#does an ocean worry about change?

[kaleuh]

the 'Ash Ketchum leaving/completing the Pokemon anime' to 'me having a long, emotional, pensive, existential bout of thought on the topics of life and change' pipeline

[fanaroff]

Dp x DC Prompt: Space Like An Ocean

An alien had taken up residence outside of the Watchtower. Its first appearance immediately started a panic with most of the heroes that could survive in space converging on the station to see whether it was friend or foe. In the end, it did not seem either.

In fact, it seemed fine with just basking and napping wrapped around parts of the Watchtower that made up the outside. It wasn’t the size of the Watchtower, but off and on it was a very near thing.

Humanoid, yet distinctly inhuman. White whispy hair sat atop its head, pointed ears, and the only feature that could be made out of its face were two bright green glowing eyes. A color that sent Batman into a research frenzy. Its skin was void-dark. Almost looking as if a piece of space itself had separated from the cosmos and took and almost snake-like form. Or maybe an eel?

The most notable thing about the creature were its injuries. Multiple lacerations covered it, leaking a green that never touched the Watchtower and seemed to evaporate not long after leaving its body. Any silent attempts to collect it for study and to figure out what it was were met with emotionless green eyes and a bare hint of fang. They backed off quickly.

Flash liked to call it a mer-eel. “Cause it’s got an almost human torso, two arms, and the rest just kind of curls up!”

Wonder Woman was unimpressed with this. “That would suggest it is more like a naga.”

To which Green Lantern replied, “No, no, he’s right. There’s an almost white fin-like bit that goes down the tail like an eel’s does.”

Any more attempts to identify the creature led to nothing and soon the “eel” became a silent fixture of the Watchtower.

It was ages later when Zatanna entered the Watchtower to discuss a completely non-connected case when she stumbled immediately upon leaving the Zeta Tube and had to lean against a wall, breathing heavily.

“Something feels like Death.” Was all she could get out before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped to the ground. She wouldn’t wake up, dead asleep. Immediate worry all around lead to Justice League Dark being contacted in full.

Constantine with Deadman in tow were ultimately the ones to solve the mystery. It took but a moment for Deadman to be seen thanks to Constantine’s “magic” and awe was the first thing apparent on his face. Deadman didn’t even need to leave the Watchtower to know what it was.

“Oh,” he whispered like a prayer. “So that’s where he goes when he takes a break.”

Queue questioning.

“He” turned out to be Phantom, the Ghost King who had apparently decided the Watchtower was a perfect basking spot. Confusion was abound at this.

“No, see,” Deadman tried to explain. “He has two Obsessions and the Watchtower feeds into both. Heroes who protect, as he is a protector spirit himself and probably feels a kinship, and space.”

Constantine and Deadman explained as best as they could, but when the questions finally settled, the last was “Why isn’t Constantine affected like Zatanna? Why aren’t the rest of them affected like Zatanna?”

“That’s easy!” Deadman piped. “None of you are attuned to death magic! I’m a ghost, he’s my King. Zatanna is a magician with experience in most magics. And Constantine doesn’t own enough of his soul to feel the death!”

In the end, a request from Deadman was all it took for things to change. With barely a rumble, Phantom pulled himself from the Watchtower and drifted far enough away for his aura to no longer affect Zatanna. The heroes could only watch in awe as the eel-like god returned to the open ocean of space.

Addition:

There were a giant green eyes observing the conference room. Every hero inside was frozen in place, staring back at the eyes and trying their best not to move a muscle. Phantom had moved from atop the station. Phantom had acknowledged them. Phantom was staring at them from a window of the Watchtower.

No one knew why he was there. Just that suddenly he was. The bright green lighting the entire room with its shine was the only warning they got. They stared. He stared.

Slowly, he moved. A hand-shape pointed with a claw. They were confused. The hand made a pointing motion again.

The table?

Ah. Several shards of kryptonite sat on the table. The topic of the discussion as someone had somehow gotten ahold of the shards and used them against Superman. They needed to know who supplied them.

The hand pointed again.

Why did Phantom want the shards?

Apparently, it wasn’t up to them to question as the pointing hand phased into the room, palm up. Waiting. No one moved for a moment until a white narrowed slit formed in Phantom’s eyes.

Green Lantern was quick to grab the shards (Batman made a token protest, those were his damn it) and placed them in the palm. He shivered as his finger brushed the skin, ice cold washing up and down his spine.

The hand closed, retracted and approached the face. The eyes stared as a large mouth opened (fangs, sharp sharp fangs laid in green) and a tongue popped out. The shards were placed on the tongue and the mouth closed with a sharp crunch.

Phantom grinned almost smugly before he drifted away from the window and back to the top of the Watchtower.

“Did- Did Phantom just ask for a snack?”

[nobigsecrets]

So when Tommy gives Buck the tour of the 217, after having laid out the basics of the station, he proceeds to ask Buck why he's actually there. Not once, but twice and he's pretty blunt about it.

Tommy: Is that why you wanted the tour? Looking for a bad ass coffee mug?

Buck: Nah, I'm happy where I am at. I guess I just wanted to see the place during the day. You know, when we weren't stealing one— [gestures toward helicopter]

Tommy: C'mon, you didn't call me just because you wanted to see the toys. You're thinking of changing things up, aren't you?

Buck: Ah, I don't know. Okay, so, aside from worrying that Cap and Athena were at the bottom of the ocean, yeah, fine, I guess that night was the most fun I had since being struck by lightning.

To me, that indicates Tommy must have been a) clearly baffled that Buck called him in the first place and b) that he can't place Buck's request for a tour at all. Is it common courtesy after their little adventure? Is it professional interest? Or is it something more personal—?

I don't think Tommy allows himself to think in a personal direction at first. He's clearly flattered that Buck called but he also seems to be very much on guard at first. He's looking for clues as to why Buck is there. So when Tommy can't figure out it out, he's gotta ask. Because Evan is kinda hot adorable interesting. Maybe he even pings Tommy's gaydar, but he can't be sure.

And Buck's answer is super vague of course. We know that he can't even place his interest in Tommy himself yet. But Tommy doesn't know that. So he asks, again. He even suggests that Buck might be there for professional reasons, aka looking to become a pilot himself. Like Tommy doesn't dare believe Buck might be there for him.

And it's only then, after Buck admits he had fun the night they stole the helicopter, that Tommy allows himself to let his guard down. It's like he needed at least a tiny hint that Buck could be interested on a more personal level. It's only then that he starts flirting. It's only then that he allows himself to check out Evan a little bit closer. And boy, does that guy flirt back—

(Not relevant to the rest of this meta, but it's also noteworthy how both of them keep their references carefully gender neutral when they're talking about dating people they met on calls.)

[thebisexualdogdad]

One Piece preferences - how they tell you that they like you (GN!reader)

Luffy -

● Luffy is not one for shame or embarrassment yet he's always nervous around you

● he always awkwardly rambles when you're near him

● and he even asks if you want the last bite of food before he takes it for himself like usual

● he goes to Usopp first for advice which Sanji and Zoro overhears and tells him to ignore Usopp's terrible advice and listen to them instead

● which then Nami overhears and calls them all idiots and gives Luffy actually good advice

● Luffy finally tells you he likes you but rambles again while talking so you kiss him to shut him up

Nami -

● she doesn't

● you have to make the first move

● even when you do tell her you like her she makes you work for it

● "I'll go out with you when we find the one piece"

● "I'm holding you to that"

● a couple months later when she thinks you've proven yourself she sets two plates of food in front of you guys

● "what's this?"

● "we're on a date"

● "I thought you weren't going to go out with me until we found the one piece?"

● "I changed my mind now start eating before I change it again"

Sanji -

● He is very confident and makes it known he likes you the moment you meet

● He flirts with you the entire time you're eating in the baratie

● "Anything else I can get for you cutie? I've been told I make a mighty fine dessert, that is unless you want me for dessert instead"

● "just the check please sweet talker"

● he brings the check to you with his number written on the bottom

● "just so you know I do accept tips in the form of a date"

Zoro -

● no matter how much Luffy points out to Zoro that he likes you he refuses to acknowledge his feelings for you

● It's not until you get critically hurt in a fight that he finally admits to himself that he likes you

● you've been unconscious for days and he never leaves your side while you're recovering

● you wake up to him sitting at your bedside and you've never seen him look this worried

● "thank God I thought I lost you"

● "you saying you care about me Zoro?"

● "yes Y/N, I care you about you a lot so please don't do that to me again"

Usopp -

● always brings you flowers and little trinkets

● "I saw this in town and thought you'd like it"

● names one of his slingshot moves after you

● all around gentleman trying to woo you

● Zoro "you know he likes you right"

● "of course I know, I just think it's sweet how hard he tries"

● the first time you kiss him on the cheek to thank him for your gift he blushes so hard and nearly faints

● he goes around proudly telling everyone that you kissed him and that he's your boyfriend now

Buggy -

● puts on an entire show for you

● pulling out all of his best jokes and stunts

● making the crowd cheer extra hard

● he does a huge speech throughout the entire performance about how you two could conquer the world together

● and how he needs you by his side to be the best pirate he can be

● for his final trick he uses his powers to send his hand up to you with a bouquet of flowers

● "what do you say Y/N? Want to be my co captain?"

Shanks -

● whenever he's in town he tells you stories of his adventures over drinks at the bar

● and always gives you part of his treasure that his crew found on their recent voyage as gifts

● "You're really giving me this? Do you know how valuable it is?"

● "There's no treasure in this world that I value more than you"

● "well Shanks it sounds like you're trying to tell me that you like me"

● "I would travel the entire ocean for you my dear Y/N and I would love if you joined me on my next adventure"

Mihawk-

● Literally kills a guy for you

● you're complaining about some jerk you ran into at the bar

● he mumbles "he shall pay for disrespecting my Y/N" and excuses himself

● he returns a little bit later with the guys decapitated head in his hand and blood on his shirt

● "you said you had a problem with this guy so I killed him in your honor"

● "Oh thats… sweet"

● "I knew you'd be impressed. So, dinner?"

Cabaji -

● always tries to look cool in front of you

● doing tricks on his unicycle

● like riding it through a flaming hoop

● or having you stand on his shoulders while he cycles around the ring

● or putting someone on the spinning wheel and throwing knives at them landing impossibly close to their skin

● "that was cool wasn't it Y/N"

● "sure was Cabaji"

● "So what do you say you and I get drinks together sometime?"

[barefoothighlander]

call me little sunshine

-summary: you come home for summer break to find a new man has moved in next door, he’s charming and mysterious so you welcome him to the neighbourhood

-simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

-warnings: mdni 18+, dark themes, slight stalker!ghost, dub con, corruption, masturbation (fem), unprotected p-in-v, fingering, creampie, dumbification kinda, size kink, dom!ghost, orgasm denial, ghost has a filthy mouth, spit play if you squint, loss of virginity, oral (fem rec), mention of alcohol, mention of scars, age gap (reader is in 20s, ghost is in 30s)

next part masterlist

a/n: this is pure smut with plot and I regret nothing, this fic contains dark themes so please be advised, also not proofread.

The air was thick, its humidity almost choking you as the sound of thick waves lapping on the beach overtook your hearing, the hot June sun welcoming you as you stepped out onto the porch. You loved being home, even if it was only for a few months, you missed the simplicity of being there, no coursework to worry about, no job weighing on your mind just cold lemonade and swimming in the ocean.

As you situate yourself on your porch, book in hand your eye is caught by the sight of a large broody man moving boxes next door, your dad hadn’t told you that anyone new was moving in, you didn’t even know the previous owners had left, shame, you really liked them, you shake him from your mind and return to your book, settling in against the soft seat cushion.

You read for a while before feeling yourself grow thirsty, moving to the kitchen of the house to find something to drink, as you look out the window above the sink you see him again, only this time he’s not wearing a shirt, it’s tucked into the band of his jeans, every sweat covered muscle gleaming in the sunlight. Your eyes linger on his form before he catches you, stopping what he was doing and giving you a polite smile, you feel your cheeks blush as you return the sentiment with a shy wave, moving out of view to set your back against the wall.  Your skin was hot, you figured it had to be from the weather outside deciding to change into something a little more comfortable for the weather, returning outside in a short white dress, patterned with small bumble bees, it sat low on your chest with thin straps that tied into little knots, perfect for the warm weather.

You glance over toward your car, noticing it could use a little cleaning, grabbing a few rags and making your way over, you lean over the hood, dousing the mental in soapy water, moving around, scrubbing different spots, you stand up, legs drenched in water as you hose down the vehicle.

“You’ll have to clean mine sometime” you hear from behind you, turning your head to see him, he’s practically glowing, you have to raise a hand to the sun just to look at him, he’s close, close enough that you can make out every groove of muscle, every scar that littered his toned form, the only thing you can’t make out is the dark ink that decorated his forearm.

“My truck is pretty dirty” he says breaking your trance.

“Oh,” you laugh

“Guess that happens during a move” He gestures toward a large stack of boxes.

You stifle a laugh, “Yeah doesn’t look great”

He smiles, it’s bright and genuine, “I’m Simon” extending a large hand toward you, you smile raising your hands to show the dirty water on them as he laughs, grabbing yours, enveloping it, lightly running a thumb over the skin, the simple contact making you swallow a lump in your throat.

“Right well, I should probably go shower”

He releases your hands, looking at the wetness on his palm that had transferred, watching your dress blow slightly in the wind, threatening to give him a peek at your ass, taunting him, he clicks his tongue before returning to his own work.

The shower does little to soothe you, a growing sensation in your lower stomach as you enter your room, towel-clad body moving around to pick out comfy clothes, it was nearing nightfall, the sound of cicadas echoing outside your open window, remnants of the sunset bathing your bedroom in a warm glow, you huff a breath to yourself, resting on your bed, hips wiggling a bit trying to ease the gentle thrum between your legs, you try to distract yourself with a book but with every turn of the page you find your mind wandering to him, his broad form glowing in the sun, the gleam of his smile, his dark eyes that stared into your soul. Putting your book to the side you gently move your fingers down your body, ghosting over the hem of your panties, teasing ever so slightly before dipping below the band, gentle fingers circling over your clit. You elicit a quiet moan, not used to the sensation, you continue circling as your jaw falls slack, free hand coming to cup at your breast under your shirt, you quicken your pace, back arching off the bed as whispers of moans fall from your open lips, images of your neighbour flashing before your eyes, you imagine his fingers, rough, roaming over your skin, teasing over your sensitive bud as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten, you grip the sheets as your orgasm washes over you, whimpers of his name falling from your tongue. You lay in your bed breathless, turning over in your bed as sleep takes over your mind.

You woke early the next morning, your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as the heat creeps in through your window, you rub your eyes and move to get dressed, you had to go into town and it was hot again today, you settled on a simple skirt and tank top, something that would let your skin breath as you packed your bag, bidding your Dad a good morning before getting into your car. Your errands took longer than expected, a harsh rain setting over the terrain as you pulled into your driveway, you catch a glimpse of Simon on his porch, a glass of whiskey in hand as he watched the rain fall, offering him a small smile before making your way to the door, digging through your bag to find your keys, panic setting in when you realized they were nowhere to be seen, you peer through the window, willing someone inside to appear and let you in, out of the pouring rain, but no one’s there. Defeated you turn your back against the wall, huffing a breath.

“Locked out?” you hear him call, standing in the safety of his covered entrance.

“Yeah, forgot my keys inside”

“Did you want to wait inside mine?” he offers

You think for a minute, “No that’s alright, I can handle a little rain” you laugh

“You’re gonna catch a cold” he states plainly

You mull it over in your mind, you really didn’t want to be standing in the rain, you nod and make your way over to him, you miss the way his eyes linger on your form, your clothes soaked, clinging to your skin, allowing him the perfect view of your breasts and ass.

“Here come inside”

The two of you step inside, you look around the room, it’s not heavily decorated but small trinkets litter the shelves, a couple plaques hung around the room.

“Wait here, I’ll get you some dry clothes”

You remain still in your spot, and he returns with a small stack of clothes.

“Bathrooms over there doll”

You smile before making your way, his eyes glued to your curves, watching the way your hips move as you walk away. You close the door, stripping your clothes before throwing on the ones he had given you, no doubt belonging to him considering the way they hung loosely on your body, your hair was drenched but there was nothing you could do about it. You return to him standing at the bar,

“Give me those” he says hand extending to the mess of wet clothes in your hand, taking them from you to throw them in the dryer.

“You can sit if you’d like” he points toward the couch across the room,

Smiling at him before making your way over, he follows, propping himself right next to you, you can feel the heat emanating from his body as he reaches an arm to rest behind your head.

“So you just moved in?” you try to make conversation

He takes a swig of his drink turning to face you, “About a week ago, it’s a nice spot”

You nod, “I grew up here, parents moved when I was 4”

“Mmm I didn’t see you when I moved in”

“I just got back from school, summer break”

“Ah, university?” he asks, innocently enough

“Yea, I’m studying history”

“Interesting stuff”

You nod in response,

“I’ve got some old books upstairs, unpublished works from people who’s names I can’t pronounce”

“Where’d you find them?” slight smile creeping onto your face

“Can’t remember, wanna check them out?”

You nod as he guides you up the stairs, leading you into a small study, a sizeable bookshelf sits in the corner, beside a large grey safe.

“What’s in the safe” you turn to face him, he’s leaning against the doorway pinning you under his stare.

“Nothing you need to worry about doll”

You blush at the nickname, he moves across the room picking out an old leather bound book and handing it to you, his fingers ghosting over yours, the contact sends chills up your spine.

“I haven’t read this one” you say shyly

“Well it’s yours anytime you want it” he says, fingers roaming up your bare arms, your eyes are locked on his, body frozen from the contact.

“Can I ask you a question?” he says, leaning down to place his lips next to your ear, his English accent suddenly thicker, his words drenched in honey, you nod, unable to think of words. “Do you like teasing me”, you quirk your eyebrow,

“Huh?”

He smiles against your neck, his hot breath making your hairs stand on end,

“The tiny dresses, the practically see through tops, bending over right in front of me”

You’re confused, “I don’t know what you’re talking about." He bites at your neck causing a small moan to fall from your lips,

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about love”

You shake your head, “No I swear-” your words cut short at the feeling of his palms roaming under your loose top, coming to rest under the curve of your breasts, your breath hitches as you feel the pad of his thumb come to swipe over your hard nipple.

“Think you can get away with it hmm, making me hard, serving yourself up on a platter for me”

Your eyes flick to his, “I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to”

He shushes you, his hands moving down to grab at the meat of your ass as he presses his body into you, the firm contact of his length pressing against your thigh making you drop the book in your hands.

“S’alright doll, I’ll give you what you need”

You clench your eyes as you feel his hand cup your sex,

“Tsk, no panties, and you tell me you aren’t teasing”

“Th- they were wet”

“Mm so are you” He strokes two fingers through your slit, grazing your clit, forcing your head to fall forward against his shoulder as your hands grip his shirt. He teases over your clit, as you try to grind yourself onto his palm, desperate for contact.

“Needy girl” he whispers, kissing at your pulse point, he slides a finger into you, groaning at the way you clench him.

“Fuck you’re tight, gonna have to work you open for me huh” He grins a sadistic grin, peering at your scrunched face. He continues fucking you with one finger, his rough palm colliding with your clit, creating the perfect mixture of contact that has you teetering on the edge. As you’re about to tip off the edge he removes his hand, earning a whine from you, whimpering at the loss of contact, the heat still burning in your lower stomach.

“Stand up for me pretty girl”

You do as he says, feeling his arms grip under your knees, easily lifting you from the ground to plant you on the desk, kissing at your collarbone as he finds the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. The cool air grazes your skin as goosebumps begin to form, you watch him with doe eyes as he sinks down, lips latching onto your nipple, his hand coming to toy with the other, he sucks your nipple in, biting it lightly earning a gasp from you as he moves to give the same treatment to the other. He sucks at the valley of your breasts as he moves to take off your pants, urging you to lift up a little so he can slide them off, he moves back, hands spreading your legs as he’s looking at your dripping pussy.

“Such a perfect little cunt” he says, placing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs before licking a stripe through your folds, stopping at the top to tease over your sensitive bud, you instinctively clamp your legs, he grips your thighs, spreading your legs wide allowing him to kneel directly in front of you, the sensation is too much, you’re a mess of moans and whimpers, that familiar heat boiling in your stomach as you clench around nothing, he studies your movements, detaching himself at the last second to bring you slowly back from the edge, you try to grab his head to move him back but he stands firm.

“You’ll cum when I want you to”

You whimper,

“Tell me what you want baby”

You force the words from your throat, "I want to cum”

“Use your manners”

“Please, let me cum”

He smirks, fingers pinching at your nipples, bringing his fingers back to your leaking hole, you moan at the stretch, he pumps slowly, easing you into it as he watches your face contort with pleasure before latching his lips back to your clit. He pumps his fingers into you quicker, your moans growing louder, he bites lightly at your bud at you elicit a yelp, replacing his fingers with his tongue, his thumb circling over your clit, you’re so close you could scream.

“Come on baby, cum on my tongue, taste so good” His praise dries you forward, your hands gripping his hair as your back arches, your orgasm taking over your body, a blinding white light obstructing your view as your moans fall from your open mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, moving up to kiss you harshly, “taste that baby? so sweet”

Your breath is heavy, your mind clouded from your orgasm, you feel weightless as he picks you up, laying you back against the desk.

“Wait” you manage, “I’ve never”, his smirks grows

“Aw baby, are you a virgin”

You nod sheepishly, his mind floods with a million ideas, but right now, he has to feel you. He climbs over your body stripping himself of his clothes, your eyes come into contact with his hard length, widening at the sight.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle” he coos, tip teasing at your folds, he grabs your knees, spreading you wide forcing your body against the mattress as he holds you under his weight, even if you wanted to fight back you couldn’t, body weak from his touch. He pushes in slowly, just the tip at first, watching as your eyes squeeze shut.

“Look at me, wanna watch you as my cock splits you open”

You follow his command, scared of what might happen if you didn’t, as he pushes in further, the stretch of him practically tearing you in half,

“Fuck baby not even half way and you’re squeezin me so tight”

You moan at his words as he continues to press into you inch by inch before bottoming out,

“That’s it baby, just relax”

His thrusts are shallow and slow, easing you into it as your hands cling to his shoulders, he pushes in deep as your back arches, your clit grazing against his pubic hair. He places a firm hand on your lower stomach,

“Fuck, you see that doll” You glance down at where your bodies meet, “Can practically see myself inside you”

Your body fights against the intrusion, the pain of him pressing against your cervix, you’re writhing under him but he leans down to cage you against the bed as he starts fucking into you faster. You’re breathless, careless moans slip from your mouth.

“You feel so good, don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop myself”

You moan in response and he laughs, “Only had my cock for a minute and already can’t talk, you cockdrunk baby,” he says, hand grabbing at your jaw to hold it open before leaning up to spit in your mouth, 

“Swallow it” he orders, and you do, the remnants of his whiskey linger, burning your throat as he continues fucking you at a relentless pace, your muscles are weak as he moves back, gripping your thighs tight to your chest, holding you down with his weight.

“I’m gonna fill this little pussy, let everyone know you’re mine” he grunts

You shake your head, trying to tell him no but it comes out as mumbles,

“Shit I’m sorry love, just feels too good”

You claw at him but he persists, long strokes filling you as his balls slap against the skin of your ass,

“Squeezin me so tight, m’gonna cum”

Your attempts at refusal are useless as his balls tighten, pressing himself deep into you as the warm sensation floods your abused hole, fucking into you a few more times making sure you got every last drop before pulling out, he steps back to examine his work, pressing a finger into you,

“Gotta make sure it all stays in”

You groan at the intrusion, the contact making you twitch slightly, he moves beside you placing a kiss on your head,

“Did so well angel”

Your body is jello, limbs exhausted as he holds you tight to him, moving you to the bed across the hall. You don’t know when you fell asleep but you wake up and he’s gone, the remnants of his spend leaking from your sensitive cunt, as you try to get up, noticing the pile of clothes set next to the bed, you dress carefully, trying to maintain your balance and making your way down the stairs, noticing his broad form sat on one of the porch chairs, you creep your way to him, standing by his side.

“Better get home pretty girl, Daddy’s back,” he says nodding towards your father's car in the driveway, your throat is dry, as you walk back to your home, you feel his eyes glued to you, you feel like his prey. You step inside and are greeted by your parents asking about your day, your mind freezes,

“Are you alright honey?”

You take a minute, “Yeah just, super tired I guess, I’m gonna head upstairs” sparing them a smile before making your way to your room, you step into the shower trying to wash everything off you, the warm water soothes your body before you step out, looking at your form in the mirror, noticing a deep purple mark between your breasts, running a light hand over it. You change into pyjamas and settle into bed, your mind is tired, your body is tired, you toss and turn trying to get comfortable, cringing at the feeling of Simon's seed still spilling from you, you turn over in your bed, clenching your eyes shut hoping you were simply imagining him as once again sleep takes over your body.

[azurefanfics]

Incoming call from Lover Boy <3

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: A late night call from your lover Wonwoo after successfully wrapping up his second Tokyo concert.

Note: To celebrate Nana Tour coming to an end I decided to FINALLY write the fic idea I’ve had since episode 1. Please forgive my rusting writing skills - it’s the first fic I’ve actually written in years!

“Incoming call from Lover Boy <3”

The familiar nickname flashed up on your screen, causing you to pause in your reading, smiling slightly at the phone. It was just a joke at first - changing your boyfriend’s nickname in your phone to see how he would react, but the sheepish pink blush that painted his cheeks whenever he caught a glimpse of it drove you to keep it that way ever since.

Your phone continued to buzz angrily, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“What’s up?” you questioned, picking up the phone right away. It wasn’t unusual for Wonwoo to call you when he was away, but you knew he’d just wrapped up a concert that night and usually he’d prefer to either celebrate with the boys or just sleep, especially this late.

“Sorry baby, were you asleep?” a familiar face came into view, picking up on the slightly sleepy tone of your voice and voicing out his concerns.

“No, I was just finishing up this chapter, don’t worry. Is everything ok? What happened to drinking with the guys?” you asked, turning your camera on in turn.

“I had a drink already, but I thought I’d turn in early or else I’d be up all night with those idiots. We do fly out at 6 am after all.” The rosy flush that dusted over his features revealed the truth in his statement, as he shook his head fondly at the questionable sleeping habits of his members. “Besides I couldn’t miss out on speaking with you, it’s the highlight of my day.”

This made you smile a little to yourself. Although you’ve never doubted your boyfriend’s love for you, it still felt good to hear that your presence lights up his day in the same way his does to yours.

As you continued chatting about anything and everything - mostly the boys’ antics during the concert - Wonwoo began to remove the remnants of his stage makeup and get ready for bed. You did the same, basking in the moment of shared domesticity despite the ocean between you both. Despite all of the moments you’ve shared together, perhaps watching him sleepily rub his eyes with makeup remover is the most romantic of them all.

Before long, Wonwoo was done cleaning his face and headed back into the hotel bedroom as the two of you chatted. The lights went out with a click and you heard faint shuffling noises as Wonwoo struggled with his clothes. Eventually, he turned on the bedside lamp to reveal himself lying down, shirtless with his glasses on and his head on the pillow.

“You should take your glasses off hun, that’s got to be uncomfortable”, you chastised him, “and that can’t be good for the frames either”.

“No, I want to see you properly”, came the petulant response, “I won’t be able to actually hold you until tomorrow so this is the best I can get”.

“I can’t wait until you’re home.” you sighed. Although it had only been a few days, the pandemic and the fact that you were able to go with them on the last tour meant that times where you’d been away from Wonwoo were few and far between. Although the two of you had been very lucky in that regard, it did make time apart more of a struggle.

“Me neither, it’s not the same sleeping in these hotel rooms without you…”, he sighed. “I’ll be home tomorrow though! Do you have any plans? I know you’re working but maybe we could have a night in? We can watch a movie and order food? Oh! We should try out that new pizza place near ours, you know, the one Mingyu was talking about?”

“Oh yes! He made it sound so good - I’ve been wanting to check it out for a while! We should get extra and then we can have some leftovers for breakfast the next day!”

“…Babe… What are you talking about…. Pizza isn’t breakfast, you monster.” he deadpanned. At this, your cheeks puffed out a little in frustration.

“Breakfast can be whatever you want it to be! You can’t convince me that you had a healthy breakfast every day when you were living with Mingyu!”

As you continued to bicker back and forth about the validity of various breakfast(?) foods, you took a second to admire your breathtaking boyfriend. Even with his face smooshed into the pillow and his glasses askew, his handsome features and plush lips pulled into a subtle smile never failed to make you swoon.

Eventually the conversation turned to your days, catching up on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Although yours was quite uneventful - “just my manager being an idiot, as always” - Wonwoo was full of stories of shopping with the boys earlier that day.

“And then Hoshi just ran away with Coups’ crutches! He was just sat there on the floor pouting!”

As you giggled at his latest story, Wonwoo couldn’t help but join in as well. Your laughter never failed to give him the deepest joy - he would share stories until his throat ran dry, just to see you smile. He’d even endure the endless teasing from his members to buy magazines with his own face on to bring back to you. He didn’t understand why you needed them when you had the real thing - “They’re good to make collages out of, ok? Don’t judge me!” - but he’d dutifully bring them home to you to catch a glimpse of that bashful blush and shy smile of yours.

As your giggles died down, a wave of exhaustion washed over you and you couldn’t hold back your yawn. Despite doing your best to stifle it off camera, your ever attentive boyfriend still caught on.

“Are you tired baby? Sorry for keeping you up, we can always catch up tomorrow instead���, he said apologetically.

“No, no, if anyone should be tired it’s you. You’re the one that just finished a whole concert! Besides, I like hearing you talk. Tell me more about your day”.

At your gentle prompting, Wonwoo launched into another story about Dino’s latest antics. Despite his animated retelling of the members bullying their maknae, you felt calmed by his voice and felt yourself slowly being lulled to sleep. As your eyes drooped further, a gentle “sleep well baby” was the last thing you heard before your eyes shut completely.

—

The next morning you wake up to a text received at 4 am:

‘Sorry honey, we’ll have to take a rain check on our plans today. I’ve been kidnapped’

‘We’re going to Italy. I’ll bring you back some limoncello to make it up to you x’

You wracked your sleep-addled brain trying to make sense of his message before you remembered - Youth Over Flowers! You felt a slight twinge in your chest at having to cancel your date night, but that was quickly overtaken by excitement for your boyfriend, whom you know has never been to Italy before. You had considered visiting together in the past, but you’d never been able to make it work with your boyfriend’s packed schedule. Your boyfriend had rarely been able to go abroad for leisure at all in the past, let alone with almost all his members. The fact that Na PD somehow managed to surprise the boys, despite them losing all hope of the trip actually happening, just made it that much more sweet.

As you set to work looking up restaurant recommendations in Italy to make sure that your boyfriend was able to enjoy his trip to the fullest, a knock sounded on your door. Jumping out of bed and pulling on a dressing gown, you quickly made your way to the door.

“Pizza for Y/N?” It was the pizza place you’ve been wanting to try.

“I don’t think I ordered this? Do you have the wrong place?” you responded, bewildered.

“It was ordered to this address under the name of Jeon Wonwoo. There was a note left on the receipt.” At that your heart swelled, and you accepted the box gratefully from the delivery driver.

As you settled down at the kitchen table with the still hot box, you unfolded the receipt and took in the message your lover left for you.

“Sorry I can’t be there today baby. Please take this as my peace offering while I’m off expanding my pizza horizons in Italy. I hope you have a good day at work, can’t wait to see you soon! 10 days can’t go by fast enough. Please wait for me a little longer love <3”

You smiled softly at the thought of him, bleary eyed, having to pack all of his belongings in a rush, but still taking the time to think of you.

You took a bite of the piping hot pizza covered in your favourite toppings - delicious. Who ever said pizza wasn’t a breakfast food anyway?

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 9)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated Explicit.

Warning: Character Death, and minor details of childbirth.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“You’re glowing!”

You’d scoffed while watching as your body literally began to illuminate from the inside out.

“Well of course.” You’d snickered, looking from your hands to Lucifer. “Every mother does.” 

Your hand came up to clasp your mouth shut, but the Freudian slip was already out there. Lucifer stared at you and you stared back. 

Your lips wobbled and torso trembled until you could no longer hold it in and burst into laughter. Elation ran its course, and Lucifer joined you — laughing so hard that he slapped his knee. 

When you fell into his arms and let yourself be held, you imagined it would only be for a little while. This bizarro pregnancy had you on some kind of high, and all the worries and doubts that had been building up disappeared. 

—

You can’t remember for how long you’ve been walking but there’s discomfort in the soles of your feet. The landscape changes as soon as you truly behold it. 

The endless field of tall grass and the trees so tall they could touch the sky had been replaced by golden sand. You could feel its gentle heat on the ends of your toes. Beyond the sand is a gently rolling ocean, lilac beneath a honey gold sky as the sun has only just set. The sound of rhythmic, rushing water is so real and so close that you’re immediately calm. 

Memories flood your mind like a sneaker wave. You’re a child again, running away from the water as it laps at you. The shock of the cold water goes away quickly and you want to follow the pebbles and seashells that drift back out with the retreating tide. 

You look back, away from the sea, and see the blonde woman behind you. You grin. 

She’s wistful. 

It stamps down on your joy. The air is salty and wet blowing through your hair and inhaled through your nostrils. You want to speak, but you can’t think of a thing to say. 

“I wish this was goodbye.” Her voice carries above the waves, muffling them until they’re nothing but a dull roar. 

—

You awoke to the sensation of falling and seized in your bed. Lucifer startled beside you. He’d been sleeping wrapped around your belly; a compromise to laying perpendicular to you so that he could continue talking to the soccer-player in your stomach. 

He or she had not stopped moving since they decided to make it known that they were, in fact, not dead.

(You’d chided the baby for that, and for doubling in size in less than two week’s time, much to Lou’s amazement:

“Hell isn’t ready to be ruled by two speed demons.” You’d deadpanned.)

“Huh?” He grabbed you without thought. “What—”

Movement erupted from deep down in your core, muscles clenching and unclenching quickly, forcing you to seize again. 

“I think I’m — ugh!” You gritted your teeth. “—I’m going into labor.” 

Lucifer doesn’t do anything for a long moment. 

Then he flew into a panic before you could say ‘Jesus Christ!’. 

—

The hallway outside illuminated with the sheer brilliance of your body, literally glowing. It hadn’t stopped since it started, only a few weeks ago. Fortunately, the glow was tied to an almost paralyzing euphoria. It was the kind of delight that turned your blood into gold while racing through your body. The kind that kept you from complaining that you’d become Tinkerbell.  

“Steady. I’ve got you!” Lucifer assured whilst trudging over the carpet with you in his arms. 

An influx of pain rippled through you for the first time, providing distraction from the mortification you might’ve felt in that position. It hasn’t escaped your notice that the Prince of Darkness was a shortstack. Your brain had a hard time accepting that for as small as he appeared, Lucifer was capable of unimaginable feats of strength and endurance. 

So, you didn’t think about it. Instead you focused on breathing in and out deeply as your partner kicked at the front door of your neighbors’ apartment with the toe of his boot. 

As if waiting at the door, Warren Farrow appeared from behind the polished wood. His expression was of minute surprise, but within seconds he was turning back and calling for his wife.

Lucifer managed to pivot the two of you into the Farrow home. Warren guided you with an unusual vigor in his step, as though he were a man decades younger. 

“We’ve had it set up for weeks now, Sir.” Warren said gravely. 

Through the convulsions, you observed the inlet that Lucifer had taken you into. It was like a roomy closet, covered in tapestries and littered with candles of all shapes and colors. 

Warren’s wife was flitting about, quickly lighting the pitch-black surroundings until you could see the mere outline of things. 

You were drawn to the center of the crowded room, where a humble white cot covered in white towels contrasted everything else.

It occurred to you then that this entire pregnancy had been a shit show, not the least bit because you’d never gone to any OB. You hadn’t checked in with any hospital, or stepped foot in one — how could you? 

Therefore, any  and all “check-ups” you’d had had come from your creepy neighbors with their tea and their scrutinizing questions and their buzzard-like stares.

You’d consoled yourself throughout with the brief, semi-serious talk with Mrs. Farrow three months into gestation.

“What? Were you a midwife or something?” You asked incredulously. 

“Yes, honey.” Cass had patted your hand like you were a simpleton. “I helped deliver babies for over 15 years. I was younger than you were when I first started!” 

You had stared. ‘Oh god, how many crazy cultists are actually nurses in disguise?’

“Here we go, all set. You can lay her down here.” Cassie came over brusquely, smoothing over the wrinkles in the cot before Lucifer put you down. 

He laid you on the sheets, light as a feather, jarring as you felt your belly weigh you down. The King didn’t go far, reluctant to let go of your hand. You held on like a vice as well, gripping and squeezing with each contraction. 

You felt pinches in and around your abdomen, but the pain was… off. It came not from true agony, but the overworking of your internal organs in contrast to the pleasantness that you embodied post-glow stick phase. 

Hearing childbirth horror stories all your life, and just the horrors of raising children in general, you expected to be screaming and thrashing. 

This wasn’t as bad as some of your past periods had been. What’s worse than that, however, is the unnecessary guilt you feel for how troublesome it isn’t. 

—

Lucifer struggled to remain in one spot as the urge to pace up and down the cramped little birthing room ate at him. 

He didn’t want to leave you — not that his two hosts would dare make him, regardless of tradition — but old habits die hard. He was fidgeting, putting all his weight on one foot then the other. 

You were his exact opposite, laying placid and relaxed on the birthing bed, eyeing the little room. Microexpressions flitted across your face, some of confusion and some of hurt, but aside from your firm grasp on his hand, and the occasional grunt, you may as well have been dozing off. 

Eventually you glanced at him. 

“Do you wanna sit down?” You asked calmly. 

Lucifer tried to laugh but it came out like a strangled wheeze. “Nahhh, this is fine. I’m fine. Are you fine? I mean I know you’re not fine, but can I do something? Whatever you need, I can get it for you!” 

His rambling ends with you bopping him between the eyes teasingly. “You’re silly.” 

It’s inexplicable, but Lucifer’s mood lightened at your mellow admonishment. He meets your warm, drowsy expression with an adoring smile of his own. 

“I am.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re an angel to put up with it.” 

A too-loud rasp interrupted the soft moment of nothing but affection and kisses. Cass was standing at the foot of your cot, hands on each of your knees as she kept your legs apart. 

“Get ready, honey. You’re on your way.” She hailed. 

–

A cry split through the air and it went straight to your heart. 

You gulp down air (Lucifer mimicking you without meaning to) with sweat pouring from your hairline. The lack of pain hadn’t meant a lack of effort, and you still felt like you’d run a marathon just to pass the little being currently wailing in Mrs. Farrow’s arms. 

“It’s a girl.” Mrs. Farrow declared.

There was no attempt to hide the sidelong glance she gave Mr. Farrow. The lines and grooves on the elderly man’s face deepened until he resembled a gnarled tree trunk.

“Hmm.” Was his reply, deep baritone rolling like thunder in the tiny room. 

Vehement indignance blazed to life inside your mind when the old man looked at you, critical and disappointed. You felt like tearing him and the rest of this old, tacky room to shreds. Yet, exhaustion had planted its roots deep inside of you, and all you could do was glare at the old couple from your makeshift bed. 

‘Why does it fucking matter?’

“Gimme my kid.” You growled.

As if to piss you off further, Cass ignored you in favor of wiping the baby clean before passing her off to Lucifer. The old bat presented her to the King like she was a fallen bannerman’s sword, even curtsying while doing it. 

It was so weird that it brought you out of your anger for a second. 

Lucifer was clearly apprehensive, and his insecurity made the grand gesture stranger. He swallowed visibly, making eye contact with you when he couldn’t break away from the internal turmoil he was struggling with. 

“Bring her to me.” You demanded. Lucifer nodded vigorously, cocking a head toward you. 

It was fucking nonsensical, but at last Cass obeyed and brought you a bundle wrapped in silky black. 

The baby’s wailing tapered off as soon as she’d made contact with you. And like a child on Christmas morning, you shifted to sit up as much as you could and pry open the swaddling cloth. 

You sniffled. 

All at once, the breath caught in your throat and your eyes welled up with tears.

The newborn was as flagrant as her father in terms of skin tone and hair. She hadn’t yet opened her eyes but already you could see none other than a spitting image of Lucifer himself. Right down to the rosy apple cheeks that made up her pudgy little face. 

You were a little surprised to see that she had a nose. A little black smudge, puppy-like - anomalous like the little growths on her forehead and the itty bitty spade on the tip of her wagging tail. 

She was perfect. 

“I think she’s a Charlotte.” You manage to tear your eyes away from the miraculous hellspawn in your arms just long enough to search Lucifer’s golden gaze. “What do you think?” 

His Majesty is a whimpering mess beside you. “Y-yeah. That’s perfect.” 

Peeling the blanket back just that much more, you lean toward him. It takes a little coaxing, but sure enough Lucifer traces a delicate claw over the child’s tiny brow. 

“Hello Charlotte.” He whispered. “We’re so happy you’re here.” 

Adoration overwhelmed you, nigh on visible like the air was tinged with its color, its scent, its warmth cocooning the three of you. 

Daddy, Mommy and baby. A strange but happy little family. 

Lou embraced the two of you, hiding his face, and subsequent weeping, in the side of your neck while your baby cooed. 

The background chants of ‘Hail Princess Charlotte’ and ‘Hail King Lucifer’ were, thankfully, not enough to ruin the moment. 

Nothing could. Until. 

It doesn’t dawn on you that anything is wrong when the glow has faded. It’s only the incidental look at your fingers, with Charlotte’s tail curled around them, that freezes you. Numbness then began to crawl up your body, as if waiting for the moment that you’re brain would connect the dots. The copper scent of blood made your nostrils flare and heart hammer.

Fear clutched at you in an instant. “Take her. Take the baby.” 

Your desperate hiss and barely-there shuffle to push Charlotte into Lucifer’s arms fully had his face falling. 

“W-wai-wh-What’s happening?” He asked, panic rising. 

Mrs. Farrow is prompt, crone’s face scrunched and nose prominent as if she could sniff out the issue. She’s stood at the end of the bed, already lifting the sheets off your body before you can seek her out. 

A stiff hand appears over the covers, covered in shiny dark claret. “She’s bleedin’ too much.” 

Lucifer’s eyes blazed from where he hovered. “Why?”

The elderly woman was ready to shrug, but she stalled. Perhaps out of fear. “It happens, your Grace. Birthing a baby takes a toll on the mother, sometimes it’s too much.”

“Then why are you just standing there?”Lucifer bared his fangs, ivory in the lowlight. His eyes were a haze of vermillion, so opaque that you couldn’t find his pupils or the soul inside. “Help her!” 

The truly demonic scrape of his vocal chords frightened you, as did the sudden appearance of tusk-like horns protruding from his skull and the fire coming to life between them. His beautiful skin marred and stretched and cracked as if his form were a prison barely containing the true beast within. 

Energy crackled in the air, heat rising to blow back your hair and dry the air from your lungs like a flung-open kiln. The breath was stolen from your lungs as ivory wings shot out and overtook what little space was left in the alcove. 

Reality was literally distorting around Lucifer’s warped rage. 

Mr. Farrow, for all his reticence, reached for his wife’s shoulder from within your line of sight. 

“Lucifer.” You hissed, bearing the brunt of his inhuman stare when he turned to you. It took real energy to speak. “I need you… the baby…”

It didn’t take anymore prodding for the blond to intercept your daughter once your desperation got through to him. The Devil slowly shifted back, revealing the depth of his fear in the cloudless turn of his gaze. He met you halfway - finally - and pulled Charlotte close to his chest.

A pang of thankfulness made laughter bubble up from your diaphragm. It hurt. Everything hurt again.

“Stop. Wait.” Lucifer begged, voice turned to ice. Fragile, cracking. His natural white glow had dimmed significantly like a cooling star. “This isn’t— I promised you this wouldn’t happen! This can’t happen!”

A shudder ran through you. 

“Hey.” You lifted a hand and placed it on his pale cheek, thumb brushing over where white met red. “Nothing… for it now.” 

“No, don’t, that’s… No.” His agony was so palpable, as his fury had been. 

“You’re gonna be a great dad.” You murmured. 

Lucifer bowed over the side of the bed with Charlotte snug against him. You could feel the warmth of his breath, and then the splash of his tears against your cheek as he broke down. You felt it deep in your bones, and the lump in your throat that choked you. 

“Not without you.” He said. “I can’t do this without you.”

A pained smile was your response. Vision a-blur. Cotton tongue.  

“You… will.”

Lucifer shook his head fiercely. “I promised you. I swore I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I can’t… I can’t...” 

“Please. Please don’t — ” Anguish turned Lucifer’s once melodic voice into broken notes. “Don’t leave us. Please, please, please.” 

His sobs intermingled with Charlotte’s whimpering. She fussed as she was woken from her doze by the growing, tangible urgency. You wished you could calm both of them. Take them in your arms and make it all go away, promise that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Please. Please. Please.” The word fell from the Devil’s mouth like a prayer. 

You wondered if he really was praying. Praying to his Father. 

It broke your heart. 

The candlelight around you was getting brighter as the rest of your surroundings grew dark. Lucifer, as brilliant as he was, lingered somewhere in between. You squinted when his features began to fuse together in your mind. It did little to help, as large, dark shadows blotted out the corners of your sight. 

Charlotte was bawling and you fought to open your eyes again. You hadn’t realized they’d closed. 

You were so tired. The will to rise up and comfort your baby was dwindling. Everything had succumbed to a thin stream of light in a sea of darkness. 

With a breath, and another Herculean effort, you opened your eyes again. 

White blinded you. 

And then you were nothing.

***

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[elodieunderglass]

Hi! I was wondering if you could help me out with a word I've forgotten? I'm trying to remember the name for a concept that (I think) talks about how people better understand or process Things once they have vocabulary to describe it - I've heard it talked about in regards to the colour orange, or coercive control, etc.

long story short i've just read a paper saying ancient Greeks and Romans weren't racist bc they had no word for racism and am trying to form an argument against!

(no worries if this is unanswerable, i'm aware its a bit of a long shot but you struck me as a person who Knows Things)

That’s extremely kind and funny of you. i don’t know much but i am ok at synthesis.

I think you might be thinking of the concepts loosely called the “Sapir-Whorf hypothesis”, which describes something called “linguistic determinism.” This idea has been “disproven”, as it is just too reductionist as a concept - people are clearly perfectly capable of having experiences that are tough to describe with words. There will be plenty of papers showing how this reasoning is applied.

but it is still commonly thrown around and still considered a useful teaching framework. That’s why you’ll see it referenced online as if it is fresh, new, and applicable - people learn about it every year in college. Also, elements of the framework are probably perfectly sound. It definitely seems to be the case that language shapes brains; it just doesn’t seem to be the case that humans who don’t have specific words for them can’t experience orange, or the future.

(Many things in college are taught using teaching frameworks that may not be, technically, true; the framework is intended to give a critical structure for interpreting information. Then, when we later find evidence that disproves the hypothesis, that single piece of information doesn’t destroy our expensive college education; what we paid for is the framework. This is mostly frustrating in the sciences, when fresh crops of undergraduate students crash around on social media, grappling with their first exposure to (complex concept) and how it’s DIFFERENT to what they learned BEFORE and their teachers LIED TO EVERYBODY and they’re going to save the world from POP SCIENCE by telling the TRUTH. You’ll notice that these TOTALLY NEW INFORMATION reveals map along the semester schedule. The thing here is that getting new information, or information being different from what you were previously told, does not cancel out the fact that you are getting what you pay for - an education. Learning new facts that change our relationships to hypotheses isn’t a ✨huge betrayal ✨ , but the expected process of academia. Anyway.)

You have an interesting response here, and can start by looking at the ways that Sapir-Whorf has been disproved. There will be loads of literature on that.

However, it would be interesting to look at the argument as an unpicking of the other side’s rather weird, ritualistic superstitious belief that a behavior doesn’t exist if the creatures doing it can’t describe it. It is not on the ancient Greeks and Romans to categorise and interpret their behavior for a modern educated audience. They do not have the wherewithal to do so. They are also fucking dead. We can name the behaviors we see, and describe their impacts, however the hell we like.

Sure, the ancient Greeks used “cancer” to refer to lumpy veiny tumors. We can infer that they still had blood cancer, because their medical texts describe leukaemia and their corpses have evidence of it - they just didn’t know it was cancer. But we do, so we can call it cancer. Just because Homer said “the wine-dark sea” in a flight of girlish whimsy doesn’t mean he was unable to distinguish grape juice from saltwater, which we know, because we can observe that he was an intelligent wordsmith perfectly capable of talking about wine and oceans in other contexts. We are the people who get to stand at our point of history with our words, and name things like “this person probably died of leukaemia” and “poets say things that aren’t necessarily literal” and “this behaviour was racist” and “that’s gay” and “togas kinda slay tho” despite Ancient Greeks having different concepts of cancer, wittiness, prejudice, homosexuality, and slaying than we do today.

Now just to caveat that people do get muddled about the concept of racism. Our understanding of racism from here - this point of history, with these words, probably from the West - is heavily influenced by how we see racism around us today: white supremacy and the construct of “whiteness,” European colonial expansion, transatlantic chattel slavery, orientalism, evangelism, 20th century racial science, and so on. This is the picture of racism that really dominates our current discourse, so people often mistake it for the definition of racism. (Perhaps in a linguistic-deterministic sort of way after all.) As a result, muddled-up people often say things like “I can’t be racist because I’m not a white American who throws slurs at black American people,” while being an Indian person in the UK who votes for vile anti-immigration practices, or a Polish person with a horrible attitude about the Roma. Many people genuinely hold this very kindergarten idea of racism; if your opponent does as well, they’re probably thinking something like “Ancient Greek and Roman people didn’t have a concept of white supremacy, because whiteness hadn’t been invented yet, so how could they be racist?” And that’s unsound reasoning in a separate sense.

Racism as the practice of prejudice against an ethnicity, particularly one that is a minority, is a power differential that is perfectly observable in ancient cultures. The beliefs and behaviors will be preserved in written plays, recorded slurs, beauty standards, reactions to foreign marriages, and travel writing. The impacts will be documented in political records, trade agreements, the layouts of historical districts of ancient towns.

You don’t need permission to point out behaviours and impacts. You can point them out in any words you like. You can make up entirely new words to bully the ancient romans with. You are the one at this point of history and your words are the ones that get used.

Pretending that “words” are some kind of an intellect-obscuring magical cloud in the face of actual evidence is just a piece of sophistry (derogatory) on the part of your opponent here. It’s meant to be a distraction. You can dismiss this very flimsy shield pretty quickly and get them in the soft meat of them never reading anything about the actual material topic, while they’re still looking up dictionary definitions or whatever.

[oswildin]

Mischief’s Daughter (Loki x Fem!Reader)

Summary: It’s Loki’s first time looking after your daughter alone.

Rating: All ages/SFW

A/N: Self-indulgent as hell. I’ve reached the age where the thought of Loki with a baby makes me all fuzzy and warm inside. A rare fem-specific reader from me. Pure fluff.

LOKI MASTERLIST

“Are you sure you can handle this?”

“Am I sure?”

“Yeah-“

“Am I sure I can handle watching our child for a few hours?”

Loki raised a brow, blinking at you as you sighed, putting a hand on your hip, holding his gaze.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You said lowly, lips quirking faintly upwards. Loki rolled his eyes slightly, casually moving to lean a hip against the kitchen counter, folding his arms over his chest.

“Darling, please, I am a God.” He smirked, that smug one he does when he allows some of his arrogance to surface. “I am very much capable of looking after our daughter whilst you go and ‘let your hair down’.” He paused, his ocean eyes flickering over your features. “Natasha is correct, you deserve to unwind a little.” He told you sincerely, knowing how hectic everything had been since the arrival of your daughter over six months ago.

“But what if something happens and I’m not here-“ You tried, brows furrowing in worry.

“I’m a God, remember?” Loki cut you off, raising a brow, shrugging. “Besides, what could possibly go wrong?”

Famous last words it seemed.

Freya had been crying for the last twenty minutes. Nothing seemed to be working. Not even a touch of illusionary magic was doing the trick. It seemed to work for the tiniest of moments, Loki letting out a breath of relief, before suddenly the wailing continued as if she was now offended by his attempt to quell her upset.

Yes, this was the first time Loki had been left alone with Freya - if you couldn’t already tell.

Children of his own was never something Loki had ever considered, but when you came along and time went on… Well, having a child seemed less like a nuisance and more like an adventure. Being on Midgard for the last five years had changed Loki. Sure, he was still very much the God of Mischief, but now, he had an air of maturity about him. Being apart of the Avengers, having somewhere he belonged… Friends… You… Of course, if you had told him this would be his situation years ago, he would’ve laughed and called you ‘absurd’. Yet, here he was.

The God of Mischief… Defeated by a baby.

“Can we not discuss this like adults?” Loki asked rhetorically, a sardonic wry edge to his voice as he bounced Freya gently in his arms, one of his large hands supporting her back. His brows were furrowed, lips parted slightly as he looked at his daughter who was insisting on wailing still. “I mean, really, I think you’re making some… excellent points-“

Another wail.

“Yes, I agree.” His hand at her back patted her lightly as he let out a deep sigh. Freya’s tiny hand found its way to his curls tucked behind his ear as she grasped it, pulling in her little rage. “Ow! No- No, we do not- There is no need for violence.” He moved towards the couch, feeling a headache begin to form. He began to feel slightly self-conscious, worried he was doing something wrong.

He’d read all the baby books possible before she was born, but it seemed even they didn’t have an answer for everything. He’d tried feeding her, rocking her, putting her down for a nap, illusions, change of nappy— Everything that could’ve been the issue. He sat on the couch, shifting Freya so she could sit on his lap, his hands still supporting her, one staying at her back whilst the other held under her small arm. He looked down at his daughter, seeing her blue eyes all glassy, cheeks red and puffy from crying. It was a sight he would’ve once found extremely… well, snotty. But with Freya, his flesh and blood, it only unsettled him, tugged at his heart.

“You certainly are your father’s daughter.” Loki mumbled to himself. “Throwing a fit of rage for reasons no one else seems to understand.” He tilted his head slightly. “Perhaps someone misses their mother, hm?” At that, Freya went silent for a moment, as if she understood. Loki raised a brow, holding his daughter’s gaze. “Oh… Is that it?” He slowly began to realise that he was likely correct. It was the first time she had been without you since she was born, and whilst people underestimated babies capabilities to understand their surroundings, he knew better.

“Well, I’m here.” Loki said lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And I may even be considered more fun than mum.”

Another wail.

Loki winced at the sound, his smile dropping from his face. She didn’t like that notion it seemed. He glanced at the clock, it had only been an hour since you’d left - although it felt like several.

“Right.” Loki muttered under his breath, before getting up from the couch, once again holding Freya to his chest. “Let’s try something different, shall we?” His hand shifted to cradle the back of her head gently, once more bouncing her softly in a soothing motion. Clearing his throat quietly, he let out a breath before opening his mouth as a low, comforting melody fell from his lips.

“I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene,

Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem,

I eplehagen står møyen den vene,

Og synger: “når kommer du hjem?”

The last note rang out softly as Freya’s cries had ebbed, giving way to a few sniffles. Loki held his breath, waiting to see if the old song had managed to quell his daughter’s cries fully. After a few seconds of no wailing, he let out a relieved breath, feeling a warmth in his chest at the fact he had managed to comfort his daughter. After a few tries, but still. That was being a parent.

“So, it seems someone prefers my singing to my show of powers.” He mused playfully, keeping his tone soft and quiet, scared if he spoke too loud he would send Freya into another episode of tears. “You take after your mother on that one.” He smiled slightly, tilting his head to meet his daughter’s eyes. “Although, sometimes I think she prefers it when I’m completely silent.” His smile widened, seeing how Freya was now giving him her full attention. “Can’t say I blame her.” He whispered teasingly, moving to grab a nearby cloth to wipe away the remnants of tears - and snot - from Freya’s adorable little face. “There. Much better. Can’t have my princess looking like her uncle now, can we? All snotty and bubbling.” He smirked, placing the dirty cloth aside as he began to move back towards the couch. “Not very becoming of her highness.”

Freya made a soft gurgle, making Loki laugh quietly, sitting back against the couch as he kept Freya in his arms, resting against his chest so he could look at her. She was the perfect blend of both of you. His eyes, with raven tuffs of hair, your nose and mouth… She truly was a marvel. “Why don’t I tell you about the time I turned your uncle into a frog?”

—

Letting out a breath, you entered the home you shared with Loki, kicking off your shoes as you paused, listening for any sounds. Silence. Your brows furrowed, glancing at the clock on the wall in the hallway. It was around the time Freya would wake in the night and decide it was time for everyone to be awake with her… Yet, no noise. Creeping down the hall, you approached the doorway of the lounge, peering inside. There you saw it. A sight that melted your heart. Loki had his eyes closed, Freya sleeping on his chest, his hand supporting her head whilst the other held her back. The house hadn’t burnt down, there was no mess, no illusions of frogs or god knows what running about the place… Just… peace.

You felt tears well in your eyes as you leaned against the doorframe, heart feeling like it could burst out your chest. After a few seconds, Loki slowly opened an eye, instantly finding you. His brows furrowed faintly, the glow of the lamp reflected in your glassy gaze as he opened his other eye. It took a moment, but then he recognised that look.

“You had a few glasses of wine, didn’t you?” He asked playfully, voice barely above a whisper. You sniffled, straightening.

“No…” You mumbled, tone completely giving you away.

“Hm.” Loki smirked, before carefully lifting his hand from Freya’s head to not disturb her, reaching out towards you. You immediately headed towards him, taking his offered hand as his slender fingers grasped yours. “Your teary eyes tell me otherwise.” He teased softly. “You get emotional every time you have a glass or two.”

“How can I not-“ You drawled quietly, lips pouting faintly. “-when I come back to this?” You gestured loosely towards Freya, referring to the sight that was before you of the two people you loved most in the universe. “And nothing is on fire.” Loki had to hold back a chuckle at that, his lips quirking upwards.

“See? I told you I could handle it.” Loki mused, a hint of his typical smugness entering his voice as he gazed up at you. Besides, you didn’t need to know about the first hour… In the end, it all worked out perfectly and he felt a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment because of it. “Although, she is most definitely my daughter.” He added in a wry murmur, glancing back down at the bundle of sleeping joy on his chest. Your eyes followed his, your features softening even further - if that was possible. After a moment of silence, you spoke again.

“She wailed a lot didn’t she?”

“How did you-“

“Because you also wail a lot-“

“I beg your pardon? I do not ‘wail’, I… express my frustration eloquently like an adult.”

“Uh huh.”

[4dbarbie-archive]

4dbarbie remix: Give up and Be Free

Hello! It's been a while since my last remix. I felt spontaneously inspired to make this based on my most favourite 4dbarbie asks. This one's a bit different as this time I got help from AI so they did a lot of the legwork and I made edits as I saw fit, it definitely cut down on the amount of time it takes to make a remix! I asked them to write it in a conversational tone like a friendly guru talking to me so some of the wording has been changed (which can sometimes be helpful in understanding the message in a new way) so it's not entirely 4dbarbie's words verbatim but the message remains the same (feel free to check out the source texts if you wish!). Hope you enjoy!

My highlight colour key: key concepts are in pink, action points in purple, really important points in red

Source texts: 1, 2, 3, 4 Recommended reading: 1, 2, 3, 4

Welcome, my friend. Let me guide you through something deeply transformative, yet so simple it might surprise you. First and foremost, you need to get to a place within where the person you’re identified with no longer bothers you. As long as you fight it and try so hard & incessantly to change it, you're only giving it further reality. It’s not about force or willpower—it’s more of a surrender, or as I prefer to call it, a giving up. Yes, giving up. Because even if you're not happy about what you see, there is no way around it besides accepting it. Even if this feels like misery at first, accept it. Just sit with it. Only when you no longer fear things staying the same, when you cease caring, does true change begin.

You see, I didn’t fake being unaffected. I simply allowed things to happen to “me”. Painful, pleasant, it didn’t matter. I didn’t try to change anything. I let go of the exhausting loop of desire and fear, like finally putting down a heavy load. The emotions still came, but I didn’t involve myself with them. They didn’t interest me anymore, I became indifferent and neutral to whatever was happening. If I got what I wanted, fine. If I didn’t, fine again. Events passed by like clouds—leaving no imprint, no reverberation. In time, it was like they never existed at all.

And here’s the beautiful part—you’ll begin to toy with this idea: “What if none of this ever really existed in the way I thought?” It’s playful and not serious because you've stopped caring. You’ve stopped chasing “realization”, stopped chasing anything. There's no more trying, no more effort. You no longer want or need anything. And in place of needing nothing, you find something you never expected: power. Not power over things, but power in yourself, in your complete detachment from the world. When you reach this point, everything else becomes secondary.

So how do you walk this path? Start by giving up. Give up the idea that you can control anything. You can do nothing about life but cease caring and let it happen. Do not try to understand anymore; simply be. Let everything be as it is. Let life happen. After all, we all die one day, and it’ll all be over anyway. Why exhaust yourself worrying, fearing, striving or desiring? It’s like fighting an ocean tide—you’re just tiring yourself out. No matter what, you can't force life to give you what you want. Allow everything its being and leave it alone. Instead, step back and let the waves wash over you, let life happen as it happens. Life will flow as it will, and you no longer push or pull at it.

Expect nothing. Not from your body, not from your mind, not from the world. Let them be as they will. If life wants to beat you, just let it beat you. It’s like facing a bully—when you stop reacting, when you stop caring, they lose interest. Sure, maybe they’ll hit harder for a while, but you’ve already surrendered. What more can they do? The same goes for life—stop caring what happens and you’ll find it starts losing its power over you.

Now that you’ve freed yourself from expectations, give yourself everything. Live completely in the moment, forget about a past, don't think about a future. Be here, fully, now. All the good things you used to think about others, think about yourself. In each moment, ask yourself “What if there’s nothing outside of me? What would I think and feel right now?”. Let go of caring what life does with it, just do it. You’re not doing it for some future result; you’re doing it because it feels true to you; to be free and be exactly what you want to be in the moment. Whether tomorrow repeats itself or brings something new, so what? You no longer depend on anything external to feel fulfilled. You keep to yourself and continue thinking what you want, continue being who you want to be. If life follows along, let it. If it doesn’t, let it not. Hold steady to what feels right within you, and allow your thoughts to shape what's real to you.

Finally, remember to forget. The past? Gone. What you see before you? Just a shadow of what was. Now, here’s the key: Want nothing. Do nothing. Don’t chase, don’t seek—just let yourself be. This doesn’t mean you stop living or acting; it simply means you stop the endless striving, the relentless push to try make life bend to your will. Instead, just watch what happens. And most importantly, don’t attach any meaning to it. Be a witness, a quiet observer of the flow of life. Whatever happens, good or bad, is just passing through—you have nothing to do with it. It’s not permanent, nothing is. So why believe in it as though it were immovable? Cease caring and be free!

Let the world dance as it may, but you—remain still within. Watch as the transient nature of everything becomes clearer. You’ll see that the world outside is nothing more than a reflection of the thoughts you no longer hold, and that what you once took to be reality soon ceases to be when you take away your identification.

[hinatiny]

crazy ੈ✩‧₊˚ akaashi keiji

in which akaashi is so crazy for you, he barely knows how to cope with it. getting you flustered is one way though.

w.c: 0.6k

akaashi loves you. so much, so dearly, that he’s convinced he’ll die if you ever slip away from his fingers. he’s convinced heaven and all that is holy is wherever you are, and that he’ll be denied access if he ever does something atrocious enough for you to leave him.

akaashi loves you. so much, so deeply, that it hurts, as if loving you equals diving into a vast ocean of emotions where every wave carries the sweetest currents of affection.

akaashi loves you. so much, so intensely, that he feels like he could cry.

of course, he doesn’t. at least not while you’re sitting in a study room - doing anything and everything but studying. he knows that if he were to suddenly tear up and sniffle and sob out of nowhere, it would only worry you, and what is he supposed to say when you question it? “i just love you so much and it sometimes scares me that i’m able to love someone to this extent, i genuinely can’t see a future where you’re not part of it and if there is one like that i don’t want it because maybe we’re just some goofy college students right now but i can’t wait to move in with you in our new apartment next month because there’s nothing i want more than to spend the rest of my life with you and all of this is so overwhelming but i wouldn’t change that for the world.” is that how he feels? most definitely. will he express that? nah, not really.

akaashi doesn’t say much, for now content with listening to you ramble on about your day, your yesterday, your tomorrow, your new plastic plants you’d bought for your apartment, your storage of gossip newly stocked from some of your classmates, and everything between heaven and earth as you munch on pocky every now and then. he doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s still attentive to every word you say by the way he nods, hums, occasionally comments something or asks for further details. more than anything though, you know he’s listening by the fondness in his eyes and the small but true smile that lingers on his lips.

“so i’m not crazy for wanting to clock her that day, am i? i mean, obviously i didn’t do it or i would probably get expelled but with her attitude i clearly wasn’t in the wrong for at least considering it, right?”

now, akaashi doesn’t condone violence, and he would stop you had you ever decided to act on that option, but he nods in the palm of his hand, puffs an airy chuckle before expressing that you weren’t in the wrong. if that’s enough to make you laugh at him for even agreeing, he’ll make such exceptions any day of the week.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t agree like that,” you grin.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t consider clocking a classmate for something like that.” akaashi raises a playfully judgemental eyebrow at you.

“well, guess i must be crazy then.” you giggle at the sigh he lets out, following up with how you have to stop saying such things so proudly, although his smile widens the slightest bit. you tuck a chocolate-coated stick between your lips, speaking past it, “but you still love me.”

he blinks at you, once, twice but soon gets up his feet, hardly rushed but fast enough for you to not properly process how his palm shortly after goes from his chin to fall flat on the table; the one of his other hand finds your jaw, holding your cheeks so gently, just barely squeezing them between his fingertips. 

akaashi does love you, so so so much, he doesn’t doubt for a second that he might be the luckiest man on earth. he doesn’t express that either though, and instead hides his overflowing emotions behind a sly smirk as he tucks the other end of the stick between his own lips. “guess i’m even crazier then.”

[yuri-is-online]

Plead the Fifth (Riddle, Floyd, Azul, Jack, Lilia, and Ace x Yuu)

Summer vacation is all fun and games until someone asks you to be honest with yourself. Unfortunately for Yuu, they got dragged to the beach by some "friends" and are getting a big old dose of heat stroke, just not from a source they want to confess to outside of a court.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, no spoilers for Lost in the Book with Stitch this is just about their summer outfits. Vague tsundere vibes from Yuu, Yuu is implied to be physically strong, Floyd knows he's hot and has a bone to pick from Portfest, also he's a red flag have I mentioned that before? Azul is only mildly possessive don't worry about it ♡. Mild suggestiveness all around, but I don't think it's too much. Feel free to check out my more serious work on my masterlist.

Riddle

"Seriously!" Riddle's cheeks are puffed in annoyance, and you have an uncomfortably close view. Not that you don't like looking at Riddle, quite the opposite, it's just hard to look at him... properly when he's fussing over your injured hand. "You would think that such a highly recommended resort would have better quality glasses." You don't know if you should be relieved or insulted Riddle believes it's cheap glass and not your raw strength responsible for the glass shards stuck in your hand. You flex it uncertainly, and he stares you into stillness. It's hard to focus with him so close, hard to breathe even. How Riddle hasn't noticed how beautiful he is normally is beyond you, but with how carefree he's been, staring out at the ocean and happily bringing you to see every unique shell he can identify, there is no way he can't at least sense how you look at him. It's just too much, and you find yourself pulling away worried he will find you disgusting.

But that's not what Riddle sees. He sees someone he cares for refusing to let him help. He certainly does not see someone who is nervously infatuated with him attempting to soothe their heart rate, otherwise he wouldn't have the nerve to continue being strict.

"Just where do you think you're going?" If he could collar you, he would, but instead he has to satisfy himself with yanking your shirt to keep you from struggling away. "Don't move, that's a direct order, prefect." You wheeze and Riddle decides to politely ignore your struggles, instead focusing on the weight of your hand in his with a smug sense of satisfaction. He is useful to you isn't he? So let him monopolize your attention for just a little longer.

Floyd

"Oooh Little Shrimpy~" You want to die. You probably are going to, Floyd has never been so close to your face without pinning your back to a wall, you would be stupid not to see it as a threat to squeeze. "You better not be thinkin' about callin' me adorable that'd really piss me off." You swallow. Or at least try to, you are horribly painfully aware that he has chosen to pick this fight just off the boardwalk meaning everyone can see your little spat and how little you have been looking at his eyes. Floyd can too, it's been sending a vaguely exciting shudder up and down his spine all day. He knows every dip and curve along his chest your eyes have followed, every lingering stare at his flexing shoulders, it's like you want to eat him for a change. He found that electrifying.

Or at least he had, but this little dance was starting to get boring.

What sort of predator never makes a move after setting the mood? He had tried telling himself he should be patient, shrimps aren't predators. Maybe Yuu needed extra time to set up their attack, he could work with that, maybe leave a few openings. But he was starting to run out of buttons to undo on his shirt and he really didn't want to ditch the sunglasses or beads just yet. He had been such a good patient eel, so why weren't you jumping on him already?

"I don't think-" You force yourself to look up at Floyd's eyes instead of his chest and your brain immediately fries. "I mean that isn't to say-" He glares at you and you try to wrack your brain for what compliment he could possibly want out of you. There is no way Floyd Leech is going to these lengths to try and get you to call him cool.

"Y'know, it's really rude to not answer your seniors shrimpy." Floyd draws himself up to his full height, with an oddly solemn look. "You're usually such a well-behaved little shrimp, is somethin wrong? You know if somethings wrong you had probably better tell me or Azul's gonna have to call the Headmage."

"It's because you're too hot ok! I cant focus on what you're saying because I keep looking at your fucking chest! Happ-" You can't get your compliment out before he's squeezed you into his chest and started shaking you around like a rag doll, squealing something about how hunting isn't that hard and he knew you could do it.

There's no way you were ever the one on the prowl here.

Azul

This isn't a date. Nothing about this is meant to be romantic, you are having a "purely platonic at best but lets be real this is probably for business" drink with Azul at the tacky (his words not yours) poolside bar. "I wouldn't have thought about putting a water park next to a beach." He murmers to himself, carefully photographing every angle of his float before sitting down to drink it. "It just sounds redundant." You shrug, idly stirring your own drink.

"You'd be surprised. Some humans really don't like swimming in the ocean." You're the one saying it, so he has no real choice to belive it but it's hard to wrap his head around.

"How is one of these parks safer? They aren't nearly as clean." He thinks that if he ran a place like this, that would be the biggest problem, humans are messy creatures already, but the level of mess he has just casually observed while sitting here with you really makes him wonder just what the actual appeal of this place is. Well, at least just what the appeal was to paying customers, he knew why he wanted to bring you here. Usually, when Azul turns to look at you, you immediately look away from him. But as long as you've been on this little vacation, no matter how many times he's looked your gaze has remained exactly where it should be. He's puffing with pride, looking you over wondering exactly what angle he can press to get you to say what it is you actually are thinking and not whatever cheap jab you have prepared to protect yourself.

You remain none the wiser, stuck staring at Azul and his shirt simultaneously drowning in how attractive you find him and how much it reminds you of a man in his mid fifties who relies on his bank account to make up for his miserable personality.

"See something you like, prefect?" Azul is unbelievably happy, you are tempted to say smug but then he sort of always does. It's the glasses you think as you bite on your straw and hope he doesn't notice how hard it is for you to maintain eye contact. But he does, oh he does, taking advantage of your flustered state to move closer to your side.

"You- you..." Azul is stupidly attractive he has to know that, but you also know he is desperately insecure and don't want to send him into a spiral with your stupid tongue. "You look like a middle-aged dad on his third divorce on vacation trying to doge the tax man." You mutter, trying really hard to sound threatening. It doesn't work, Azul just gives his best put upon sigh as he clucks his tongue in disappointment.

To your great surprise, he moves his hand to tilt your head to look him directly in his bright blue eyes, a similar smile to the one he has while trying to sell you on something directly kicking your heart rate up. He is trying to sell you on himself, you realize...

"How insulting, my dear. You should know better than anyone that no one gets out of a contract with me so easily they'd be able to do it three times." ... and he doesn't intend to take no for an answer. Not that it was the answer you intended to give him in the first place, and oh how happy he is to know that.

Jack

"Honestly! You would think you'd know to be more careful by now." You might as well be talking to a brick wall, Jack's certainly solid enough to pass for one. He still seems to be under the impression that he's fine despite how much of his weight you are supporting. You think he is trying to talk, but the heat has him only babbling nonsense. Reluctantly, he lets you guide him over to a shady patch of trees close to a water fountain before he is well and truly gone.

"This is nothing. I handled the Savana I can take a stupid beach." He mutters as if he his extremely visible chest isn't heaving or rolling with droplets of sweat that other, lesser people have been watching drip from his abs with extreme disrespect.

Not you, though! No, your eyes have been firmly on the spicket on the fountain, determined to soak one of the smaller towels you brought and gently press it to Jack's forehead. Despite his insistence that he's fine, he leans desperately into your cooling touch, tension leaving his shoulders in one deep breath.

Just as all strength leaves yours as he decides to collapse into your lap.

"J-Jack!" You don't know what you want to ask next. Your back is pinned to one of the trees, Jack's head is resting firmly in your lap, but the arm that had been around your shoulder has decided to move around your waist. He growls (growls!) when you gently try to push him off you to try and get him set up in a more comfortable position. "Bad dog." It's all you can think to say and he doesn't seem fazed, if anything you swear he starts holding you closer. There is no way this could get any more embarrassing.

"Mommy, what is that guy doing to his partner? It looks like he's trying to eat them." Never mind yes it could. You make awkward eye contact with a very young mother as you try to silently plead with her that "no, this isn't what it looks like, I swear" as you desperately try to revive Jack with the damp cloth. The young woman looks at you then to her child, clearly trying to hold back her laughter and not doing it very well. She manages to usher him off before he can ask any more pointed questions and you glare down at Jack.

"You're setting such a bad example." You mutter and he lets go of your waist only to cross his arms over his chest and start to snore. Oh he is going to be so embarrassed when he wakes up, assuming he believes half of what you'll have to say.

Lilia

Love and Lilia are old strangers. He knows he can feel it, no matter what ancient denials he might have made, but he finds no matter how long he lives he is no better at recognizing it, no better at knowing what to do with it. There's something ironic about how much of an outlier this chance meeting between you both that makes him feel something akin to apathy. He doesn't think that's quite the right word, but he struggles to better find an explanation for the little knots it ties itself in sometimes.

So Lilia may not know just what this emotion is no, but he knows he likes the way it looks on you.

"Well, prefect? It's rude to stare you know." He says that as if he is not trying to make you, winking just over his sunglasses and striking a pose Cater had shown him on magicam in just a silly enough way that he can pass it off as one of his usual jokes. Your usual denial flutters up on your face, but your heart seems to be beating your brain to your tongue today.

"You look very cute, Lilia." That strange pit is filling with nervous flutters again, but his brain beats his soul to his mouth.

"That's good! I was worried I'd have to spend this vacation in the shadows out of shame." He says, fully aware that you are both currently sat in the shade of a particularly large umbrella precisely because he can't be out in the sun for long, even if that's the purpose of a beach vacation. Speaking of which... "Why don't you go join the others out on the beach, prefect? You helped me with my little errand, you deserve to take a break." He says it much more gently than he'd intended, if it wasn't pointless, he'd keep you here and needle you for more cute reactions. Maybe he would ask you to try on his shirt and demand yours as payment. But that's not fair, that's not life, this connection is destined to be as fleeting as it is precious. The way disappointment and confusion mingle in your eyes tells him you know that too, on some level.

"Calling you cute isn't a chore, but sure, I guess." You tell him something about calling for you if he decides to go somewhere else, and he thinks he promises you only if you do the same, but he doesn't know. He's too focused on the way the sun takes you into it's embrace, taunting everyone but certainly him specifically with just how much you look like you belong out there in the daylight.

But the moon can still observe can't it? In a way that's all he knows how to do.

Ace

You really hate how low your standards are. Who the hell gets all jittery and flustered over a guy in a boater hat? You apparently, Ace has the worst dad on vacation fit you have ever seen, assuming you are politely ignoring Azul. Something that's unfortunately easy for you to do and has led to you paying just that much more attention to Ace.

Or at least that's what you've been trying to tell him while pointedly staring out at the shore. You wish he was too lazy to put things together, but as usual, when there is an inch to tease you over, Ace Trappola will take a mile.

"Admit it, you think I'm hot." He sounds so infuriatingly smug. It makes you want to kiss him but only to shut him up! Not because you like him!

"The only thing hot about you is how full you are of hot air! Seriously, what's up with that bunch of fruit on your shoulder? Why would I find that attractive?" You know it only sounds like you are asking yourself, begging more like, because you really do think he's attractive. It's written all over your face, you might as well scream it with just how flustered you become when finally you decide to look back at him.

"It's ok to admit. It might be self-centered to say, but I really am a catch. Really prefect how did you get so lucky?" Oh he is never going to let you live this down.

"Please, you look like a dead beat dad on his third divorce!" Your voice is unnaturally high, and Ace just laughs off your insult. "Who would be attracted to you!"

"You, duh." He takes your hand and pulls you back towards the beach. "Besides, if I convinced you to marry me twice, I can do it a third time." He winks at you over his shoulder and you stop dead in your tracks, so overwhelmed with annoyed affection and embarrassment it's all you can do to grasp for a come back.

"Was it Duece."

"What?" Ace is momentarily thrown, extremely confused by what he perceives as a change of subject.

"You said you could convince me to marry you a third time, but you're on your third divorce. So when did you leave me for Deuce ?"

"Wait I didn't- you know that's not what I meant!" And yes, technically, you do know that's not what he meant, but you refuse to be the only one embarrassed here. You hope he chokes.

[mitfloya]

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

pairings. Yandere Rafayel x gn!reader

wc. 2k

synopsis. You find yourself lost searching for answers that slip through your grasp. There is a mysterious force that lures you back to the vast depths of the sea, a pull that you can't quite comprehend, a strange connection. It haunts your thoughts, you wanted to find out why does your soul keeps guiding you to ocean.

Only to find the truth that you wish to never uncover.

warnings. The following content contains elements of obsessive behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, possessive behavior, and may include poorly written narratives. Reader is referred to as 'you'. Proceed with caution, as this writing may be unsettling or uncomfortable for some individuals.

a/n. Hiii, I'm back from the dead, I hope it's good (be gentle with me this is my first fic I've created) or evoke some kind of emotions, whatever it may be. I may have gone a little overboard with everything. This will be a small series, maybe there will be 3 parts or up to 5 parts, depends on my mood. Also, this is my thank you gift for the celebration of hitting another milestone on my c.ai acc ♡

The waves, like gentle giants, rolled towards the shore, their white foamy crests crashing against the rocks with a resounding roar. The sound echoed in your ears. With each surge, the water created intricate patterns, as if painting an ever-changing masterpiece upon the canvas of the beach.

Some crashed against the rocks with a powerful force, while others gently caressed the sand, their touch as gentle as a lover's whisper. 

Standing there, your feet were gently lapped by the waves near the shore, your eyes fixated on the vast expanse of the sea, you felt an inexplicable pull, as if there was a profound bond between you and the ocean.

Yet, you couldn't quite comprehend why.

Lost in contemplation, you imagined how the cool waters of the sea would embrace you, enveloping you in their refreshing embrace. It was in these moments that you found solace and tranquility in the presence of nature.

The ebb and flow of the waves became a soothing rhythm that seemed to wash away any worries or troubles that burdened your mind.

Yet, amidst the serenity, there was a sense of familiarity, as if there were fragments of a forgotten memory lurking within your subconscious. Every time you found yourself by the sea or on a sandy beach, a whisper of a memory danced at the edge of your thoughts, just out of reach.

Lost in your thoughts, distant calls of your name went unheard as you drifted into a daze, completely captivated by the sea, you didn't noticed the water has gone up to your knees level. It was only when a familiar hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back from the water, that you snapped out of your daze.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" His voice rang out, a mix of concern and annoyance. "You were about to walk straight into the deep sea! Do you have any idea how dangerous that could have been?" he exclaimed, gently pulling you back to the safety of the shore.

Startled, your gaze locked with his eyes, a blend of deep purple with delicate speckles of pink. In that moment, you found yourself drowning in the vastness of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away.

His eyes held a mix of emotions, like a tumultuous sea that you couldn't quite decipher. You couldn't help but wonder if your encounter was more than just a coincidence, if there was a greater significance to the intertwining of your paths. The depths of his gaze seemed to hold the answers, yet they also posed more questions, leaving you both intrigued and captivated.

There was something undeniable about the connection you shared, a magnetic pull that transcended mere concern. In that moment, you realized that his eyes held more than just worry for your safety—they held a glimpse of a deeper connection, an unspoken understanding that seemed to bind you together.

The depth of his concern in the eyes are as clear as day, it momentarily puts you lost at words.

The situation slowly sank in, you realized that you had been so absorbed in your thoughts that you had unconsciously ventured into dangerous waters. The level of danger had escalated beyond what you initially thought, as the water had gradually risen without your awareness.

You blinked, your voice betraying a tinge of guilt as you stammered out. "I… I didn't even realize," you admitted, your words laden with a sense of remorse,. "The ocean… it just pulls me in. I can't explain it." Your eyes darted around, avoiding contact with Rafayel.

He sees the way you looked at the sea, sensing that you were searching for something, perhaps a connection or understanding.

In that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope momentarily danced across Rafayel's face, as if he believed you had finally recollected something significant to him.

…But as he searched your eyes, that tiny glimmer faded, replaced by a mix of disappointment and frustration.

A deep sigh escaped Rafayel's lips, his eyes rolling with visible exasperation. "Oh, please," he scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "As if the ocean has some deep, personal connection to you," he muttered dismissively.

The atmosphere grew heavy with an unspoken tension, as Rafayel's words hung in the air. It was clear that he felt let down, hoping for a shared understanding that seemed to elude him once again.

Rafayel's frustration grew evident as he let out an exasperated huff, pushing away his bangs with an irritated sweep of his hand. "Look, we've got enough problems trying to win this damn classroom competition. We don't need you drowning yourself in the process." His head shook slightly, a clear expression of annoyance etched upon his face.

You felt a pang of regret wash over you, seeing the frustration etched on Rafayel's face. "Thanks for being worried, I guess," you mumbled, your tone tinged with a touch of bitterness. He could've said it nicely at the very least, you thought.

Feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you for nearly getting yourself drowned, you quickly shifted your gaze to the expanse of the ocean stretched out before you.

The colors of the sea danced before your eyes, shifting seamlessly from the vibrant hues of turquoise to the deeper shades of indigo, as if an artist's brush had painted a masterpiece on the water's surface.

You couldn't help but wonder if there was a hidden world beneath the surface. Little did you know, you had been conversing with one of those hidden beings all along.

You noticed Rafayel's hands waving in front of your face, interrupting your oceanic reverie.

"I've heard the locals said that there is a mythical creature who roamed around this water, can you guess what it is?" His voice took on an eerie cadence. His head tilted slightly, as if he was assessing your reaction.

"Legend has it that those who make a pact with this sea creature are granted a special favor," he weave the tale as his gaze were penetrating your skin. "However," he paused, his words dripping with anticipation. "If one were to forget or break their oath, the consequences would be nothing short of catastrophic."

Drawing near, he leaned in, his voice a mere whisper in your ear. "They would face a fate far more harrowing than their most dreadful nightmares could ever conjure." His breath made your skin crawl, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

The tale he spoke of leave you with an eerie sense that there was more to this tale than met the eye. It was as if the threads of the story resonated with a deeper part of your being, stirring emotions and images that had long been dormant.

Yet, you shook off the discomfort, determined not to let Rafayel's words unravel your sense of reality, even as they lingered in your mind, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease.

With a light-hearted push, you nudge him away with your elbow, mustering a witty retort to maintain the casual banter. "Nice try, but I'm not one to fall victim to the legends of mermaids."

Unfazed, Rafayel continues to weave his tale, his voice dripping with a seductive charm. "How so? Don't their enchanting melodies and mysterious allure at least pique your curiosity?"

The weight of his words settled upon you, causing a shiver to ripple through your body. Yet, you maintain your composure, "Well, Rafayel," you taunt, "if mermaids are truly as captivating as you claim, perhaps I should take my chances. Who knows? Maybe I'll be the one to befriend a mermaid."

Oh, you already did and it was more than that.

Your soul remembers him, resonating with a familiarity that defies logic, while your conscious mind grapples with the mystery of who he truly is and where your paths have crossed before.

It's like your souls hold a hidden story, a shared history that teases the edges of your awareness, just beyond your grasp. The unspoken bond that lingers between you cannot be denied, as if your paths are intricately woven together, waiting to be unraveled.

In his presence, you find yourself both anchored and adrift, caught between the intangible and the tangible. The ties that bind you are not of this physical realm, but of a deeper dimension where emotions and memories intertwine like the ebb and flow of the tide.

There is a profound bond between you that goes beyond mere attraction, as if you have shared lifetimes together before.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the water, you and Rafayel became entranced by the moment, surrendering to the breathtaking beauty of the sea.

The scenery sparked a creative fire within you, the gentle dance of the waves mirrored the rhythm of your thoughts, as if the ocean had bestowed upon you the ideal theme for the upcoming classroom decoration competition. It was as if the universe had handed you a vibrant palette, ready to bring your ideas to life.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as an idea began to take shape in your mind. "Hey, what if we choose the ocean as our theme? We could create an underwater wonderland, wouldn't that be cool?" you suggested, your voice filled with enthusiasm.

Rafayel eyes widened with surprise, he took a moment to consider the suggestion. "That's actually not bad," he shrugged, his tone casual yet intrigued. "We could use blue and turquoise hues to mimic the ocean's colors, and hang paper jellyfish and other sea creatures from the ceiling. It'll be like stepping into an enchanting underwater realm."

The two of you continued to brainstorm all the way home, ideas flowing like a current, as you imagined transforming your classroom into a captivating oceanic paradise.

As the sounds of crashing waves slowly faded into the distance, replaced by the comforting rhythm of your footsteps, a familiar banter and laughter filled the air. The easy camaraderie between you and Rafayel created a warm and comfortable atmosphere, where the worries of the day seemed to melt away.

Minutes passed by, as if time had lost its grip on the endless conversations and moments of solace shared with Rafayel. He was like a soothing balm for your weary soul, a safe haven where your restless mind could find peace. His presence was like a sanctuary, where the weight of your worries seemed to dissipate into thin air.

Regrettably, the front gate of your house loomed before you, signaling the end of this cherished connection. With a warm smile, you waved goodbye to Rafayel, a bittersweet farewell that left an ache in your heart. "We'll talk more later, see you at school tomorrow!" you called out, hoping to preserve the thread of conversation that had woven its way into your shared journey.

He reciprocated with a smile and a wave, his eyes following you until you disappeared behind the closed door. As the facade he wore crumbled, a torrent of emotions flooded Rafayel's mind the moment you were safely inside. Frustration tightened its grip, as he struggled to understand how something so vital between the two of you could slip from your memory.

However, a twisted sense of satisfaction settled within him, as he relished in the knowledge of your home, a piece of your personal life that he now possessed, fueling a dangerous determination to claim you as his own.

This was never your home, and it would never be, for he had vowed to create a sanctuary where only he could offer you peace and happiness you deserved.

He knew that he had to do more, to make you realize the depth of his feelings. With unwavering resolve, Rafayel promised himself that he would build a world for you, free from any disturbances or distractions.

No one else would have access to this sacred space; it would be an intimate domain that existed solely for him and you.

"Wait for me, my love. I'll show you how much I adore you."

© mitfloya 2024. Kindly refrain from altering, translating, or reposting my works on any platform without obtaining my consent.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I've been thinking about how Ed starts directly killing people in s2e8. I've seen a lot of worry that this is tragic, that it's Ed falling back into a life he hates with more vigor, and I don't think it's meant to be understood that way at all.

I think it's a triumph.

One thing we absolutely have to understand: there has never been a time on the show when Ed wasn't killing people. That's true for all characters; this is a show about pirates. Even in s1, Ed was leading successful raids and ordering racists skinned. In a realistic sense, nothing has changed.

The difference is in how Ed does not need to construct intricate ways to distance himself from it anymore.

We know that Ed's first time killing was his abusive dad, an event that deeply traumatized him, and it left him thinking himself an absolute monster. His own capacity for violence disgusts and terrifies him, and even though he's been very successful in a very violent career, he needed to distance himself from killing people ("the fire killed those guys, not me") to avoid confronting this part of himself. He believes that the part of himself that is so capable of violence is irredeemable, a monster, unworthy of love.

Even at the start of the season, when Ed is in a self-destructive spiral, it's debateable if he's directly killing anyone. If Lucius had died, he'd probably have said the sea did it, not him. The guy we see him shoot during the raid sequence already had a knife through his chest - it's a step up, and surely meant to be understood as self-harm more than anything else, but that's still a mercy kill, if anything.

Compare to the finale of season 2. These are direct kills, there is no way to argue that Ed is not responsible. It is not debateable that Ed killed all those British officers.

A lot of the worry I've seen around this concern how Ed is going back to what he's good at (as Pop-Pop told him to), and there's an asusmption that that is killing people/violence. But that's not true, is it? Ed's never been good at killing people, his hangups around directly killing are a known character trait. So...what is Ed good at?

Think about how the scene plays out. Ed sees the Republic burning; he can only assume Stede is either captured, wounded, or dead. He's horrified and dazed, his ears ring - he kills the two British soldiers who happen upon him, he decided to fish up his Blackbeard outfit.

What is Ed actually good at? He's a good pirate, a good captain. He's good at keeping his crew safe, he's good at keeping Stede safe. He has to think he's either going to be embarking on a mission to get revenge or to save his boyfriend.

At first, I was very hesitant about the idea of Ed having to go back to piracy, which he says he hates. But what he was actually trying to do was drown Blackbeard, the part of himself he sees as so unworthy of love. He needed to see that Blackbeard is part of him, that he's not a monster or unloveable, that Blackbeard can help him save his friends and his boyfriend.

It's not a coincidencethat the show goes out of its way to make Ed's killing people in this episode as morally easy to accept as possible. The British officers we see are all racist and mean and unpleasant - like, damn, singing 'we shall never be slaves' while making Black characters serve them? Gross! They got what was coming to them! This is the 'racists deserve to die' show, after all.

And Ed uses this violence as a tool for love, to get him back to his boyfriend, to give them a triumphic reunion. I don't think it's a coincidence that this is when Ed tells Stede he loves him, either - he's come one step closer to accepting he's worthy of love, he's more ready to acknowledge what they have.

Ed doesn't have to feel bad about killing those officers. The show doesn't ask him to. He gets to retire while still wearing his Blackbeard outfit - Blackbeard gets to retire, not be drowned with a canonball in the ocean. And we're left with Ed, still with a lot of growing to do and a lot of self-discovery left, but he's closer to realizing that he's not a monster and that he's so deserving of love.

[briefalpacashark]

The Date

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“What in the blazes happened?” Price asked calmly his last nerve hanging on for dear life, as he examined the two in front of him. The yell that was received after many moments of silence.

“I DON'T KNOW!” you yelled back tears gathered in your eyes. You stood there. Drenched to the bone, knees all scraped up and a small section of your hair singed down to your shoulder. Simon's unconscious body lay sprawled on the ground, his feet tucked under your armpits having to drag him the rest of the way to your rooms. 

“We were sitting on the pier and there were these candles, then my hair caught fire and then Simon tried to put it out and then he tripped on the table somehow and we both fell in the ocean but Simon hit his head. He said he was fine but then he passed out on the way here and and,” you sucked in a snotty breath the realization hitting you.

“I RUINED MY FIRST FUCKING DATE, I KNOCKED THE FUCKEN UNCONUOIUSE! I MEAN WHO DOES THAT!?” you cried loudly. Jonny who had appeared with Gaz wasn't helping the situation having burst out in hysterical laughter. 

“SHUT UP!” You snapped at them only earring heavy laughter.

You sat in the med bay next to Simon's bed reading the report the other nurses had written up. Your knees had been patched up. And you had changed into some dry clothes. Simon had a slight concussion, nothing to worry about. But still. You looked up to his mask faced with a deep sigh. Trust you to wreck the first date. It had been going well until that moment. You were talking, laughing. You had seen Simon’s hand inching closer and closer to your own. 

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you grumbled dropping your head into your hands.

“Well, I wasn't going to say anything,” Simon's gruff voice had you snapping up moving to stand.

“Thank fuck your a’right,” his eyes cracked open to look up at you.

“It will take more than a lil hit to the head to stop me love,” he murmured.

“That's all it took. Nearly squashed me when you keeled over,” you muttered checking his vitals before shining a light in his eyes to check his response. He watched you fuss over him with the same funny feeling he always got when you looked after him. He debated briefly to lie about another ache or pain just to continue getting the same treatment.

“You would have caught me,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, I did. Tore up my knees doing so. You know how many weeks of teasing I'm going to cop cause of it. Jonny alone will make every dick sucking joke under the sun before noon, watch it happen,” you grumbled.

“Price already thinks it's a weird sex injury,” you muttered bashfully remembering the raised eyebrows you got with your explanation. 

“On the first date? Bit adventurous don't ya think?” you could see his smug face through the mask.

“Shut up,” you mumbled plonking down on the side of the bed. “You ok though?” you asked softly.

“I got to go on a date with the prettiest woman in the world. I'm fucken ecstatic,” he shrugged. You flushed, it was a new kwirk Simon had adopted. As if freed with his confession he had started to say the most out of pocket sweetest things. It shocked you to say the least.

“We need a crash cart. Full head scans!,” you called into the hall.

“Look at that, Docs blushing,” he mused. You cleared your throat returning to his gaze with a teasing smile.

“Some date it was,” you muttered, your expression falling slightly. He reached up, taking the burnt strands into his fingers. “Certainly was interesting,” he muttered. 

“You can say that again,” you huffed, an embarrassment crawling up the back of your neck. Yet before it could reach your head, it was stopped.

By Simon's hand that slipped onto the base of your cheek, his large hand being big enough to cup your cheek, his fingers sliding into your hair. His thumb gently brushed your cheek bone. “It was the best first date I evea had,” he whispered. You loved the soft side of Simon. You really did. But it was still a shock to your system.

“You sure you're ok,” you playfully reached for his forehead. Only as you did Simon snatched your hand gently yanking you forward. Your chest fell onto his, your faces hovering inched from each other. You could have sworn you could feel Simon's heart beating twice as fast as yours. 

“Wanna hike my mask up for me love?” he asked his thumb to stroke the corner of your mouth, his thumb brushing your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your heart thumped in your chest as his other hand moved to your lower back to keep you propped against him.

“What for?” you asked with a blush that reached the tip of your ears.

“So I can kiss till ya knees buckle,” you could see that stupid grin through his mask. 

“Thought you were going t-to do it at the lookout?” you stammered.

“Well plans change,” he shrugged. “But a promise a promise,” he whispered in that dangerous low tone that challenged your very innocence. 

“Can you stop being so fucking sexy please? It's a lot,” you let out a shaky breath. He chuckled deeply, his laugh bouncing you top him slightly. He was laughing at you, in a moment like that. It was one of his amused laughs too.

“You're an ass,” you grumbled, your blush deepening.

“A sexy one apparently,” he whispered. 

“So you gonna lift my mask or do I have to do it myself?” he asked. You were about to respond when you both heard the role of an nurse stool. You both turned to the left where Jonny slid up to the bed, propping his elbow on the bed so his face was at a level with yours.

“I'll be more than happy to help LT,” he grinned. You dropped your face into Simon's chest officially passing away from embarrassment.

“Kill me now,” you begged.

“You know when we said look after her we didn't mean, let her beat you up,” Gaz strolled over to the other side of the bed plonking down on a chair to copy Jonny's position. 

“We shoulda given ye the talk instead of him,” Jonny smirked at you as you sat up Simon reluctantly letting you go.

If looks could kill Jonny would have been dead, cremated, buried, raised from the dead at least five times and killed all over again. That was what Simon wanted to do at that moment. 

“How long were you guys there for?” you whispered, hiding your mouth behind your clapsed hand.

“Long enough to hear you ever so nicely ask Simon to stop being sexy,” Jonny was having way to much fun.

“Don't worry. We didn't see any of the knee action,” Jonny winked at you. His attention was grabbed by Simon who reached over, tightly gripping his collar and pulling him down to his level.

“I’m going kill you. Get your affairs in order,” Ghost growled.

“Come now Simon, we were only making a wee joke. Ain't that right bonnie?” Jonny asked looking to you for help. The realization of the predicament washing away his amusement.

“Would you like to be buried or cremated?” you asked seriously.

After Simon was discharged you all walked out of the med bay, you side by side to Simon watching Jonny and Gaz replay your previous predicament. You had to say Jonny was going a bang up job acting as you.

“Oh Simon,” he pretended to swoon.

“I'm gonna kill them,” you whispered in promise.

“Not if I get them first?” Simon hissed.

“You can't get both of them. That's just being greedy,” you grumbled watching as Jonny dramatically fell into Gaz arms.

“I'll let ya have Gaz,” he suggested.

“Fair,” you shrugged in agreement.

“How are we doing it?” you asked.

“Knife obviously. No gun shot. Silent,” he said.

“True, but a lot of clean up. Could leave a blood trail,” you pointed out. 

“It's gonna rain soon,”he shrugged.

“And the bodies? We would have to drive them out of base,” you stated.

“Weigh the bodies down and chuck em in a lake,” Simon said.

“Sounds like a plan,” your agreement was followed by a short moment of silence that was broken by both of your chuckles.

“What a night huh,” you whispered.

“Not finished yet,” he whispered. Before you could ask what he meant a hand clasped around your waist pulling you into his side. His body bent over leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet and tender kiss, his other hand holding his mask up. It was bliss, sweet and warm. It made your toe tips tingle. Pulling back your eyes that had fluttered close opened briefly catching a glimpse of the bottom of his face. His stubble sat on a sharp jaw line with scar’s poking out. One even pulled the left side of his mouth making his smile every so slightly crooked. The way he stared deeply into your eyes had you frozen. You stared back at him with the same such eyes. Both filled with admiration. 

“Well now I'm just disappointed,” you shrugged. He frowned, pulling his mask back down but didn't move from his position.

“Why's that?” he asked.

“Knees didn't buckle in the slightest,” you shrugged. The corner of his mask pulled up in his smirk. “Didn't know you'd want that sort of kiss in front of an audience,” he grinned. Your eyes shifted to the boys still stuck in there own little world having not noticed the kiss.

“You Simon are one hell of a sweet talker,” you whispered.

“Just for you love,” he whispered back, straightening up to continue walking, slipping his hand in yours. You smiled your whole body on cloud nine as he gently tugged you close.

In the end, you thought the night went pretty well.

“GHOST AND Y/N Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. AHHHHHHHH!” Jonny's high-pitched scream sounded as he sprinted off Ghost hot on his heels.

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=COD MASTER LIST HERE=

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[stormgardenscurse]

made for you - puppet au

Summary: In a steampunk-esque setting, your guardian-slash-mentor left you with one thing after their passing—a self-autonomous puppet that was designed to blend in with humans, who would protect and accompany you in your mentor’s absence.

Characters: Floyd, Ace, Cater, Lilia

Warnings: mentions of blood in Lilia's!

Floyd

Outsiders might complain about Floyd’s flippant change in moods, saying that you seemed to be the only person he doesn’t get annoyed with.

In two ways this judgment was flawed: they didn’t know he was a puppet (and so thought he was merely a scary traveling partner of yours), and he does get mad at you sometimes. Namely when you do things for others that he thinks are unnecessary, because why do you have to be the nice one and try to maintain relations with people you weren’t even close with? 

Floyd never got why you stress yourself out with things like that—and if you told him to help you with such tasks? Expect him to either turn to a game of cat and mouse (behind your back, he’s the cat and some other person is the mouse) or fulfill it with a dangerous gleam in his eyes when a stranger sees him, saying ‘don’t approach me, I’m really not in the mood’.

He rarely directs his frustration at you, though. Call it part of his design or whatever, but for the most part he’s more lax around you, slinging his arm over your shoulder or asking if you wanted to do (insert unhinged scheme) with a casual tone.

You worry about the people that he does get into fights with. Floyd doesn’t pay much attention to his inhuman strength and things can get awkward when people question it—leaving you to stand there, contemplating if you should reveal the truth.

But… while Floyd doesn’t really care for the distinction between being human and not (as long as you treat him as equals), he finds it fun when people think he’s just an unpredictable human. The looks on their faces and struggle when he tests their limits are always a sight to behold. 

Humans really are quite amusing—but of course, you’re his favorite one.

Ace

Ace has an inner conflict, one could say.

As charismatic as he can be (and by god was he a convincing actor), Ace would always, at the back of his mind, be conscious of the fact that he wasn’t human.

Nevermind the fact he’s probably more humane than some people out there, but he always has the feeling that it wasn’t enough. There’s a type of jealousy that crops up whenever he sees you interacting with people—he’s not sure if he’s jealous of the way you are, with your quirks and emotions that he idealizes despite how he claims otherwise, or if he’s jealous of the others around you.

He’d never fall sick or actually feel physical pain. He could be repaired so long as his core was salvageable, and so Ace could never be your friend in the way he might want to be. He wonders, sometimes, that in an alternate world—if he was human, would you look towards him the same way you do now? Would you still pick him within an ocean of so many, if he wasn’t a puppet crafted by your mentor?

Instead of expressing this, Ace of course directs these feelings into a personality that’s a little bratty. He’d challenge your requests at times, asking if it was an ‘order’ and only complying if you pushed back.

You’ll hear a lilt in his voice when he calls you ‘Master’ mockingly. For the most part Ace’s mean streak isn’t that bad though—he does show concern for you and is essentially a best friend that keeps you grounded. Sometimes you wonder if he actually liked being bossed around, thinking of it as a way to acknowledge the odd relationship you had. 

You don’t see him as a servant or object, but perhaps he finds some comfort in the idea that he was made for you. That way, your attachments to one-another was completely normal—you’d always pick him, right?

Cater

Cater is a puppet that lets you know his world revolves around you, if only to see the adorable expressions you make in response.

He doesn’t care for his own maintenance that much, nor about hurting himself in your defense or while doing tasks. Cater’s good at masking such things too, with long-sleeved or layered clothing to hide his mechanical injuries away. He says it’s unsightly and he’ll just fix it himself later, but you always recognise when he’s lying about how it’s ‘not that bad’. 

It makes an odd feeling ache in his chest whenever you do that, making him sit down in the privacy of your inn room so you could patch him up. There’s an unreadable look in his gaze at times like those, asking you if you saw him as someone that could actually get hurt. You said yes. Cater makes sure to remember that. 

He’s flirty most of the time, acting good-natured with others but obviously trying to charm you in particular. People tend to think you’re a couple because of that, and is it so bad if Cater kind of likes the sound of it?

He enjoys how genuine of a person you are—sure, everyone has their own thoughts and darker side that they keep to themselves, but he’s never detected falsehoods in your emotions towards him. Maybe it helps that you know he’s a puppet—why would you feel the need to guard yourself from him the same way as others? 

He likes this exclusivity he has to the different sides of you, especially since he’s a key link to your past. It’s also easier to focus his time and energy on someone else than the gloom that sometimes spreads in his system, which was surely just another mechanical flaw.

"I'm just supposed to make sure you're happy, Master~ So don’t worry about it!"

Lilia

No one would suspect that your cute companion would have a rather… uncompromising side, with it came to getting rid of nuisances that threatened your safety.

In his defense, he was kind of built to be a deadly weapon—the world is a dangerous place after all, and Lilia doesn’t mind being the one that protects you from those that may do you harm. Your mentor dabbled in areas that garnered them enemies, thus the association and knowledge you possessed was a dangerous light to greedy moths.

You never actually witness how he is in combat, though. Lilia always returns from his missions quietly, wiping the scratches and blood off of his synthetic skin. He greets you with a smile if you’re still awake at that point in the night, and you’re none-the-wiser about the expressions he can make when he gets serious on the field.

It’s night and day, the difference between how he is there versus how he is when mingling with people or with you. Lilia likes how you rely on him during your travels. He has a backlog of historical knowledge that he collected shortly after he was crafted, but nothing compares to actually being in different nations and seeing things with your own two eyes. 

He enjoys calling your name in a familiar tone and hearing you do the same. Lilia hopes to be a presence that reminds you of home, so it’s only natural that he cherishes the lighthearted and heart-to-heart conversations you have. 

Leave the bodyguard work to him; there’s a reason your mentor made a puppet for this purpose, after all. And honestly, Lilia’s quite happy with the way his life was right now. It was much richer than the endless clockwork of a workshop, and pretty things that did nothing compared to your warm words and sparkle in your eyes that was so undeniably human.