwine with yours, grip tightening on your hand as he swings your joined arms impatiently.

You don’t say anything, more proof of how in your own head you must be right now. You’re always usually the one leading the conversation with him until you get him talking about something he can ramble about, then you just sit and listen, but you’re always the one to get the ball rolling. 

As the elevator arrives at your floor and he jerks you into the elevator with him, he can’t help the way his lips start to curl up, proud of himself for figuring out what to do with you. You’d found him up on the roof that night he’d nearly jumped, you had him lay down on a blanket with you and the two of you spent the night watching the stars. 

You showed him your favorite constellations, and told him the story behind them. Cassiopeia, the vain queen in Greek mythology who angered the Sea God; Andromeda, the princess who was sacrificed because of her mother’s hubris, and Perseus, the hero who had saved her. You told him that one day you wanted to learn the stories behind all of the constellations, but you haven’t had the time to look into them at all.

You’d seemed sad about it—sad that you haven’t been able to look into it, sad because you probably won’t ever have the time for it with how busy you constantly are with mafia business. You’re busier than even Dazai is most days, always out and about working on something.

So, Dazai learned them all—memorized all eighty-eight of their positions in the sky, learned the stories word for word, learned the histories behind the stories so he could give you the whole picture.

He figured maybe one day he’d end up back on the roof with you and he’d be able to show off his newfound knowledge. You’d be impressed, you would simply have to admit that he’s better than Chuuya, because he’s been trying to get you to admit it from day one but you have yet to utter the words out loud. He thinks maybe it’ll also make you happy, but he’s definitely more concerned with getting you to vocally admit that he’s better with Chuuya so he can hold it over the other boy’s head. 

Definitely. 

He types in the keycode for the roof—he can feel your eyes on him, narrowed and suspicious, because he’s not supposed to know the keycode to the roof. He gives you a sweet smile, mourning the fact that you’re going to have the code changed again and he’s going to have to go through the process of figuring it out all over again.

It only takes a few moments for the elevator to reach the rooftop and Dazai is rushing out into the cool night immediately, dragging you behind him. His gaze darts around until it lands on where you folded the thick blanket underneath an overhang and he finally lets go of your arm so he can snatch it up and lay it out in the center of the roof. He plops down immediately and then motions for you to join him.

When you sit down, you sit so close to him that your thighs are brushing and it makes Dazai’s cheeks heat up a little so he’s grateful that the darkness masks it. He lays down against the blanket and stares up at the sky, you follow him down and Dazai’s steady heartbeat wavers when he realizes that your fingers are brushing each other’s—he could grab your hand again if he wanted, it would only take the smallest shift of his hand to slip his fingers between yours, but he can’t bring himself to now without the excuse of dragging you somewhere to shield him.

So, the two of you just lay there, shoulders pressed together, fingers brushing, Dazai’s heartbeat thuds in his chest and his mouth feels dry, all plans of telling you the stories of the constellations out the window because suddenly all of the stars look the same. All of his practice pinpointing them is gone, he’s too hyperaware of your skin against his, how close you are, how stupid he’ll look if he’s wrong.

“That one is called Cygnus,” he blurts out finally, lifting his hand to point to one of the first ones he can recognize. “It’s a swan. There are a bunch of stories, but I think you’d like the Roman one the most. It’s mostly about Phaethon—he was the son of the Sun God, and he wanted to ride the sun chariot for a day, but he couldn’t control it. Zeus had to destroy it while he was in it and it killed Phaethon, the chariot crashed into the river. Cygnus was Phaethon’s lover, he spent weeks diving into the river to collect all of Phaethon’s bones to give him a proper burial. The gods were so moved by his devotion that they turned him into a swan and placed him in the stars.”

All of the theatrical narration he thought he’d be able to give you is long gone. His words are short and stunted, awkward, he rambles in a way that’s painful to his own ears. He swallows thickly when he hears you shift to look at him, fumbling as he tries to find another constellation before you can say anything.

“That one is Draco,” he says, pointing to one that he knows is near Cygnus, heart rate calming as he slowly starts to pinpoint each of the constellations. “It’s another one with a bunch of stories, but I think the most fitting one is the one that has to do with the Twelve Labours of Heracles—Heracles is right next to Draco, see, it’s right there. The dragon was called Ladon, he guarded the golden apples in the garden of Hesperides…”

As he continues to talk, his voice becomes more animated, easing into the stories as he moves from constellation to constellation, each story flowing into the next. He spins you a tale of each of the Twelve Labors of Heracles before shifting into the myth of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. He talks so much that his voice starts becoming hoarse but he clears his throat and pushes through it.

It’s at the end of the tale of the Gemini Twins, Castor and Pollux, that Dazai finally dares to glance over at you. There’s a soft smile on your lips, a lidded look to your eyes that makes it clear you’re on the verge of drifting off to sleep. 

All of the tension and emptiness on your face is gone, you look ethereal beneath the moonbeams—so much so that Dazai stutters over the transition into the story of Orion. You’re prettier than any of the stars in the sky, more enchanting of any of the eighty-eight tales he learned for you. Your lashes flutter before looking up at him, eyes tired and sleepy and so full of emotion, and Dazai can barely breathe at the sight of it.

You don’t say anything, you don’t need to, Dazai thinks your eyes say it all. He watches as they finally droop shut, your head falling to the side as you drift off to sleep next to him. He can feel your forehead brushing his shoulder, but more than that, he feels the way your fingers slip between his, loosely holding his hand as your breath evens out. 

The words of the next story freeze in the back of his throat, a type of emotion swelling in his chest that Dazai has never experienced before. As his fingers tighten just the slightest bit around your own and he shifts to see the peaceful expression on your face. He forgets all about his ulterior motives, content to just bask in your presence, knowing that he’s the reason for your smile tonight.

[storywriter007]

You'll Remember Me - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n suffers the consequences of her and percy's tragic tale

warnings: cursing, heartbreak, character death, betrayal

genre: angst

word count: 869

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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as y/n killed the monster, she felt herself get cut on the gut. she fell backwards and placed her hand on her stomach. she stood up shakily, lifting her sword. they were in the middle of a battle, she couldn't die now. she tried to swing, but her attempts were weak. she tried to walk, but her feet dragged. she fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. she looked at the cut that had grazed her abdomen, and realized it wasn't from any blade, it was from a poisonous spike on the monster. she'd been poisoned. she desperately searched the perimeter for someone who could help.

she saw her best friend, swinging rapidly and summoning hurricanes.

"percy!" she yelled.

he looked over, concern washing over his face, but he made no attempt to come her way. annabeth ran up and grabbed his arm.

"percy, this place is falling apart! we need to leave, now!" she yelled.

pieces of the ceiling began to fall as flames erupted. percy stayed in his spot. annabeth said something to him. y/n couldn't figure out what it was, but his gaze softened as he nodded his head. the two of them ran towards the exit. y/n laid on her side as the temperature rose. exhaustion took her over.

he had left her. her best friend, for six years, had left her to die. where was his loyalty now, when she needed it?

but y/n understood he had shown his loyalty. just not to her, to his girlfriend. to annabeth. and now she'd die, because his loyalty was her betrayal.

y/n felt blood spew out of her mouth. she was going out the way she had always wanted to, guns blazing in the middle of a fight that made a difference. it wasn't an unsatisfactory death. suddenly, y/n heard a voice.

"y/n!" the familiar voice called out. "don't give up on me!"

somebody desperately tried to drag her out of the burning building. she felt the concrete graze against her skin as the weak force tried to save her. he pulled her out and laid her in front of the broken building. she was barely alive.

"she doesn't have much time left!" he panicked. "c'mon y/n, just give me five minutes, we're going to get you to the ship and everthing's going to be okay!"

she knew the voice. she knew who it was. it was the boy she'd befriended when he was young. she'd practically been his sister. she knew it was nico di'angelo. he had come back for her. she felt another person kneel down by her. she could she his raven black hair and his sea green eyes.

"what the fuck percy!" nico yelled. "how could you do this! it was just the three of you!"

"i had no choice nico!" he defended.

"liar!" he screamed. "you told me the same thing when my sister died! and, now, now, i'm going to lose the only person who has ever cared about me because of you!"

y/n could tell nico was on the verge of tears.

"please, y/n, don't leave me now." percy pleaded.

"i've loved you a long time, percy. ever since you and i went on our first quest when we were eleven." she said, using her remaining energy to give a confession she should've given a long time ago. "it broke me to see you with annabeth. it still does."

"y/n.."

"you'll live a long time, percy. years without me." she continued. "you'll find camp half-blood strangely void, because when you come to find me, i won't be there."

he looked at her with tears in his sea green eyes. oh, those beautiful eyes.

"you'll remember me. when you see the stars, when you look at our photos, when you see friendship bracelets, when you talk to your mother and she'll ask, 'why don't we go visit y/n? she's only a block away.' always, your heart will be yearning for me." she paused. "and your mind will give you the unconvincing comfort that you had no choice." she spat, bitterly.

he kneeled besides her, speechless.

"nico." she said, lifting her hand up to hold his. she felt weak. "i'm sorry you have to see me like this."

tears fell from his eyes.

"but, i want you to know that i believe in you. i have faith in you. i always have, and i always will." she paused, knowing these were her last words. "you are a hero."

she felt her eyes shut.

"y/n!" nico shook her. "y/n!"

she didn't awake, she felt herself drifting.

"you destroy everything that matters to me!" nico screamed at percy. "you're a fucking monster!"

she felt at peace. she felt as if she was above the cruel world of unfair gods and tortured children.

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percy sat next to annabeth in his home. the war was over. the demi-gods had won. but at what cost?

"percy." sally called.

"yeah?" he responded.

"why don't we go visit y/n? she's only a block away." sally asked, placing cookies in a box for the first real friend her son had ever made.

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hope you guys liked it :) just had to remind you guys that i am an angst writer

yes i did reference dangerously yours

[billiethepumpkin]

Ships in the Night: Tamaki Amajiki

Kinktober Day 3

Warnings: Rated X. This content is intended to be viewed by those aged 18 years or older. If you are a minor, please do not interact.

Contains: Dominant reader. Male masturbation. Voyeurism. Handjob. Male orgasm. Overstimulation. Dacryphilia (crying). Begging.

Author's Note: All characters are written to be aged 18 years or older because I am an old fuck. :)

It had been days since you had even seen each other. 

Suneater was an up and coming hero, and he was on call practically 24/7. He was exhausted by the time he got done with his patrol shifts, and he was often called away in the middle of the night to handle villains. You, on the other hand, were going strong in your own career, and you were just as busy as him. You both worked an insane amount of hours, and you rarely ever had time to spend on yourselves, let alone each other. Even though you lived together, you were like ships passing in the night. 

Amajiki had been exhausted at work. He was out of it, barely able to hold it together as he walked down the street. So now here he was, walking into his apartment earlier than usual because someone had noticed just how tired he was. He practically fell into bed after tugging his shirt over his head and changing into his pajama pants. He had every intention of going to sleep right then and there. 

But then he rolled over. He caught the scent of you on your pillow, the smell of your shampoo tingling his nose. You, his wonderful partner, the one he hadn’t even seen in a week. Even the scent of you brought so many sensations to his body and mind, and his arousal twitched to life. Tamaki tried to ignore it. He tried to just roll back over and go to sleep. But now, you were heavy on his mind, and he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your scent. Your touch. Your kiss. You flooded every corner of his mind, and he couldn’t help but grind against nothing but his pajama pants. 

He gave in to his own needs, and he picked up his phone to find something to watch. Just something to take the edge off, just something to help him feel better until you could get your hands on each other. That would be enough.

Amajiki started to stroke himself. Up and down, faster and faster as he continued on and on. His breathing got heavier, and he could feel himself on the verge of falling over the edge into sweet orgasm. But he just couldn’t. There was something missing. 

And then it walked through the door. 

The bedroom door opened, and Tamaki started to panic. What were you doing home this early? You weren’t usually home for several hours. He had such an urge to escape this situation, somehow. But there was no escape. There was no way out. He just sat there, face glowing bright red and stammering, “Um–, uhh–” over and over. 

In your view, you saw him sitting up against the headboard, looking up at you with warm cheeks, his dick hard in one hand and his phone in the other. You just sighed and smirked, your own cheeks warm now, too. He was so cute, so handsome, the way he looked up at you so innocently. You couldn’t help yourself now. You sat down in your spot on the bed. “Shh,” you hushed, brushing a hair out of his face. “It’s okay, baby,” you whispered, pulling Tamaki onto your lap. You looked up at him, stripped and twitching with excitement. You grabbed his thighs, kneading the muscled flesh that was there. With one hand, you traced gentle lines along his thighs. With the other, you held his face. You began to gently kiss all over Amajiki’s face, over his neck and his chest. “You’re so good, sweet boy,” you cooed. He whimpered a little, both at the nickname and at your touch. “I know, baby,” you said between kisses. “I know you’re so frustrated. Why don’t I help you out, hm?” 

He nodded frantically. “Yes please.”

You smiled up at him. “That’s my good boy,” you said, kissing his lips gently, but still deeply. The kiss lingered, as it lit up your body for both of you. He was desperate for your touch, and Amajiki was squirming on your lap, subconsciously trying to entice you to touch him sooner. You laughed quietly into the kiss, and you wrapped your hand around his length, now throbbing with desire, his arousal leaking from the tip of his cock. 

You could feel yourself twitching, too, wanting desperately for him to feel good for you.

You stroked once. “Good, baby,” you cooed up at him. “You’re doing such a good job for me.” You stroked again, and then a third time, and he whined above you as his cum dribbled from his cock and over your fingers. Amajiki whined loudly, and he squirmed as he made his pleasure known. “Oh, honey,” you whispered. “You were so pent up, huh? You needed that, didn’t you?”

Amajiki nodded again. “Mhm,” he hummed, still squirming and breathing heavily. You saw the blush creep from his cheeks to his ears. He didn’t want it to be over so soon, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to keep going, especially with how sensitive your touch always made him. 

You continued to stroke him, Tamaki’s cum dribbling from your fingers. He moaned and whimpered, so much more sensitive now than when he started. “Do you think you can cum again, Tama?” you asked, your free hand caressing his face. 

Tamaki nodded furiously, and you smirked to yourself. You started to stroke again, more gently this time, and he whimpered above you. You were so fascinated by him, unable to take your eyes off of his face. Suneater, the fierce hero, falling apart for you at every turn. You were fascinated by him, by all the sweet noises he made as you stroked time and time again. 

It was so much. He was so sensitive, and the feeling of your hand around him was so intense. And somehow he just needed more, more, more than he thought he could handle. He grabbed your hand and held it tightly, his grip fervent, but wavering as Tamaki’s pleasure washed over his body. He leaned forward and kissed you, and you could feel his breath heavy on your face. 

When he pulled away, you saw the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. And now Amajiki was embarrassed for an entirely different reason. You were pressed up against him, kissing him so sweetly, making him feel so good, and here he was crying? He wanted to scold his own body for betraying him like this. But it was just so much. He couldn’t describe it any other way. He just felt everything in every corner of his body, and he loved it, but it was just way too much. 

“Hey,” you cooed up at him, stopping your stroking for a minute and stroking his hair. “Do you need me to stop?”

“No!” he answered, just as frantically as he had been before. “No, please. Please touch me more!” His hips squirmed on your lap, and you quickly recognized that he was trying to thrust in your hand. 

You smiled again. “Okay, honey,” you said with your smile plastered across your face. You started to stroke again, and Amajiki sighed at your pleasure. He quickly wiped the tears from his face. 

“Please,” you heard him whisper, “please, please, please.”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you cooed at him. “Your cock feels so good in my hand. You’re making such pretty noises for me.” You caressed his thighs and hips, and he rested his forehead against yours. Truthfully, he meant to lean in and kiss you, but everything was so intense in that moment that his mind went blank. “I want you to cum for me, baby,” you pleaded. “I want you to feel so good for me. You’re such a good boy for me.”

And just like that, his cock was leaking around your hand again, his white semen covering your fingertips as Tamaki whined and whimpered and squirmed. “Good job, baby,” you whispered, mere centimeters from his face. It was then that his lips finally crashed into yours. 

As Tamaki came down from his orgasm, you leaned to find his shirt discarded on the floor next to the bed. You wiped his cum off of your hand, and you pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. “I miss you,” he confessed, his head now resting on your shoulder. Your fingers ghosted over the skin on his back, and his chest rose and fell heavily. “What are you doing at home?” he said, not picking his head up. 

“I got out of work early,” you said. “I wanted to surprise you.” You wrapped your arms around his waist and locked your fingers behind his back. 

“Mm,” he hummed, nodding his head. His body became heavy on top of yours. “‘M tired,” he confessed. 

You sighed a laugh, and you said, “I can tell.” You kissed his shoulder, then up his neck, and then his cheek. “Why don’t we take a nap?” you suggested. 

Tamaki sighed and nodded, and he allowed himself to fall off your lap and onto his side of the bed. 

You fell asleep with your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him as closely as you possibly could.

It was the best sleep Tamaki had gotten all week.

This work was written by Abigail "Billie" Rothenberger. Please do not copy this work on Tumblr or any other platform.

[kaelleid]

Izzy Hands Fic Recs (September 2024)

My favorite of the Izzy fics that I read in September 2024. See other recs here.

Pierced Through the Heart by @waterofthemoon, @sungmee (Stede/Izzy)

After Stede and Ed come together and fall apart following Calypso's birthday, Izzy finds Stede heartbroken and on the verge of getting his ear pierced, and manages to help him with both.

an irrevocable condition by redshift (Stede/Izzy)

Love doesn't come with conditions. Maybe that's something Izzy can accept, after all.

heartbreak feels so good by wishingonalightningbolt (Stede/Izzy)

Izzy Hands, chief political strategist with the Green Party, meets Stede Bonnet, a new addition to the morning shows doing spin for Labour. They get along about as well as you might predict.

Iz, just Iz by lepus (Ed/Stede/Izzy)

Out of all the fucking ships in the sea this is where Izzy ended up.

Feeling Crabby by tempocon (Ed/Stede/Izzy)

After coming across a perfect, horrendous gift for his captain, Izzy decides to do something nice for once in his life. Unfortunately, what he fails to account for is that nobody who resides within the captains' cabin of the Revenge has ever been capable of being normal about anything. Things escalate.

Your Awful Heart to Song by @acesaru (Ed/Stede/Izzy)

No one left alive knows that Izzy isn’t strictly human, and he’s worked damn hard to keep it that way. He’s perfectly content to live the rest of his life without speaking the truth to anyone–Edward included–shoving any and all yearning for the sea and his true form down deep inside him where it belongs. He is, after all, good at denying himself what he wants most...

The Old Therebefore by @carrymelikeimcute (Ed/Stede/Izzy)

Three weeks after they bury Izzy, he appears in the water beside The Revenge, half drowned, with two legs, and calling Stede by his first name.

[lovelyangelxxx]

thantophobia | various one piece characters x reader

thantophobia; (n.) the phobia of losing someone you love

→ the aftermath of an argument 

→ angst w some comfort..? (toxic relationships..?), g/n reader

→ sanji vinsmoke, sir crocodile, eustass kidd, trafalgar law, charlotte perospero, and charlotte katakuri

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

sanji vinsmoke ♡

~sanji felt terrible after being angry with you. he felt so lost and panicked, unsure of what to say and how to apologize. it’s been a couple of hours before he approached you with much caution, bent down to your curled up figure, and asked for your forgiveness. you mumbled a small apology as well which made him sigh with relief. you glanced up at him with wet eyes and smiled softly, thankful that he had come to reconcile.

“you’re everything to me.”

sir crocodile ♡

~crocodile raised his voice and saw your figure start to tremble. you started sobbing, thin streams of tears rolling down your cheeks as you walked away from him. he furrowed his eyebrows and hated himself so much for making you cry. it was the worse thing he could’ve done. he hates making his angelic and beautiful lover cry. he grabs you with his hand before you could walk out the door and mutters a small apology. you tell him that you’re still upset with him, but he responds with a chuckle, telling you that he will somehow make up for it and do whatever you desire. 

“don’t cry, i hate it when you cry.”

eustass kidd ♡

~arguments between you and kidd were frequent, yet always over something trivial. however, this argument was serious and he had truly hurt your feelings. he had yelled things you never imagined he ever would and it completely broke you. you dashed off the ship and ran as far as your legs could take you. your heart hurt so much that your chest started burning with the wish that your worst fear hadn’t come true. but unfortunately it had. eustass kidd broke your heart within mere seconds which ironically was the same amount of time that you had fallen deeply in love with him. 

“this is breaking my heart.”

trafalgar law ♡

~even after everything he has been through, law was a pretty stable man. however, after you entered his life, you had become his everything. of course, he has his other priorities, but you had infiltrated his heart and his mind, so when a heated argument ends with you walking out the door he became desperate. he frantically runs towards you and apologizes, tears on the verge of leaving his wet eyes. he loathes every second of that argument and forgets all of the fury that once filled him, desperately asking you to stay. 

“if you walk away, everything will fall apart.”

charlotte perospero ♡

~perospero was a prideful man and his pride definitely took a part in your arguments with him. you felt as if your husband wasn’t trying hard enough to stay with you or understand you. you tried so hard to get through the walls of pride that stood in his heart, yet they never faltered. after one argument, you simply broke down and couldn’t handle his behavior anymore. if he wouldn’t try neither would you, and you had given up out of exhaustion and a broken heart. 

“don’t you understand that i’m trying?”

[moritashie]

"Will you go with me?" 900 words

huge thank you to @shootothrill and Thali from DC for their help <33

Tony Stark, Iron Man, is in his kitchen again. He has been coming over every day without fail for the past two weeks and has told Peter why, but excuse him for questioning the intentions of the gazillionaire suddenly being all buddy buddy with him.

It is especially strange, as before that, the only four interactions he remembers were of them fighting about Spider-Man. It must've been about this amazing superhero Spider-Man. Peter is pretty sure that Tony doesn’t know that he knows about those arguments. He doesn't understand why exactly the man is acting all friendly, so positive, so fake that it annoys him.

A lot of things began to annoy him recently. The way Ned is suddenly interested in watching sports, the way May constantly sends him random articles from the past two years and the way everyone seems to have already moved on from his uncle's death.

A knock on the door throws him away from his train of thought. 

“Can I come in?” Tony asks from the other side of the door.

“Go ahead.” 

Peter clicks off his pen and lays it next to the notes. The knob turns and Mr. Stark's beelines to Peter's desk. 

“A little birdie told me you still haven't left the house.”

“Didn't wanna.”

“Well, maybe you'll wanna when I tell you about the Expo~”

Correction. Five interactions. Four negative, one positive. 

‘Nice work, kid’. 

And only one that actually feels his. 

“I won’t.” Peter cuts him off.

“Oh, turn that frown upside down, underoos. Will you go with me? Pretty please? Please with a cherry on top?” He lies on top of Peter’s desk, beaming like a child.

“I don’t feel like leaving the house, Tony.” 

“Mm, But I need my crazy–smart intern with me.”

Peter squeezes the pencil in his hand and feels it break inwards.

“I’ve never even worked with you.”

Tony makes an expression pretending to be oh-so petrified, and asks in an artificially low, quiet tone. “Then whose name is in the credits?”

Peter is on the verge of blowing up at the man. Some things start to boil real quick somewhere deep down in Peter’s chest. 

“I’ve told you.” He tries to stay calm. He swears he does. “That I’m not your intern. I don’t remember any of that, It's like it didn’t happen for me, I CAN’T DO ANY OF THE STUFF I DID WHEN I–” Tears well up in Peter’s eyes. He feels a sudden urge to throw his notebook across the room full force when his torso is squeezed tight by Tony. 

For the next few minutes his chest rises and falls, his heart rate slowly decreases and the sobs quiet down bit by bit, as Tony gently strokes his hair.

“I just don’t get you.” 

Tony hums and pulls Peter into a tighter hug. “When you first woke up after the accident, you were absolutely delirious. Going in circles, asking the same three questions every five minutes, you briefly recognized May on a good hour. I was so scared I would lose you, and I couldn’t even do anything to prevent it. And then you got better, and now I can do something to… Still have you by my side. Not just physically.” 

Peter says nothing, but he ducks away from Tony’s arms and raises his head to look at Tony, who seems out of his depth, moments from having a meltdown himself.

“Cho said that since you don’t seem to be recovering your memories, chances are that the past two years are go– aren’t coming back. We can’t wait until it all goes away, neither me nor May want you to stay cooped up in the apartment because of this. So please, let’s go out together. It doesn’t have to be the Expo, we can go to some restaurant or, hell, even an art museum. Baby steps.”

“...I did remember some things.” He mutters.

“What?” Tony asks in a soft voice that leaves Peter unsure whether he didn't hear the question or if he just wants Peter to clarify.

“It’s not much just- I can count all my memories with you on one hand but– you were always annoyed in those, or mad at me, like when we were on some ship? How am I supposed to trust that we’re close and you don’t just want to- I don’t even know… And if we were, I don’t feel like the person you are talking about.” 

The man’s eyes are glossy, and Peter wants the floor to swallow him whole. 

“I am so sorry Pete. I don’t know how to–  I can only promise you, I care about you. More than I thought I would care about anyone. I want you to go back to being happy and healthy, and learn to live with everything. And you are still you, memories or not. I see it every time I come over.”

He takes a deep breath as he carefully assembles the next sentences.

“I’ve researched support groups for people with amnesia, you're not the only one feeling this way. One is here, in Queens, could you at least consider trying? Once?” Peter hides his face in his knees, and Tony’s already bracing himself for refusal when the teen quietly mumbles.

“Will you go with me?”

Tony smiles. “I would love to.”

[jisokai]

& we'll be brothers again

“Luffy?”

The youngest boy grunts next to the eldest, cramped in their nest. He’s tired, on the verge of joining Sabo’s snores on the other end.

“You ever think about what you wanna be in your next life?”

ace & luffy tags: spoilers for marineford, post-time skip, reincarnation, angst... i think? 3.4k words | oneshot, complete

read on ao3

a note: This is set sometime post-timeskip. I started writing this before I reached Dressrosa, so I initially intended for it to be between Sabaody and Dressrosa. But then Dressrosa was... well, Dressrosa. So I don't know where this fic fits anymore T-T but probably post-Dressrosa LOL

“Luffy?”

The youngest boy grunts next to the eldest, cramped in their nest. He’s tired, on the verge of joining Sabo’s snores on the other end.

“You ever think about what you wanna be in your next life?”

Luffy’s blank face schools into a frown. He turns his head to look at Ace, wondering what runs through his mind to ask that sort of question.

“No. Why would I think about stuff like that?”

Ace hums, unperturbed. It’s quiet afterwards, only the sound of the wind and the rustling leaves passing between them. Luffy thinks that’ll be the end of it, closing his eyes and readying to forget about the whole conversation as he falls asleep.

The water is calm today.

The water is calm, and so is Luffy.

The crew is chatting, still acclimating to their returned companionship, sharing tales of time apart and dreams moving forwards. The Sunny rocks gently against the waves, rhythmic splashes thrumming through the wind. The wood of the deck creaks as the captain walks towards the edge, peering into the vast, endless blue of the ocean and sky. The clouds are gentle, like the swirling hair of a god.

“Nami,” he calls.

The navigator hums, turning towards her captain.

“Let’s go this way.” He points at an angle from the front of the ship, less than ninety degrees right.

“Huh? But the logpose—”

“I know,” he says. His voice is strong, but not rough. He is calm today. “I just gotta feelin’.”

Nami sighs, not having the will to argue. “Okay, but we’re following the logpose if we don’t find anything in a couple days.”

Luffy nods. “Yeah.”

The island is unusual. It stretches through the shape of a crescent, a globe of earth that was shot through the side. The water at the center is dark, a deep deep blue that commands mystery. The Sunny docks on one of its points—at a cluster of rocks that transition into a forest. The trees feel familiar to Luffy, with large trunks that could hold a home. Franky comments that they’re hardwood, strong and reliable for ship repairs. They stand surrounded by a carpet of green, the smooth fibers of ferns and sedge and the occasional bush of flowers—hibiscus and plumeria.

A breeze flutters by, sends tingles of whispers across his skin—secrets, he thinks. 

The crew watches their captain leave the ship, eyes skeptically following him and his lack of enthusiasm. He’s subdued, with a calm aura that reads as unsettling. Some of them wonder if this is a change that surfaced deliberately in the past two years. Others wonder if it means something is wrong.

Luffy treads carefully into the thick of the forest. His sandals crunch along layers of leaf and twig, erupting pops that imitate the cracking of bone. But the landscape is serene, with chirping birds and soft rustles of the occasional rodent, pawing through bramble or scurrying through the canopies. Luffy takes it in slowly. Carefully.

His steps eventually toe the line of a blackened patch of land. His face remains unchanged while his eyes move across the ground, spotting charred trunks, scorched earth, brittle remnants of vegetation—the ones that somehow didn’t quite turn to ash. Before him is a scene of black and white and grey, and the tiniest sprinkle of green sparsely dotted across the dirt.

“A forest that relies on burning.” Robin’s voice is level as she vocalizes her thoughts behind the captain. “It’s not uncommon. Fire is an effective tool to clear land and maintain biodiversity.”

“Huh,” is Luffy’s response, watching in his periphery as she lowers herself. A handful of hands rummage through soft black and grey to pick out little brown ovals. He turns to look at her many palms when she stands.

“Seeds,” she explains. “Some plants need a high enough temperature to open their seed pods—in most cases by fire or extreme heat. Fires both destroy and create.”

Her captain huffs. “‘Kay.” 

He walks onwards while she continues searching.

The ground goes from grey to brown as Luffy ambles to the center of the crescent. He walks along tan sand like sun-kissed skin, bronzed by a life of adventuring. If he squints at his feet they nearly disappear, almost the same color. Sometimes his toe bumps a pebble, always a rich brown or black. The trees fade, opening to a beach at the center of the crescent, the cove-like interior. The only stray plants are tufts of black grass, folding strips of paper that shimmer in the breeze—threads of coals. They stretch from the shore to the base of a mountain range standing tall against the ocean.

The mountains are bright, a blinding white against the blue of sea and sky, like clouds that reflect the sun. They’re hard limestone, jagged edges of rock that rose from the earth, made from the remnants of others. There are faint lines of grey that run through them, slithering ribbons of hardened sand. They allude to an earlier time, crediting those who existed before. And then there are swirls of black that glide through the surface, crossing the orderly stripes of stone with no rhyme or reason. There are only a few.

Sanji’s voice trails over, from the cluster of rocks where the shore touches the water. “Hey, check it out. Looks like tons of mussels over here. And the shore is full of fish! They hardly move if you come close.”

Usopp hums beside him, crouching to see for himself. “Woah!” he exclaims. “What d’ya think that over there is—some sort of slimy algae? I wonder if I can extract the mucus for one of my attacks…”

Chopper makes a sound of protest, like he has other ideas for how to use it—a salve, maybe. Luffy tunes them out, heading the opposite way towards the mountain.

It doesn’t take long for him to stand atop the highest peak, despite the jagged surface of the ridgeline and the lack of trail. From the summit, the darkness of the cove’s water is even more striking, a harsh line where the hole sinks endlessly, a pool of dense saltwater that swallows sunlight. As the night fades in, it goes from blue to black. All tidal activity comes to a halt, bringing the water to complete stillness. A perfect mirror of the stars and moon above.

Zoro huffs as he crests the peak shortly afterwards the sun sinks into the water. He stands behind his captain’s seated form by the ledge. “Shit,” he grumbles. “How the hell did I get up here? At least this damn island is small.”

Luffy snickers, breaking the calm blankness that struck him since arriving. “Stupid Zoro.”

The swordsman grunts, but lets the comment roll off him unbothered. He’s not in the mood to get angry, instead letting his eyes flit to his captain sitting in front of him, face partly illuminated by the moon above. He knows Luffy, being the first mate and his best friend. Zoro knows he’s not the brightest, but something feels different. Something… good, he thinks. He shrugs to himself, not concerned so long as the change isn’t a threat.

Luffy comes across Nami the next morning, in the scorched remains of forest. She and Robin run their hands through the ash and charcoal along the island’s floor. The older of the two shovels earth from a small hole, recording observations about the soil composition. The younger sifts for clumps of black char, to mix with a solvent in hopes of refilling the inks for her maps. 

The captain frowns at the sight, chest tightening as he watches Robin stab her spade through the ground. Red clay collects in its fold, a deep shade, wet and runny like a slip—like the earth is bleeding in her hands. Then his face relaxes in surprise, at the familiarity of the color: the kind of reddish-brown that can be molded into cups and plates, but also rolled into round beads to be strung together.

This island is weird, he thinks. Eerily peaceful, no predators in sight, offering everything they could need before they continue their journey: food, wood for the ship, plants and animals that can be used for both harming and healing. A project for Nami and something weird for Robin to be excited about. Even Brook gets to play his music in the quiet length of the island, a short enough span that Zoro is easily found when he wanders off. It’s warm, with fresh air. And it’s isolated, the crew only docking from the captain’s pure instinct. He thinks maybe they have the ease of never being found here.

Nami speaks when she sees him, thoughts in the same line. “Luffy, I looked through the records of the Grand Line, but nothing matched the description of this island.”

“Huh,” he replies, unsurprised. “You think we’re the first ones?”

Robin answers. “It appears so. There aren’t any traces or evidence that people have made contact before. To be frank, this island is quite strange. I think it’s relatively young—based on the mountains and the forest. But then I don’t understand how there’s so much clay in this area.”

Luffy doesn’t get what she’s trying to say. It sounds reasonable that clay would be in the ground.

“It’s such a shame,” Nami adds. “I wish I knew how to make an eternal pose. This is a perfect place to come back to when we need a break.”

Luffy doesn’t answer. He has a feeling he’ll know how to find his way without one.

The crew is ready to leave after a few days, enough time for them to restock and take advantage of the island’s offers. All but Luffy. He frowns stubbornly when Nami argues with him, unbudging but also unable to answer her when she asks why he wants to stay. 

“Just gotta feelin’.” And he does (have a feeling), but he can’t explain it. He could say it’s one in his chest, a tightness that hasn’t gone away since their arrival—almost a sort of anticipation for something that has yet to happen. The only way he could articulate it would be to say that everyone’s had their thing the island offered them. Everyone but him. He just feels like he should wait.

Luffy watches his navigator’s face as it twists with irritation. His own is blank before stretching into a carefree grin.

“Don’t worry Nami, it’ll be fine. Besides, you said it’s a good place to take a break—so take one already!”

He snickers as she grits her teeth.

Luffy dreams that night. It’s an unusual occurrence for him, usually dreaming while awake, where he can charge towards them freely and make them real.

But this dream pulls him years back, nearly a decade earlier in a different forest. There are three sake cups sitting on the stump between him and Ace and Sabo, stolen wine poured into them to be lifted and clinked and downed. As brothers. A trio of troublemakers, fighting and stealing and surviving together. Luffy relives a series of memories, flashes of the many adventures they had before he even turned ten. He notices that he’s crying in most of them, brothers swooping in to save him—if they weren’t the reasons for his tears.

When he wakes, he recognizes that the whole scenario is unlike himself. Both the dreaming and the lingering in his memory. He doesn’t read into them, ready to hmph and move on. But there’s a feeling in his chest that won’t go away—like a tugging, or an emptiness. All at once.

After a few more days, Nami is no longer the only vocal advocate for leaving. Most of the crew feel an itch to get moving, get doing—except for Usopp, enjoying his slice of life on the one island that hasn’t tried to kill him. 

“Luffy, seriously, what are you waiting around for? You’re normally the first one to get a move on,” Sanji complains.

The captain once again refuses to budge, face blank. “I already said I don’t wanna.”

“We can’t just wait around here because you have a feeling,” Nami interjects. 

Sanji nods. “Yeah, what happened to King of the Pirates? Beating all the other guys in the next generation to the One Piece? Meeting Shanks?”

Luffy huffs at the mention, nearly a growl. He does care about those things, how could his crew doubt him? When have they ever been so opposed to taking a detour before? They always get where they need eventually—it always works out when they’re together.

Zoro watches closely, the twitch of his captain’s nose and lips. When he speaks it comes from his place as first mate. “He’s the captain.”

The cook scoffs, face twisting in annoyance. “I know,” he seethes.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Luffy can’t bear to listen to them argue, body too tense to be amused. He storms off. Nobody chases him.

No matter how fed up they might be with their captain, the crew would never leave. Everyone knows this. So they argue, yell and shout and say hurtful things, but they don’t leave. They wait with him. And Luffy waits, uncharacteristically quiet—subdued—as he tries to understand why this island called for him.

It happens during their last argument, a heated mix of shouts and growls on the sandy shore. Zoro stands firm on Luffy’s side with a quivering Usopp. Robin and Chopper are at a distance while the others exchange heated words. Sanji’s hands grip at his captain’s shirt, shaking him in attempt to convince him to use common sense for once in his life.

“God, Luffy! This is getting to be a huge waste of our time—”

And Luffy fumes. An anger so intense it’s impossible to describe floods his veins. He glares at his crewmate, his gall to call his waiting a waste.

“You better shut the hell up,” he growls, teeth nearly grating.

“I will once we get the hell out of here!”

Luffy’s hand comes to the cook’s wrist, squeezing harshly in threat. Threat of escalating things further, threat to get physical if he keeps it up. But Sanji doesn’t back down, ready to meet his captain’s violence if that’s what it’ll take for him to listen.

A flame bursts in the forest, roaring behind Sanji in Luffy’s peripheral.

The captain’s expression falls, anger evaporating as he turns his full attention to the fire. He is struck breathless by the sight—licks of red and orange that rise quickly above the trees, as if commanded by the ground beneath. His hand on Sanji’s wrist slackens, then tightens as he yanks it off and runs.

“Hey! The hell you think—”

But Luffy is gone, sprinting across the sand, swirling clouds tracing behind him. His body moves on its own, fueled by nothing but that deep, deep emptiness in his chest beckoning him forward.

In the minute it takes him to arrive, the fire reaches its end. It only claimed a section of the forest, benign by its own volition. But that section is cleared, charred and fallen. All that remains is a floor of black and grey, with lingering orange from still-hot coals.

Luffy’s chest heaves. He feels like he’s still sprinting even when he comes to a stop—at the edge of sand and embers. Ace’s smile flashes through his mind.

The realization hits him like ice water, a forceful dump over his head—head filled only with thoughts of his brother. His brother, his brother, his brother. Tan skin, freckles, black wavy hair. A smile like the sun and the crescent moon all at once. With marked skin and a gaping hole in his chest, standing above him protectively. His brother, with the power of flames, known first to many by his title: Fire Fist.

Luffy’s body thrums with life and heat and pain, that initial anticipation multiplying infinitely. His face twists and stings at the flood of tears that start to spill. He doesn’t register his body’s movements as he tries to run forwards, screaming, “ACE!” with his entire chest and being. He falters, legs liquifying before he can take a single step.

The reaction is immediate.

“Ace?” Zoro asks. His voice is breathy, from sprinting with the others to follow their captain.

“He’s…” Luffy pants, gasping for air. He’s a fish on the shore, suffocating. “He’s here. Ace is here.”

Uncertain expressions flutter through the crew, a mixture of concerned frowns and skeptical glares. Chopper is the first to answer, the first to believe.

“You think Ace is on this island?” he asks hopefully.

A flash of intensity crosses Sanji’s features, maybe a sinking strike of regret. He adds, “Any idea where he is? The island is small, so we should be able to find him pretty quickly.”

But Luffy shakes his head, face crumpling as tears continue to fall. He’s the crybaby brother, the first one to sob, the troublemaker that always caused a mess his older brothers’ always had to clean up.

“I wanna be something cool,” Ace says after a few moments. Luffy opens one eye and turns his head to look at him. “When I’m reborn, I wanna be something that everybody loves. Like a star. I don’t… I don’t wanna be another person.”

Luffy frowns at the admission. It makes no sense to him—stars aren’t born, they’re just there. As they’ve always been. He feels angry, hurt even, but doesn’t understand why. Why would Ace want to be something like that, something that… that would be so far away?

“Hmph,” he grumbles, turning away. “Then be a stupid star or whatever. I’m gonna be a king, or someone cool like Shanks. And you can be a star high up in the sky while Sabo and I get to be brothers again.”

Luffy’s foot kicks forward, lifting traces of sand and a small cloud of dust. Golden-brown dust, nearly the color of his skin. Soft sand with occasional clumps of dark rock, speckles in the ground. Freckles, even.

“Ace is here,” he tries again. “He’s… he’s—”

Zoro grabs his captain by the bicep, holding him firmly before he falls. “Luffy! What the hell? Spit it out already. We can’t go around looking for him until you tell us where he is.”

Luffy’s face is long, stretched sadly as his eyes continue to water. 

“It’s Ace,” he says again. “Ace is the island.”

An island that relies on the destruction of fire to start new life. An island with tanned and freckled ground, with limestone as bright as a cheeky smile. An island with mountains that rest like a pile of bones, white and dry with dark markings: etchings that will never fade. An island with fields of grass, black as the night, rustling through the breeze like tufts of wavy hair. An island with red watery clay beneath a thin layer of soil.

(His brother’s fire, the endless flame of his passionate life despite having reached its end. His brother’s skin, tan from time in the sun and freckled with infinite, ever changing constellations. His brother’s grin, shining white teeth, always a smile of reassurance. His brother’s bones, strong and sturdy before him, coated with flesh and a tattoo of a loss they shared. His brother’s hair, thick and wavy locks, covered by his own signature hat. 

His brother’s beaded necklace, made from heated and glazed clay, scattering across the ground when its string finally breaks. His brother’s blood, spilling from his chest before him, for him. Always.)

An island unknown to anyone but his little brother’s crew—located only by that strong, unwavering compass in the beating muscle of Luffy’s heart.

Ace was reborn, not into another human or creature: beings that hurt and wound. Instead he rose from a sliding fault of the earth’s crust, fueled by hot lava beneath. He rose impossibly fast and became a stable, giving source of life that rests in the warmth of the open ocean. And now Luffy stands atop him, on that skin-toned shore in the body of the crescent, a curve carved by an object shooting straight through it, down towards the molten center of the earth to dig a deep abyss. The points of the moon-shape circle around the boy in a protective hug—a shield: the strong arms of an older brother, his duty always first and foremost to look after his siblings.

Ace lived.

The thought passes through Luffy that when he’s reborn, he’d like to be a neighboring island, another dot on the ocean, one in a cluster of three. When Luffy passes and he’s offered new life, another life, he’d like to be Ace’s brother once again.

This time: timeless. Together.

thanks for reading! <3

something about writing for one piece makes me feel invincible and completely unafraid of what anyone thinks LOL. Luffy would be proud.

[neaverse]

i am here asking for your favorite fics (i can tell you have good taste<3) 🫶

hi bella!!! thank you for the ask<33

okay so i read a lot. When i say a lot i mean a lot. The amount of fanfiction i’ve consumed in the last three years is probably unhealthy, but what can i say really? I don’t have much going on in my life🤷🏼‍♀️

so going into this, i contemplated how i should categorise my favourites. Current favs? Fav fics per ship? In the end, i decided to simply compile a list of fics that i still think about weeks and months (if not years) after i first read them. Fics that punched me in the gut, fics that made me question my whole existence. I could probably go on forever with this list but i’ve narrowed it down to 10 to make the job a little bit easier for both me and you hahaha!

In no particular order:

The World Is A Violent Sky by anonymous

Harry Potter wants to die; Draco Malfoy wants to live — a story of life and death, everything in between and beyond — in the form of scatters of love and hurt like freckles of stars forming into constellations.

Crimson Rivers by bizarrestars

Regulus Black was fifteen the first time his name was called at a reaping. He's twenty-five when it happens to him again. A lot has changed in that time, and one of them is that he's ready to do whatever it takes to make it home. Nothing or no one will stop him, not even James Potter. James Potter has no plans to stop Regulus Black from making it home. In fact, his plans revolve around the opposite. He has his reasons, but he's made his choice to get Regulus out of the arena, even knowing it'll be the last thing he ever does. Sirius Black was sixteen when he volunteered to take his little brother's place in the arena. At twenty-six, without the option to do it again, he has no choice but to be a mentor to his brother and best friend, knowing that only one of them can make it back out. Two names called, a mentor on the verge of falling apart, and more secrets and grief between all of them than they know how to handle. None of them are prepared for what comes next, or how far they'll go to make it through.

Harry Potter and the Welcome to the World of Grey by @sobsicles

When Harry fails to keep his anger at bay and Voldemort possesses his mind, the events that follow lead him down a long road to realizing the world isn't as black and white as it seems. Chaos, hilarity, and tragedy ensue with a Dark Lord being honest all the time, a rival becoming something else, and a world demanding to be saved. Featuring frightened Death Eaters, deep conversations with a monster, Pureblood traditions being ridiculous, and the fight to do the right thing with no true options. Harry's life just gets more and more bizarre with each passing moment.

Art Heist, Baby! by @otrtbs

When James Potter answers a mysterious ad in his local coffee shop, the last thing he expects is to be thrown into a world of white collar crime, but how can he resist when the mastermind behind the operation has dark hair and brooding eyes and promises wealth beyond James' wildest imagination? He would do anything for that boy named after a star, including stealing millions of dollars of fine art.

Orion in the Sky by space_wingding

Draco Malfoy owns a bookshop in the Lake District. He’s also cursed. Enter: Harry Potter.

Berlin Angel by @de-sire-blog

Berlin is absolutely miserable in February. Or it’s just Sirius. Alternatively: A story of how Remus Lupin stepped into Sirius’ life, flashed his trademark grin, and reminded him that life is a beautiful thing meant to be enjoyed. No risk, no fun!

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by firethesound

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

Dear Reader by @calamitoustide

never take advice from someone who's falling apart Regulus has been quite obsessed with this anonymous advice blogger Helios and becomes concerned when they begin to post cryptically to an unspecified “Reader” At the same time, he’s starting Uni and has to deal with his brother being back in his life and a certain boy he won’t leave him alone.

Starvin’ darlin’ by @showinalittlelife

The man suddenly drops the knife, he sighs like all his dreams have been crushed. “Oh, dear, I can’t eat you! You’re rotting! What a shame, thought I’d found a looker too,” he whines miserably. The thoughts in Evan’s mind are racing too fast for him to make any sense of them. He has so many questions—too many questions that are probably better left off unanswered, but before he can think properly, he opens his mouth and speaks. “You think I’m a looker?” or: Barty is a cannibal, Evan is dying and they go on a little road trip!

Running on Air by eleventy7

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hey Cas! How're you doing?

*sighs deeply*

It's Context Anon again, with a whole new problem because...yeah. (Honestly, I'm sorry I'm going to you for what's pretty much everything that's on the verge of falling apart in my life)

So I have this friend, let's call her A, and she's friends with this other guy, whom we'll call B. Now A and I are pretty good friends, and because of that, B and I are also friends. Now the problem is that B is sort of in a completely different friend group than me, and the only thing that's really joining us together as friends that hang out is A, but A's leaving and going to another country with her family at the end of the year.

Now, B's a really nice person, and I want to stay friends (and I'm pretty sure he does too), except I have no idea how, and I really don't know how the friendship's going to continue.

And one of my 'show affection towards your friends' methods is like, physical touch, like hugs and touching hands but I don't know how to do that with B? Like, as a kid I was taught of this divide between boys and girls and now my mind just kind of goes ???????. And I don't want people to like, ship us or anything because as much as I love and appreciate B it's not a romantic thing

Okay! So if you want to go the physical touch route but make sure it's platonic, could you go for more platonic gestures? Like a high-five (or the cool equivalent, whatever it is that actual real people do), a clap on the back, a side hug, things like that?

You can also show you want to be friends in other ways. Ask him about his life ask to hang out, comment on his posts, that kind of thing.

[richincolor]

New Releases

A whole bunch of new books out today from a variety of genres and a little something for everybody. I'm looking forward to reading, The Eternal Ones, the conclusion of Namina Forna's Deathless trilogy and a I always love Renee Watson's work so I'm excited to read her book of poetry that I can share with my students. Read on to check out this week's new books. 

This is How You Fall in Love by Anika Hussain Bloomsbury YA

Zara and Adnan are just friends. Always have been, always will be. Even if they have to pretend to be girlfriend and boyfriend… Zara loves love in all forms: 90s romcoms and romance novels and grand sweeping gestures. And she’s desperate to have her own great love story. Crucially, a real one. So when her best friend Adnan begs her to pretend to date him to cover up his new top-secret relationship, Zara is hesitant. This isn’t the kind of thing she had in mind. But there’s something in it for Zara too: making her parents, who love Adnan, happy might just stop them arguing for a while. She may not be getting her own love story, but she could save theirs. So Zara agrees and the act begins: after all, how different can pretending to be in a relationship with your best friend be to just hanging around with them like usual? Turns out, a lot. With fake dating comes fake hand-holding and fake kissing and real feelings… And when a new boy turns up in Zara’s life, things get more confusing than ever. The course of true love never did run smooth, but Zara’s love story is messier than most…

The Eternal Ones (Deathless #3) by Namina Forna Delacorte Press

Mere weeks after confronting the Gilded Ones—the false beings she once believed to be her family—Deka is on the hunt. In order to kill the gods, whose ravenous competition for power is bleeding Otera dry, she must uncover the source of her divinity. But with her mortal body on the verge of ruin, Deka is running out of time—to save herself and an empire that’s tearing itself apart at its seams. When Deka’s search leads her and her friends to the edge of the world as they know it, they discover an astonishing new realm, one which holds the key to Deka’s past. Yet it also illuminates a devastating decision she must soon make… Choose to be reborn as a god, losing everyone she loves in the process. Or bring about the end of the world.

The Boyfriend Wish by Swati Teerdhala Katherine Tegen Books

Deepa’s a hopeless romantic. And even though Deepa’s checklist for the perfect boyfriend is a mile long, her mom and dad’s fairy-tale love story makes her feel like romantic success ought to be a family trait. It’s why when her grandmother gives her a jasmine flower with the promise that it will fulfill her heart’s greatest desire, and then a new boy moves in across the street, Deepa knows—he must be her wish come true. Rohit checks off every box on Deepa’s timelessly handsome, a thoughtful listener, and a romantic who knows his flowers. Deepa’s next-door neighbor (and constant tormentor) Vik also surprisingly approves, though she knows it shouldn’t be a mark against Rohit. Is it luck or is it magic? Deepa doesn’t want to take chances, so when her grandmother warns her that the wish is only permanent if she seals it with a kiss, she knows she needs to move quickly. Rohit is the right boy in every way, so then why does Deepa not feel like he might not be the right choice?

A Suffragist’s Guide to the Antarctic by Yi Shun Lai Atheneum Books for Young Readers

November 1914. Clara Ketterling-Dunbar is one of twenty-eight crew members of The Resolute —a ship meant for an Antarctic expedition now marooned on ice one hundred miles from the shore of the continent. An eighteen-year-old American, Clara has told the crew she’s a twenty-one-year-old Canadian. Since the war broke out, sentiment toward Americans has not been the most favorable, and Clara will be underestimated enough simply for being a woman without also giving away just how young she is. Two members of the crew know her nationality, but no one knows the truth of her activities in England before The Resolute set sail. She and her suffragist sisters in the Women’s Social & Political Union were waging war of a different kind in London. They taught Clara to fight. And now, even marooned on the ice, she won’t stop fighting for women’s rights…or for survival. In the wilderness of Antarctica, Clara is determined to demonstrate what a woman is truly capable of—if the crew will let her.

Dead Things Are Closer Than They Appear by Robin Wasley Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

A painfully average teen’s life is upended by a magical apocalypse in this darkly atmospheric and sweepingly romantic novel perfect for fans of The Raven Boys , Buffy the Vampire Slayer , and The Rest of Us Just Live Here . High school is hard enough to survive without an apocalypse to navigate. Sid Spencer has always been the most normal girl in her abnormal hometown, a tourist trap built over one of the fault lines that seal magic away from the world. Meanwhile, all Sid has to deal with is hair-ruining humidity, painful awkwardness, being one of four Asians in town, and her friends dumping her when they start dating each other—just days after one of the most humiliating romantic rejections faced by anyone, ever, in all of history. Then someone kills one of the Guardians who protect the seal. The earth rips open and unleashes the magic trapped inside. Monsters crawl from the ground, no one can enter or leave, and the man behind it all is roaming the streets with a gang of violent vigilantes. Suddenly, Sid’s life becomes a lot less ordinary. When she finds out her missing brother is involved, she joins the remaining Guardians, desperate to find him and close the fault line for good. Fighting through hordes of living corpses and uncontrollable growths of forest, Sid and a ragtag crew of would-be heroes are the only thing standing between their town and the end of the world as they know it. Between magic, murderers, and burgeoning crushes, Sid must survive being a perfectly normal girl caught in a perfectly abnormal apocalypse. Only—how can someone so ordinary make it in such an extraordinary world?

The Fox Maidens by Robin Ha Balzer + Bray

Kai Song dreams of being a warrior. She wants to follow in the footsteps of her beloved father, the commander of the Royal Legion. But while her father believes in Kai and trains her in martial arts, their society isn’t ready for a girl warrior. Still, Kai is determined. But she is plagued by rumors that she is the granddaughter of Gumiho, the infamous nine-tailed fox demon who was killed by her father years before. Everything comes crashing down the day Kai learns the deadly secret about her mother’s past. Now she must come to terms with the truth about her identity and take her destiny into her own hands. As Kai desperately searches for a way to escape her fate, she comes to find compassion, and even love, in the most unexpected places. Set in 16th century Korea and richly infused with Korean folklore, The Fox Maidens is a timeless and powerful story about fighting for your place in the world, even when it seems impossible.

Call Me Iggy by Jorge Aguirre & Rafael Rosado First Second

Ignacio “Iggy” Garcia is an Ohio-born Colombian American teen living his best life. After bumping into Marisol (and her coffee) at school, Iggy’s world is spun around. But Marisol as too much going on to be bothered with the likes of Iggy. She has school, work, family, and the uphill battle of getting her legal papers. As Iggy stresses over how to get Marisol to like him, his grandfather comes to the rescue. The thing is, not only is his abuelito dead, but he also gives terrible love advice. The worst. And so, with his ghost abuelito’s meddling, Iggy’s life begins to unravel as he sets off on a journey of self-discovery. Call me Iggy tells the story of Iggy searching for his place in his family, his school, his community, and ultimately—as the political climate in America changes during the 2016 election— his country. Focusing on familial ties and budding love, Call me Iggy challenges our assumptions about Latino-American identity while reaffirming our belief in the hope that all young people represent. Perfect for lovers of multigenerational stories like Displacement and The Magic Fish.

Bunt! Striking Out on Financial Aid by Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert First Second Molly Bauer’s first year of college is not the picture-perfect piece of art she’d always envisioned. On day one at PICA, Molly discovers that—through some horrible twist of fate—her full-ride scholarship has vanished! But the ancient texts (PICA’s dusty financial aid documents) reveal a loophole. If Molly and 9 other art students win a single game of softball, they’ll receive a massive athletic scholarship. Can Molly’s crew of ragtag artists succeed in softball without dropping the ball? The author of the New York Times best-selling Check, Please series, Ngozi Ukazu returns with debut artist Madeline Rupert to bring an energetic young adult story about authenticity, old vs. new, and college failure. It also poses the question: “Is art school worth it?”

Black Girl You Are Atlas by Renée Watson & illustrated by Ekua Holmes Kokila

A thoughtful celebration of Black girlhood by award-winning author and poet Renée Watson. In this semi-autobiographical collection of poems, Renée Watson writes about her experience growing up as a young Black girl at the intersections of race, class, and gender. Using a variety of poetic forms, from haiku to free verse, Watson shares recollections of her childhood in Portland, tender odes to the Black women in her life, and urgent calls for Black girls to step into their power. Black Girl You Are Atlas encourages young readers to embrace their future with a strong sense of sisterhood and celebration. With full-color art by celebrated fine artist Ekua Holmes throughout, this collection offers guidance and is a gift for anyone who reads it.

[causenessus]

OMG NEVER FEEL SORRY ABOUT NOT RESPONDING RIGHT AWAY!!! I totally get it, some days are just like that!!!! I’m literally just here to yap at you so respond whenever you feel like! Don’t feel obligated to respond at all because you don’t owe me anything!!! <3333

Slowly but surely I’m making my way through the depression room lol. My mom wants to turn my room into a guest bedroom and the basement into my new room so it needs to be cleaned by the end of the year. So hopefully more surely than slowly lol- OMG GOOD JOB!!!! I LOVE THE FEELING OF ACCOMPLISHMENT FROM FINISHING SOMETHING WELL!!!!

NESS YOU CAN’T JUST TELL PPL YOU’RE PROUD OF THEM- I WILL START CRYING 😭😭😭😭😭😭🫶🏻

Worry not! I am not stressing about senior year!!! I’ve already decided where I’m going to college just waiting for the applications to allow me to apply for fall of 2025 (I’m going on vacation summer 2025 and thus will not be able to start- it is a cruise in case you’re curious 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ my graduation present if you will) BAHAHA!!! Definitely what happened! I smash so many holes in walls/j

(HOW DID YOU KNOW I HAD A COOKIE HEAD??? WHO TOLD YOU???/lh)

Good news! We did not take senior photos! And yes my hair appointment went very well 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I now have purple and pink hair (split into like four sections and it’s like alternating so pink in front and purple in back on one side and the opposite on the other side) THE ORANGEY PINK WAS NOT PRETTY. DO NOT LET IT FOOL YOU. It was like bad blonde orange and like salmon pink- not good it looked really bad and washed me out bcs cookie anon has a complexion that rivals Casper the ghost.

AHFJWJCJSJ I WILL SEND SO MANY ASKS. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE STARTED. I LOVE YAPPING AND APPRECIATE THAT YOU YAP JUST AS MUCH IN YOUR REPLY!!!! <3333

I too think about Suna a lot, just a weekly basis (love notes Suna gets like three-four times a week. Regular/Timeskip Suna only gets like twice a week if he’s lucky. The rest of the time is spent thinking about that one Osamu manga panel 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨)

I can see it now; Atsumu did something (took the Mac n cheese from Y/N’s apartment for his own selfish Mac n cheese midnight snacks) and Y/N of course goes to complain to Suna who laughs at her and then tells Osamu- In which case, Bakery Anon will become evil 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ anything for Osamu (+ Love Notes! Y/N…Suna is there but Y/N <3) so we put chiles in the icing of cupcakes and give them to Atsumu. Tada! Self Shipping During the week hours-

Okay! I think I found the fic so RAMBLE TIME.

NAH Y/N IS SO REAL FOR THE “I mean he wasn’t hot before” BUT THEN HE GETS COVERED IN BLOOD AND PATHETIC. REAL REAL REAL. AND THEN SUNA SENDING THE PHOTO. I’M NOT ENTIRELY CONVINCED HE DIDN’T PURPOSEFULLY TRY TO RECEIVE WITH HIS FACE TO SEND THE PHOTO TO HER.

ALL OF YOUR TAGS ARE SO REAL. I ALSO HAVE VERG NON PG THINGS TO SAY ABOUT HIM. JWJFJWJDJSJ

Okay back to our regularly scheduled programming.

I read your little about me and I agree. Oikawa is also very important to me. I could write an essay on him and why he’s such a Human character. and why he’s perfect to be like a 1-1 with Kageyama but also be his own thing separately- this is not a ramble about him though so 🧍🏻‍♀️

OKAY YAPPING DONE. CLOCKING OUT.

For the people who made it this far and see this: YOU GUYS ARE WORTHY OF LOVE. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise, you deserve to be loved and not be a secret. You deserve food, your body needs it to function. You deserve water, it’s very important. It helps with headaches, make sure to get sleep. I know it’s difficult (I have insomnia so I get it) but routines help even if just a little bit. Remember to rest and that you deserve a little break. And if no one else tells you today. I LOVE YOU <3

For Ness: I LOVE YOU <333 YOUR WRITING MAKES ME FERAL. (If you can’t tell). I can’t wait to continue yapping with you, yap sessions >>>> you ALSO deserve a break. If you don’t feel like writing then we’ll be here after your break. Remember to have fun and take care of yourself. Drink water and eat food! I know it’s easy to forget but as long as you eat some sustenance! Good job!!!!

-sincerely bakery anon 🍪

BAKERY ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH :(( AND PLEASE COME IN HERE AND YAP WHENEVER!! like even if i haven't answered a previous ask DON'T BE AFRAID TO SEND ANOTHER ONE!! I WILL GET TO THEM ALL EVENTUALLY I LOVE READING YOUR ASKS AND WHATEVER YOU TALK ABOUT!! I LOVE IT ALL <3

AND AA!!! GOOD JOB TO YOU TOO!! i would come there and help you clean out your room if i could </33 I AM THERE WITH YOU IN SPIRIT!!! AND I HOPE IF YOU MOVE INTO THE BASEMENT IT'S NICER!! i feel like basements are always kind of nice bc they have more room and privacy?? but that's just me!!

AND I'M GLAD YOU'RE NOT STRESSING ABOUT SENIOR YEAR!! have as much fun as possible <3 like i had friends who went crazy and were taking ap bio and ap chem and ap calc BUT I WAS LIVING MY BEST LIFE WITH THE BARE MINIMUM REQUIRED CLASSES AND CONCURRENT ENROLLMENT CLASSES!! i'm glad you've already got where you plan to go and everything planned out!! good luck with your applications <3 AND HAVE SO MUCH FUN ON YOUR CRUISE AAAA THAT SOUNDS AWESOME!! (personally i'm terrified of the water BUT I HOPE YOU HAVE FUN!! THAT'S SUCH A COOL GRADUATION GIFT AND YOU TOTALLY DESERVE IT <3 PLEASE DO CHECK IN LIKE NEXT MAY OR WHENVER ABOUT YOUR CRUISE/AFTER YOU GO ON IT AND HOW IT IS!! [and ofc pls check in again before that as well <3 i love hearing from you <3])

AND I'M GLAD YOU WERE ABLE TO?? MOVE YOUR SENIOR PHOTOS OR THEY AT LEAST DID NOT HAPPEN BEFORE YOU GOT YOUR HAIR REDONE!! and OMG THE PURPLE PINK SOUNDS SO COOL!! i just saw someone on instagram today who like half their bangs were bleached sort of platinum-gray-white and the top of her hair was the same color but then the sort of undercut/layers were her natural dark hair color AND IT LOOKED SO COOL!!! (but i don't think my asian hair would let me do that color unfortunately </333) AND DW ABOUT THE ORANGE PINK COLORS 😭 i remember my sister tried to dye some of her hair purple but (once again blaming it on asian hair) it literally just died and turned some type of medusa/ursala green-grayish color it was so bad 😭😭 BUT AA THE RED AND PURPLE NOW SOUNDS SO GOOD!!

REGULAR/TIMESKIP SUNA ONLY GETS TWICE A WEEK IF HE'S LUCKY 😭😭😭😭 LMAOO THAT MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD AND OMG i think i was driving yesterday and i thought about that one really cute osamu timeskip panel where he puts on the jersey and like looks back at the camera to match atsumu on a tv screen also wearing a jersey <33 LIKE OMG HE'S SO CUTE (i shouldn't think about that while driving tho like...i was definitely distracted ahem...ANYWAY)

YES OMG BAKERY ANON JOIN THE SELF SHIPPING HOURS!! you and love notes osamu and me and love notes suna <33 it's perfect!! it's so so cute <33 imagine u and osamu like coming up to atsumu being like "tsumu!! we made u mac n cheese because we know how much u love it <3" (you guys made it with orange juice 💀) AND SUNA AND YN ARE BOTH RECORDING FROM BEHIND A WALL </3 ik u guys just set up the most foul pranks ever!! (but atsumu def deserves them <3)

AND OMG NO I THINK SUNA DEF TOOK THAT RECEIVE TO THE FACE ON PURPOSE AND LIKE IMAGINING HIS LITTLE SMIRK WITH THE BLOOD COMING OUT OF HIS NOSE HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I NEED TO GO REREAD THAT FIC OMG

and omg yes oikawa is so so important to me <33 i just ranted about that in my answer to mango anon's ask 😭😭 BUT HE'S SO HUMAN AND HE DESERVES THE ENTIRE WORLD!! HE DESERVES SO MUCH LOVE AND TO BE REASSURED HE IS ENOUGH AS HE IS AND THAT HE'S SO SO AMAZING AND THE BEST PERSON IN THE WORLD AND <333 i think i've said this somewhere here before but like every few months or so i have this one friend who also watches hq who is a very firm kageyama stan and maintains "oikawa tried to abuse him!!" he's bad!!! and me (very firm oikawa stan) am like "OKAY?? HE ABUSED HIS MIDDLE SCHOOL TEAMMATES?? they both changed oikawa is NOT a bad person yap yap yap!!!" (sorry i def turned this into a ramble about him 🧍‍♀️)

EVERYONE LISTEN TO WHAT BAKERY ANON IS SAYING!!! YOU ARE SO IMPORTANT AND LOVED <3 MAKE SURE TO EAT AND DRINK LOTS OF WATER <3 TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES!! (and that goes for you too bakery anon!!! <3)

and thank you for your sweet reminder bakery anon!! i'm so glad you enjoy my writing <33 that makes me so so happy to hear genuinely it means the world and really fulfils my motivation!! i will make sure to take a break if i feel like i need it and thank you so much i love u <33 I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN I LOVE THESE YAP SESSIONS!!)

[brightblessed]

MAIN VERSES

SAVIOR OF EORZEA.

he started as an adventurer, trying to SURVIVE in an unforgiving world. long having abandoned any hope for his homeland & his future, he lives for the right now. He longs to gain power as so he takes up the most destructive form of magic he can. eventually, he is recruited to the SCIONS because of his gift, the echo. An ability that allows him to see past events and defy the mind control of false gods summoned through faith and ritual. 

UNBELIEVER

oh mighty warrior of light. How the MIGHTY fall indeed. Used in a political scheme and framed for the murder of royalty, the Scions are no more. Most likely dead, save for three of them. Again, he SURVIVES. Again, he was POWERLESS to save those he cared about. Fleeing to the nation of Ishgard as a Ward of House Fortemps thanks to a friend, he and the few survivors are caught up in a war they have no stake in. Once a powerful mage, black magic becomes IMPOSSIBLE to control because of his hate. He feels himself being torn apart. Alas, a voice in the abyss. An unlikely mentor. The way of the Dark Knight calls to him. Power to protect, power to serve justice. The DARKNESS claws at his soul, but he still walks in the LIGHT. 

LIBERTY OR DEATH

Sacrifice & more sacrifice. The Scions are reunited and TORN apart. Too much loss tears at him. But now he stands at the doorway to his PAST. ALA MHIGO, his homeland. The schemes of a madman have brought them to war with the Garlean Empire, the very people that stole his family. As he promised himself he would never return, that those that fought for freedom were a lost cause… He now stands ready to face his past. As a Scion, a Warrior of Light, and a victim of the Empire. This time, he will have the POWER. He will liberate his country, and himself from his past. 

BECOME WHAT YOU MUST

One by one, the Scions fell. Into a sleep that no one could wake them from. A mysterious hooded man beckoned, and across worlds, he went. To a place on the verge of DEATH. A premonition foretold his own demise, and he must join the Scions in an unfamiliar world. A world he must RESCUE, for those he has lost. for those he can yet save. The fate of two worlds hangs in the balance, and his title of LIGHT must be cast away. He must become the bringer of NIGHT, the warrior of darkness. 

TALES OF LOSS AND FIRE AND FAITH

Finally at peace. And a MADMAN decides to steal away everything he held dear. To tear about the world and people he had come to LOVE. Unwilling to lose anything again, he will fight until the END. Until the very end, and further still. Truths and pain that can crush the soul. BUT YOU ARE NOT ALONE. 

ALTERNATE VERSES

LIGHTLESS

Non-Warrior of Light verse. When Roi and Niall attempted to escape into Eorzea, Niall was killed. This led to Roi being captured by the Garleans. Being a physically capable 13-year-old, they sent him to a work camp of prisoners where he was subjected to hard labor and intense abuse. For ten years, he managed to survive against the odds. After the WoL defeats Gauis and his research on the Echo reaches the soldiers in charge of the prison, they discover that Roi’s bursts of unconsciousness he often gets line up with the research. After questioning him and confirming he has the Echo, he is shipped away to a lab as a test subject. From this point, it breaks into three sub-verses. 

I. I SURVIVED BUT I HAVE NOT BEEN SPARED. This takes place if Roi hasn’t been taken to the lab yet and is somehow freed from his prison or your character meets him. It can also take place if he is freed from the lab before they eventually kill him by draining his aether or pushing his body/mind too far.  II. THE BOY WITH THE BROKEN HALO  In which he finally breaks and starts openly complying with the research in the hopes it will free him from returning to prison. In this verse, Roi either remains at the lab or is eventually able to leave as a soldier after they find out as much as they can about his echo. In this, he would open be helping the empire despite what they did to him and his family out of an intense fear of returning to his life before. That being said, his body is in far worse shape than in the main verse and the experiments made it more difficult for him to control his aether properly. I would say his combat style would be more similar to a gunbreaker, often attempting to use the echo to collect information from the Empire. He can still use magic, but it physically drains him to do so. I would say the intense damage to his body would bar him from having an open combat role, he would likely be more of an information agent. Now I cannot stress enough that he would still, basically, be a mage. But it would do his body harm to use too much magic and thus he would rely mostly on a sword. I would also wager they did research into how to use the Echo for combat, like with Fordola, and fighting with him would be incredibly difficult because of that. So tl;dr, he wouldn’t be in open combat too often. But when he is, he’d still be quite a foe. But his primary use for the military would be his echo. He’d still basically be a slave. He wouldn’t be allowed to act freely without supervision. I’m still working out exactly what he could do with the Echo because I don’t want it to be exactly like with Fordola. III. RABID ANIMAL In this verse, he taps into his natural magical abilities and the basic things Niall taught him. He loses control of his abilities thanks to the experiments and kills/severely wounds everyone around him. He is also horribly injured but manages to survive. Maybe he was rescued by a random beast tribe or small group of people or maybe luck was (finally) on his side. He stays by himself, doing whatever he has to in order to survive and killing every garlean soldier he sees. Again, physical combat is nearly impossible (even more so than the other verses because of the intense damage caused by his own spells) but he can use magic despite it messing him up. Whether or not he gets to Eorzea depends on my partner and I plotting. Either way, Roi is far more messed up in this verse. 

LET ME DRINK YOUR LIGHT

Instead of being scouted by the Scions, Roi remained a normal adventurer. He continued his quest for POWER, doing his best to kill his heart with every hardship. He may have began as a helpful adventurer that seemed a friend to the common man. But as time went on, his quest for power led him to the forsaken art of black magic. As he grew more powerful, he was exposed to more and more darkness. Isolation and distrust started him down a bad path. He is now a ruthless criminal, taking whatever he wants and seeking more power. As one of the strongest mages in the realm, there is very little people can do to stop him. His effort to expel all weakness has led him into doing awful things, just as desperation had before that. Roi longs to cast off human weaknesses.   Survival and power are the only things he seeks. Known as a man that could have been a hero, Roi is an ally to those that want people killed. To those that would pay to hurt others. His thirst for power has led him to be one of the most feared men in the underground. 

I’M THE ONE THAT MAKES MY FINAL CALL.

Roi’s family was from Rosaria. There, he lived the early years of his life in peace. In a tiny village, his mother and uncle raised him. His father had fallen in battle against the Ironbloods. Roi never met him. Despite everything, Roi awakened as a Bearer after the empire was already in control of the country. His family tried to hide him, but it didn’t last. In an attempt to stop someone from harming an aging and nearly gone to the curse bearer, Roi used magic to protect. This led to the deaths of his mother and uncle when they tried to rescue him. Roi, rather than being killed, was branded and forced into the army due to his natural prowess. The fight was snuffed out of him quickly, being only 13 when he was taken. It wasn’t until years later when he was the only survivor of his unit and was lost among Fallen ruins that he unearthed something. A crystal like one he had never seen before. Upon touching it, he felt himself fall unconscious. Only to be faced with a man he thought had been slain by the imperial forces. The man, despite them being on different sides, offered to help Roi grow strong and escape his bonds. Thus did he flee with Fray. Roi has survived on the fringes of society. Stronger than most and forced to stay away from civilization almost entirely, Roi is very isolated. He wanders from place to place, killing those that use their power to dominate others and enacting his own justice. Because he is Branded, he sees most that approach him as enemies by default. He has heard of Cid the Outlaw and does not know how to think about him. Before the first time skip, Roi is still in the army. He only escapes during the 5 years. He also still has something similar to the echo and his dark knight powers, though I am willing to negotiate the echo if people do not want to have it exist in threads.

ANCIENT

[ image tba]

Ancient Verse. Default is Amyntas being Azem and the 14th member of the convocation.

[image tba]

SO DARKNESS I BECAME

UNSUNDERED. VERSE. Amyntas was Azem and failed to stop the final days. He was not sundered and took his title back and resolved to aide the other unsundered. Almost all of who he was has died in the eons. 

[becausegoodbye]

A home to treasure, a home to flee

(**This post contains big-time spoilers for Citizen Sleeper and Life is Strange: True Colors. No way around it! **)

In the last year, I've had two experiences with video games that unearthed some interestingly divergent intuitions in me.

In one, the game let me make a precarious little home for myself, and even though it kept giving me opportunities to leave – it really seemed like it hoped I'd leave, to strike out somewhere in pursuit of a better life – I clung to the fragile little home I'd created, savouring its small earned pleasures.

In the other, the game gave me a home, aesthetically dazzling and too good to be true, with a hideous past which the game desperately wanted me to forgive and to stay – laying it on thick about how beautiful it would be if I stayed – and I found I couldn't flee fast enough.

It makes me wonder a bit about my relationship to home.

*

Citizen Sleeper is one of my favourite games I've played in a long time. It's quietly etched its place on the list I keep in my mind of "proper Hall of Fame indie games", along with Celeste and Immortality and at most a dozen others. It's a game whose ambitions are restrained, but the light touches of its writing are pretty much all paintbrush-perfect.

In it, you play a Sleeper, a degraded kind of worker-clone, carrying the emulated consciousness of a real person inside a crummy bio-android body that'll fall apart if it doesn't get regular injections of corporate-controlled medicine. Your entire existence is a method of skirting labour laws. You managed to escape your corporate labour-camp, but now you're on this random space station with no money or friends, and your biological meltdown-clock is ticking. Just gotta keep moving, keep working, keep trying to figure something out.

I won't give a full review of the mechanics and story; what I really want to talk about right now is the apartment. In Citizen Sleeper, you're always choosing how to allocate your limited time and energy, and if you want, you can choose to spend an irresponsible amount of both fixing up an abandoned apartment unit, using scrap metal to try to plug up the holes and make it livable. This is, frankly, the best thing. With how nightmarishly precarious every aspect of your existence as a runaway Sleeper is, just to be able to lay your head somewhere that's yours is blissful.

And then – most special of all – once you've fixed up the apartment, a stray cat will sometimes stop by, and you can spend some money to feed it some crushed-up crackers. The cat never becomes yours (it always maintains its independence, coming and going as it pleases), but you can know each other. You can become part of the weave of each other's lives. Even in this hostile capitalist hell-hole, even with a body constantly on the verge of betraying you: you can eat some delicious spiced fungus and have a cat stroke itself against your thighs. Things can be worth it.

As I got on top of my finances and found a steady source of medicine, I only found myself more and more attached to my apartment. Some missions take you right over the other side of the space station, and (because it can take ages to get back) the game frequently offers you places to crash that are much closer to where you need to be. I didn't use them once. Once I'd fixed up the unit, I slept every single subsequent night of the game there, even if it meant traveling a silly distance to get there and back. I wanted to get back because, first, it was my home, and second, I had to feed the stray cat. It might miss me if I were gone.

As you get further into Citizen Sleeper, the game offers you all sorts of ways to get off the station. You can work/cheat your way onto a huge colony ship that's set to begin populating a new and uninhabited planet. You can hitch a ride with a mercenary and start a more knowingly dangerous kind of life. You can fuse your consciousness with a cyber-organic plant-consciousness, 'Grow Vast and Strange', and lose your sense of a distinct self entirely.

I didn't go for any of them. I got my friends on board the colony ship and waved goodbye to them. I gave the mercenary the cold shoulder. I thanked the plant-consciousness profusely for the opportunity, but wistfully turned away from what it was offering. I kept choosing to return to my own small world on the station: to the apartment, to the stray, to Emphis' spiced fungus stand, to Lem & Mina & Tala & Riko, and to all the tiny meaningful markers of the life I'd built for myself here.

This was my life. I'd made it, and that meant everything.

*

Life is Strange: True Colors is a much weirder game, and one I'd recommend to far fewer people. I've written before about my complicated feelings about the Life is Strange series, which have a tendency to take huge emotional swings with subjects that they're not really mature enough to handle responsibly. That's part of their appeal, admittedly: these games absolutely go for it, and even when they stumble, it's usually pretty compelling.

In True Colors, you play as Alex Chen, a shy 21-year-old orphan with a kind of superpowered empathy. She can read people's thoughts a bit, sometimes even accessing their memories, and when somebody near her is experiencing a big emotion, she gets overwhelmed with a mirrored version of it. This got her branded as 'emotionally unstable' in the Oregon foster care system, so she struggled to be adopted. She lost touch with her older brother Gabe after he was placed with a different foster family, but eight years later, with his own life straightened out, Gabe was able to track her down, and invite her to come live with him in the idyllic little mountain town called Haven Springs.

I won't go beat-by-beat through the whole plot, because it's bonkers and byzantine, but the key points are these. (Again, full spoilers.) After Alex and Gabe's dad abandoned them when Alex was 11, he ended up working for a locally hegemonic mining company called Typhon in Haven Springs. Later, Gabe tried to track him down, and Haven Springs was where the trail went cold. This turns out to be because their dad died in a hideous mine collapse, along with several other miners. A local foreman named Jed Lucan got credited as a 'hero' for saving the miners who survived, but in reality he was the one who chose to abandon the others to their deaths, and Typhon conspired with him to cover it all up.

When Gabe came to Haven Springs looking for their dad, that same foreman, Jed, now the owner of a local bar, felt guilty about having left this kid fatherless, and treated Gabe with a lot of generosity. He set Gabe up with a job in his bar, let him rent the great loft apartment upstairs, and really just ensconced Gabe in Haven Springs life (obviously without telling him the murdery truth). Then, when Gabe is finally able to track down his little sister Alex, he wants to pass on the generosity, and offers you the loft. He’s moving in with his girlfriend, you and your brother are finally back in each other’s lives, and it all seems too good to be true.

It is. Almost immediately after arriving in town, Gabe is killed – by the very same mining corporation – while up in the mountains trying to rescue his girlfriend's kid. Typhon were told that there were people in the area and they needed to delay their blast, but they knowingly went ahead with it anyway, because (it turns out) they needed the noise to cover up a second, more illegal scheduled blast nearby. That second blast was to fully cave in the old mine and bury the evidence of the incident that killed Alex and Gabe's father, in preparation for a coming inspection that could have uncovered the deaths.

So essentially: your brother was murdered casually, incidentally, as part of covering up your dad's murder from years ago.

I'm delivering this information in a totally different order than the game does (there, the relevation that Jed let miners die and your dad was among them comes very late), but I'm laying it all out so you understand the chronology of events. Just lay it all out flat in your mind. You're Alex, and you find yourself living in this town that seems pretty wonderful – picturesque and warm, with an economy of little other than bars and flower shops and record stores – but you eventually discover that both your father and your brother have been murdered here. You also discover that the person who's been kindest to you, the surrogate father-figure who let you work in the bar and live in the loft virtually rent-free, is the evil fuck who killed your dad.

You do eventually empathy-detective your way to exposing all this, of course. By the end of the game, Jed is going to prison, and Typhon is facing the absurdly (but not unrealistically) softer consequences of 'their CEO resigning' and 'their stock price taking a hit'. But then – and this is the part I've needed to go over all this melodramatic plot in order to talk about – the game wants you to stay in Haven Springs.

Alex's final choice is whether to stay or leave. Somehow, you're still living in the loft of the murderer you put in jail, and it's implied that you can just keep doing that. The game gives you an option to leave – to go off on a scrappy music tour with your indie girlfriend Steph – but the game gilds the lily heavily in favour of staying. You have an entire conversation with an imaginary ghost-projection of Gabe, and he spins this whole fantasia about how wonderful your life could be if you simply stayed, let "time do its thing", and commit to transforming this place.

But like ... fuck that, right? Fuck that!!!

As far as I'm concerned, this is a "noping out of a horror movie" situation. By the end of True Colors, Haven Springs feels cursed. This tiny pretty town is where every existing member of your family was murdered. What, you're literally just gonna stick around limply hoping they won't murder you too? While the hegemonic mining corporation is still stalking around, knowing you did this to them?

Like, Alex. Dude. These white people are not safe. The Chens are seemingly the only Asian-American family in a hundred miles, and the track record of Chens not getting murdered by the biggest and most powerful local employer is bad. Sure, that one guy is in prison now, but the problem was never that one guy. Underneath this town is a seam of raw murder and lies and evil, and everyone being so saccharine-sweet to you all game long only makes that fact worse. You can’t escape your trauma, you can’t escape your brother and father having been killed, and you can’t escape the horrorshow of capitalism – but you surely don’t have to stay here.

It's hard to overstate how repulsed I felt by the prospect of staying in Haven Springs. While Citizen Sleeper had me taking pride in the modest, scrappy life I'd clawed out for myself in the margins, True Colors felt like the complete opposite. It felt like a series of overbearingly loaded gifts, all lush and pretty and tailor-made, but with a violent catch spring-loaded inside every pocket. It felt like the bashful smile of a poisoner offering you a drink. All of my instincts were to run.

*

Some day soon, I'm sure I'll be able to write a thing about videogames without tying it back to transness, but look – I'm two months on HRT. Right now everything feels connected with transitioning, and I'd be lying if I said the trans-relevance of this little parable didn't occur to me immediately.

My body is the home I was given, and I’ve always lived here uneasily. I’ve never known what to do with the ‘gifts’ that came with being read as a guy (most of them are still half-unwrapped in the back of my closet). Everyone wanted me to like it here, expected me to like it here – why wouldn’t you like it here? – but I just didn’t. A seam under the surface was wrong, and kept itching. I don’t want this to come across as a matter of pure contrarianism, but being real: the amount of contrarianism at work here probably isn’t zero. The world tried to give me a gender I’d like – a whole sweet-ass loft if you just ignore the murders – and I’m leaving. I’m off to make my own thing. And even if it’s objectively shittier in tons of ways, I’m confident I’ll like it more.

Between Citizen Sleeper and True Colors, my inescapable conclusion is: I would rather sit alone in this cold empty abandoned apartment than live in Haven Spring's paradise. I would rather chew fungus and scrape for corpo-medicine as a girl than be the beloved centre of a twinkling idyll as a guy. Haven Springs is so pristine and gorgeous, so flush with friends and flowers and foosball, but at a certain point you just can't unsee the seam of wrongness under everything. Whereas the kind of life you can build in Citizen Sleeper – the crummy apartment, the stray cat, all the friends you make and all the people who pass you by – feels infinitely stronger to me. Infinitely more earned. Infinitely more durable and darnable and real.

[alyosiuscreightonward]

Dear Diary.

Day Two. Yesterday I took my first dose of my psych meds. It was a very hard for me. I kept on obsessing over the fact that they were pills. My mind was racing. It was only one pill but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. In the past, the label clearly states that I should have taken one/two pills every six to eight hours as needed for pain. Normal directions. In my mind I see it as, take six to eight pills every hour to keep the buzz going. I did it previously and that’s what led me to become homeless.

My past behavior. I’d go to a friends house and go to the bathroom. Open up the medicine cabinet and rummage around. Knowing what was what, I’d take one pill from each bottle and I’d end up with five or six pills and before I’d go back in to chill, I’d take all of them. WooHoo! Then my addiction became a tad more sinister. I’d hide various pills in the hems of the living room curtains. So if I came to your house and you stepped out for just a moment, I’d go to the curtains and pretend to look out to enjoy the view and then with slight of hand, I’d slip the pill into the hem. I tried to hide the pill in the couch cushions but folks tend to straighten their cushions more often than not. One person who I had visited with futzed with the cushions and then found my Quaalude. Five dollars for each pill was and still is expensive since they were becoming harder to get real ones and not the Canadian version. Shit. I became so sensitive to the taste and with one lick (yes, I licked the pill and I’d take it regardless) and knew immediately that it was made in the USA or Canadian made.

Yes Dear Gentle Reader, there is a difference between the two. The difference between the two are the levels of sourness and bitterness. The thickness of the beveled edge and the depth of crevice that ran down the middle. Little nuances made a huge difference between USA and Canadian. Plus you had to know which Doctor Feelgood had access to what distributor. Trust.

While at the job, I had a few moments where I was on the verge of tears and felt a sense of panic. I’d have to stop. Take a seat in the office and collect myself. Or if I doing something else, I’d have to stop and centered. Deep breaths. I could hear my mother saying, “Swallow that sound or I’ll give you a reason. Your tears, not mine.” She was not having any of it. You did it or suffer the consequences. I’m not lying. The hand or a metal vacuum cleaner pipe or something similar would be perfect to make sure that you had a good reason to cry.

I kept it together for my entire shift. Motherfucker, it was hard for me not to fall apart. But as usual like mom said, “Ship shape and in a Bristol fashion. Shoulders back. Stomach in. Stiff upper lip. Eyes forward. NOW MARCH!!!” This is exactly what I did. If I was going to fall apart, do it in private and not in public. If it was in public, no ma’am. “Put the lotion in the basket,” he said looking down on you from above. The hole was a least twenty feet deep. The menacing threat was right there just like the slightest hint of a breeze. Dad liked the buckle end of his belt. G’head flinch.

Hours later when I was watching, “Mrs Maisel” again…I actually felt better. Then I smoked some of my blunt. Granted it was nearly two in the morning, but I kept it together and ended up sleeping six hours and I didn’t lose my shit. Sigh.