#Is like... Telling a person drowning that they should just swim

[pineconepie]

This was an ask I got a while back, but either I can't find it or accidentally deleted it. But to the anon who asked for a scenario like this, here you go! :D

TW: Amnesia, parental/platonic yandere, forced infantilization, drugging, implied kidnapping, manipulation

"Help! Please help!" you cry, running as fast as you can throughout the dense forest. Branches and sharp brambles scrape your cheeks and catch onto your clothes.

You stop for a brief moment to pick the twigs out of your disheveled hair. The small cuts sting horribly but it doesn't deter you from pushing onwards.

Sweat beads down your forehead and you wipe at it furiously. Your chest is heaving, desperately trying to take in more oxygen.

"(Y/n)! Stop!" His booming voice echoes throughout the forest.

He's getting closer to you. You have to keep running, keep moving, keep—

Something hits you, something cold and metal. You barely have enough consciousness to realize it was a car, on the dirt road path. Your vision swims, and your head feels ready to burst.

Your ears ring incessantly. All you can hear is that horrible noise, but it doesn't completely drown out him calling for you.

And suddenly there are strong arms around you. "Oh! My baby! What have you done?!" Someone picks you up. They yell to someone else, but their voice is fading out.

Your vision fades to nothing.

...

When you wake up, there's the sound of something beeping. It's a comforting constant rhythm, steady and predictable. You think you know what it is, but your head feels all muddled and foggy.

Something cool and soft presses against your forehead, and you lean into the soothing touch.

"That's right, honey. Nice and easy," a voice speaks above you. Its light, with a subtle hint of an accent you can't recognize. A thumb gently rubs at your temple, massaging it with care and ease. "That must've been a pretty bad fall you took. Don't worry, I've got you."

You open your eyes. Hovering above you, is a man with long messy brown hair, light brown eyes, and a slight stubble of facial hair. He looks to be in his early to mid forties or so.

There's something familiar about him. You should know who this person is... but your brain cannot come up with a name.

"There they are!" the man coos. The corner of his eyes crinkle. He has crow's feet around them. You think those mean someone smiles often. You stare blankly back at him, mind still groggy from what happened earlier. He hums a melody, and gently brushes his fingertips along your arm.

"What..."

"Hush now, don't talk just yet," he murmurs. His other hand is behind your head, propping you up in its palm. "Had quite a nasty fall there. Scared me half to death!"

"Where am I?" You blink, still slightly disoriented.

"Shhh..." He kisses your bandaged forehead. "You're here in the hospital, sweetie. Just got done doing x-rays on your head." The room around you is stark white. There are various machines around you and one is beeping at a constant rhythm. It smells of chemicals and medicine. "I know you hate being scolded, but (Y/n), you know better than to play in the forest so late at night..." He scrubs a hand over his face tiredly.

You squint at him, trying to jog your memory as to who this guy even is. Is he perhaps someone important? Someone you're supposed to know?

As hard as you try, no answers come to mind. And now that you're thinking about it, you really can't remember much at all besides your name and general sense of self.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" you awkwardly ask.

The man freezes. His eyebrows raise up in surprise before furrowing with concern. "Wh—(Y/n), sweetie," he looks at you. "Can you tell me who I am?" You shake your head. He stares at you for a moment, like frozen. Only when you awkwardly look down, does he do too. "The doctors mentioned possible memory loss, but..." He looks so torn; eyebrows twisted up sadly. You almost want to reach out and hug him.

The only thing that stops you is the IV, and the fact you don't know him, despite what he says.

"What's the last thing you remember, baby?" he asks again.

You wrack your brain. "I don't know. I know my name... and that's about it."

A flash of pain shoots through his gaze, though he seems to keep himself collected. "Okay. So, sweetie... I'm your dad." He reaches out to clasp your hands. "My name is Hugo Harrison. You're (Y/n) Harrison."

"You... don't look very much like me..." You realize that might be a rude thing to say. "Sorry, I didn't mean that in a mean way."

Hugo chuckles. "It's okay, there's not a mean bone in your body, kiddo." He pauses, like contemplating his next words extra carefully. "I'm your adoptive dad. Now, we could go into a lot more detail, but let's not strain that noggin of yours for today, hm?" He tenderly touches your wrapped forehead. You must have injured it severely, which explains the splitting headache and memory loss.

"Oh, that makes sense," you murmur. You take in his appearance more. He has a tattoo peaking from below his collar shirt, and looks a bit rugged, with muscular arms that have a few scars. He even has an eyebrow piercing on his left.

Despite that, he seems so... sweet.

"Do you have any photos of us?" you ask. Part of it is genuine curiosity, but mostly just because you don't know what else to say.

His eyes soften, and he pulls out his phone to immediately show you his lock screen.

Sure enough, there the two of you are, smiling at the camera. It doesn't look like it was too long ago. You're both indoors, wearing some kind of brown and periwinkle uniforms.

Noticing your confused expression, he explains, "I own a cafe, sometimes you help out. That's where this photo is from. One of my favorites."

He scrolls through his camera roll and shows another picture of the both of you. In this one, you're sleeping on his lap, his hand covering the side of your face in an apparent attempt to block you from seeing the flash.

You nod mutely, trying to soak it all in. All you know of this man is from these two images.

So far, there's nothing overtly suspicious. Nothing that triggers alarm bells or raises red flags. At this point, you have no reason not to believe him.

So why do you feel so unsettled?

"How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Not good," you mumble, bringing a hand up to your head, cringing from the pain.

He presses a kiss to your hair, holding it for several seconds before pulling away. "Oh, sweetheart..." His voice wavers with emotion. "I'll talk to the doctors again. For now, you rest up, okay?"

With such a splitting headache and sore body, you have no trouble obeying his commands. Your eyes flutter shut, and the last thing you hear is a sigh coming from him, as well as something about wanting to take you home.

...

"Easy," Hugo soothes, letting you lean on him heavily as he walks you to his house. Everything hurts from your body to your head. The medication from earlier wore off halfway to his home.

Speaking of his house, it looks pretty much like a standard home, if not kind of cute, almost reminiscent of a cottage. It's beige with dark brown trimmings. Ivy climbs around the windows.

Flower beds line along the pathway to the front door and a vegetable garden sits near the shed in the back. There's wind chimes hanging near the entrance.

"I wish I could remember any of this," you mutter as he situates you on the couch. "Sorry."

"No, no," he reassures, rubbing your upper arm. "Don't apologize, okay? It's not your fault that this happened."

"What was I doing out in the forest, anyway? You mentioned something about that... is that something I typically do?" you ask.

Hugo looks confused for a moment, then nods. "Ah. Well, it was something you'd usually do, but hopefully that will be the last time. Sometimes you get... impulsive. You do things that are reckless. That's why I'm so protective of you. This isn't the first time you got injured like that." He shakes his head and laughs. "Stubborn kid you are..."

"I see." What else can you say, really? You wish your brain would hurry up and recall something. Right now it just feels blank. All you have to go off of is Hugo. "I know I can't remember, but I'm still sorry. For what I did. Or, uh, do."

His gaze softens even more, looking like the definition of fond. "Like I said, sweetie, you don't need to worry about a thing. It's all in the past now. What matters is that you're here now, safe with me. How about I take you up to your room? You can get a nap in while I make dinner. Sound nice?" He brushes his thumb over your temple.

You wordlessly lean against him. He chuckles and helps you back up, mindful of your injuries, and leads you upstairs.

Again, it looks like a completely normal household. Nothing stands out to you besides perhaps the large number of photographs littering the walls.

Your bedroom has pastel blue wallpaper with stars decorating the top half of the wall.

There's a bunch of stuffed animals lining the bed, as well as pillows with galaxy themed pillows. The carpet is plush and your feet sink slightly in them.

"This was... mine?"

"Yes!" He seems less happy about it when he sees your expression. "Do you not like it? You decorated it yourself..."

"Isn't it kind of, uh, childish? Nothing wrong with that, of course, just doesn't seem like something someone older would want," you lamely explain.

Hugo takes another moment to mull over his words. "Well... you've always been a bit childish for your age, sweetie. I think it's adorable, and you seemed content with this room before... but if you really want to change it up, I don't mind at all." His strained smile tells you that he does, in fact, mind it.

"That's okay. I think I do like it, now that I've seen it longer," you reassure him. Part of it might be because you feel bad. You hobble over to the bed with his assistance, and watch him choose a cutesy beige pajama set. The sleeves are longer than your arms and the pants are covered in sheep patterns. "Do I normally wear that to bed?"

"More like just your typical lounge wear," he answers. "Do you need help, or can I leave you to it?"

"Um, you can leave me to it." You watch him open the door to leave. "Oh, by the way... what do I call you? By your name? Dad? Papa?"

A large smile stretches across his lips. "You call me 'Papa', but really anything works with me. Just want you to feel comfortable, bud. Oh, and dinner'll be ready soon. Tomato, chicken noodle, or cream of mushroom?"

You look down at your lap, where your pajamas lay. "What ever I liked most, I guess."

He hums in affirmation. "Sounds good."

Before long, you've changed and situate yourself on your bed, the stuffed toys huddled around you like a cocoon. Though everything seems fine and cozy, it all feels too new, too strange, for it to feel exactly right. It's supposed to be yours, you know this. And yet, it feels so... foreign.

This should make sense. Logically, it does. But your intuition keeps whispering doubts, despite Hugo giving you nothing but warmth.

...

Two weeks pass, and go by pretty uneventfully. He cares for you like you are a toddler, but he assures you this is how he used to act around you.

Still, your memory seems stubborn in recovering, and each night you pray for the morning to finally reveal a clue as to your past.

So far, nothing has shown up.

And being confined within the house doesn't help, either. Hugo refuses to let you go outside unsupervised, claiming how he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if you wound up in danger again.

And really, who are you to refuse him? You don't have any memories, any other friends (he's told you they've moved away years ago), and you have no money to sustain yourself. He's all you have.

"Where are you going?" you ask one morning, to see him slinging on a jacket. His hair is also tied up, which you've gathered he only does when he's going out somewhere.

"The cafe," he replies, though you can tell something is off by the way he smiles. "There's leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry, okay? Stay inside, and I mean it."

"Can't I go with?" you suggest. Maybe seeing the place could bring back some recollections. Plus, sitting alone all day isn't fun at all, especially when there's nothing to distract you with besides watching TV or reading. Neither of those interests you that much, not to mention a majority of the books and shows catered to people less than half your age.

"Not with those injuries," he chuckles, but there's some firmness in his tone.

"I feel fine! My ankle isn't sprained anymore, and my ribs hardly bother me," you counter. Your face isn't bandaged anymore, either. Instead, only faint scars remain.

"Honey, the answer is no."

"I just want to leave the house!" you blurt. His eyebrows raise up at your outburst. "It's boring staying cooped up all day! I don't want to watch cartoons again or read a comic book or play with action figures."

He purses his lips. "But you love doing those things..."

"Yeah, sure. I don't doubt that I like those activities. But maybe sometimes I'd like to do something more, I dunno, mature." It's not that you hate the stuff Hugo's given you, but you aren't mentally ten years old or whatever age he's assuming you are. So reading picture books and playing with kiddie games get dull real fast. "Please? I don't have to do any physical labor, just wanna get outside the house..."

"(Y/n)..."

Maybe it's a tad bit manipulative, but you've found it works pretty well on him. "I just wanna spend time with my papa... if I can't remember old memories, I was hoping we'd have more time to bond..."

Hugo looks torn for a split second, before giving you a gentle grin, reaching out to pinch your cheeks. "Allllriiight," he drawls. "Wear something warm. It's chilly out."

"Why not my uniform?"

"Because I don't want you working, silly."

The drive there is an hour long, and has you wondering how on earth he makes these long treks there and back five times a week.

By the end, you're yawning and leaning against the window. He laughs, shaking you awake, helping you walk inside the cafe.

In the break room, he situates you on the couch. "I'll get you something to snack on soon. Banana bread, blueberry muffin, brownie, or chocolate chip cookie?"

You weakly smile. "What ever was my favorite?"

He snorts. "Gotcha. I'll be back soon. Don't leave this room, 'kay?" He doesn't wait for a response, quickly busying off towards the counter, throwing his apron back on.

When he's out of view, you try to relax, but as time passes on, you get bored with the things he's given you.

A coloring book, a children's storybook, and crayons litter around you. Sure, they're fun for a little while, but then you're back to square one.

You briefly contemplate if this is the reason why you kept running off to the forest often.

If he's been anything like this normally, you can imagine why you've been searching for more fun things to do.

You peak your head from the break room, to see him tending to another customer, making conversation.

"Oh, (Y/n), that you?"

You look to see one of the customers. He's a person about your age, smiling at you like you guys are friends. When you return the look awkwardly, it morphs into confusion.

"Hey, you alright?" he asks, walking closer to you. "Don't tell me you're working. Hugo told me you had a nasty fall, dude."

"Oh, I'm just here while he works," you shrug. "My memory is a bit weird, still. Who are you...?"

He blinks. "Oh. I'm Weston. We're friends. You must have it pretty bad if you can't remember me."

This is all so confusing. Hugo told you that you didn't have any friends... "Oh. Well, I'm just in the break room while Papa works." You cringe at your own wording. Still feels a bit weird, despite having grown more accustomed to calling him that now. "After he's done, we're probably just gonna go home."

Weston frowns. "Your dad? Are you talking about Hugo?" When you nod, he gives a dry laugh. "(Y/n), he's not—"

"What are you doing?" The deep voice startles you both. You turn around to see Hugo staring between the two of you, jaw tensing with some suppressed emotion. He forces a smile at Weston. "Hey, Weston, sorry, they're going through a lot as you can tell. Still in a state of constant confusion. Sorry. Did you want your usual? Croissant and cappuccino?"

He takes a small step back, but is still clearly defensive, like he's waiting for something to happen. "Yeah, no worries, Mr. Harrison. I know they hit their head hard."

Hugo nods. "I'll get started on that in a sec." He drags you back to the break room, almost slamming the door shut behind him. "Kiddo. What did I tell you?"

"I didn't technically leave... I just poked my head to see if you were busy, and that guy... Weston, I think, recognized me..." You realize his breathing sounds labored. "He said he's my friend."

"That kid?" he says incredulously, laughing. It doesn't sound humorous. It's dry and cold. "No, no, no. Sweetheart, I know everyone in this town and he most definitely isn't friends with you. (Y/n), look, you really can't trust your judgment right now." He grips your shoulders. "You gotta understand that you're hurt. Your head's not working correctly. Okay?"

You wish you could let it go, but something else he said makes you anxious. "He sounded like he was about to say you aren't my dad..."

"He's misinformed. Don't let him fill your head with lies. Now, I gotta get back to work."

"But—"

"For the love of God, just shut up, will you?" he snaps. "I barely let you come along! I should've followed my instincts, why do you have to make everything so damn difficult?"

The glint in his eyes scares you. It reminds you of something terrible, even if you can't remember. You flinch so hard you fall off the couch.

As soon as Hugo's anger came, it dissipated when he saw you trembling, backing up. You shield yourself away with your arms, expecting him to explode.

Even though you have no memory in your head, it's like your body remembers, judging by the way you recoil away from him. It's all instinctual. Even when his expression turns from angry to worried, to guilty.

"Oh no..." He kneels beside you. "Oh, I am so sorry, baby. I don't know what came over me. Here, take my hand," he offers. You reluctantly take his calloused, scarred hand. "Shh... I know, Papa can be scary, huh? I shouldn't have yelled like that. It's just that you made me so mad, scaring me like that... he's a bad person. This town is filled with them. That's why I'm so protective of you."

He's always making up excuses.

"I just wanna be left alone," you rasp. "Please."

"Okay. That's fair. If that's what you want." You expect him to fight it, but instead he gets up slowly and leaves after mumbling one final apology. After the door closes, you exhale, burying your face into your hands.

Something about what happened triggers a flashback.

"You just never know when to stop, do you? How many times have I asked you not to hang out with them?"

"Hugo, come on, you can't dictate who I hang out with. I can handle myself just fine. Now please, let me just do my job. People are staring."

"Keep up with this attitude, (Y/n), and we'll have problems."

"If you're going to fire me, might as well do so. I'm close to quitting myself."

You don't remember anything after that.

But whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

The ride home is relatively silent. Not that it's much different from his normal quietness, but it's a different kind of quiet. Deafening. Tense.

All because he lost his cool earlier. Your shoulders hunch as you try to avoid eye contact.

Finally, Hugo speaks. "Still upset?"

"Why do you care?" you mumble.

His fingers tense against the steering wheel, before relaxing. "Of course I care. I care about you more than anyone else." His eyebrows furrow with concern. "Just because I got a bit snappy back there doesn't mean I love you any less. If you weren't so reckless... but even then, I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that." He sighs deeply. "I'm sorry."

Something tells you if you don't forgive him now, he'll give you hell about it later. "It's okay."

That seems to quell his stress immensely, and he breathes out shakily, like a huge weight was taken off him. "Thank you," he murmurs. "We'll do something special tonight, okay? Movie night, maybe a pillow fort?"

"Sure." You're too tired to argue.

...

The next day, he leaves to get groceries, taking another day off work. You take that as an opportunity to snoop around, for the two hours or so he'll be gone.

Maybe something is fishy about Hugo; the way he keeps trying to keep you restrained from leaving the house is suspicious enough. And the lack of communication to the outside world, even before the fall.

No computer, internet access, cell phone... maybe your memories won't have to return for you to discover some clues.

Searching his bedroom provides nothing useful, so you continue towards his desk area.

Opening drawers, there's lots of random papers inside, which you flip through and scan through as carefully as you can.

That's when you realize one of the letters is a letter of resignation... from you, addressed to Hugo. The date isn't too long ago; in fact, it's the day before you remember having the accident.

You read through it, each sentence causing you more and more distress, until the paper is trembling in your grip.

Hugo,

I appreciate everything you've done for me since I first started working with you, but unfortunately our differences are causing more trouble than it's worth.

The incident last week truly opened my eyes. I didn't realize how toxic and controlling you were. You have isolated me from society, refused to allow me freedom, and tried to control who I hang out with and what I do.

You're my boss, but you insist on acting like my father, despite how many times I've told you that is crossing a boundary of mine.

Therefore, I regretfully inform you I will no longer work with you. This will be my two weeks notice. I'm sorry.

(Y/n)

The paper flutters to the ground. You're sweating. Isolating, controlling, manipulative behavior... it fits to a T of what Hugo's been displaying to you since the accident. Except it started long before that.

You glance around the hallway, suddenly feeling like you're in enemy territory rather than your home. But can you even call it that anymore?

All's you know, is you need to get out of here.

Running back downstairs, you begin planning what supplies to bring with you, but movement from outside catches your attention.

Rushing to the window, you see a familiar figure walking up the driveway. Your blood runs cold.

It's Hugo, carrying bags from the grocery store.

You must've lost track of time. You stumble to your room and pretend to be asleep.

Listening carefully to the noises coming from downstairs, he brings in the bags and rustling follows.

Now that you know the truth, every tiny noise causes anxiety. Why is he doing all this? Was this really all an elaborate lie, this entire situation?

And the most chilling part... was he responsible for your accident? Has it ever been an accident in the first place? As these thoughts race in your mind, your ears strain to listen to what he's doing below you.

Footsteps approach the staircase. Your heartbeat quickens and you burrow further underneath the covers. They ascend slowly.

Eventually they're right in front of your bedroom. Then, it sounds like they turn and head towards his room instead. You have to stifle a relieved sigh when he doesn't enter your room.

The relief doesn't last long.

Did you put everything away where you found it? Did you shut the drawers properly, did you cover up your tracks?

A few minutes go by, until there's a knock on the door. "Sweetheart, I'm getting started on dinner. How does mac 'n cheese sound?"

"Sure," you say, so quiet he almost doesn't hear you.

You wait until you hear his footsteps descend, then sneak into his room to make sure you put everything up.

To your relief, it looks like it, so you shuffle back downstairs, trying to put on the best neutral expression you can manage.

The last thing you'd want him to suspect is that you're onto his twisted game.

"There they are! Come sit at the table. Almost ready." He ruffles your hair gently when you take a seat. It takes everything in you not to squirm away from his touch. To keep pretending that you're blissfully oblivious. "How long were you napping for?"

"Not too long." The less you talk, the better.

"That's good." Hugo serves you a bowl full of macaroni and adds a glass of juice next to it, sitting across from you. Something about his demeanor seems different. You're sure that's just the anxiety talking. "Is something wrong, buddy? You're quieter than normal," he notes.

"Just... still kinda tired." You pick at the macaroni, hoping he doesn't press on about this.

"Awww... well, eat up, okay?"

Despite the lack of appetite, you force down the food. Every bite tastes like mush.

But if you don't finish it, you have the sinking feeling he'll know something's up. So, you force everything down, as well as the juice, which washes it down easier.

Within moments, a sudden wave of dizziness washes over you. "H...Hugo..."

Hugo gives a lopsided smile, somewhat apologetic. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I didn't want to do that, but found you messed with some of my stuff. My fault, I've been putting off getting locks for it. I swear, I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on!" He laughs. It borders on hysterical. "All I want is to be your dad... for you to let me care for you." He reaches out, brushing hair from your sweaty forehead. "But no need to worry. I doubt you'll remember any of today, anyway."

"No..." You try to stand, but end up collapsing forward. In the haze, you register being pulled upwards.

"You just can't help but be stubborn," he chastises. "Guess you got it from your old man."

"You aren't..." Your tongue begins to feel heavy, just like the rest of your body. "Not my..."

"Sleep, baby. Sleep. When you wake up, this will all just be a silly nightmare. Papa's got you. He'll always have you."

And despite your desperate attempts to stay awake, sleep eventually claims you, as black engulfs your vision.

The last thing you sense is your head being tucked underneath his chin, and hearing him hum the same melody he hummed in the hospital.

[pineapple-downside-up-cake]

Having a wretched day and decided to take it out on Ghost. I lost steam towards the end for which I am sorry. Smut coming next week as a consolation prize.

Olfactory memory? Yes? Yes.

Cw: PTSD, PTSD induced domestic violence, angst not quite comfort but we're trending positive

Ex-military Ghost with civilian reader.

You are sunshine. Heroin. The drug that's made him feel like he's swimming, not drowning, for the first time in decades.

There are things he can't tell you, but there are also things he won't. He may have, at one point of time. He had readied himself for it, waiting for a vulnerable moment, but he likes being just Simon to you.

Ghost is a relic of war, a hero buried in a box in his crawlspace.

It feels too late now.

He doesn't want to see the horror in your eyes, when he tells you about Roba. Things you should probably know, things that would help inform your interactions.

He's such a piece of dirt.

You deserve better, but for some fucking reason you seem to want him, and he has every intention of doing his best to be a good partner for you.

He helps around the house. He takes turns cooking.

He doesn't yell or snipe, even when you drive him crazy, leaving your dirty clothes on the bathroom floor.

He does his best to be there for you, and hopes that it's enough.

And it is. Before Scotland.

Look.

Look.

You've seen the Princess Bride. You know men in masks are not to be trusted.

You also know the man on your hands is more Wesley and less Dread Pirate Roberts, even if he looks like the brute squad.

You promised yourself, somewhat naïvely, that you wouldn't be a beacon for anyone ever again - you weren't strong enough to hold two heads above water, not forever, but damned if Simon doesn't make you want to try.

He'd crept under your skin with his dessicating wit and genuine interest in you, and maybe your daddy issues were showing, but there's a level of reliability in Simon you never thought you'd see in a man.

You found yourself going to drastic measures - you're embarrassed to say you haven't put in that much work for a guy since high school, but you like Simon.

A lot.

You haven't dealt with military personally, but you know there can be scars. Wounds that are harder to talk about than more common place traumas.

Simon still talks with his old squad, has an annual Guy Fawkes day cookout with them. Means he has people who know, who can understand without having to be told, what might go on in his head on darker days.

You are not to be left out, however. You have the whole internet at your disposal, and you research military traumas and coping strategies until you feel like you're preparing for your first puppy:

How to domesticate your vet.

God, Simon would be so irked if he knew.

You've prepared for just about anything, have coached yourself to respond calmly and be aware of potential triggers.

He'd almost laughed the first time you asked him if he wanted to leave before the fireworks started, but it wasn't mean - you'd caught him by surprise.

As he eases into civilian life, he starts taking you up on it - he didn't realize how tense he was, suddenly on, not until he starts healing.

Some of that is time. Some you, some the therapy.

He stops wearing a mask when he goes out, a security blanket he doesn't need anymore, although it's less conspicious in post-pandemic times.

Neither of you realized the mask was an unintentional coping mechanism for other things, not just a way of hiding his face in a world where he wasn't supposed to exist.

There were no winners in the 141 marriage pool. Not when MacTavish is the first to ring someone up.

You've resolved to keep commentary to yourself on the subject - what you and Simon have is good, and Johnny's mum swayed the odds in his favor.

The grounds they rent out are massive - understandable, since it's a clan wedding, but you really hadn't expected to have a whole croft to yourself.

Johnny's doing, to give you both a quiet place to retreat to, away from the periceremonial chaos.

Simon waits patiently for you to oogle.

The thatched roof building is charming, rose bushes coralled into neat rows against the foundation. You can imagine hens picking on the lawn and laundry hanging from the line.

The door sticks, takes a solid shove to open, and you find that while the outside is postcard-perfect, someone has put a lot of effort into modernizing the internals. What was once one room has been sectioned off into a cozy one bed, one bath.

A queen sized bed fills most the living space, with a pair of matched floral arm chairs at the foot.

It smells a bit...off, but you chalk it up to the exposed cobble. Much like brick, it isn't always easy to seal properly - and Scotland is not known for its arid clime.

You don't see it, but that's when it starts.

Simon twitches. His skin itches and crawls in a way he's not used to.

He figures he's just antsy from the trip.

He unpacks while you shower, stalks the perimeter, feeling restless. It clears while he's outside, when you head over for happy hour, and he forgets anything was wrong.

When you come back, buzzed and content from your merry-making, it's easy for you to fall asleep. You knock out like a light, one foot hooked around Simon's.

You can tune it out, adjust to the smell, but Simon can't.

He can't block it out. Doesn't even know what it is.

He tosses and turns for what feels like eternity, breaking out in sweat even though the night is cool.

He tries to scroll on his phone, use the internet to distract him, but the service is shit and the light hurts his eyes.

The itch is back, and he needs to get out. He needs to get out now, but the door is stuck and suddenly he's buried again, wet earth clinging to his nose, choking him on every inhale and he's clawing at the door like an animal locked in a cage.

You aren't that light a sleeper, and he doesn't respond when you call out to him. Your only excuse for the automatic touch is you've been lulled to false security - you've hardly needed any of the tactics you'd read about, and it's late and you were tired.

It's too much. You're a threat.

You realize it a second too late, when Simon whips around and grabs you by the front of your sleepshirt - his shirt - and slams the first two knuckles of his left hand into your solar plexus.

You drop like a rock.

The immediate, excrutiating regret of your epiphany flees as you curl in on yourself, gasping for breath like a fish on dry land. Tears well up at the corner of your eyes, shock and pain and an utter lack of air keeping you from shedding them.

You hear more than you see the door finally spring open. Ghost is out and gone before you can pull yourself together.

Even when your breath comes easier, you stay on the floor so you can kick yourself while you're down.

Page number one. Bullet number one. You'd successfully broken the primary advice of every single page you'd saved on loving someone with PTSD. Too complacent.

You're an idiot.

He stopped being Ghost and started being Simon again somewhere around the three mile mark. It was more than he was used to running, especially barefoot and in his boxers, but the heath was soft and had spared his feet too much damage.

The pain had helped bring him to his senses.

It hurt more to think that he'd hurt you, something he'd sworn he'd never do, not after watching how his mother suffered.

It takes another two miles to come to terms with what had happened, this time at a slow walk. He's not sure if this is something he can fix, but either way he needs a plan.

Needs to figure things out, tonight. Set the mold for his future.

He has to tell you and risk maybe losing you, that you'll decide it's too much for you, or not tell you and definitely lose you.

But between you and the shrink, he's been brainwashed to believe he deserves a shot at happiness.

You're sitting on the step to the croft, head in hands, when he comes back around dawn.

He can tell you've been crying, and something in his heart breaks. He'd made his decision hours ago, but he wanted you to give you time. Space to leave, to run to the safety of the main house if that's what you needed.

You get up without a word and open the door for him. You give him a wide berth, careful to avoid physical contact, but once inside you stall out. Standing in the middle of the room, looking lost and small and wondering just how much of what you had is broken now.

The silence that spans the next few minutes is the most stressful silence of his entire life. He guides you to a chair, tucks in a blanket around you like he would have even if he hadn't tried to break your ribs with his fist three hours ago.

Makes two cups of tea, and then retreats to the other side of the small space and sinks to the floor, leaving room for the history that's about to fill it.

"I need to tell you a story."

[fishnapple]

How to love yourself better? A request letter from yourself. (Channelled message)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. White

Dear myself,

If I could light a fire right now, I could, just to see if that fire can compete with my light, our light. And yet I got a feeling that fire will burn brighter than us, just because it had someone to start it. But ours didn't. We stowed our fire away, our light, for fear of burning the eyes of the world? Or for fear of being engulfed in the sea of darkness outside?

Have you ever seen a solar eclipse? People gathered to watch it, a brief moment of the sun being eaten. A brief moment. Imagine how the world would be if that brief moment turned into a very long moment, an eternal one? Panic, fear, despair. We have prolonged our solar eclipse for far too long, let the Sun has its shine. Does it sound arrogant when I talk of us as the Sun? No, you should get used to it. To be the light, the be seen. Even when the Sun seems like a solitary existence on the sky, it's not, so are we.

I wanted to tell you many beautiful words, give you praises and a pat on the head. Sounds embarrassing, right? We should learn to do that more often. And then practice it with other people too, we all need it sometimes, a lot of times.

Do you know what will happen when we turn the anger on ourselves? Somehow, it will ricochet inside us and finally shoot out at other people. It's painful, for us and for them. Let's hold it in our hands, watch it breathe and stroke it gently, find where does it hurt and tend to it, then poof- it's gone. You catch anger not by throwing it around and putting it in a cage but let it heal and fly away on its own.

I'm sure that sometimes you will find yourself drowning in life, in other people's water. Losing yourself could be your worst nightmare. But you will never lose me. It's odd how we're surrounded by people but feel like we are alone in our struggle. Where did all the people go? Are they also drowning like us? In a different sea? I hope that all the seas are connected to each other so we can all find others to swim with us.

Till the next sun rise, yourself.

2. Pink

Oh, how I want to just throw away everything and run barefoot on the sand. To lie face up, watching the clouds passing by for hours. To paint the wall bright pink and yellow (this combination might hurt your eyes if you stare too long, though). But we're not a kid anymore, or so people have told us, much like how we've told ourselves, convinced ourselves to behave.

It's fascinating to watch the process of our resistance to what is taught to us. Why do we resist it so much? It feels like being gravely offended. We have our principles, and now we have to listen to others telling us what is right? What is wrong? Let me tell you, in a small whisper, it's actually nice to listen. Just listening, not obeying. It will feel like swallowing a rock. Maybe we could learn from the chickens a little, metaphorically. They swallow small rocks to aid in healthy digestion. So let's swallow some of the hard lessons.

You always like to think in concrete fashion. You try to touch your thoughts with your own hands and knead them, mould them into whatever you want. And when you're dropped into a relationship with someone, you find yourself lost that ability. It's all a jumble mess. You find your hands reaching out, grasping for something. How about the other person? Are you afraid that you will lose yourself if you hold on to them? It's fine, you won't. It's just an outdated belief that you've held on for far too long.

As we were talking about swallowing, you may want to watch what you're swallowing into your stomach, literally. Watch what you eat! Don't make yourself, ourselves suffer by bringing unhealthy things into our body. We may want to live long, you know.

Hey, if you find a dance class is too embarrassing, how about we turn off the light and dance with each other in the middle of the night. Nobody will know, but we will feel good (I'm not trying to be a flirt with myself here)

Your best friend, love.

3. Red

Make me a cup of tea, please.

Let's have a chat, just us, lying around lazily, sipping our favourite tea, imagining some weird scenarios to entertain us, playing some puzzle.

I don't have much to tell you because we talk to each other every day and I know you always try to be better for us. I love you and I'm proud of you. Let's be vain and give ourselves applause every day. Make it a pinky promise.

A reminder when you're feeling sluggish and slow, we are going to exactly where we need to be. You are guided and protected.

Keep on shining and be the little kid that runs around in the rain.

I love it when you're running wild, letting yourself, me, free, splashing colours everywhere. I just want to grab other people's hands and drag them to the dance. I love it when you're laughing, loudly, even better when you jolted others around you, oh, their surprised look, priceless.

Just be sure to take care of your body. Don't over tasking them. Work hard, play hard, but rest hard also.

Have you been thinking about going on a trip somewhere? No? Then, allow me to make a gentle request. Let me put the idea in your head. Go on, go to wherever you're thinking, there might be a surprise waiting for us, *hint: it will make our heart flutter*.

Let's make it a ritual to go on a trip every year. Let's give our mind and spirit a makeover. Dust off any tangled mess we have and prepare a space for new things to come into. I'm so excited.

It's got me thinking lately, there's this small blinking light in the back of our mind, sometimes I can see it, sometimes I can't. I want to find out what it is. It's like a signal, trying to reach us, can you feel it? Sometimes, there's this odd feeling swelling inside that you can't put your hand on and naming it. I think if we can sit still, quiet, in the dark, we could see it better. It's guiding us. To where? I got a feeling that it's somewhere deep, somewhere with a treasure, waiting for us. If we can uncover it, it will be the greatest gift that the universe has ever given us. So let's go and find it.

Love, myself.

4. Green

I have some news for you. Brace yourself for changes. They're coming, very fast, very soon. Sit yourself tight. I don't want to give spoilers, but I guess we will receive some sudden confessions or offers. What you will do with those confessions is completely your choice. You don't have to feel guilty if you don't return their feelings, my dear.

I think the way the universe is sending us this kind of surprise is telling us to reconsider our 'single' thinking mode. We have stood alone, strong and independent for so long, I think it actually makes us a little too comfortable in being alone that the thought of getting into a connection with someone can be daunting. Will we lose our freedom? What if we are dependent on them? This time, the universe is saying: 'you and your worries will not make a good journey together, break up with those worries, here, I will throw in some opportunities for you to practice '.

If you don't want romantic connection at the moment, fine, different types of connections will come. No matter what, the universe is determined to get us involved with other people. It's for our own good. I have to admit that it's hard. It's not easy to change our way of thinking and believing. So surprises will be needed.

When opportunities come, the gate is opened, we just need to receive them. Walking through the gate will feel like walking out of a confinement into the wild, lively world outside. We will be propelled into a new path that we hadn't even considered in the past. Beware of what you said in the past about how you don't want to do something, you can't imagine yourself doing something. Well, guess what, we are going to do just that, joke on us.

So, in the meantime, even if you're resisting, it's fine. Just take care of yourself, of us. Obsessive worrying can sadden our body.

Something is going away, giving space to a new energy coming in. This new energy will be softer, more loving. The harshness of the past will go away soon. Trust me.

Love, Your companion.

[anne-chloe]

Imagine : They don’t realise that you can’t swim

Peter Pan x Reader

Summary : The Lost boys go swimming at mermaid lagoon, they toss you in and you nearly drown

Warning : Near death experience, drowning

“Come on, [Name]!”

You stood on the sidelines of the lagoon, fingers nervously twisting with the hem of your shirt. It was a bad idea for you to have even joined the Lost Boys in the mermaid lagoon, because you knew they’d want to swim deep and would drag you with them.

It was with this very thought that you resolved to back out, to announce that you were tired and you’d return to the camp.

But you were suddenly grabbed from behind.

You craned your head back to see Devin. His arms squeezed your waist as he lifted you up, your feet kicking wildly in protest. You gasped as he started to near the edge of the rocky slope, the deep water too close for comfort.

“No! Stop!” You shouted, wiggling your shoulders back and forth for release.

Devin snickered. “It’s a bit of water! Lighten up!”

Then, he threw you into the water.

The waters surface broke as you sank towards the bottom. Your entire body was stiff and tense, and you felt awfully like a rock in that moment. You let out a scream, air bubbles leaving your mouth as no sound came out.

You blinked, eyes stinging at the murky greens and blue of the lagoons depths. You couldn’t see the surface any more; you couldn’t see anything at all.

Surrounded and suffocated by the water, you felt your heart hammer wildly out of beat at the thought of dying in the mermaid lagoon.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist before you felt the water rush past your skin. Within seconds, you broke the surface and let out a panicked gasp for air. You grabbed blindly at the person who had saved you; you were far too aware of the lack of ground beneath your feet.

“Calm down, calm down—“

Who was that talking?

You were pulled from the water and pushed onto the rocky slope. The hard ground brought immediate comfort and relief, and you couldn’t help but lie flat.

There was that terrible, salty taste of water on your lips, and your eyes stung horribly from the sea water. You coughed and panted for air, your lungs burning as water came rushing out your mouth.

“Look at me, [Name]— are you alright? Breathe!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly finding the afternoon sun too bright to handle. Then, when you reopened your eyes you found yourself staring into those familiar green ones. Instead of the usual mischief that you’d see, you found only worry and what appeared to be guilt.

“P-Peter…?” You stammered, another coughing fit cutting you off.

Peter sighed loudly and pulled you in for a hug. His arms around you gave the strange sense of ease and comfort. “Why didn’t you say that you couldn’t swim?”

“I-I didn’t think it was important,” you coughed again, watching in disgust as water dripped from your face. You couldn’t tell if they were tears or from the sea.

Peter glared harshly at you, his arms giving a small squeeze. “Of course it was important,” he scolded, “you could have died.”

You lowered your head, feeling awkward and ashamed that you had troubled Peter and the Lost Boys like that. “I’m sorry, Peter. I just didn’t think something like this would ever happen.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “The Lost Boys will think twice about doing something like that again,” he muttered.

As Peter held you close to his chest, you couldn’t help but wonder why he had been the one to pull you from the water. Usually, he was so cold and cruel with the Lost Boys, never stepping in to save them if they needed rescuing. His excuse was that “all Lost Boys should take care of themselves, if they can’t then they’re weak.” It was only fair to assume that the rule applied to you.

But with one subtle glance around the lagoon, you could see that the Lost Boys were just as stunned as you.

[kelin-is-writing]

Some of you… Guys… who lack empathy and overall emotional intelligence, kinda love to run your mouth waaaaaay too much and end up saying things that make 0 sense. This fandom is also waaaaay too comfortable with victim blaming Rei and Touya for everything that has happened to the Todorokis while Endeavor gets away with it, for no reason at all at that.

“OhHh BuT hE fElLs SoRrY fOr EvErYtHiNg He DiD”

I’m going to be completely honest with you all: I don’t give a flying fuck that he’s now swimming in his sorrows. He better be drowning in them actually. Because there’s a consequence to everything we do. ALWAYS. Besides, if he was going to feel ohh so sorry about what he did to his family, then he simply shouldn’t have done none of it to begin with.

He can’t go on fill his child like a balloon the way he did and then expect said balloon to not explode after he had blew way too much air into it. That’s egotistical.

You also can’t buy your wife (who was still a minor at the time), have her pop out kids like she’s some kind of kids machine for your greedy needs and even force two of them on her before you go ahead and start physically and mentally abusing her, then expect for there to not be any repercussions on your family’s relationships.

Blaming a kid who got his whole life and being manipulated and then gaslighted by his own father, who remembered he indeed had an eldest son only when it was too late, and a woman who was sold to a greedy, egotistical, egocentric, narcissistic and selfish man when she was a kid who had one option worse than the other (We all know that the Himuras ain’t any more sane than Endeavor) is so weird guys, please.

Touya was treated like a human weapon by his own father, who as soon as he saw no more use in him and his quirk just casted the kid aside (which was before Natsuo was even conceived btw). So where’s the favoritism in this? Where? Because I can’t see it anywhere, no matter how hard I look for it. And why is that? Because there’s none. So you lot can stop being delusional about this topic, ‘cause it doesn’t stand up not even if you force it. You can’t erase the manipulation (into making him think he could become the #1 Hero, surpass All Might for his father and be the strongest) and then the gaslighting (telling him he can’t do any of that anymore since his quirk won’t permit it, telling Touya he should give up on his dream because it will never happen after Endeavor ingrained all that into his mind) just like that, then call all of this favoritism. Do you all even know what favoritism is? Or you just find out words on the Internet, ignore completely their meaning, and run with them blindly? Because I am bewildered by how some of you guys be coming on here to just say anything… Touya got failed by his parents and his siblings, because he was ignored and neglected by his siblings as much as he was by his parents (Shoto excluded because Endeavor was busy grooming him this time around) but none of you guys even call them out on Touya going through all of that alone, for some reason, while being okay with what Natsuo and Fuyumi told him as soon as they got into the battlefield. Like they ain’t bad siblings too and Endeavor wasn’t the reason they all lost each others as a family, literally do not piss me off I beg. I’m firmly convinced some of you guys pick and choose who you defend in the Todofam, but like… Everything you guys say makes no sense? It just shows me that some of you lack, as I said at the very beginning of the post, empathy and emotional intelligence. Which is sad.

You all can say “We’ve all gone through hard times alone” as much as you want, but that is not normal at all, towards any time of relationship but especially towards family. It’s not healthy and it can hurt a person a lot, making them close in themselves and when it starts to hurt from the inside the moment you stop getting all of the pent up stress inside it’s no good at all. And for the record, Touya (or just anyone) venting or opening himself to Natsuo about what he’s going through it’s not trauma dumping. It’s never trauma dumping if you genuinely care for someone (clarifying this before any of you emotional ignorant peoples come at me about this 🫠). So Natsuo and Fuyumi being in all of this too shouldn’t be used as an excuse for pushing their brother’s concerns and feelings under the rug, families are supposed to go through these type of situations as a family if they want to keep living happily as such, but they remembered this after one of them died and their youngest sibling was being still raised as a fighting machine by their abusive father. So, mind you, but they all (except Shoto) owe Touya some big ass apologies written down on a letter with tears if I gotta be honest.

As for Rei; she became a mother young, went through a lot all alone because mind you Mr. Husband was waaaaay too busy trying to groom their son into a Hero machine that could beat someone he is incapable of beating (Because a nullity will always be a nullity after all, even when becoming a #1 after the former #1 retirement, if they insist on projecting ofc) to help and guide his young and inexperienced wife through a wedding like theirs. How was she supposed to not lose her mind after being sold, neglected, beaten up, verbally abused, forced to pop out kids like a gachapon, seeing her fourteen years old son lose himself into the void because of his father and then he dies too, without never getting love nor affection from his father (the one he looked up to) the way a kid wants, needs and is supposed to get which is something I’m 100% sure led her to depression. You all diminish too much the grief a mother feels when she loses her kids. There’s much a mother, a human, can handle; and for Rei it got to a point where every trace of Endeavor disgusted her so much her whole body rejected his entire existence leading her to a mental breakdown. One that was due to come earlier if we think about it, but she was strong enough for her remaining kids until she couldn’t do it anymore. What she did to Shoto is wrong, I know and I acknowledge, but she’s a traumatized person who sees her abuser everywhere she goes because, unfortunately, it’s the person she was forced to marry. She apologized to Shoto right away, because she was still mature and sane enough to recognize her mistake right when it happened.

But Endeavor’s ego is so big that it took him his eldest son nearly blowing everyone up and becoming a walking torch before he finally apologized to the whole family for his wrong doings of 10 years prior. Which is crazy to me.

So I’m gonna need you all to stop erase Endeavor’s wrongdoings and try to gaslight the whole fandom into blaming Rei and Touya for the mistakes of someone else, because they’re the biggest victims in all of this shit.

That being said, hope y’all get well soon 🫶🏻💜

[katsu28]

hi there! i absolutely lovee your writing, it's so cute and beautiful!! i hope you're having a good day/night <3

can i make a request for Carlos + holding both their hands while holding their gaze gently, before leaning in for a kiss?

thank you so much, and please take your time, there's no rush! thank you for writing so well, and feeding into F1 fans' delusions! :) sending lots of love and hugs! 🤍

you are so sweet, thank you!! hope you enjoy <3

carlos sainz x reader, 1.2k.

You can’t sleep. 

It’s four in the morning and you should be asleep because you’re exhausted and you have a flight in a few hours, but you’re so nervous that you can’t for the life of you bring yourself to close your eyes. 

You’re flying to Madrid with Carlos to spend the first week of summer break with his family, and to say he’s excited is an understatement. He hasn’t seen his family in ages. The first thing he did when you told him you got some time off work during the break was propose that the two of you take a trip to his home city for a little bit. 

You, on the other hand, well, you feel like you’re about to shit a brick. This is the first time you’ll be meeting his family. You’re not typically a nervous person, but this has got your stomach tied up in knots.

It’s not something you can really talk to Carlos about either, not without bringing up your hesitation. Realistically, you’re probably just overthinking things, but as you stare up at the ceiling for what seems like forever and glancing over at the clock to see that it’s really only been a few minutes, you give up on sleep. 

Beside you, Carlos snores like there’s no tomorrow, barely moving a muscle as you slip out from under the covers and leave the room as quiet as you can. He’s always been a heavy sleeper. 

You pad out to the living room, sinking onto the large sofa with a defeated sigh. It’s quiet this time of day—too quiet for your liking. The city of Monte Carlo is asleep. Not even the birds are awake right now, but then again, neither should you. 

This trip has gotten you all out of sorts lately. When Carlos had first confirmed it with his family, you didn’t think it would affect you that much. Meeting people was nothing new to you, and not to toot your own horn or anything, but you always did well with past significant other’s families. 

As the trip grew closer, however, you started to worry. This isn’t just anyone’s family you’re meeting, this is Carlos’ family. The family of the man you know you want to spend the rest of your life with. The family who made that man into who he is today, who loves him just as much, if not more than you love him. 

Making a good first impression with them is an immense amount of pressure, and you’re definitely feeling it. 

Absentmindedly, you switch on the TV. You don’t even want to watch anything, you just need something on so you don’t think yourself into the ground before the sun comes up. Nothing good is on at this time either, so you settle on some nature documentary about sea turtles to drown out the noise. 

“What are you doing?” 

You startle, tearing your eyes away from the TV to see Carlos standing in the hallway, half shrouded by darkness, squinting at you through sleepy eyes. His hair is flat on one side from his pillow, and he’s scratching his chest absentmindedly as a yawn rips through him. 

You’re not even sure how long you’ve been watching turtles swim, but one glance out the large windows across from you tells you that it’s been a while, because the sky is starting to brighten beyond the horizon. 

You mute the channel, pressing your lips together guiltily. “Did I wake you? I’m so sorry, Carlos.” 

“You didn’t,” He mumbles, shuffling towards you. “I woke up and you weren’t next to me. Got worried. Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep.” There must be something different in your voice you don’t hear that Carlos does, because he cocks his head, suddenly looking wide awake. 

“Something is bothering you,” He says matter-of-factly, narrowing his eyes at you. You open your mouth to protest, but he’s quick to fill the silence before you can even utter a word. “You can’t tell me it’s nothing because if it was, we would not be having this conversation right now. We would still be asleep.” 

He’s looking at you like he sees right through you, so you know there’s no point in trying to make up some excuse. You sigh, shoulders sagging. “It’s stupid.”

Carlos crouches down in front of you, tilting his head. “If it’s bothering you this much, it isn’t stupid. Talk to me, corazón, let me help you.” 

“What if your family hates me?” You blurt, fidgeting with the blanket across your lap. “What if they think you could do better, what if they think I’m not good enough for you, or—” 

“Look at me,” He says softly, holding his hands out to you, palms up. You sigh, but oblige anyways, sliding your hands into his outstretched ones. He squeezes once, twice, then a third time. “You are thinking too much into it.” 

“I know, I know, I just—I can’t help it. I really want them to like me.” 

“My family will love you, I know it already.” 

“How are you so sure?” You whine, shoulders sagging. Your chin drops down towards your chest only for a second before Carlos tuts, bringing your gaze back to his with just a sound. Big, beautiful, melty chocolate brown eyes stare back at you, perfect lips turned down into a frown. “What? It’s possible.” 

“No, it is not. I’m very happy with you, and if I am happy, they are happy. They only want the best for me, and that is you.” 

“Carlos…” You whine, pouting at him with teary eyes. 

“What? What did I say wrong?” He looks panicked, brows flying up in immediate concern. His hands squeeze yours again, though a little tighter this time. “I thought I was being quite romantic.” 

“You’re so sweet to me.” 

His face melts into a fond smile. “That’s my job as your number one fan, no?” 

He grabs your chin gently between his index finger and thumb, studying you for a few beats before pressing his lips against yours gently. You sink into him like you always do, letting your eyes flutter shut as you kiss him back wholeheartedly. 

Carlos loves you, and that’s all you need to reassure yourself. 

“Now that we have settled that, will you come back to bed? You don’t sleep well on planes, and I know how grumpy you get when you are tired.” 

You let him pull you to your feet in lieu of an answer, falling against him as he pulls you under his arm and into his side snugly. “I don’t get that grumpy,” You huff, nudging him in the side. The sharpness of your elbow into his ribs has him letting out a grunt, one that he masks with a snort of laughter. 

“You don’t get that grumpy?” He repeats, sounding more than amused. “I seem to remember on the way back from Miami in May when you nearly bit off Lando’s head for waking you up because we were about to land.”

“He dragged us to seven different clubs until five in the morning even though our flight was at six. Were you not grumpy?” 

“Yes, but I can hide it well. You are an open book, mi amor, one I know very well.” 

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[for-my-reasons]

Saltwater

Love and Deepspace, Rafayel x Sylus

On Ao3 here

A/N: Got the idea from @napa-the-yappa, and had a friend beta read and help me out on posting it here.

Summary: Sylus and Rafayel go on a underwater date.

Content: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Established Relationship, Not Canon Compliant

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the sandy beach and the sparkling ocean waves. Rafayel stretched lazily on a beach towel, his dusky purple hair catching the sunlight as he tilted his head back. His white shirt was unbuttoned, fluttering gently in the breeze, while his rolled-up trousers were already speckled with sand. He glanced over at Sylus, who stood a few feet away with his arms crossed, his black blazer draped over his shoulders despite the heat. The silver-haired man glared at the ocean as if it had personally offended him.

Rafayel smirked. "You know the water won't bite. Unless you're scared of it."

Sylus shot him a sharp look, his red eyes narrowing. "I'm not scared. I just don't see the point of wading around in saltwater like some mindless fish."

Rafayel chuckled, standing up and brushing sand off his pants. "Oh, come on. You’re telling me the great Sylus, leader of Onychinus, can’t handle a little swim? Or is it that you can’t swim at all?"

Sylus’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Rafayel thought he might deny it. But then Sylus muttered, "I never needed to learn."

Rafayel’s eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh, this is too good. The mighty Sylus, brought low by the ocean. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Consider it a favour from your favourite artist."

Sylus rolled his eyes but didn’t protest as Rafayel grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the water. The waves lapped at their feet, cool and refreshing, and Rafayel grinned as Sylus stiffened at the sensation.

"Relax," Rafayel said, his voice softening. "It’s just water. I’ve got you."

Sylus huffed but allowed Rafayel to guide him deeper, his usual confidence faltering as the water reached his waist. Rafayel turned to face him, his blue-and-pink eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Okay, first lesson: don’t panic. Just float. The water will hold you if you let it."

Sylus raised an eyebrow. "Float. That’s your brilliant advice?"

Rafayel grinned. "Trust me. Now, lean back. I’ll support you."

Sylus hesitated but eventually leaned back, his muscles tense as Rafayel’s hands steadied him. The water enveloped him, and for a moment, he looked almost peaceful—until a wave splashed over his face, and he shot upright, coughing. Rafayel burst out laughing.

Sylus glared at him, water dripping from his silver hair. "This is ridiculous. I don’t need to swim. I’ve survived this long without it."

Rafayel’s laughter subsided, and he stepped closer, his expression softening. "But you’re missing out on so much. Let me show you."

Sylus sighed, his resistance wavering. "Fine. But if I drown, I’m haunting you."

Rafayel grinned. "Deal. Now, for the next part…" He hesitated, his cheeks turning a faint pink. "You’ll need to, uh, kiss me."

Sylus blinked. "What?"

Rafayel rubbed the back of his neck, his blush deepening. "It’s a Lemurian thing. I can share my ability to breathe underwater, but it requires… physical contact. A kiss, to be exact."

Sylus stared at him for a moment, then smirked. "Is this your way of getting me to kiss you, Raf?"

Rafayel’s face turned even redder, spreading to his ears. "N-no! It’s just how it works! Don’t make it weird!"

Sylus chuckled, clearly enjoying Rafayel’s flustered state. "Alright, alright. If it’s necessary, I suppose I can endure it."

Rafayel muttered something under his breath about ungrateful dragons but leaned in anyway. Their lips met, soft and brief, and Rafayel pulled away quickly, his face still flushed. "There. Now you can breathe underwater. Don’t waste it."

Sylus smirked, clearly savouring Rafayel’s embarrassment. "Not bad, fishy. Maybe I should pretend to drown more often."

Rafayel groaned, splashing water at him. "Come on, let’s go before I change my mind."

Hand in hand, they waded deeper into the ocean. Rafayel’s excitement was visible as he pointed out schools of colourful fish and vibrant coral reefs. Sylus, despite his initial reluctance, found himself interested by the underwater world Rafayel revealed to him. The way Rafayel’s eyes lit up as he explained the different species, the passion in his voice—it was impossible not to be drawn in.

As they swam deeper, sunlight filtered through the water, casting patterns on the ocean floor. Rafayel’s movements were fluid and graceful as if he were born to be in the water, while Sylus, although still somewhat stiff, was gradually mastering the technique.

Rafayel glanced back at Sylus, his blue-and-pink eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "See? Told you it was worth it," he said, his voice carrying a playful tone even underwater. He reached out and took Sylus’s hand again, pulling him gently toward a cluster of coral. "Over here, look at this."

Sylus followed, his red eyes scanning the intricate structures of the coral. Tiny fish darted in and out of the crevices, their scales catching the light like jewels. For a moment, he forgot to be annoyed. "It’s... impressive," he admitted grudgingly.

Rafayel beamed, clearly pleased with himself. "Told you. The ocean has its kind of magic. It’s not just about survival—it’s about living. You should try it sometime."

Sylus raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I don’t know how to live?"

Rafayel shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I’m just saying, you could stand to loosen up a little. Not everything has to be about strategy and control."

Sylus snorted but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out and brushed his fingers against a passing school of fish, watching as they scattered and regrouped. "I suppose there’s some merit to this," he conceded. "But don’t think this means I’m going to start frolicking in the waves every chance I get."

Rafayel laughed, the sound bubbling up like the currents around them. "I’ll take what I can get. Baby steps, cute. Baby steps."

They continued exploring, with Rafayel pointing out various sea creatures and sharing stories about his time in the ocean. Sylus listened, occasionally offering a dry comment or sarcastic remark, but his gaze was curious. For once, he wasn’t thinking about plans or power—he was simply present, caught in the moment

They floated in silence for a while, the gentle currents carrying them along. For the first time in what felt like forever, Sylus felt a strange sense of calm. It was unfamiliar, but not entirely unwelcome. He glanced over at Rafayel, who had closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. The sunlight filtering through the water made his dusky purple hair shimmer, and for a moment, Sylus found himself captivated.

"You’re staring," Rafayel said without opening his eyes, his smile widening.

Sylus quickly looked away, his usual composure returning. "I was not."

Rafayel laughed, opening his eyes and turning to face him. "You’re a terrible liar, cutie. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Your reputation is safe with me."

Sylus sighed, though there was no real annoyance in it. "You’re tolerable. Barely."

Rafayel grinned, clearly taking that as a win. "I’ll take it. Now, come on. There’s one more thing I want to show you."

Before Sylus could protest, Rafayel grabbed his hand and pulled him deeper, toward a hidden grotto lit up by bioluminescent algae. The walls glowed softly, casting an ethereal light that made the entire space feel otherworldly.

"Welcome to my secret spot," Rafayel said, his voice tinged with pride. "Not many people get to see this."

Sylus looked around, taking in the shimmering walls and the gentle hum of the water. "It’s... remarkable," he admitted quietly.

Rafayel smiled, his expression softer now. "I knew you’d like it. You’ve got a thing for beautiful, mysterious things, don’t you?"

Sylus glanced at him, his red eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you calling yourself beautiful and mysterious?"

Rafayel laughed, the sound echoing softly in the grotto. "Maybe. But I was talking about the grotto. Unless you think I’m beautiful too?"

Sylus shook his head, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, you’re still here," Rafayel said, his tone light but his gaze steady. "Maybe you’re starting to like impossible things."

Sylus didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away either. 

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, they returned to the shore. Rafayel flopped onto the sand, exhausted but happy. Sylus sat beside him, his usual smugness replaced by a rare softness.

"Thanks," Sylus said quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "For today."

Rafayel smiled, leaning his head against Sylus’s shoulder. "Anytime, cutie. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you next time you act all high and mighty."

Sylus chuckled, wrapping an arm around Rafayel. "Wouldn’t dream of it, my little fishy.”

[diamond-champagne]

2. I Want to See You

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: More Angst and suggestive content

Feedback is always welcome :)

Paige feels like she’s drowning. She isn’t swimming; in fact, she would actually prefer that she were. She’s suffocating. It’s been four days since she woke up alone; and in those four days, she feels as if her heart has been ripped out. She’s tired.

At least, that’s what she’s been telling anyone who asked. It’s not a lie. She hasn’t had much time for sleep between basketball and classes. The very little time that she does have to sleep, isn’t good sleep. 

She looks and feels like crap. It’s been a long four days. 

The bright side is that she has barely seen Azzi; so it’s been easier to cope with her arching heart. Or at least, that’s what she thought.

-

Paige is exhausted. Her body drags as she walks through the hallways of her apartment building. Practice was particularly hard today and she had 2 exams. All she wants to do is take a hot shower and plop in her bead. The thought of sleep motivates her to walk a little faster to her apartment. 

By the time she gets to her door, she’s out of breath. Paige practically ran down the long hallway to get to her front door; too eager for sleep. She makes her way into her apartment and immediately heads for the shower. She’s in the middle of washing her hair when she hears her front door open. 

It startles Paige. Not because of why someone is in her apartment; but because of who. There’s only one person who has the ability to come and go in the spaces that Paige claims as her own. However, that person hasn’t done so in almost four weeks.

Paige takes her time finishing her shower; knowing that her guest will still be there when she’s done. The blue-eyed girl makes her way into her bedroom, thirty minutes later. As expected, Azzi is spread out on the left side, in her pajamas. 

“What are you doing here?”. Paige is direct and straight to the point. She’s tired and all she wants to do is sleep.

“I wanted to see you, plus I thought we could cuddle.”

“You should be with your girlfriend.” It comes out bitter and Paige knows it. At this moment, she doesn’t care.

“Riley is pulling an all nighter for some exam that she has coming up” Azzi shrugs as if it’s a perfectly good explanation as to why she’s in Paige’s bed. As if it's okay that she's in her bed.

Paige scoffs as she moves to get ready for bed. “So you didn’t want to see me; you just couldn’t see her.” Her annoyance grows as she sifts through her dresser; looking for a shirt to sleep in. 

“Don’t say that, P. I always want to see you.”

“No; you always want to fuck me” Paige says pointedly with her back to Azzi. She’s so busy digging in her dresser that she doesn’t notice Azzi rising from the bed. She crowds Paige’s space; flushing her front completely against the taller girl’s back while she wraps her arms around her waist. 

“How could I not when you beg so prettily?” Azzi rasps. Her hands undoing to knot to Paige’s robe; letting it fall open. The cold air and Azzi’s touch make Paige gasp. Her entire body is on fire. Azzi’s fingers trail up and down Paige’s sides. It’s a simple action but it leaves Paige craving more. She turns around; getting ready to take exactly what she wants when she looks at Azzi’s shirt. Or should she say Riley’s shirt. It’s a navy blue UConn shirt; one that could’ve passed as either one of basketball player’s; however UConn Volleyball is printed on the upper left corner of the shirt.

Paige was tired, but now she’s pissed. And hurt. How dare she?

“Were you going to fuck me in her shirt?” Every word is coated with disgust. She doesn’t even realize she’s crying. 

“Shit! P, look I didn’t realize. I was with her before I came here! Fuck!” Azzi rushes to get her words out. Her mind is racing to find a way to fix this.

“So you came here for what, exactly? It comes out through gritted teeth. Paige knows that the last week was anything but ideal; but she hasn’t felt as used as she does right now. “She wasn’t available so you came here? Hoping I’d be waiting?” 

“N-Not at all.” Azzi’s heart clenches. 

“But isn’t it? You’re all over me one second and then all over her the next.” Paige sneers. She angrily wipes her tears as she rushes to put clothes on. 

She spent the last few days being sad. Now she’ll spend the next few being angry. Angry at Azzi. Angry at Riley. Angry at herself.

Azzi grabs at Paige in a desperate attempt to get the older girl to listen to her. “P, Please!’

“Get out.” It’s cold and even. 

“No’-”

“Get out.” Paige says emotionless. She watches as Azzi looks at her; eyes full of hurt. Normally, she’d fight wars to never see that look on the curly-haired girl’s face. These aren’t normal circumstances. She’s hurt too.

It’s the fifth night in the row that Paige has cried herself to sleep.

-

“She did what?” Blair asked, shocked.

The two had met up later that week to hang out and vent. They’re at a restaurant not far from campus. It’s small and secluded.

“She wore her fucking shirt.” Paige shakes her head at the memory. She hasn’t spoken to Azzi since then; doing everything in her power to avoid the girl. It’s nearly impossible with them being on the same team, but Paige has managed to successfully evade all attempts of a conversation.

Blair gives her a sympathetic look followed by a sigh. “You know you deserve better right?” 

“I know; but I love her.” Paige sighs with defeat. “It’s exhausting only receiving half of her.”

“You’re too full of life to be half loved.”

It’s a simple enough statement; but it does something to Paige. It makes her think. In fact, that’s all she thinks about for the rest of the day.

-

It’s Friday night and the team has filed into Aubrey’s apartment after their game against USC. The Huskies pulled off an amazing win with 89-63. The celebration is well deserved and needed. 

The girls sit around the dining room table; laughing and giggling while playing UNO. They have total privacy so the alcohol is flowing a bit freely tonight. Paige is in the middle of deciding which card she wants to play when Azzi and Riley walk through the door. She’s irritated but not surprised. Riley was at the game earlier that night; completely decked out in an Azzi Fudd Jersey with “35” splayed across her chest. 

The team welcomes them and immediately moves to arrange the chairs so that they can fit around the table. Jana takes the initiative to deal them cards so that they can join. Paige decided at that moment that she needed another drink. 

Paige is in the middle of adding the sprite into her Shirley Temple when she gets the idea to invite Blair. Not wanting to think about the decision too long or linger in the kitchen, she shoots her a quick message before returning to the game of UNO. Everyone is slightly squished together to accommodate the couple but in an uncomfortable amount. It helps that Azzi opted to sit on Riley’s lap instead of her own chair. The sight makes Paige’s blood boil.

How dare she sit on her lap knowing I sat on her face last week! Paige thinks to herself. She shakes her head at the thought while smirking to herself. She picks up her UNO cards and begins to sift through them when she hears a chirp from across the table.

“What’s so funny, Paige?” Riley asked pointedly as she stared at her. Paige almost wants to ask if there’s an underlying question’ but she doesn’t. This isn’t the time nor the place. She recovers quickly, though. “Just thinking about how nice it’ll be to win this game.”

“Are you sure about that?” Riley raises her eyebrow cockily. “Azzi is my good luck charm.” She looks up at Azzi with a smile. She almost excuses herself when she hears a knock on the door. Aubrey disappears for a split second, and when she comes back, Blair is on her heels.

Unable to mask her excitement, Paige jumps up and engulfs Blair in a tight hug. She leans her head on the other girl’s shoulder and whispers quietly “Thank you for coming.” Blair pulls back first so she can look Paige in the eyes when she tells her “Anything for you.” 

The two haven’t been friends long but they’ve helped each other in different ways. Blair is helping Paige realize that she deserves more than just crumbs of someone’s time. Paige helped Blair navigate the difficulties of her long distance relationship with her boyfriend, Nate. They have shared a few deep conversations and have voiced their insecurities. Paige considers her to be a close friend.

A throat clears from the table. “P boogers, are you going to introduce us?” KK asked.

Paige apologizes and introduces Blair to the team. Like clockwork, the girls start shuffling to make room for her around the table. While they do this, Paige runs to get her a drink. 

She’s in the middle of measuring out the shots when Azzi walks into the kitchen.

“Who is she?” Azzi’s voice is unsteady and tainted with something that Paige can’t identify. Regardless, she has no interest in playing this game tonight. 

“A friend.”

“Bullshit. I know all your friends and I haven’t met her” Azzi grits out. 

“She’s a fairly new friend. I met her at the bar last week.”

“Is that the girl you spent all night talking to?” Jealousy creeps up Azzi’s throat. 

“Why? Jealous?” Paige counters. She smirks with an eyebrow raised. She knows the answer.

Azzi moves from her spot to crowd Paige’s space. She backs her up so she's trapped between Azzi’s body and the counter.

“Should I be?” Azzi whispers. She’s so close to Paige that her breath lightly fans her face.

Paige closes the gap between them some more; eliminating the space between their bodies. She moves as if she’s going in for a kiss. Her lips brush Azzi’s as she speaks “As long as you have a girlfriend, no.”

The reminder of Riley is like a bucket of cold water to Azzi; the shock prevalent on the younger girl’s face. Paige takes advantage and pushes past her; joining the rest of the team in the dining room.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[preservationofnormalcy]

Ever encounter cursed water sources? Or have records of any of them?

I mean, plenty. You know, “Cursed” is kind of a broad term. Could mean there’s a revenant in there, could mean it’s haunted. There’s a couple lakes in the country that had a big enough ship sink that Jones took a little slice of it.

I mean, I guess I could tell the story about how I almost got drowned.

This was a few years back. Or geeze, more than that, come to think of it. We’d been hearing stories about a cursed lake in backwoods Minnesota. Usually we’d just file that as an urban myth, maybe send some YouTubers out to make a ridiculous video. Y’know, downplay the urban myth so that nothing comes in to take that place.

But this one had some…frankly really concerning elements. Boats capsized, pets missing. We had some really worrying photos rolling around social media. Everything pointed to some kind of revenant. Vengeful spirit, cursed to roam the watery depths and inflict on others the kind of pain it felt, etc. Standard stuff.

So they sent me, winter coat and all, up to this lake with another agent. It became pretty clear we weren’t seeing a revenant - the carcasses it left behind were stripped bare, so it clearly needed to eat. We tried to stake the place out, watched people fish and swim despite the clearly placed “no swimming” signs. We were getting nothing.

I wanted to try one more thing before we left. Not my smartest idea, and no one should do this over a body of water with extranormal activity of unknown classification. Leave the dumb ideas to the trained dumb decision professionals.

Anyway, I found myself in the dead of night sitting in a crappy rowboat, barely a moon in the sky. I had a life jacket on, thank god. I had rowed out to the center of the lake, not really knowing what I was doing or looking for. I ended up just shouting “we’re here to help, we’re from the Office” out over the water.

It was about a half hour before I heard any kind of reply. I saw some bubbles and tried to figure out what was causing them. “Hey, can you hear me? I’m here from the office, is there any way I can help?”

I heard from behind me a quiet voice say “I need my skin…” and everything went black. The boat turned over like it had been yanked down and I was pinned under it for a second. There’s that half second when you get dunked in the cold water where you’re in shock, you don’t know which way is up. I knew I’d done the stupidest possible thing when I could just barely see the shine of the moon above me, glimmering off the ripples I’d created when I fell through. I could feel hands on me, and I tried to orient myself before I got pulled under. The waterproof flashlight in my hand was on, and after that second of panic I swung it around to whatever was holding me. It recoiled, all long arms and hair, long teeth behind curled lips. It let me go, and I scrambled, throwing off my jacket and swimming up to the capsized boat. I could barely hold onto it, trying to climb up onto the underside - for whatever reason, I could only think of that scene from the Titanic, and I was sure I’d be going out like DiCaprio.

I had just barely caught my breath when I heard a hiss. The thing had breached the surface, just barely, glaring at me over the back of the rowboat, putting a hand on the wood. As if it were trying to push it under the water, make it too heavy to float.

“Selkie!” I knew what he was, and I panicked. I knew the proper thing was to greet it in Gaelic, but I didn’t know any. “Your skin. It’s gone. Someone’s stolen it, is that right?”

The glare softened, but claws gripped the wood, scratching grooves in it. The selkie, that person dipped back under the water until just his eyes were showing.

“We can help,” I said. “We can find the thief and we can bring it back.” I was sure that we could, but needless to say I would have taken any way out at that point.

After a long, tense moment of silence, we managed to come to an understanding. He spoke English with a heavy accent, but it was enough that I could ask him to put my boat back upright and let us give him our card.

The case got handed over to someone else after that. I never learned what he was doing in the States, but I did hear he’s in Seattle now. I wonder how he’s doing.

...Holy ████, Norm.

What? That’s not even my worst story.

I was gonna talk about my ASMO date with a rusalka, but that's terrifying.

[bbagelbitch]

Assorted Nekoma headcanons: (just for funzies)

(they've been sitting in my archives for YEARS)

First years:

Lev actually managed to get a girlfriend at one point about halfway through first year, she asked him out because she thought he was cute, broke up with him a week and a half later after realizing he’s a dumbass and a bit of a weirdo

Shibuyama is one of those people who you’d think he’s just listening to Taylor swift or something but he unplugs his earbuds and its like- little darkie or some screamo heavy metal LMAO

Shibuyama has a helicopter mom which feeds his anxiety to the point that he carries pepper spray with him sometimes

Tamahiko has a pet tarantula

Inuoka is the kind of person who’d wear shorts when its snowing out

Inuoka and lev will both unironically do Fortnite dances during practice

Shibayama totally has a bunch of allergies and is a picky eater

Inuoka and lev are basically just human garbage disposals (will eat ANYTHING)

Lev can’t swim

Biblically accurate lev Haiba (gets the worlds WORST sunburns every time he goes outside)

Lev has low blood pressure and will randomly faint when standing up too fast (Kenma has the same problem but refuses to admit it)

Inuoka is one of those people who types in all caps the majority of the time. Every literature and language teacher he’s ever had has told him off for using way too many exclamation points. (He can’t help it he’s just a happy little dude)

Lev texts constant updates about what he’s doing t the team group chat to the point where he’s been kicked off of it more times than he can count. (Usually for talking about taking a shit) (see Charles Boyle from B-99 for reference)

Second years:

Fukunaga and Kenma rarely have actual text conversations but they’re constantly sending memes back and forth to each other

Tora actually has fairly curly hair and it was a borderline afro when he was in elementary school (he’s part latino in my mind argue with the wall)

Kenma listens to almost exclusively video game soundtracks (skyward sword is his favourite)

Tora totally listens to girypop rap (he is 100% a Flo milli Stan sorry)

Tora has asked kai for advice on how to talk to girls SEVERAL times and the information that you should just talk to them like they’re normal people blows his mind every time (how does kai do it? Is he a witch? A demon?

Fukunaga owns at least 3 cats and they all have weird names (inspired by my friend who’s cat’s name is Fax Machine)

Kenma is the world’s driest texter (canon actually)

Also fukunaga uses :3 constantly

Fukunaga and kenma constantly bully Tora about his obsession with looksmaxing and say shit like “he can’t talk he’s too busy mewing” LMFAO (you either drip or you drown taketora)

Tora knows how to braid hair cause he’d help akane with her hair when they were younger

All of the second years used to bite people when they were kids

Third years:

The third years have done group costumes for halloween since their first year

Kai is basically the team’s dedicated tutor (Kuroo is too snarky and yaku is too impatient)

Kuroo listens to western (English) music cause he thinks it makes him seem cool and he developed a superiority complex about it. “Oh you haven’t heard of Radiohead?”

Also kuroo and yaks have pretty similar music taste (a lot of modern rock) but the key difference is Kuroo likes arctic monkeys and yaku likes the strokes (they argue about which band is better constantly (yaku is right, its the strokes))(cause they always have to be arguing about something smh)

Kai also totally has a longtime girlfriend in high school bro is possibly the only person on the team who’s done ANYTHING with a girl (probably one of the only people on the whole damn SHOW)

Kai defo knows martial arts I would not want to face him in a fight

Kuroo still uses emoticons instead of emojis :3 ;D and whenever he does, yaku makes fun of him and tells him to “get with the times”

Yaku 100% repeats what Kuroo says in a mocking tone whenever the opportunity arises

Kai is the type of person to say “personality” when asked if he prefers tits or ass

Miscellaneous:

Nekoma is the most neurodivergent team in the whole show bruh like come on 

(autistic: Lev, Kenma, fukunaga.)(kenma totally also has ARFID)

(ADHD: Inuoka, Yamamoto, (both textbook cases of ADHD in guys) Kuroo, fukunaga) (Fukunaga my AuDHD king)

(OCD: Tamahiko, shibuyama (I just get vibes ok leave me alone) 

(Yaku isn’t neurodivergent he just has anger issues lmao) 

Kai is the only sane one on the entire team

Kuroo is also 100% one of those kids who got diagnosed with adhd really young so he appears mostly normal thanks to being medicated from the age of like- 6

Every single person on the team is oblivious as to when someone is flirting with them (kai is the exception)(girls pull out the wow your hands are so big and you’re so tall all the time and NOBODY reads into it)

Kai exclusively smells like a mix of vanilla and sandalwood and on the other side of that spectrum, Yamamoto reeks of axe body spray and b.o. No matter how many times Kenma tells him that axe actually drives girls away, Tora never listens.

Akane becomes manager of the boys volleyball team once she reaches high school (the first years will be third years by then)

The team all protective as HELL over akane (canon tbh)

[libraryofgage]

Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Five

One | Two | Three | Four

*slaps top of the fic* this bad boi has everything: mermaids, fluff, reunions, Eddie being a simp, protective mom Steve

Anyway, stick around to the very very end for a meme hot off the presses about this part lmao

as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

----

It takes Robin and the guppies three days to reach the ship Erica mentioned. They're all irritable, and the only thing that keeps them from snapping at each other is the idea that Steve might be hurt or in danger. Robin thinks they might have torn each other apart otherwise, and she can't even say for sure that she would have stopped the guppies from engaging in a full-on brawl.

So, to say she's beyond relieved when they finally catch up to the ship is an understatement.

But now they need to plan. The ship is way too close to a port city; close enough that any of the pirates could survive long enough to swim that way and spread the story of a murderous pod. Which, honestly, wouldn't do much for keeping all mermaids safe and on good enough terms with humanity that regular humans don't hunt them for sport. It does nothing to stop the pirates, but still.

"We could just make sure to drown everyone," Max suggests, watching the bottom of the ship with narrowed eyes.

Robin almost agrees, but then she stops. Because she knows Steve. If even one person on that ship wasn't an asshole to him, he'd say to spare them, and that could result in the aforementioned spreading of murderous pod stories. But after he's been trapped for so long, Robin wouldn't be able to argue with any request. She's already imagined him dead and strung up like a trophy more than she'd like to admit. She couldn't stand to see him frown after that.

So, she shakes her head, a frustrated bubble pattern flaring from her gills. "We need to be smarter about this," she says.

"We didn't strategize before sinking the other one," Will points out.

"That one kidnapped him. This one might have rescued him, and we should show mercy if that is the case," El says, stretched out and floating on her back. She's the most relaxed of them, and Robin wonders if it's because of that sixth sense she's got going.

"El is right," Robin says, crossing her arms and studying the ship. "We should be more careful about this."

"We could try signaling him," Dustin suggests. "Like, uh, dolphin noises or something."

"If we do that," Lucas says, "we'll need to give him enough time to respond without anyone around."

Robin nods, agreeing with both of them. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'll swim closer while you guys stay here. We have that dumb screech system Steve made us memorize, so I'll use that to signal him. Then we'll wait until the sun rises tomorrow. That should be enough time for him to respond. If he doesn't, we'll sink the ship," she says.

"What if he's not on it?" Mike asks.

"We'll keep one human alive for questioning," Will says, looking at Robin and flashing a tiny, relieved smile when she nods in agreement. "We'll probably have to drown them either way, though."

"Well, we don't need to tell them that," Erica says, snorting as she reaches out to pet a fish that swims by. It's tiny enough to weave through her fingers twice before swimming on.

"Yeah, definitely won't be telling them," Robin agrees, trying and mostly failing to hold back an amused smile. "Okay, stay here. I'll be back after a few minutes. While I'm gone, Erica is in charge."

A chorus of protests chases after Robin as she swims away, heading toward the surface. The sun shines brighter the closer she gets, and she winces when her head finally breaks through the water. It reflects off the ocean, sparkling and blinding as the water shifts and flows.

Robin huffs and sinks down until only her eyes are above the water. The ship is a few yards away, and she can't see anyone moving around on the deck from this distance. She slowly moves closer, her ear fins straining as she tries to listen for any sign of life. Or Steve. Actually, she'd love to hear any sign of Steve from the ship.

Unfortunately, she doesn't.

Once she's close enough to touch the ship, hiding in the shadow it casts over the water, she circles it once. There are a few windows along the hull, but none of them are actually open. That could make it harder for Steve to hear her, but Robin will just be extra loud to compensate.

Robin clears her throat, rolls her shoulders, flicks her tail, and rises until her chin is above the water. She then lets out a sound that can only be classified as the dying shrieks of a dolphin and seagull's abomination of a love child. She makes this noise twice, but each one lasts a few seconds.

Robin can't risk any of the humans seeing her when they investigate the noise. If they are holding Steve captive, they might hurt him even more if they know another mermaid is around. So, she dips below the water, completely submerging and waiting anxiously for a response.

----

Steve has discovered the wonders of just sprawling on a solid surface, his arms thrown to the side and his tail stretched out as he stares up at the ceiling. It's oddly calming, and Steve can almost trick himself into thinking the bobbing of the ship is the ocean itself.

That's what Steve is doing now, forcing himself to relax and brace himself for telling Eddie that he has to leave for a while to find Robin and the guppies. His eyes are closed, and he's running through every possible outcome of that conversation. The second best case scenario (Eddie decides to come with him in a tiny boat) is playing out when he hears it.

The Emergency Shriek.

The last time he'd heard it, Dustin was desperately crying out for help as he struggled against the net that dragged him to the surface. Steve's reaction then had been the exact same as his reaction now. He jolts, his eyes wide and all of his fins flaring in preparation for the fastest swimming of his life, and his lips are pulled back in a vicious snarl to display his fangs and scare off the threat.

But he's on a boat, in the captain's cabin, and that window is way too small for him to climb through. Steve doesn't really think (he can't, actually; his brain has officially gone into Guppies and Robin In Danger Mode). He drags himself to the door of the cabin, digs his fingers into the space beneath, and uses all his strength to rip it off.

The wood groans and the hinges shriek and then the bottom half of the door comes off in his hands. Steve tosses it to the side and crawls through, his tail twitching and flopping in a vain attempt to move faster. If anyone were to actually witness this, they'd probably find it somewhere between utterly terrifying and unfortunately hilarious. A giant fish is dragging and flopping along the floor, but it's also exuding the most intense aura of bloodlust most creatures have ever encountered.

And that bloodlust only gets worse when Steve comes to the stairs that lead to the deck. He stares at them, anger building in his chest at the obstacle they present and just how long it will take to climb them. By the time he reaches the top, Robin and the guppies could be dead, and Steve will have wasted time by uselessly trying to climb some stupid stairs.

He grits his teeth, claws digging into the wood beneath him. And then Steve suddenly realizes that he doesn't have to climb the stairs himself. He takes a deep breath, his gills flaring some to pull in more air, and screams as loud as he can, "EDDIE!"

Steve is absolutely going to reward Eddie for his speed (later, after his guppies and Robin are safe) because he immediately hears something crash above him, followed by swearing and frantic footsteps that stop at the stairs. "Stevie, what the fuck?" Eddie asks, panting as he hurries down the stairs.

"On the deck," Steve says, pushing up onto his tail and wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck when he starts leaning down. "Right now, Eddie. Actually, two minutes ago. As fast as you can. And to the edge of the ship. The railing. Now!"

Eddie, his wonderful and incredible Eddie, doesn't question him. He just scoops Steve up and carries him back up the stairs, fingers digging into Steve's waist when he nearly trips over the final step. He finds his balance again, barely, and strides over to the railing.

Steve can't see anything wrong with the water, but he knows the surface doesn't actually tell him anything useful. He frowns and looks at Eddie. "I'll be back," he promises before letting go of Eddie's neck and twisting to place his hands on the rail.

In one swift motion, he launches himself over the side, grimacing when he feels the edge of his tail fin smack Eddie's cheek along the way. But Steve doesn't let himself linger and focuses on the rush of water around him as he dives below the surface. His gills flare and he breathes for the first time in a while, his hair and body familiarly weightless, and Steve fully realizes how much he fucking missed being in the ocean.

But he can't linger on that relief and joy either.

Steve shoots through the water, swimming to wear he thinks the Emergency Shriek came from, only to be tackled as he rounds the edge of the ship. He yelps, his breath knocked out of him as he goes careening, arms wrapping around his waist like he's going to disappear. It takes exactly one second for him to recognize Robin, her hair floating in front of his eyes and her claws digging into his back.

"You're okay!" she shouts as their momentum starts to falter.

Steve wraps his arms around her and holds her close, one hand on the back of her head and the other around her waist. "Where's the danger?" he asks, scanning the water around them and frowning when he sees nothing.

Robin laughs and pulls away, grinning at him with relief clear in her eyes. "There isn't any, dingus. I was trying to see if you were on that ship," she explains.

Before she can say anything else or Steve can respond, several bodies crash into him from behind. "STEVE!"

They all go careening through the water again, and Steve can't help laughing this time. He tries to hug as many of the guppies as he can, running his fingers through their hair and over their shoulders to reassure himself and them that they're together again. They don't let up, though, and Steve is getting pulled deeper and deeper as they pile on top of him, each trying to get closer as Robin wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his nape.

"Okay, okay!" Steve says, a stupidly happy grin on his face, "I'm fine, I promise. I'm not hurt."

"But you were!" Will shouts, managing to push forward long enough for Steve to see the red in his eyes from crying. "We saw your scales in the other ship."

"I healed," Steve promises, gesturing at his tail. This gets the guppies to back off long enough to inspect his tail, all seven of them circling around and inspecting for new injuries.

"What's this?" Erica asks, pointing at the new scar.

"That's the wound that healed."

"I'm so glad you're okay," El says, finishing her inspection first and grabbing Steve's hand.

"Yeah, now we can wreck that ship!" Max says, her eyes lighting up with a vicious glee as she looks at the Corroded Coffin in the distance.

Steve blinks. "Wait, what?"

"This has been healed for a while, Steve," Max explains, gesturing to his tail, "So, they must have been keeping you captive, right? Let's sink them."

"I bet they've got some great treasure on there," Dustin says, lingering closer to Steve's shoulder even as he looks at the ship, studying it with the same face he studies squids he wants to try trapping.

And, yeah, Dustin would be right. There is some great treasure in the Corroded Coffin. Steve's treasure. Eddie. "We are not sinking the ship," he says, his voice firm. It's his official Caretaker Voice, and it makes all the guppies stiffen slightly as they look at him. "The...humans there saved me."

A few seconds pass, and then Robin behind him gasps. "You fell in love!" she shouts, using Steve's shoulders to brace herself as she pushes up and leans over his head. "With a human!"

"Wh-how could you tell?!" Steve asks, looking up at her as the guppies start clamoring for his attention as well.

"Was it the captain?" Will asks, eyes a little brighter but also warier.

"Is he ugly?" Mike asks, his tone implying that he already believes the answer to be yes.

"Dude, how could you fall for a human?!" Dustin shouts, his nose wrinkled up in slight disgust.

"Have you been courting a human the whole time we've been looking for you?" Erica asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah! How long have you been healed, then?" Max adds, moving next to Erica and glaring at Steve.

"Wait, so we're not sinking the ship?" Lucas asks, failing to cover his disappointment as he gazes at the ship longingly.

"Congratulations, Steve. I'm sure he's very nice," El says, smiling at him, and Steve almost cries at her simple and accepting response.

"I want to meet him," Robin says.

And her words get the rest of the guppies to quiet down. They all share a few looks and then nod at Steve in sync. "Yeah, we need to meet him," Dustin says, apparently the spokesperson for the group.

Steve blinks, looking at the guppies and Robin. He wanted Eddie to meet his guppies and Robin, of course, but he's a little worried about what they'll do to Eddie. "Only if you promise not to drown him," he says, shooting each of them a hard look.

"I'm insulted you think we would," Robin says, scoffing as she swims to the guppies, facing Steve. "Now, go get your soft and very drownable human down here."

Steve rolls his eyes and motions for the guppies and Robin to follow as he swims toward the surface. He doesn't plan to let them out of his sight, and he knows the feeling is mutual.

----

Exactly twenty minutes and 13 seconds have passed since Steve threw himself over the rail of the ship, and Eddie hasn't moved. He knows his crew is a little concerned, especially when they notice the red cut across his cheek, but he waves them off when they try to pull him away from the railing to focus on something else.

He just can't risk Steve surfacing and not seeing him.

And his paranoia feels validated when Steve does surface and immediately smiles brightly at him, looking somewhere between relieved and ecstatic. "Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving like he doesn't always have Eddie's undivided attention, "Jump in!"

Here's the thing. When a gorgeous merman that Eddie has spent a bunch of time courting (and then kissing) tells him to jump into the ocean, Eddie is going to jump into the fucking ocean. "Just a second," he shouts back.

He kicks off his shoes, waves off Asher and Jeff when they try to convince him to not jump off the ship, and then launches himself over the railing. For a brief moment, Eddie feels weightless, and then he hits the water. His legs sting a little where they broke the surface, the cut on his cheek practically screams in protest, and a cascade of bubbles block his vision just as much as the salt that stings his eyes and makes everything blurry.

The blurriness does nothing to keep him from recognizing Steve when he swims closer, though. Steve is still grinning at him, and Eddie's grin in return falters slightly when he tries to kick to the surface and Steve stops him. Before Eddie can try to signal that he cannot, in fact, breathe underwater, Steve kisses him.

As they kiss, Steve's tongue pushes against Eddie's lips, carefully prying them open. Eddie leans closer to Steve, figuring he doesn't mind dying like this, and falters when he feels a bubble of air roll down his tongue and lodge in his throat. Steve pulls away, and Eddie inhales on reflex. The bubble in his throat gets a tiny bit smaller, and Eddie doesn't get any water in his lungs.

"Tug my arm when the bubble gets too small. You won't be able to talk underwater, but you won't drown." And then he notices the cut on Eddie's face. His smile drops some, and he leans forward, gently tracing his finger along the wound. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Steve says, his voice echoing and surrounding Eddie in the water.

Eddie shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. It's at this point that he notices some blurry shapes a distance away, but he doesn't pay them too much mind. He focuses back on Steve and takes his hand, squeezing reassuringly before kissing his palm.

"It doesn't hurt, right?" Steve asks, his voice a little softer and slightly muffled but still one of the most beautiful things Eddie has ever heard.

Eddie shakes his head again and wraps his free hand around Steve's waist, pulling him closer. This is much easier to do in the water. He kisses Steve again, tasting salt more than anything else, and Steve takes the chance to replenish the air bubble despite its minimal use so far.

When he pulls away, he looks more relaxed. "Promise you'll let me know if you need more air?" he asks, his tone insistent and firm. Steve waits for Eddie to nod before grinning. "Great, because my guppies and Robin want to meet you. And, uh, they're really disappointed about not getting to sink your ship, but don't hold that against them."

Eddie blinks, suddenly wondering if maybe he shouldn't have jumped into the ocean at Steve's beck and call. But then he notices the way Steve moves so naturally in the water, how his hair floats and moves around him, how bubbles rise from his gills as he speaks, and Eddie knows he'd jump without thought all over again.

So, yeah, he guesses it's time to meet some guppies and Robin.

----

Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

And, if you've made it this far, here's a little meme for your entertainment

[aranock]

I'm tired.

Just sort of in general I am exhausted. I know I put on a brave face a lot, but the hate does get to me. The constant unceasing hatred both offline and online gets to me. I'm human idk what to say. Been thinking a lot about the Bilbo quote, I might be paraphrasing, "I feel like too little butter spread across too much toast."

It's pride month, I should be feeling happy right? I convocated finally after a brutal long degree I should be feeling happy right? I like how my body looks for the first time in my life shouldn't I feel happy?

And I know that's not helpful, that feelings are not a should thing. And yet I feel it anyway :/. Not that I do not feel happy, I would say on average I am better than I have been at any other point in my life. But it does get to me.

I was invited to dinner with a former family member, a blood relative that breached every boundary I placed and even went so far as to accost me in a public space. It's hard watching someone lose all love for you the more you become yourself. Being told I'm an embarrassment to my parents by creeps online stings a lot more now that I had a blood relative say it to my face while aggressively yanking my jacket so I couldn't get away. I know its a lie, I know that this person saying that hurt my parents as much as it did me. Alas, anxiety rarely responds to facts or evidence.

Everytime it feels like I'm fine and over it; this person manages to weasel their way around boundaries to fuck up my mental health for a week. And the thing about chronic illnesses like mine is they flare up quite horrendously when you get stressed and anxious. Anxiety means waking up to acid burnt throat from reflux.

It makes my voice dysphoric all day.

I think deep down one of my greatest fears is that I am unlovable, that everyone around me secretly hates me and is just waiting for the excuse to finally be rid of interacting with me. I am terrified that I am a burden. Mortified by the false belief that I am broken.

Despite how horrific my childhood adolescence and some of my early adulthood were, my family was at least a safe place. I recognize that I was privileged to have that. With that said I think the reason this whole thing has rocked me so much is that it violated that one last place I felt safe. It has made me doubt the love of those I never thought I would.

Sometimes transphobia feels like drowning, and if you try to swim for air everyone decides to shove you further down cause actually it's proof you are faking needing breath.

I text someone anytime I go run errands, just to make sure someone knows. Had too many experiences of hate. I get anxious when I go to get groceries; will this be the time I get hit by a vehicle driven by a far right transphobe, am I going to get called a slur again, will the store staff get suspicious of me and search through all my groceries to make sure I actually paid for it. But please, tell me how I don't know what its like to be oppressed. When men sexually harass, catcall, creepily hit on, follow me around clearly I am not at all experiencing sexism. Obviously the real worst thing in the world is that women "cancel" people on the internet, and trans people exist. Did they think sending me hateful articles would suddenly make me go "oh yes clearly its all in my head, please genocide my community, I stand for nothing and have the moral backbone of a slug."

I don't really know why I'm writing this, I dont usually feel or desire to express something like this publicly. I will probably delete it later. Maybe I disappear into writing cause its easier to deal with the feelings that way. That at least then someone gets something out of my pain. That maybe it helps to condense emotional mountains to the mole hills of short strokes of a pen or presses of a key. To let them explode outward in a flurry of thoughts and words that others look at and say "I too have felt this, you are not alone, you are not wrong for feeling this way."

Anything to take the weight of it all off my chest for a second.

Because I am tired.

I'm exhausted really.

I don't want to be brave or strong or resilient. It's tiring to bear the weight of that and a billion projections. Atlas does not bear the heavens upon his shoulders because he is strong or brave. He bears it because he has no other choice. Because people put it on him.

I just want to exist; that is apparently too much to ask for as a trans woman.

If you are concerned, please don't worry I'll be fine, I was fine every other time after all. This too shall pass. But right now it hurts.

And I have had my fill of hurt for many lifetimes.

[lost-inanotherlife]

"White Rabbit" meta: a perfect episode. pt I

“White Rabbit” is another favourite LOST episode of mine. Like “What Kate Did”, I just think it’s a perfectly written piece of TV media that’s extremely juicy to analyze. As the title suggests, the episode main source of inspiration is “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”. As a matter of fact, LOST in its entirety is, imo, very much based off of Caroll’s books: after all LOST is also all about symbolism, allegories, spirituality/Christianity and logic/mathematics and their fallacies. Let me outline the episode’s main themes so we can start from there.

Water + Father + Looking for/Following.

“White Rabbit”’s main character is water: being on an island, these people are literally surrounded by water and yet, they have none. Like Michael tells Vincent, ocean water isn’t drinkable because it makes people thirsty. Here, right off the bat, we have a big, clear metaphor: to be surrounded by what you want but what you want doesn’t quench your thirst, it’ll just make it worse. On top of that, this water the characters are surrounded by, specifically signifies death in this episode. This is interesting because water usually represents emotions, nurture and life but here we have the complete reversal of that.

Now who do we find in the ocean water that makes people thirsty? Jack’s father, Christian. Or, I should say, Jack’s dead father. If it wasn’t clear that the episode was going to subvert established symbols here’s a reminder. Water is associated with the archetype of the Mother who gives life but here it signifies the other side of the coin: death via the “hallucinations” of Jack’s father. We’ll have to keep this in mind.

“Water” and “Father” are connected by the third theme: looking for water/following the dead father into the forest. This is key because it reveals the episode’s fourth “secret” theme that is growing up and taking responsibility. Jack must grow up and accept his position as leader of the losties. But has he really matured? Is he really a capable leader? The ending of the episode with the famous “live together, die alone” speech seems to suggest that he is. I argue that, viewed in its entirety, “White Rabbit” lays the foundation for one of Jack’s biggest issues on the island: his inability to be a unifying leader which reflects his inability to let go of his father/past/trauma and become an adult (“inability” is not the correct word here because more added trauma is piled up on Jack as days go by on the island. Therefore, it’s a bit unfair to say he’s not able to let go of this trauma. However, this is basically Jack’s arc: to become able to let go. It’s fitting from a narrative pov because, I mean, this is fiction and Jack’s a fictional character but, of course, it would be an invalid reading in a real-life context with actual people dealing with trauma).

Caught in a riptide: Marc Silverman, Joanna and Boone.

An unofficial code dictates that, in case of emergency, “women and children” should be the first to be rescued. It’s considered a chivalric, Victorian, heroic act.

Jack doesn’t do that.

He heroically jumps into the sea to rescue a life, no questions asked, no time to spare but the first person he finds in the waters is Boone, who also went after what we discover is a second person, drowning: Joanna who went for a swim and got caught in a riptide.

We see Jack calculates what to do next: Boone tells him to let him go and to go after Joanna but Jack decides against it. He goes back to shore with Boone and then goes back into the ocean to save Joanna but it’s too late. To be fair to Jack, he takes responsibilities for what he did as he states “I decided not to go after her”. He, too, was caught in a moral riptide: he jumped into the sea to save one person but it turns out there were two and he had to choose whose life had “priority” over another. Now, he’s a surgeon so he’s actually used to making this kind of decision. However, this doesn’t mean it’s easy for him or that those decision don’t weigh him down. The show doesn’t provide us with an answer: was Jack right? Was he wrong? We’ll have to decide for ourselves but this is enough to insinuate the doubt that, perhaps, Jack the Doc is (rightfully) not the idealized and idolized version of a leader that people want him to be. He’s no chivalric, Victorian hero. He doesn’t… “have what it takes”.

To have or not to have what it takes: that is the question?

Interestingly, young Jack Shephard does have what it takes as we see him stand up to a bully to try and defend another boy like him, Marc Silverman. The bully screams into young Jack’s face to “stay down”, “your choice, man” and he does make a choice: he stands up against the bully. It’s a noble choice that’s hard to disagree with. The kid has guts. Too bad Jack’s father doesn’t see it the same way as we do.

Here the lovely dialogue between young Jack and his father:

CHRISTIAN SHEPHARD: So, you want to tell me what happened? YOUNG JACK: A couple guys jumped Marc Silverman. CHRISTIAN SHEPHARD: A couple guys jumped Marc Silverman. But they didn't jump you? YOUNG JACK: No. CHRISTIAN SHEPHARD: I had a boy on my table today. I don't know, maybe a year younger than you. He had a bad heart. It got real hairy, real fast. And everybody's looking at your old man to make decisions. And I was able to make those decisions because at the end of the day, after the boy died, I was able to wash my hands and come home to dinner. You know, watch a little Carol Burnett, laugh till my sides hurt. And how can I do that, hmm? And even when I fail, how do I do that, Jack? Because I have what it takes. Don't choose, Jack, don't decide. You don't want to be a hero, you don't try and save everyone because when you fail... you just don't have what it takes.

First of all I want to highlight the poetic justice at play here: the kid that died on the operating table had a “bad heart”. Later in the episode we’ll discover that Christian will die of a heart attack. I don’t want to sound mean, I just want to highlight Christian’s hypocrisy here: it’s easy to lord over and picture yourself as a great man in front of a traumatized, beaten up kid. When life will confront Christian with his own issues he won't act as tough as he proclaims. Sure, the façade of masculinity, the performance of the top player etc etc. I feel for that. But this is not Christian’s story, this is Jack’s story. And in Jack’s story Christian acts like a dick.

What I find brilliant in this episode is that the main question seems to be whether Jack has or doesn’t have what it takes but nobody, nobody ever asks what “it” means. Jack doesn’t have what it takes to do what? To be a hero, a “savior” like Boone calls him? To know how to manage failure? To make decisions that are beneficial to all people? Or to be able to wash your hands after you’ve failed? Because, you see, washing hands after an operation is praxis but here it has a double meaning: Christian says that people look at him to make decisions and he does make them but he doesn’t feel responsible for them. He washes his hands at the end of the day. So if this is what “to have what it takes” means I’m actually happy to know that Jack doesn’t have “it”.

Jack’s on the complete opposite end of his father: he feels responsible. As a matter of fact, he feels too much responsibility and this is a direct consequence of his upbringing where his father could allow himself not to take any. Somebody’ll inevitably bear the burden in the end and the less responsibility people take upon themselves the more they want to put on their leader.

Down the rabbit hole.

The moment Jack is confronted with the consequences of his decision, he crashes. He’s failed, a woman has died under his watch. This is when he starts “hallucinating” his dead father. He’s spiraling because he’s being reminded that his father was “right”, that he’s still a child unable to choose, make decisions or, if he does make them, he makes bad calls. Jack starts shutting down and falling down the rabbit hole in the exact same moment that the other losties ask for his help because water supply is running dangerously low. They look at him like those people looked at Christian during the operation and what does Jack do? He says: “I’m not deciding anything” and runs off into the forest following his white rabbit: the figure of his dead father.

to be continued!!!

[the-s1lly-corner]

May I request the cast of Tadc x reader, whose y/n is a mermaid? I already imagine that yn would be right in the digital lake, singing or combing her hair like Ariel-

TADC cast x mermaid!reader !

this one may be a little short since my back is already starting to get all... stiff... sobs.... might go lay down for a few minutes then come back and knock out the other request that got sent in !!

CAINE:

caine is a little perplexed as to why you stay at the lake all the time, your room does have water... though, to be fair, your room is blocked off and small. i think it would take him a while to directly interact with you but just know that every night when you sing hes listening to you... actually now that i think about it, i dont think it would take him long to make himself known, he would probably clap and applaud you after one of your personal performances... probably makes sailor jokes, because, you know, sea stuff and mermaid lore... wants to include you more in stuff so he probably does IHAs that are lake themed, or perhaps makes something sort of like a portable tank..

POMNI:

she probably mistakes you for an NPC for a moment LMAO... i was going to go with an idea that pomni would be into mythology and stuff but now that i think about it, i actually see the opposite now thats more of something i can see zooble and gangle being into... not many ideas for pomni, unfortunately, but i think she would be friendly around you for manners

RAGATHA:

she thinks your really pretty, i think... while ragatha doesnt strike me as the type to be into mythology and stuff, i think she subconsciously is attracted to you because she grew up on stories about mermaids, fairies, and princesses... sure she doesnt remember all that since shes gotten stuck in the digital world, but the instinct to be near you is still there... i think if she got caught listening to you sing she would be so embarrassed, probably tries to excuse herself unless you tell her she can stay.. having someone come by down to the lake is nice, to finally have company

JAX:

has probably snagged your comb and darted to the shore of the lake far enough so that you cant reasonably crawl out of the water and grab it back, assuming you actively need water to survive instead of mobility... but either is really mean in my opinion.. toss him into the water/j actually i dont think he can swim, jax doesnt look like the kind of person to swim.. omg omg bonding moment for when you two get closer, imagine teaching him how to (admin never learned how to swim so theyre unqualified to write this </3)

KINGER:

rarely leaves the tent but lets say he goes down to the lake one day while you happen to be out.. similar to pomni i think he would mistake you for an NPC simply because you are almost never in the tent... i think he would enjoy your singing, though, very calming and it eases him.. quietly listens and returns a few times when he sees youre out. meek apologies when hes caught, hes almost sheepish about it and admits that he should have asked before getting up in your business.. ooo i love this man

ZOOBLE:

"so like, do you drown people," just straight up, probably asks this after a day of jax being more annoying than usual... as mentioned earlier i think they would be really into mythological creatures and lore, as well as cryptids, both before and after joining the circus... sure you probably arent lore accurate to mermaid stories in the real world, but i think they would like to learn about youre whole deal.. sometimes helps you get stuff out of your hair if things get tangled up

GANGLE:

gangle is what gets tangled up in your hair^/j

no but i think she would also be very interested in your whole deal, but is less blunt about it unlike zooble... also thinks your pretty.. i think she would bring stuff down to the lake for you guys to do together, like games and drawing stuff... its nice for the both of you to be away from everyone else but still have company in someone who knows what its like to be cast to the side; be it due to shyness or being locked to a place

[darryscrow]

You. You should totally write or smth abt Darry being unable to swim well, or at all, so he just grabs on to something with a white knuckled grip every time he's near semi-deep water lmao. Pls it'd be funny-

get this man outta the water asap.

WC; 1,206

The sky looked like it was lit ablaze; the setting sun letting off the last of it's light for the day, filtering through the leaves of trees, but managing to blind Darry as he stood at the edge of the lake.

"It's still a little warm if you get in now!"

Sodapop's smile showed off all his bright white teeth, a fair competitor to the sunlight that had been shining on them all day.

Darry had an excuse at first, as all the guys did stupid tricks and flips into the water, he was grilling the sausages and patties to fill the ravenous teenager's stomachs. Every each one of them could eat a horse if left without a cook, like Darry. He wasn't even that good of a cook- he'd under cooked and burnt more food than he could count on his finger, but it was all eaten away. Even if it meant being sick.

But as time went by, and the meal was eaten (their burgers were soaked, they wasted no time going from the lake to the food and grabbed at the buns before their hands could even dry first.), and everyone piled back into the water, expecting Darry to follow right in.

He'd never been a fan of the water.

Too many risks, too little reward. He could splash around in the bath if truly he wanted that, but he didn't. Besides the bath was uncomfortably small for his build, so he'd grown to like showers more.

His feet stayed planted on the slippery rock, any sudden move would've had him flying down towards the water; and it got pretty deep pretty quick too!

He'd never been a fan of the water, because he couldn't swim.

Never learned, had no use for it in Oklahoma. Maybe almost everyone knows how to swim except for him, and maybe it did bug him some, but gosh, by then he had two jobs keeping him busy all day, and no time to hangout by the local pool with the gang. That's what he told them. It wasn't necessarily a lie, he would be home before they had a chance to get their feet wet, but all his muscles ached and he had better things to do than swim aimlessly. If he could, that is.

"Darrryy" Sodapop groaned, "Jump in already. If you stay up there any longer I'd be inclined to call you a pussycat!"

The man narrowed his eyes at his little brother, ready to come up with a smart remark before he felt the cold hands on his back for a split second-

then he was in the air,

and landed in the water, with a painful belly flop.

Water filled his ears, and he couldn't open his eyes in the water. It was all dark, and he felt no ground under his feet. Was he upside down? He couldn't tell.

Darry hadn't had a chance to breathe before being pushed in the water, so he was quickly panicking about needing to take a breath. He was going to drown. He can't swim. He's about to die.

Something grabbed him, and he foolishly wondered if it was death itself that had come down to reap his soul.

He wasn't about to go down without a fight, or a chance to survive, so he thrashed around his arms wildly, hoping that maybe he'd swim up to the surface doing so.

He grabbed at it- whatever it was- and pushed himself up with all the strength he could muster, accidentally holding onto the soft arm with full grip. He didn't notice, his focus was on getting above the water.

And he did exactly that.

Darry had both his hands on the person as his head finally reached the cold air. He coughed out water he accidentally let in his mouth, and then he gasped and gasped, his panic being more than clear as he tried to suck in as much air as he could, worried he was about to go under again.

But then he gently lowered his legs in the water, and he felt the muddy ground.

Then he tested opening his eyes, blinking away any water that still hung onto his eyelashes.

"Are you okay?" Two-bit's face was all screwed up weird as he stared at Darry, who was still holding onto him for dear life, even if he had floor underneath him now.

The older man was shaking, he couldn't stop himself. He thought he was about to die seconds ago! "I can't swim." He blurted out, his voice was garbled; his throat was sore from his harsh coughs and gasps.

Two led Darry out of the water, helping him push up the rocks when he physically couldn't by himself. It was like his body used up all it's energy when he panicked in the water; and he collapsed sideways on the wet rocks the moment he felt far enough from the water.

"Dally, that wasn't fucking funny." Someone spat out, but Darry didn't see who, nor did he care. He kept his focus on the way the air went in and out his lungs as he felt the cold envelope his body, being no help to his intense shivers from the shock.

Warmth. Suddenly he felt a warm hand rub his back, and heard a quiet voice telling him to slow down his breathing. He didn't think he was breathing fast, but tried his best to follow it's instructions.

He just wanted to cook some burgers.

When he felt calm enough to do so, he opened his eyes again, and was met with a variety of faces looking back at him.

Sodapop, a frown that somehow etched worry into each crevice in his face.

Two-bit, confusion visible by his furrowed brows and searching eyes.

Dallas, who looked away the moment Darry met his gaze, who looked uncomfortable, and guilty.

Steve, desperately holding back a grin that he hid horribly with a frown, mimicking his best friend's.

Johnny, who's big black eyes bore into Darry's pale blue ones, unspoken questions in them.

There was a face missing, and that's when he laid on his back and saw Ponyboy, who had been the one behind him previously.

"Darry.. you can't swim?"

Ponyboy tucked a blanket above his shoulders- a blanket he didn't realize was covering him in the first place.

Heat rushed to his entire face as he took in what had happened. He got pushed in the water, he flailed about wildly once he was in, couldn't push his body out the water alone, then was left spluttering and panting. And they all watched it happen. God he'd never live it down.

He closed his eyes again, shaking his head as a no. He waited for the burst of laughter to come from the group, his muscles tensing for it. Yet, nothing happened.

"Gee, you could've told us. We woulda taught you how to." Steve was the brave soul who spoke up, seemingly speaking the thoughts of the whole group as murmurs of agreement filled Darry's ears.

His brothers helped him sit up, even with the blanket he couldn't stop shaking. It was all too humiliating, yet none of them seemed to pay it any mind.

It wasn't long until everyone piled back into the car, half wet and shivering, but laughing together about anything but Darry's wild panic from earlier.

...

And let's just say Dallas found his own way back home that day.

[vodika-vibes]

Can you do a Monnk x reader in the mystic au, the same faced gods one? Monnk would definitely be a sea themed kind of god.

Take as much time as you need with it, I don't mind.

Siren Song

Summary: It was an accident. You didn’t know that the Empire had claimed the waters around your town as theirs. So when you take your small boat out, to check the crab traps, you run afoul of Imperial Troopers.

Pairing: Commander Monnk x F!Reader

Word Count: 2404

Prompt: Mystic AU - Same Faced Gods AU

Warnings: Reader is murdered at the beginning of the fic by drowning, Monnk first meets the reader as a toddler, but no relationship forms until Reader is well into her 20s. In fact, he doesn't interact with her at all between the ages of 2 and 22.

A/N: So this is a little different from the other fics in this AU, but I still like it.

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Rough hands press you to your knees in front of a man dressed in an impractical white uniform. A strong hand on the back of your head forces your gaze to remain locked on the metal deck of the warship you’ve been dragged on. They’re not being gentle with you. In fact, they seem to be enjoying the pain they’re causing you.

“Admiral,” The speaker is a woman, with a scratchy voice. She sounds like your uncle, in a way. Like she’s smoked most of her life and is now paying the price. “We found this,” A pointed boot slams into your side, and you release a muffled noise of pain, “poaching from the Emperor’s ocean.”

“Brave,” You assume that this is the admiral speaking. There’s something slimy to his voice, and you aren’t able to hide your shudder of terrified revulsion. 

And then the woman’s words pierce the fog of terror. Wait. The Emperor’s Ocean? This Ocean doesn’t belong to anyone.

“Tell me, girl,” The Admiral continues, his gloved hand grabbing your chin and jerking your head so that you’re looking at him. 

It hurts. The way his fingers dig into your skin, the way he’s jerking your head from one side to the other. It’s like his every action is designed to bring you more pain. 

Add that pain to the pain from the rough manacles binding your hands together, and your feet together for that matter, and the rough material being used to gag you—

You’re just not having a good time.

“Hm,” The admiral is an old man, with a ruddy nose and thinning white hair. He’d almost remind you of your grandfather, if it wasn’t for the cruel twist to his lips and the dangerous glimmer in his gaze, “Such a shame. Pretty girls like you should be dressed in fine gowns and put on display.”

His words are startling enough that your panic vanishes, and you stare at him in absolute bewilderment. You’re not the only one. The deck of the ship has fallen silent as men and women stare at the Admiral in various states of disbelief or disgust.

“Admiral?” The woman standing just to your left asks though she doesn’t continue. Perhaps Imperial soldiers have some kind of telepathy?

The old man stares at her for a moment and then coughs. “Yes, exactly right Captain. Poachers cannot be allowed to go free.” He stares at you in silence for a long moment, then smiles, “If you wish to poach from the Emperor so much, perhaps it’d be best if you saw the ocean close up.”

The next five minutes happen very quickly.

A cloth is wrapped around your mouth and nose, the heavy manacles around your wrists are substituted for ropes, and a massive rock is tied to your ankles.

Then, before you can even make a noise of protest, you’re tossed over the side of the ship.

You sink quickly, faster than you expect.

Trying to swim is a waste of energy, the rock is heavier than you are, and the cold water is sapping your strength.

You should be afraid. You don’t want to die.

And yet, even as you sink into the dark depths of the ocean, you’re calm. There’s no panic. No fear. Just peaceful acceptance.

Your twin always did always say that your mild personality would be the end of you.

The salt of the sea burns your eyes, so you close them to try and stop the pain. And your lungs are burning, you can’t quite bring yourself to not hold your breath. 

The pressure of the ocean is beginning to get to you. There’s a pain in your sinuses and a sharp pain in your ear. You know what those are symptoms of. You’ve been diving in the ocean since you learned how to swim.

You’re descending too quickly.

Finally, the burning in your lungs becomes too painful, and the last of your oxygen bursts from your nose. It is, perhaps, a mercy that you pass out with the first rush of water to your lungs.

The last thing you’re aware of is something warm and gentle pressing against your cheek.

Much to your genuine astonishment, you wake up.

This astonishment is only made worse when you realize that you’re still underwater, and yet you’re breathing as regularly as you would if you were on land.

So far as you can tell, you’re not wearing a rebreather or an oxygen tank. In fact, aside from the surprisingly light gown you’re wearing, the only thing on your body is some kind of earmuffs.

You press your hands to the earmuffs and note that they seem strapped on your head in some way, and then you note that the ear pain from the ruptured eardrums is gone. 

So…a healing device of some sort?

Then you look around at your surroundings.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the obvious magic, you’d say that this looks like a hospital room. Which means that this light gown you’re wearing is a hospital gown.

You push the blanket off your legs, and immediately pause.

The scars around your ankles don’t surprise you, the rock used to make you sink was heavy, you’d be more surprised if you didn’t have scars. 

But that isn’t what gave you pause. No. It’s the scales running up your legs that make you react this way. You fold your legs so you can get a better look, and lightly trail your fingers over the scales.

They’re smooth, like glass, and they’re real. Because you can feel your touch across the scales.

“Is this what happens to people who drown?” You ask the empty room, you’re voice strangely muffled to your own ears, as you hold your arm out and push up the sleeve, revealing identical teal scales decorating your arms. You follow the scales with a finger and notice that they go up to your shoulder and across your shoulder blades. You wouldn’t be surprised if they continue down your spine.

Your head snaps up when the door on the other side of the room slides open and a man steps in.

He looks surprised to see you awake, though it pales in comparison to your surprise. He’s tall, with dark skin, and is covered in Kraken tattoos. Or, wait, that’s not right.

It looks like he has one Kraken tattoo, that covers the majority of his body.

Like you, he has scales on his arms and legs, though his appear to be gold in color, rather than your teal.

He smiles at you, warm and welcoming, and you get the strangest feeling that you know him. “You’re awake.” His voice is pleasantly deep, “You scared me, my pretty anemone.” 

“Sorry.” You reply automatically, and then you frown. Why are you apologizing, you didn’t do anything wrong.

“It’s alright, it’s not actually your fault after all.” He crosses the room and lightly sits on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes sliding across the teal scales, before lightly tapping the earmuffs, “Does this seem to be helping?”

“There’s no more pain,” You confirm, “Well, not as much pain. My face and teeth still ache.”

He looks surprised for a moment, and then his face clears, “Right, sinuses. Hold on.” He takes your face between his hands and gently, so gently, trails his finger under your left eye, and then your right.

There’s a slight burning sensation, like after you sneezed too many times in a row, but when the uncomfortable feeling fades the pain is gone. 

“There, how’s that?”

You blink at him in surprise, the feeling of familiarity too strong to ignore, “Have we…met before?” You ask, slowly as you scan his face. 

A bright grin crosses his face, “We have.” His thumb glides across your lower lip, “You were so young when you woke me up, just a little girl. Too young, for the duty laid on your shoulders.”

You shake your head, “I don’t remember.”

He laughs softly, “You wouldn’t stay away. You kept sneaking out of the house and jumping into the ocean, and you could barely swim. For your safety, I locked the memories away. Until you were old enough for the duty you agreed to.”

Slowly, he leans in and presses his forehead against yours, “My name,” He speaks slowly, as if casting a spell, “is Monnk.”

There’s a spark, and quickly, like a burst dam, memories flood your brain.

You’re two years old, and Mama left you on the beach. She told you to stay put, to be a good girl, and wait for her to come back while she takes care of your brother. But there’s a pretty shell only a little bit away, and Mama won’t be too angry if you go a little bit away, right?

Only as soon as you pick up the pretty shell, there’s another even prettier shell. And then another. And another.

And before you know it, you have lots of shells piled around you. And you’ve found yourself in a weird stone room. But there are shelves and Mama says that we have to pick up our toys.

So, slowly, you set each shell on a stone shelf, carefully making sure each shell is carefully arranged to look the prettiest. It’s important.

You don’t know why it’s important, but you know that it is.

And then he appears. Tall and strong, and you immediately run over to him and silently demand that he pick you up.

Monnk, the god of the Seas, laughs as he scoops you into his arms, “You’re quite little aren’t you, my adorable little priestess?”

You giggle as you hug him.

“Too little, perhaps, to be a proper priestess.” Monnk murmurs, “Time for you to return home, my little one.”

There’s a flash of light, and you’re back on the beach, with a pretty shell necklace draped around your neck. 

And then you remember a second memory.

You’re two and a half now, and you’re determined to get to the ocean. It’s where you’re supposed to be.

You make a break for it every chance you get, but tonight, you get away. You make it to the big rocks that Papa says you’re too little to climb, and you immediately jump into the water.

You’re not afraid, Monnk will protect you.

You don’t even hit the water, as strong arms catch you and then set you back on the sand. Monnk kneels in front of you, a wry smile on his face.

“You are as stubborn as a crab, my little one.”

You scramble to your feet and reach out for him to hold you, but he doesn’t waver, his hand gentle on the top of your head, “You have to stop doing this, it’s not safe.” Your lower lip wobbles when he won’t hug you, and Monnk sighs, “Don’t hate me too much for this, little one. I’ll see you when you’re older. I promise.”

And then he touches your forehead, and everything goes blank.

Mama finds you sleeping on the sand the next morning, though you have no memory of how you got there.

You snap out of your memories, and shoot Monnk a pained look, “You went away.”

“I took the memories, so you wouldn’t get hurt, but I was never far.” Monnk replies, “You were going to get yourself killed, my little priestess. My job is to protect you, even from yourself if I have to.”

“It seems unnecessary,” You huff as you press your hands over his.

“You jumped off a boulder. When you were two. And couldn’t swim. It was so necessary you don’t even know.” Monnk counters, and then he shrugs, “I wasn’t watching you all of the time, I did make sure that your family would never go hungry, though. If I had been paying more attention, you wouldn’t have died.”

“...I died?”

“Uh…yeah. Sorry.” He does look apologetic, “You drowned, and I had to take measures to bring you back. Congrats on becoming a Siren!”

“Are you allowed to do that?”

“I,” Monnk sniffs, “am the, a, god of the sea. I’m well within my rights to bring you back. As a siren, or a mermaid. But I decided that you would probably be more comfortable with legs than a tail.”

“You’re not wrong,” You mutter.

“Great!” Monnk pulls his hands from your face and claps them together, “Would you like to see the kingdom I prepared for you?”

“...I beg your fucking pardon?”

He beams, unrepentant, “Your kingdom. For the Eldest Priestess of the Sea god.” Monnk pauses, “Well, only priestess. I’m a bit territorial and don’t want any more Priests or Priestesses.”

“What kingdom?”

Monnk takes your hand and pulls you off the bed, “My beloved little one, I’ve had twenty years to waste. So of course I made a merkingdom for you. I can’t wait to introduce you to Kit. He’s hilarious, you’ll love him.”

“Oh…okay then.” You allow him to lead you out of the hospital, and you find yourself overlooking a stunning city decorated with coral and shells. “You made all of this?”

“Yup. It was a long 20 years.” Monnk leans against a low wall next to you, “See that white building over there? That’s where you, we, live. It’s the Priestess’ Temple.” He pauses, and then he grins, “Also, the people who murdered you? They’re super dead.”

“You killed them?”

There’s a glimmer of something dangerous in his gaze, “You are mine. My priestess. And they hurt you.” The dangerous look fades as quickly as it appeared, “Anyway, my brothers are planning on marching to war as soon as some of the other Commanders find Priestesses. This Empire has wronged a lot of people like you.”

“That’s a lot for someone who used to make a living as a fisherperson,” You mutter.

Monnk kisses your temple and then trails his lips down the side of your face to catch your lips with his, and he seems to become more as your lips touch his, “You won’t be alone,” He promises, “I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

Your hand rests on his bare chest, and you absently trace his tattoo, “Well, then I have nothing to worry about, do I?”

He grins at you, and offers you his hand, “You want a tour, ad’ika?”

You place your hand in his, “I’d love one.”

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