#how many people thought that deep in their soul they were an animal?

[sharkgirldick]

Not to be controversial to my most beloved audience members but. I think people who wish they weren't human or believe they aren't human have one of the most fundamentally human beliefs.

[utsugyo]

ANYWAYS, wrong blog but, as I was re-reading the manga, I noticed that s.asori didn't even use his 298 human puppets in the fight against c.hiyo and s.akura, he only used 100, that is taking only the manga into consideration where its noticeable that he still has 2 scrolls left to use attached to his back, and assuming each of the last 3 scrolls contain 100 puppets each /as the one he released was the one from where he summoned the 100 puppets he used in the fight/ (the last scroll would only be missing two puppets to complete the last hundred which would have been c.hiyo and s.akura probably) and this paired up with the fact that he could have avoided the final attack by the mother and father puppets makes me think that he really wasn't giving up his full potential (which is something that lit chiyo says) but it just makes me think that there's even more details to add to that reasoning;; now the reasons why he just basically let himself be k.illed can be argued, but one thing for sure is that he definitely had more tricks under his sleeve that he just willingly decided not to use (be it out of pride/underestimating his opponents, or something leaning on the very small bit of humanity left on him & the reason he is an 'incomplete' puppet in the poetical sense)

[talkbycolor]

I deserve this

A/N; at this point its obvious that i inspire in rebzyyx songs

Pairing; "Your Boyfriend" x AFAB!Reader (cus people are scared of the word trans)

CW; reader becomes willing at the end i swear / unhealthy, obsessive and possesive love / sensitive topics such as mental health, depression, anxiety, fear of abandonment, dissociation, suicidal thoughts / a crazy concept: he talks about his emotions!! / non-con, violence, like, i cry while i masturbate

It's quite blurry trying to remember how it all started, it seemed harmless to accept a date from a stranger, he gave you a beautiful rose and was quite kind to you.

Feeling that people could like you, that someone could be romantically interested in you, because of who you are, your personality, that they knew your… desires?

Because you had dreams, of course.

…

Your dream was to live, to live a quiet life, a stable, pleasant job, with good pay, a normal and peaceful life, where the deep emptiness in your heart was non-existent, years had passed and the monotonous feeling did not disappear, you had already accepted the pain, after all, if you felt that constantly it was probably because you did something wrong at some point, right?

But that was a personal dream that would never be shared.

And it's not like that matters now, not when you're in… A room, that's funny, your last memory is of Peter slamming you against the table to tie your limbs since their last date didn't end as expected and It was time to go home.

Return to an empty home, for what? Peter was more than willing to take care of you, why was he so scary? Accepting it would have made things easier, but you ruined everything by trying to run away, you even fought tooth and nail, that was too pathetic now that you remember it, maybe you DO deserve all the shit that is happening.

You could have saved yourself so much terror and attacks.

"PETER ENOUGH! PLEASE! LET ME GO! NO! NO! FUCK, PLEASE!" You tore out your throat with terrified screams and tried to claw at his skin until your fingers were bloody, biting the hands that tried to stop your screams, hitting his face with your elbows and kicking him away, crawling like a dying animal away from him. "PETER!" You sobbed sharply before losing consciousness.

But nothing worked, resisting only made all that shit worse and now you were tied up, in Your boyfriend's old clothes.

You barely remember how you got to that place, or if time passed, anyway that doesn't matter anymore, from one day to the next you find a very small piece of clothing that turned out to be yours, time passed, your body grew but your mind didn't, they keep lying but you know that your life will depend on how well you do it.

And you're not doing it right, you tried to adopt toxic happiness but you couldn't even maintain it for a while before exploding, sadness was already an everyday thing and you just weren't feeling it anymore.

"Dear?"

Just peace please, how hard could that be? It was annoying, you even felt angry for feeling so empty, because people were so rude and the constant rejection killed you socially.

It was hard to breathe, wasn't it?

"Love? Do you hear me?"

It feels like the end, your soul is bleeding, you wish your stupid job made you feel a little more alive and motivated to continue.

And now you have done so many things to escape from that monster that pulls you back to the room to devour you under the bed.

"Darling!" Your boyfriend's voice echoed through the room, making you look at him once and for all, your eyes tired despite having been unconscious most of the time.

"…" You wanted to respond, really, but what were you supposed to say?

"You must be exhausted, you didn't even touch dinner" It was a tricky phrase, he had tried to feed you since you were tied up.

"Peter-…"

"I already told you that I prefer to be called other way, honey" He responded with a smile and a definitely not irritated tone.

"I want to sleep" He left your lips, he was being so caring, taking care of your health.

He kidnapped you.

And you couldn't even thank him for it.

He knocked you out.

You really were an ungrateful shit, weren't you?

He locked you up.

You wanted to return the signs of affection.

Soon the ropes left your body, Peter helped you stand up and you both walked to the bedroom, he was still carrying a small plate with a light dinner, he refused to let you go to bed without having eaten dinner.

Once in bed, he made sure that you had a proper dinner, and he helped you change your clothes so that you would be comfortable in bed, he also did the same with his attire and now you were both lying down. It always made your stomach churn when he looked at your half-naked body.

"Dear" He murmured next to you while you tried to sleep as soon as possible, so many things had happened those last few days that the only way out was to sleep, you had probably already been fired from your job for not showing up. "Honey, love, darling," he said sweetly as his hand went up to your cheek, he simply looked at you with a huge and probably painful smile on his face, almost tattooed, you made him so happy with your mere presence.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, your mind still cloudy enough to refuse anything, so you just went up to kiss him, the room was very dark and there weren't even crickets echoing at night, the amount of silence was overwhelming… of course, that didn't count the lip-smacking they shared.

So it continued.

For a long time.

"Pet-…uhm, I mean, honey, I'm tired and I want to sleep" You interrupted the honey session.

"Please, you don't have to do anything, just let me love you, darling" his voice was soft, soothing to that darkness but not to the painful weight in your heart and the knot in your stomach, his touches felt strange.

You know that's wrong, you don't like it.

You didn't stop him, just like he said, you let him love you as you closed your eyes and a buzzing sound echoed in your head, like television static, your bottom clothes had disappeared, but that didn't matter.

You couldn't hear anything, you didn't see anything, your body reacted but your mind was very far from that place, you wandered through your memories, fantasies of a life you were never going to have.

It was really digging into your cunt, huh? Even when your mind wanted to flee somewhere else, it was undeniable how he held your thighs and you gasped heavily with each thrust.

His member was still dripping his seed, did he use protection? You don't know, you don't care.

It doesn't matter.

B e cau se s oon y o u w il l b e d ea d.

"Honey? Didn't you enjoy it?" Peter asked with a worried frown.

What the hell is wrong with you? Do you no longer have respect for yourself? You know it's going to hurt you.

Don't you mind dying? You lost hope and you don't even try to help yourself anymore, damned and pathetic attempt at being human, really unnecessary.

"Honey…" Peter caressed your cheeks and brought his forehead to yours, sighing softly and carrying your body to the bathroom in the room.

You didn't say anything either, you just felt how it was cleaning your body, the water was warm, the bathtub full of bubbles, and it smelled pretty good, like coconut soap. Peter hummed quietly as he treated your body with the utmost affection, you were sure he was whispering things in your ear but you were barely aware of your surroundings.

When your eyes finally focused on something you could see the ceiling of the room thanks to the moonlight, Peter was behind you, hugging your body, caressing your hair, and sniffing the soapy fragrance.

"You are so sweet, so unique, so kind, so special to me, a truly exceptional person, I will do everything to make you feel comfortable, darling, I love you so much, my adorable-…"

"Peter"

"… Yes love?" This time he didn't argue about that name, you were finally talking and that was good.

"I'm sorry I feel so alone, I know you're here but…" You wish you could give him an answer but that was something even you hadn't figured out yet.

"It's okay, honey, I'll be with you to hold you, forever."

♡

[stormofdefiance]

True knowledge exists in knowing you know nothing || Dr. Ratio & Socrates

Okay, I legitimately laughed out loud writing that title, but listen. LISTEN.

Ratio's inspirations derive from many sources; from referencing Archimedes's brain-blast in the tub, to being doomed to have his head bonked by Newton's apple ad infinitum in his idle animation, to his ultimate line ('esse est percipi' / 'to be is to be perceived') a direct quote from Berkeley on Idealism - it's apparent that his design nods towards scholars across time periods rather than being a direct parallel to a singular academic.

Nevertheless, just for fun, I've been rotating Ratio and ancient greek philosophers around in my head and have had a great time chewing over how parallels Socrates in particular. I am in no way saying that Hoyo even thought about Socrates while they were designing Ratio, but I thought I'd share my thoughts. I think there are some worthwhile parallels to be drawn that touch on all aspects of Ratio's own philosophy regarding ignorance, the value of knowledge, and his deep appreciation of life. So, let's get into it.

Ratio is interested in humanity and curing 'ill minds with knowledge', that 'to turn a blind eye to the folly of others is not an etiquette, but a wicked worldly practice.' Ignorance is a disease - this is a concept that can be viewed through a Socratic lens. Socrates believed that that virtue and knowledge were impossible to separate from one another, and that virtue could be developed through acquiring knowledge and insight. If knowledge is virtue, then ignorance is vice. In Socrates's mind, no one would rationally choose to do something bad. People might choose to do bad things, but this is rooted in their own perception of the world - as in, someone would only choose to do something bad (for the world, or for themselves) because they believed (erroneously) that it was the right or good thing to do. To Socrates, the cure to this was knowledge: 'There are two kinds of disease of the soul, vice and ignorance.' & 'What does most harm in the world is not sinfulness but ignorance'.

To Ratio, 'If ignorance is an ailment, it is the duty of the scholars to weed it out and heal the universe'. He views his own ignorance as 'filth' that must be cleansed through methods such as reading. He also views knowledge as a method for humans to overcome their problems - 'Another day has passed. If your problem still hasn't been solved, is it possible the problem is you?' & 'You look distressed. Is something troubling you? if so, you can figure it out for yourself.' These statements sound harsh, but they also clue us into Ratio's philosophy - that through self-examination and improvement, one can overcome one's ailments.

Socrates was also known for being a trouble-maker, he was abrupt and tactless and did not care for someone's social standing nor decorum. He was also known for using what is now called the Socratic method, asking a series of questions that ultimately seek to show contradictions in the beliefs of those who posed them, and to move systematically towards a hypothesis free from contradiction. Socrates rarely made assertions himself - after all, he had no wisdom of his own. But he could interrogate others in order to expose their own foibles, much to the embarrassment and annoyance of those around him. He was once described as a 'gnat' chewing on the 'lazy horse of Athens', causing it to wake up and spring to life due to his persistent gnawing and prodding. Ratio also employs the Socratic method - 'I'm asking questions' - and also adopts sophist tactics such as playing devil's advocate and taking opposing sides (with both himself as seen a story quest, and with others as we see with his texts urging us to take up a side so he might debate us). Through questioning and interrogation, upsetting what we consider social convention and norms, we can dispel contradictions and thereby come closer to some form of truth.

To add to this - as highlighted in the replies below - Ratio’s skill ‘intellectual midwifery’ is a reference to the Socratic method. The idea being that Socrates helped those around him give birth to the knowledge that was already within them, rather than treating his students minds as empty vessels for him to fill with his own answers. Again this is beautifully echoed in Ratio - he doesn’t want to tell you how to live your life, he wants you to work out for yourself what it is you need, thus empowering oneself through self-examination and questioning.

Socrates did not believe in writing anything down. He believed that face-to-face communication was a far more effective way of communicating knowledge - which means, unfortunately, what we know of Socrates is primarily derived from secondary sources. Much of what we know about him today comes from Plato's dialogues, and Plato was known for liberally exercising artistic license.

Although Ratio is not dead, I find it interesting that his character story is told exclusively through secondary sources. To quote - '…There are no less than eight documentaries detailing his legendary exploits, and over a dozen memoirs about him. However, despite the plethora of commentaries, none of them seems to provide a compelling perspective.' It's as though there are no surviving fragments penned by Ratio's hand and all we have to go on is through the lenses of other people. This challenges us, perhaps, to try to think about our own interpretation of Ratio since secondary sources cannot be taken as a wholly unbiased account - and once again employing the Socratic method and empowering the reader to come to their own interpretation.

While Socrates left no writing behind, he was interested in spreading knowledge. Socrates spent most of his life in Athens, a city that was, during his lifetime (~470-399 BC), a hotpot of scholars, wisemen and philosophers. Athena, the Greek god of wisdom, was named after the city - her symbol the owl that is also appropriately perched on Ratio’s shoulder. Also in Athens at this time where the sophists. The sophists were a class of intellectuals who were known to teach courses in various subjects - but often for a high fee, and generally centred around the idea that persuasion and the use of knowledge as a tool was more important than wisdom or truth itself. There's some debate about whether Socrates could be characterised as a sophist himself, but, crucially, he is characterised as refusing to take payment for his teachings. He was born a plebeian (perhaps you might describe it as a mundane background.) He was known to dress in rags and go barefoot, speaking to and (often antagonising) people from all walks of life, preferring the marketplace as a center of debate than palaces or courtrooms. I can't help but think of the sophists as similar to the genius society (or at least Ratio's depiction of them in contrast to himself), cooped up in ivory towers and gatekeeping knowledge to the most privileged. He doubts if Herta's talent is always helpful to others, he compares Screwllum to a 'monarch'. Then again, the sophists may in fact be a bit of a parallel to the Intelligentsia Guild - from Ratio, 'when someone is willing to listen to knowledge that is being disseminated and circulated, a price is created'.

Socrates (or at least the Platonic depiction of Socrates) was at one time declared the wisest man in Athens by the Oracle of Delphi. Socrates balks at this assertion - how can he possibly be the wisest man in Athens when he in fact knows nothing at all? This was not a claim made of modesty - he truly believed that he had no wisdom, that he was unsure what 'wisdom' itself even was. Ultimately, Socrates concludes that the only way that the Oracle could be correct is that by actually acknowledging that he knows nothing he paradoxically is the wisest man in Athens. All wisdom, therefore, is rooted in wondering, with wondering only possible if one is open to admitting one's own ignorance.

What I love about all of this in relation to Ratio is that Ratio styles himself as a mundanite. The Intelligensia Guild advocates that 'all knowledge must be circulated like currency' and accepts 'all beings… who seek to learn'. Ratio has no time for the satisfied self-styling of intellectualism, he himself states that 'to speak knowledge, we must first make people realise their own folly.' No one is above criticism in this regard, even himself - again, to quote 'Whenever someone agrees with me, I feel like I must be wrong.' Again, I feel as though he would resonate with Socrates here: 'Smart people learn from everything and everyone, average people from their experiences, and stupid people already have all the answers'. With Aventurine, he is quick to mock his appearance as over-the-top and vapid - once again making it clear his distate for vanity and hollow displays of showiness (albeit he may have been acting for Sunday's sake here. Also, no comment about this coming from a man who runs around in a toga, lmao) Equally, with Aventurine, it is clear that Ratio is willing to learn from him - he apologises when he offends, he abhors his methodology and yet he still relies upon it and trusts in Aventurine's plan, he is drawn to him in some ways precisely because he is so different to himself. Aventurine (at least styles himself) as impulsive to Ratio's slow and steady methodology, Aventurine whose learning has been entirely self-made vs Ratio who has spent his life in classrooms, Ratio who scoffs at Aventurine's favourite games of chance yet adds slot machines to his simulated universe. And to Socrates, the experience of aporia – in all of its discomfort and disruption – is the very catalyst of wonder, and that wonder was not just the root of wisdom but also the way to live a good and happy life. There is something beautiful in this to me, and this extends to Ratio. Ratio fundamentally cares about life. For all his brashness, his lashing out against 'idiots', his harsh demeanour - he wants people to live good lives, he wants to contribute to the good of humanity - all people, even those he is annoyed by, he cares so profoundly and absolutely about life. The entire reason why he is obsessed with wisdom and learning is not to exalt or elevate himself, not as some kind of ritualistic expression of piety towards a deity, but it is instead an expression of devotion towards life itself. Ratio has a strict work out routine not so that he can show off his body, but because living healthily is living well and working out is a component of that. Even the way he fusses and worries about Aventurine, someone he is pointedly irritated by, reveals how deeply his care runs. So so much of his character is centered on caring for life, even if it is not immediately obvious.

Finally, I'd like to highlight some ways in which Ratio is not like Socrates. First of all, Socrates was repeatedly described as 'ugly' by fellow philosophers Plato and Xenophon - this is contrast to Ratio being repeatedly described as 'handsome'. This is an interesting subversion to me (albeit likely an indulgent one) as in both cases both men attempt to distance their physical appearance from the weight of their words. Ratio wears the bust for many reasons, but way to view it is that he is attempting to stop his appearance from bearing any influence in the subject of debate.

Socrates was also said to be blessed by a divine touch, and as we know, this is something that agonises Ratio as Nous has not yet turned THEIR gaze towards him.

Lastly, Ratio has - thankfully - not yet been ordered by the state to drink hemlock for all his trouble-making and blustering. Though perhaps he may someday be put on trial by the IPC if the theories that he is working alongside Aventurine to undermine the corporation are true - we will just have to wait and see.

Thanks for reading my little ramble. I'd be super interested in anyone's thoughts if they'd like to share, but regardless, I'll leave off on some of my favourite wee quotes from the Rat man:

'Even a life marked by failure is a life worth living - it is only in moments of solitude and despair, when help is absent, that fools grasp how to pick themselves up.'

'Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck.'

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Sleeping Beauty

Summary: While you sleep peacefully, a bloodthirsty monster called Angron guards your dream.

Angron/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power imbalance, guilt, angst, trauma

Word count: 1214

Author's note: I want to write a full fic about Angron, but for now there's only a drabble. @kit-williams, I remember you liked him the most, so I encourage you.

Song: Tiamat - The Sleeping Beauty

The sleeping beauty She stops the bleeding She stops the bleeding in my soul She is fresh air in this stinking world.

Beyond the planet, in the vastness of space, it is always dark. And yet people still cling to the banal day/night settings. Even in the 30th millennium, despite all the technology, people needed to sleep. Angron was a primarch, he could go without sleep longer than usual. With nails, it was even harder to calm down.

But you needed to rest. And despite Angron's desire to keep you near him longer, to hear your voice, he could not deny you basic needs. He could not force or torture you. Besides, even sleeping, your presence calmed the man. Although the pain from his nails was still noticeable.

In special moments, when the rage was too strong, he was afraid to be too close to you. You were too weak, too fragile to be broken in a matter of seconds. Agron could control himself, but the very thought of losing you caused a strange burning in him. He did not want to risk it.

Your sleep is deep and carefree. Wrapped in a silky, warm blanket, you saw beautiful dreams. Peace and safety were felt around you. While the primarch, like a hunted and wounded animal, sat in the very corner of the room, watching you without stopping.

Luxury, carefree joy and comfort were alien to him. Life was not kind to him. And he did not want to be kind to himself. Not after he abandoned his brothers and sisters to die on the battlefield. Not after he betrayed them. They deserved warm food and shelter.

And yet he allowed his quarters to become a little more comfortable so that you would be better off. Previously, you lived very close to the primarch, enjoying the illusion of freedom. But with each passing day, his nails dug into your head more and more. So soon you began to sleep next to him.

Many mortals and World Eaters silently wondered what was so special about you. They whispered, they envied, they glared at you. So be it. Angron cared nothing for their opinion. He cared only for you. The main thing was that you were fine.

He did not want to make you his slave. You were a kind and gentle girl. You did not deserve such a fate, even if the Imperium openly used serfs. You were not a warrior, not like his brothers and sisters. You could not fight for your life. Any attempt would be doomed to failure. So Angron swore to himself to protect you.

He had already lost his family in Nuceria. He had already cursed the blood of his true father, the gladiator who had raised him. He remembered every face, every voice and movement. Every promise made in battle and every dream of how life would have been if Nuceria had fallen.

Angron clenches his fists and bites into the flesh. The familiar metallic smell of blood fills the air. Just a little, but still, this action brings the primarch back to reality and he comes to his senses. No, he should not let rage fill his mind. He is not in battle and besides, you are very close.

You are very beautiful. Do you know this? How often do your admirers tell you, if any? Angron will get rid of them. Your soul is serene, like a river flowing or like fog. Reminds you of the moments of calm when Angron hid from the slavers in the mountains.

Angron respected only a few mortals and Space Marines. Those he cared about were even fewer. But you burrow deeper into his soul, opening his skull. He remembers his past self, who he could have been if not for his nails. You awaken in him feelings he has never felt before. And did not think he would feel.

You made him human.

Once he saw you crying. You immediately wiped your tears and greeted him with a smile. You admitted that you missed your friends, whom you had not seen for a long time. Yes, you were afraid of him, but you still treated him kindly. As if you saw something good in Angron. But he was not a good man, not anymore.

Angron himself took human slaves. The weak and defenseless, whom he, no, the Imperium, was supposed to protect. He was not proud of it. He took no pleasure in it. Angron only wanted to destroy the Emperor as quickly as possible, and so he used human lives while they were useful to him.

How would life have turned out if Angron had met you earlier? If you had been born in a different time and place? It had been only a short time since the triumph of Ullanor, since the height of the Imperium's power. But now trillions of people were forced to suffer because of Horus' betrayal.

He betrayed the Emperor. But Angron was never loyal to him. And you knew it. You knew his entire story, you listened to every moment of his life. And you accepted him. You may not have been on Nuceria, but you shared Angron's every pain, every anger, every tear he shed. Now he could no longer cry. But with you, at least for a moment, he could feel relief.

You twitch in your sleep. Your lowing voice breaks the silence like a bolt from the blue. Angron's hearts twitch in pain, but he can barely contain it. He rises slowly. Too slowly, he approaches the bed and looms over you like a shadow.

If there were an outsider here, they would be horrified by this image. How a bloodthirsty and too powerful, too unstable primarch looms over a mere mortal girl. Like a beast about to close its teeth around a yielding neck.

But Angron can only watch. He used to devour the nightmares of his brothers and sisters. But over time, he forgot how to do it. You bring peace to his soul, but he cannot repay you in the same way. He cannot calm you, make you happier. Why? Why?

It is not fair.

But after a moment, you immediately calm down. As if you sensed his presence. The man frowns, as if he wants to cry. But he can only look at you with fury, as if he wants to tear you apart. You saw protection in him. Love. But Angron burned with anger. How could you see anything good in him? Feel safe with him?

His hand automatically reaches for your serene face. How much he dreamed of touching you. Without fear that he would break you. Gently run his hand through your hair. Brush away an uninvited tear from your cheek. Almost chastely touch his lips. Angron could do it. Right now, while you sleep. But he does not deserve it. You have already given him too much.

The man carefully hooks the blanket and pulls it up to your chin. You sigh in relief, feeling the warmth and bury yourself deeper in the fabric. Drowning in serene calm, where Angron has no place and will not.

His lips twitch, ready to turn into a grimace. But in the darkness you will not be able to see his bestial grin and glowing red eyes. Even his loud voice sounds enveloping, like an embrace.

“Sleep.”

[finniestoncrane]

ILL DO YOU ONE BETTER,,, cooper fic where he's napping,,, WITH DOGMEAT

Companion

Cooper Howard, word count: 600 please my fuckin heart and soul!! man i love introspective things, i love dogs, i love horrible men who can be soft sometimes, i love horrible men who love animals ;-; 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: lil bit of angst but mostly some fluff!

Finally off of their feet for the day, Cooper let out a deep, long sigh. The cool night air was a welcome change from the desert heat they had travelled through, but it was still stifling, choking him. Smothering. Suffocating. Trying to give himself some breathing room, he kicked his leg out to the side, scraping it along the dust, trying to kick up a barrier between him and his new companion.

“Get, boy.”

It wasn’t just the air, no longer sweltering but still somehow thick. It was the presence of someone with him, along for the ride. It had been so long since he’d had someone with him, longer still since that someone had actually wanted to be with him.

And despite trying his hardest to push him away, the dog he had decided to bring along with him was determined to offer itself to Cooper. Like it sensed something in him that he might have been aware of, but wasn’t willing to accept.

So there he sat in the dark, lit only by the slowly dying fire, trying his best to shrug off the affectionate advances of the dog by his side.

“You ain’t him, boy.”

Cooper leaned back in the rusted garden chair by the fire, watching the flames dance as he took one last swig from his canteen in the hopes that the bitter liquid inside would help him fall into an easier sleep.

As he sat he considered the strange, tethered feeling, familiar as it was, of having someone look to him for companionship. He was so hyper aware of all the years that had gone by. Decades, turning into centuries before his eyes. Whether he was blinking in the sun or trying to find anything in the darkness from his coffin underground. Everything that had passed by, everything he’d seen that he never thought he would, that he hoped he never would. The people who came and went, those like him, those not.

Loyal pets. One loyal pet.

He couldn’t add another to the list. Who knew how long he’d be around. Who knew how long he could stave off the feral nature that was bubbling inside of him. A wild beast in a cage whose iron bars were wearing thinner each passing day.

What if he hurt them? Turned before he could take himself away from them? Refused to let him go?

What if they hurt him? Like so many others had.

How many of them had come and gone? In two hundred years, how many people had passed through his life, willingly or unwillingly. It would never get easier, at least it hadn’t yet. But the way that the paw settled on his leg, a knowing whine as the dog pushed him to take the comfort, he considered how much difference it would really make for him to take a risk again.

He slid onto the ground, his body relaxing onto the thin bedroll. And when the warm body of his new companion settled down in front of him, he didn’t push away. He placed a hand into the fur, accepting the warmth, the comfort. Something he still needed even after all this time.

Cooper’s eyes sparkled in the reflection of the flames, wet with a bittersweet sadness that overcame him. Of everyone he missed, there was something unique about the loyal bond of a man and his dog. And Dogmeat reminded him of what he had lost, but what he might gain from softening just a little.

“No… you ain’t him, Dogmeat. But I appreciate it all the same.”

[hispieceofcake]

Adam and the abandonment issues and the negligence of heaven

Hello hello folks, I've been thinking and searching a little lately about Adam and deep questions about his personality, and also because a person (a person who has caused me a lot of harm) came to fight with me because I like Adam and today I'm going to talk a little more about this, I hope you like it.<3

TW: Mentions of trauma,heavy subjects,negligence,profanity,and mention of sex.

Firstly, I want to address his creation, Adam the first man, the perfect creation by the hands of God, molded and sculpted in his own image, the one who would be responsible for the earth's settlement betrayed by the two woman he was forced to love because they had been created for him.

And yes, I know that Adam tried to command Lilith and try to subject her to her unwillingness, but then I think, no one had ever told him that it was wrong, from the first moment he was created was told that he was God's perfect creation, so he probably felt so "special" that he thought he could boss Lilith around. And then, the first betrayal...knowing that the person he loved hated him and betrayed him with an angel and then falling to hell with him.

And then came Eve...made from a piece of his flesh, his rib, the one made from his own being that he would love just as Lilith did. And then again another betrayal, Lucifer again, but this time not only taking his wife's fidelity but also betraying his trust by trusting Eve and eating the forbidden fruit.

So I think, guys, how much did all of this must have hurt? What is the pain of being betrayed by the people you swore your love to and having your trust betrayed?

Adam all the time in the series he always seems to reassert himself to himself and to people, he look needs that, I just think how insufficient and useless he felt after everything he's been through, to the point of creating a false narcissistic and arrogant personality to hide the broken man deep within himself. Inside all that facade of "Dick Master" and "The First Man" there is only Adam, only a betrayed and hurt man.

The pain of betrayal, I know what it's like, the fear of being deceived and abandoned again by someone better than you, Adam knows what it's like, he knows what it's like to go through it twice. Hiding your real self for fear of being abandoned again, being ridiculed, being seen as weak, try to feel enough by reaffirming to yourself that he is the best, he is the most badass, that he is the first man like a little boy.

I have in my mind that Adam also wears that mask due to low self-esteem because he never takes it off, not even in heaven, unlike Lute who takes off the mask to walk freely in the heaven, but Adam keeps the mask on all the time even though he doesn't need to. I imagine when he got to heaven he was the only one with human appearance, all other angels and winners (Human souls going to heaven) had different appearances, such as animal appearances, so I think he may have made that mask with horns to feel more integrated into that society and less different, and uses it all the time because he feels insecure about his appearance, because of the trauma of being abandoned in the past, not feeling that his appearance was enough, that he wasn't good enough and then just like his false personality he keeps the mask as part of it.

But the question of all this is: did he realize most of it? Everyone thinks that Adam's actions were born out of conscious hatred and malice, like many villains in the series, but I see that more than his choices came out of ignorance and years of incompetent molding by others, pride manifested in negative ways like vanity and arrogance. , while Charlie was raised with limits, pride manifested in more reasonable things like self-respect. To make a long story short, Adam has always been an idiot since he was created, there are lines where he says without sarcasm or hesitation that he has never made a mistake in his entire life, sounding as if he sincerely thinks he has never made a mistake, the fact that he can say that with sincerity and a clear conscience despite being guilty of almost every sin in the book so far really sets him up for a question that makes you wonder what's going on in his head.

And then this line from him in the trial episode: "Well, yeah, they have me here, right, Sera?"

And there it is, the tone and voice of an insecure and confused boy who doesn't know what he preached seeking approval, that's another reason why you can't be mad at Adam, he never had proper guidance or teaching in his entire existence both in the garden of Eden and both in heaven.

In the final episode Adam then gives his final speech, and the way it was presented sounds less like a villain asserting, showing dominance one last time, it's more like genuine confusion, as if this isn't how he was told that things are supposed to be, this isn't how things are supposed to work, which feels a lot like his first dialogue when he's introduced, his understanding seems like such a soft thing and he believes it with all his might, as if he needed something to believe in.

All of us living beings we are generated in our mothers' wombs and then we are born and protected and taught by our fathers, taught what is right and wrong, protected and safe. But Adam, he was just raised as an adult and with a purpose behind him, so I think "Could it be that Adam was just a confused little boy in an adult's body with a big obligation on his hands?"

Adam was barely created and already had a purpose to fulfill, he was barely born and already came face to face with someone different from his physiognomy (different between male and female) and kind of practically forced to love her since he barely knew her (Lilith).

I'm not trying to rub Adam's head (I'd really like to stroke his hair) and put him in the position of victim, but guys, he is also a victim! He had never been taught that it was wrong, God, the Seraphim and all of heaven never lifted a finger to give him advice or try to teach him, no one consoled him after he was betrayed, no one was there for him, no one.

So I assert, that Adam is just protecting himself with his big ego and arrogant narcissism and obeying what he thought was right for the seraphim is all he knows.

I also want to highlight, about the first episode of the series, where the meeting with Charlie takes place. Man, he was practically having to have a face-to-face meeting with the DAUGHTER of his first wife's betrayal with Lucifer, and having to hear her say that what he was doing was wrong (not that it really wasn't, but it was the only way to balance the population of hell since most sinners refuse to redeem themselves), I'm honestly not impressed or surprised by Adam's rude reaction, practically having the living embodiment of his first wife's betrayal in front of him telling him what he was taught and allowed to do was wrong.

Adam is not an idiot without feelings, in the scene of his death you can see this, in the moment he looks at Lute and gives her one last smile as consolation to her because he knew she was little by little dying but this time forever, and also as said before in the court scene where he seeks approval from Sera, like a confused boy looking for approval.

Now moving on to Adam's abandonment issues, as I said before in a headcanons post, Adam reaffirms himself by saying that he hooked up with and had sex with several girls, an example of this is him bragging to Charlie during the meeting that he says he had sex with a girl who was interested in the drummer of his band, but honestly, I think that's all a lie, It may be true but I doubt he felt any connection with any of them, I doubt he took off the mask and showed his true self to them, and besides the fact of his fear of being abandoned again, fear of falling in love again and then being betrayed again, as someone who has been through this, I know how the fear of it continues to haunt you and how it hinders your relationships.

In short, I think that Adam was a victim of the negligent system of heaven, but he was also evil, killing demons en masse and causing genocides in hell in the days of extermination, but here comes a question...

"What would happen if there was no extermination?"

We have already been shown that hell ends up with an overpopulation due to the amount of sinners that go there, if I could guess I would say that more people go to hell than to heaven, and it is well shown that most people in hell don't listen to Charlie and her idea of ​​redemption, so I ask you, Were the exterminations necessary or not?

Well, a while ago I was watching a very good YouTube channel and I found an incredible video where he talked about Adam and whether he deserved to die or not, that's the video if you want to see it, he gave me some inspiration for this post. ☝🏻🤓

Adam was actually a tragic character, in essence I believe Adam was someone who had a lot of insecurities and doubts about himself and hid all of this behind his facade, he built this idiotic bad boy and Dick Master persona around him, with the intention of keeping people at a distance and asserting oneself, thus avoiding more hurt and heartbreak.

When he was about to die, he saw that despite his idiotic facade and his best efforts to keep people away, someone (Lute) still cared about him. And in the end, I think that's all he ever wanted, someone who truly cared about him despite the rude way he treated her, and so he died with a smile on his face. Someone really liked him...(I would also love him regardless of his personality, I would try to understand why he is like that, the famous "I can fix him")

Returning to the subject of neglecting of the heaven, from the same channel I mentioned before I found a very good video that talks about this, addressing Adam, heaven and the history.

In my view, Adam was and was not a victim, he was the antagonist of the first season, of course, but we also have to see that he was also one of the victims and one of the most affected due to the lack of responsibility and negligence of heaven in not having disciplined him or at least taught him that it was wrong, I know that Adam is not a child but for me deep down he was just a confused boy in the body of an adult who had no reception or teaching and was betrayed and abandoned by those he loved and trusted more.

Well guys, that's all for now at least, for me Adam is a deep character, full of hidden pain and confusion, honestly I love Adam, I love him very much, he is one of my comfort characters and one that I identify with a little (As for being neglected, I didn't have very good parents and I paid my price for that and nowadays I have some emotional problems because of that).

I wish more people could see the good in Adam and not just fight me and lecture me like how "you wish I talked about my dick all the time and had sex with all the girls he saw in front of me? Do you will like it?" , this was someone's comment during an argument with me and honestly I was hurt by it, yes I'm a slightly sensitive person, but man, it was hard to try to understand the character a little? not even a bit?

Well, thank you very much for your attention, I really enjoyed writing about Adam, it's always very good, kisses in your hearts, bye bye. 💗����

[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 7)

7. What do you wish for?

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: angst, graphic depictions of deaths and fatal wounds, self-harm, brief suicidal mention, canon-typical violence, tiny bit comfort at the end

Word count: 8,4 k

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: I'm glad I could finish the chapter so early and there are some scenes in here that I really loved writing. Also, I want you to pay close attention to the fight Witch has with the fishman. The anime watchers and manga readers that got far enough with One Piece will probably get it faster ;)

I'd be happy to hear your opinions on this chapter. Every interaction is appreciated and thank you so much for sticking to this story till now <3

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

"What is your dream?"

While she would've rather expected that question to come from Luffy, the tipsy Zoro by her side, leaned against the mast, seemed to be rather intrigued by her reasons to remain with Luffy. 

When she turned her head towards him, one of her suppositions was proved to be right: the stars above shone beautifully, but nothing could compare to the swordsman's brown eyes. In the dark, his dark chocolate irises were swallowed by pupils dark as the depths of the oceans. No. Dark and beautiful as the night sky she teared her gaze away from. 

Her silence could've been interpreted in many ways and Zoro might become suspicious, but his already flushed state seemed to swallow everything in. He only looked back at her. 

The witch couldn't exactly spot the specific aura of his gaze. He wasn't only flushed because of the alcohol, no. He seemed… soft, even. His shoulders were relaxed and the grip on the empty bottle loosened up. 

His question was simply something she didn't expect, as he was always down to earth, similarly to Nami. However, there was a tiny difference — he proudly admitted he wanted to become the strongest swordsman in the world. 

"I—," the word left her lips like a mere whisper. 

Her determination faltered under the weight of the alcohol. Until that moment, after sharing some ugly parts of her past, his remarks made her laugh and chuckle happily. 

"I want to be free."

One simple wish that could have so many connotations. 

"I don't see any rope around your wrists."

His voice was like a low rumble coming from the depths of his chest, such a pleasant and soothing sound. 

Their eye contact didn't break. Their gazes were locked together and she couldn't bring herself to be mad about it, especially when she was drunk enough to let vulnerable sides of her poor soul see the light of the stars. 

Faint, shy, but it was there. 

"I want to be free from myself and the expectations everyone has of me," she clarified. "Free from the rules of the world, written or unwritten. Free from the Marines that are now on my tail."

"Why did you become a pirate if you wanted to be free from the Navy?" 

"The sea always looked like a place where I could be free," she admitted with a weak voice. The same tiny voice her younger self used to have when dreaming of a future. 

Zoro knitted his eyebrows together and blinked, staring at the small beauty mark on her face he just noticed. He seemed deep in thought or rather trying to figure out the meaning of her words. 

He was rarely so concentrated outside of critical situations like fights. 

"Are you free now, then?" 

With a gulp, she shook her head. 

"No." 

One word. One heavy weight on her soul. 

"How do you wanna be free?" came another question from the swordsman. 

"I have no clue."

The cage around her was a metaphor. She always felt like iron bars squeezed her tighter and tighter, until she broke down, a situation that occurred only a few times a year and was always hidden from prying eyes. 

Realistically, there was no free place in that world. The Marine wasn't by any means as righteous as they wanted to look like and they were certainly not saviors. Of course, there were plenty of pirates that did nothing else but harm everyone and everything they laid eyes on. Some of them had ugly souls, dark and dirtied by greed. 

However, there were plenty of people that were so-called pirates and yet never harmed unless they had to protect someone. Like Luffy or Usopp. They never took anyone's life. 

Like her father. 

She wasn't one of those pirates. The witch has killed people, even if never solely for blood thirst. Or, at least, not yet. She deserved to die, to never see the light of a new day. 

A personal justice system — that's what she's always had, that's what she grew to learn about from the crew she left barely a year ago. 

Deep down, she knew she would never be free. There was no liberty for a monster. 

When she looked at Zoro, she also wanted him to taste freedom on his tongue. Maybe he already knew what that felt like. 

If she couldn't find her own freedom, she could settle for protecting her friends' freedom. That would be more than enough, right? 

"Aren't you at fault for your own lack of freedom?" Zoro pulled her out of her thoughts. 

His question might've sounded as insensitive and accusing, but she was aware the swordsman didn't mean it that way. He always had his own way with words and, unfortunately, he got misinterpreted most of the time. 

He was simply stating a probable truth. 

Then I suppose I should get rid of my—

No. There was no time to think of such things, even if she was drunk and vulnerable. Admitting that to his face would be shameful of her. 

Maybe she wasn't that ready to share secrets yet, was she? 

"I most probably am," the witch whispered as she averted her eyes back to the sky splattered with stars. "At the end of the day, I'm the only one taking into account what others say and how they affect me." 

She didn't know exactly how to pursue freedom, but she was certain of something else: if that beautiful future stood in front of her, Zoro was probably one of the ways to find out. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch wasn't able to find freedom if she died at that moment, with the blue hand of a fishman gripping at her throat. There was a lingering ache at the crown of her head from when he pushed her against the wall. 

Her eyes squeezed shut while life seemed to slip from her hold, the same way her fingers lost their force while clutching onto the fishman's forearm. She had to find a way to get out of there, to breathe, because her lungs were already begging for some oxygen. Her vision was getting blurry and the pain in her entire throat spread like fire through her body. 

Maybe it was because of her hyper-aware state, but she could swear the wound on her bicep was bloody again considering the sharp pain shooting through her arm. 

No. There was no time to die and beg for forgiveness — and whose forgiveness could she ask for if she stays alive? Exactly. No one's. 

The witch didn't know if she breathed in air or it just felt awfully familiar to that sensation, but her lungs suddenly swallowed something fresh and powerful. It ate the pain hungrily, destroying every doubt in her mind the more she thought of her promises, of the corpse of a father who still whispered in her dreams "go find your freedom".

The grip on the fishman's arm grew tighter, stronger, until her nails dug into the scales and penetrated them. Her fingers ached, the skin around her nails scratched harshly by the sharp broken scales. Fresh blood surfaced. 

Her eyes opened up slowly, burning with each one of her promises, this time including her own — If I can't find freedom, I'll make it. 

Every nerve in her body burnt and she tasted drugs on the tip of her tongue, an addiction threatening to clutch onto her and take control. 

Power. 

The witch has never been one to love power, to ache for it and yet, there she was, with a devil-like grin growing on her face. 

Power. 

It ate her alive and she loved that sensation. The steadiness of her heartbeats, the cage of ribs that broke to make place for that overwhelming feeling. 

Power will never take control of me. 

Her eyes bore holes through the fishman's entire being. There was no need for her revolver when two shining irises had the same effect. 

Her vision and mind has never been clearer. 

The fishman was struck. A weight settled on his shoulders, pulling him down, doubts flickering in his head. 

Claws sank into his eyes, into his face and throat, clutching at his heart, threatening to pull it out of his chest. 

The fishman stumbled and dropped her. 

His strong grip on her throat left blooming red marks. They were ugly and her neck felt tender, but her nerves didn't register the pain properly because of the adrenaline running through her veins. 

The witch immediately took the opportunity, despite the lack of air in her lungs. She crouched down to take her gun, but before she could shoot again, a loud sound got her attention. 

The door of the restaurant broke at the floor underneath her when Luffy got thrown right into it by Arlong.

On the side of the stairs where Usopp crawled down was Sanji struggling to get back up after he cracked his back at the harsh contact with a table. 

People were hiding under chairs and bars from the fishmen's wrath. 

Her anger was fueled by each single detail. One of her shoulders felt light, while the other was heavy. The monster lurking inside her had one eye open — the same one that pushed her to cuss out Mihawk back when Zoro got a cut through his chest. The same monster she wouldn't trade anything for, because wrath has always been her forte. 

The small flame of revenge started burning in the pits of her stomach. Steadily. Still vague, easy to control. 

She ran down the stairs and passed by Usopp, who was at that moment helping Sanji get on his feet. The witch got out of Baratie, suddenly stopping in her tracks when she saw Arlong standing a few meters in front of her. 

That fucker—

Luffy shouted something along the lines of Gum Gum and she knew that was his fight to deal with. 

However, it was a fight she didn't know if he would win at that time, considering the way Arlong only turned his head to the side when he got punched in the face by Luffy's fists. The fishman spat blood on the wooden floor while he stepped closer and closer to the Straw Hat. 

In a fraction, the punch Luffy received sent him flying in the sails of a boat and he fell down with a thud, grunting. It was stupid of him to provoke Arlong further, but Luffy has never been to give up or let his enemies feel the satisfaction of a victory without a proper fight. 

The witch wondered if her captain didn't break a rib or two after being punched and thrown around for so long. He still had the energy to throw his fists into Arlong's face with all he's got, using his rubber arms to attack from meters away. 

His Devil Fruit powers were definitely the only reason why he was alive. 

But not for much longer. 

Arlong muttered something with a growl and once he sank his hand in the water, the witch knew it wasn't going to end well. 

The fishman didn't just splash Luffy; no, he soaked the Straw Hat to the bone and the hit with both sea water and brute force got Luffy to the ground. It was his biggest weakness. 

The witch's eyes widened when she saw Arlong grabbing at Luffy's shirt and lifting him in the air, opening his mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth. 

Her feet carried her for only a second and she almost shouted out for Luffy out of despair — she would rather be stabbed in the stomach countless times than feel helpless again. Out of instinct, the hand holding the gun raised, aiming at—

"Arlong, wait!" 

Nami. 

The witch snapped her head towards her friend. 

The orange-haired woman stomped her feet and came, leaving the Going Merry behind her. The tank-top she wore exposed a strange old tattoo on her left shoulder. She was clutching tightly onto a thin and long cylinder. 

"I have it," she addressed Arlong. "I have the map." 

The map. 

"I got it for you, just like I said I would."

The witch blinked away the confusion that almost made her hazy and stepped in front of Nami, stopping her from moving forward. 

"Nami," the witch knitted her eyebrows together. "What's going on?" 

Nami's eyes held no clear emotion besides a flicker of anger. 

"Exactly what you knew all along."

It was one of those times when the witch wished her tarot was wrong. 

She shook her head, one of her hands gripping at Nami's wrist. 

"Nami," the witch squeezed her friend's hand tighter, scared it would slip from between her fingers. 

"Let go."

Nami snatched her arm out of the witch's hold and her jaw ticked. She wasn't only annoyed, there had to be more in her eyes. 

"You cannot possibly tell me you want to do this," the witch insisted, stepping even closer, until she was one breath away from the navigator. 

Their intense gazes clashed together and none of them let the walls fall. 

"But here I am, ain't I?" Nami cocked an eyebrow. 

When the orange-haired passed by, her shoulder collided harshly with the witch's who was still stuck in place. 

No fucking way. 

The witch needed time to think, she had to search for some clarification with her tarot cards. She needed more time to read the energy, to figure out the situation, to understand what, where, why and when. Nothing made sense and time passed by so fast she couldn't even process it all. 

Luffy was so disoriented he didn't even pour enough force in his hands to get rid of Arlong's grip on the collar of his shirt. 

"Nami?" he firmly spoke. "What are you doing?"

"I tried to tell you, Luffy," Nami continued walking towards him. "I was never on Your crew. I only joined up with you so I could steal the map." 

"I don't believe that," Luffy denied. 

"That's because you only believe what you want to believe. Doesn't make it true."

Nami, for fuck's sake, we both know you're lying—

The witch opened her mouth, ready to argue, to yell from the top of her lungs, but with one glance thrown to Arlong, she stopped. Saying the wrong thing might get Nami in great danger and she might lose credibility in front of him. 

"Sister Nami's a loyal member of the Arlong Pirates," Arlong started speaking, pointing with his chin towards the one in question. "She has been for years."

The witch didn't know why she still protected Nami, but she was certainly not going to give up on her friend at that time. 

Nami shoved the map in Arlong's nose to get his attention to her — or maybe the witch has gotten to another level of delusion. 

"Why waste your time killing a Devil Fruit eater?" Nami reminded the fishman as if it wasn't a death sentence. "Let the sea do it for you."

"Nami, this is too far, cut the crap—" the witch revolted immediately. 

Before she could make any step towards Luffy, she was grabbed by the back of her neck and launched into the wall of Baratie with sheer force — it was one of Arlong's asshole crewmates. She groaned in pain and squeezed her eyes. The shoulder she fell on sent sharp spikes through the entire left side of her body. 

She cussed out, struggling to get back to her feet when Arlong let Luffy drown in the sea. The witch let out a shout of the Straw Hat's name and one of her knees betrayed her, resulting in another unceremonious fall to the ground. 

Lucky for her, an arm curled around her front to help her up, a silver ring resting on the finger of the man. 

"Luffy fell in the water, go now!" she didn't even wait to be properly raised to her feet to urge Sanji to jump. 

Her aching body and the lack of strength wouldn't help her get Luffy out of the sea. She didn't even clearly notice when the cook left her side and jumped into the sea, too caught up in the agitation inside of her. Events passed by her faster than light. All she saw was a discarded shirt. 

She wasn't sure because of what powers she managed to walk on the deck, at the edge where the other two should appear from under the water. Her head turned when she recognized Usopp from her peripherals.

"Luffy?" he asked, panic building up as his hands shook. 

The witch would have responded if not for the answer to appear right under their noses. Sanji held Luffy tightly by the collar and pushed him on the dock with Usopp's help who dragged him. 

The witch extended her hand to bring Sanji on the dock with them and since then, things turned blurry despite her open eyes. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Now the only woman in the crew, the witch sat on the floor in the room that used to be Nami's, her back leaning back against the wooden wall. With eyes devoid of life, she stared up at the ceiling while pulling her knees closer to her chest, once again trying to hide herself from everyone. From everything. 

On Nami's bed there was still an inert swordsman and he didn't even flinch when she tentatively said his name after entering the room. 

"Fucking dammit," she squeezed her eyes shut. 

Nami left. Zoro was unconscious. Luffy almost drowned if not for Sanji. Usopp was bluffing about how "everything has to be alright". 

She didn't know if he was trying to convince himself or her. 

Because everything was wrong. It felt wrong. 

The witch took in a deep breath, but only half of the oxygen she inhaled got to her lungs and brain because of her constricted throat. Tears were sitting on her waterline for the fourth time that day. 

Too much happened since the crack of dawn and it wasn't even sunset. 

Exhaustion made her look years older than she was. Her head fell forward, forehead hitting her knees before the light sneaking through the windows could fall on her face. 

Tears filled with anguish ran down her cheeks and it was the first time she allowed herself to let at least an ounce of the weight on top of her body dissipate. The droplets of pain melted down her cheeks and sank into the material of her shirt. 

The witch sneaked her arms around the back of her thighs and squeezed herself tighter in a ball, lips trembling. Her breathing was ragged not only because of the lump in her throat, but also because of the firm grip that fishman had on her neck. The skin was sensitive to the touch and it hurt to swallow. 

Every event of that day got added one on top of another. Her fight with Zoro, the fact that he was unconscious after that dwell, Nami leaving just like the witch expected to.

Betrayal. Maybe I was a fool for trusting her. 

Or am I? 

Teeth sank so deeply into her lower lip it drew blood and she tasted copper on the tip of her tongue. 

Pain. That was right. 

The only right thing happening that day was the physical pain. Palpable, real, bringing her back to earth. 

Except that time it failed, because the tears didn't stop. She squeezed her eyes shut as sharp pain traveled through her body, from her chest into her limbs, puncturing each nerve, shaking her to the core. 

Her soul screamed, caged by sorrow, an ugly animal that sank its fangs into her flesh and ripped from the inside. Blood was pouring from her heart, soaking organs and bones, melting into the skin like acid. It burnt so fastly, yet it never seemed to end. With a throbbing head, she couldn't hold the pain back anymore. 

However, no sound ever left her lips parted in a silent scream. No whimper, no sob, no cry for help. The room was filled with silence as a heartbeat drummed in her ears in an agonizing rhythm. 

I shouldn't have come on this ship in the first place. Only if I had been wise enough to leave when I got the chance. Syrup Village was a perfect option, I could've gone on another ship and continued my mindless traveling. Why did I bother myself with this? Why did I suddenly decide it was a great idea to be part of another crew when this only has brought me suffering? 

With each second, she willingly aimed the gun at herself and every word was like a bullet. 

I should've left. I would've been happier. I should've left it all behind when I realized this won't go well. Fuck the premonitions, fuck the destiny, damned be the world. 

A body stripped of clothes and skin, only burnt flesh left behind the monster's bites. Broken ribs and a shattered heart pumping a meaningless life. 

As seconds passed by one after another and her tears came to an end, the gentle swinging of the ship pulled her into a half-asleep state.

She noticed when Luffy came into the room and she was aware of his position on Zoro's bed — the cracking of the wood gave him away. As the Straw Hat talked, she only heard the swordsman's name being spoken, some words here and there, but most of his monologue was muffled. 

He probably thought she was asleep because of her slow and steady breathing. 

Exhaustion was clawing at her muscles and brain, but something kept her aware of the surroundings for a few more minutes. 

Everything turned pitch black in her perspective. A husky and deep voice made her believe she was dreaming, the tips of her mouth curling shily upwards. 

Only if it would've been reality. 

"Zoro!" 

Her entire body flinched and she raised her head, wide eyed. If she didn't know any better, she would've said her soul jumped out of her. 

"Luffy?" she whispered, confused on why he yelled the swordsman's name—

"You're not dead!" Luffy shouted again, loud enough for everyone in Baratie to hear. 

He's alive? the witch thought to herself. I really heard his voice. 

Luffy crawled on top of Zoro and squeezed the life out of him. Literally. 

"Now I wish I was," she heard Zoro mumble between grunts. 

He was alive. 

The witch's lungs filled with fresh air for the first time that day. Relief washed over her and her body relaxed, shoulders deflating as some of the weight sitting on them fell into the sea below. 

While leaning her body against the wall, she managed to get up just to get a better view of the swordsman who was squinting his eyes at the ceiling. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, head falling forward. 

At least one thing went right, didn't it? 

After Luffy got up from above Zoro, the swordsman managed to take some deep gulps of air, chest raising up and falling rhythmically. 

"I had the strangest dream that Nami left," he said with a frown on his face as he closed his eyes. 

"She did," the witch responded faintly. 

There wasn't enough courage in her to look at him as she said that, instead choosing to glance at the window. 

Zoro looked again at the ceiling and realized her voice was too faint for all of that to be a mere joke, a prank thrown at him for staying unconscious for… for how long? 

"It's my fault," Luffy said with his chin lowered.

From the corner of his eye, Zoro saw the witch place a hand on their captain's shoulder. 

"We'll find a way."

There was a promise etched onto her fragile smile. As if a simple brush of air or one wrong world could make her crumble. 

But she didn't. Instead, she threw a knowing look to Zoro and silently told him to talk with Luffy. She knew the Straw Hat needed his first mate's support at that moment. 

What confused Zoro the most was watching the witch get out of the room without too much of a word. Her hair bounced as she stepped further away from him and their friends. Even as his ribs and body hurt at every inhale, he wanted to understand the real reason for her leaving. 

Last time they talked, she expressed worry. What happened in the meantime? What the fuck went wrong? 

There was a fat chance she was still mad at him for whatever reason. Sure, she was calm, collected, but he could swear he's seen fire burning in her eyes more than just once and a grin splayed on her face at the thrill and adrenaline of a fight. She snapped at him when they fought and he had to admit it would've been sadder if she treated him with silence. 

However, he didn't know if that was silence or something more. 

Weird, he concluded. 

His attention went back to Luffy. The swordsman couldn't manage watching the ever happy-go-lucky captain speak like a ghost. 

"You didn't do anything wrong." He seriously hoped he could find the right words to bring Luffy back to reality. 

There's no way that crew would fall apart without a proper fight. What has been was just the beginning. 

"You acted like a captain."

"But the crew is falling apart," Luffy pulled his lips in a tight line. 

"No, it's not," the green-haired firmly affirmed. 

Maybe a lot more than Zoro thought has happened, but that was definitely not the end. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Before the sun could set and hide in the sea, they gathered some supplies for their new journey. They found out from the clown head — who they found out told Arlong where to find the Straw Hats — that Nami was most probably heading to Conomi Islands, specifically Cocoyashi Village. Sanji joined their crew, which made Luffy jump in excitement for the second time that day. 

Luffy's folded arms were resting over the railing of Going Merry while he stared down at the water splashing against the ship. 

"Does it always take so long?" Luffy spoke so softly. 

Sanji chuckled with the fishing rod in his hand as he waited for a fish to catch the bait. 

"We've only been here for two minutes, be patient," the cook reminded him. "Some days, they bite as soon as you drop the line and some days, it takes hours."

Then, he threw a knowing glance towards Luffy with an arch of his eyebrow. 

"But we're not talking about fishing, are we?" 

"I highly doubt it," the witch mumbled as she curled her fingers around her tarot deck. 

She didn't dare to shuffle through the cards again, a side of her afraid of what was waiting for them. It felt uneasy everytime she got the impulse of taking the cards out and finding out which one of them holds the truth. 

The witch was leaning with her back against the railing, not so far away from the Straw Hat, pressing her fingertips into the old box made of cardboard that fit perfectly in her hands. 

Luffy smiled towards Sanji before he stared into the horizon with hope. 

"I just want to know if Nami's okay."

"A beautiful, talented woman does not choose to ally herself with a pirate like Arlong," Sanji said firmly, convinced of his beliefs. "Nami clearly needs to be rescued." 

The witch breathed in deeply and widened her eyes, trying to find the right words to tell them what she knew. A pair of heavy steps caught her attention and she immediately recognized the chiming filling the air. 

Zoro. His hand was resting on his Wado Ichimoji — his only sword now. 

"Her tattoo says different," he said. 

The way he looked at the witch was bringing back to life some shattered pieces of her soul. He might look serene when sleeping, but he was better that way — wide awake and an asshole. 

Also, he noticed something she couldn't pinpoint. There must've been a scar on her face, most probably. At first, he only stared at her face, just to lower his gaze. Oh. She didn't sleep for two days and got in a fight with a fishman, which left some nasty bruises on her bare neck. 

"Well," Sanji argued, "tattoos don't tell the whole story. And like any woman, she's a mystery to be unraveled."

"Am I supposed to feel flattered?" the witch arched her eyebrow at the cook after she turned her head towards him. 

Right at that moment, Zoro stepped between her and Luffy, restricting her view. All she could see was his chest, bandaged and with a red patch in the center. 

"You should change your bandages," she looked up at him. 

However, the witch was hesitant when she did so. As if the man in front of her could vanish in thin air. 

Zoro turned to Sanji and decided to completely ignore her comment. 

"Nami made her choice." 

The cook immediately frowned, creases appearing on his forehead. His scowl was deeper than Zoro's.

"You don't know why," Sanji retorted. 

As if getting snapped by Usopp, Zoro scoffed: 

"The only thing I want to hear from you are dinner specials. You don't know Nami."

"Sounds like you don't know her either, Mosshead," Sanji spat with a taunting smile on his lips. 

"Oh God, stop, you two," the witch sighed heavily, annoyed. 

Just to get the swordsman's attention to her, she poked his back with the tip of her finger, digging deep enough to receive a light flinch. It seemed like she took him by surprise. She bent her back more as she continued resting her elbows on the railing to glance at Luffy over Zoro's shoulder. 

"I'm sure Nami has her reasons," their captain nodded. 

"I know Nami's reason."

All of their heads turned to the witch. 

Usopp was just walking up the stairs of the forecastle when his eyes sparkled curiously.

"What are you guys talking about?" 

"Nami," Zoro said quickly. "Why didn't you say anything until now?" that time, his sharp words were directed to the witch. 

The witch shot him a glare, displeased by his reaction. However, she would've acted the same if someone was to hide something so important. 

"It would've felt unfair to tell you before talking with her," the witch clarified. 

"You talked with her about it?" Usopp suddenly intervened, surprised by the news. 

The witch gripped at the tarot deck in between her hands tighter and clicked her tongue, trying to find the best words to explain. 

"I did. Somehow," uncertainty latched onto her voice. 

None of them rushed her anymore so she took her time. 

"Listen, this isn't as easy as it seems to be. Yes, Sanji, she didn't willingly get into Arlong's crew."

A snarky remark sat on the cook's tongue and he wanted to throw it Zoro's way. 

"But," the witch continued in order to stop an eventual argument, "she's fully aware of her actions. She was forced by the circumstances to do what she's doing, but it doesn't mean she likes acting like Arlong's crewmate. Nami certainly hates him from the bottom of her heart. He did something. Something that forced her to act like she's a friend just to protect something or someone. Or both. She's not only protecting herself, she's protecting what's most dear to her heart."

It wasn't the witch that spoke, but the gut feeling she had. Her thoughts didn't seem so clear in months, since her last successful tarot reading. Now, as the significance of each card sank into her brain, she knew what everything meant. 

It wasn't her that spoke, but her intuition. 

"She's keeping us away because she's scared we'd get hurt, not only because we would get in her way. Nami cares about us and that's exactly why she's pushing us away."

"Who does that?" Zoro wondered out loud. 

Maybe he should've kept that to himself. 

"You do that," the witch's head snapped towards him. "I do it. And Nami does. She said she tricked us — which was true. At the same time, she's tricking Arlong. He isn't her crewmate, he's an asshole that stole something from her—"

The witch got so carried away she didn't even realize what she just said. She suddenly furrowed her eyebrows into the void and received confused looks from her friends. 

"He stole something. Her freedom."

Those words were said as she actively figured the details out, staring into the void. 

"Witch?" Usopp nudged her. 

"Yes?" she turned towards him. 

"Did she tell you all these things?"

There was a light chuckle that left her lips at that question. 

"The cards did. Her reactions just gave her away and answered my doubts." 

The witch knew what games she was playing. She's been doing these things for years and not only — she trusted her gut feeling above everything else. 

She received an especially confused look from the cook, who had no clue why she was called a witch. He probably supposed it was because she was beautiful or maybe secretive. 

He should've taken that nickname literally. 

"What do we do then?" Zoro turned his head towards their captain. 

Luffy listened intently to everything the witch had to say and he made up his mind since long ago:

"I want to hear her decision for myself."

"That's for the best," the witch nodded. 

There was more she would've liked to say, but speaking from the gut was both easier than usual and harder when tired. Considering the last time she got some proper sleep was before they got attacked by the Marines, she could say it's been long enough for her mind to get clouded. 

Stuck in her thoughts as she was, the grip on her tarot deck loosened up and the object fell from her hold on the wooden floor. The witch's exhausted brain registered that too many seconds later. 

A deep frown appeared between her eyebrows, blinking in an attempt to clear her vision while she bent down to take the deck in her hand. 

Obviously, she failed. 

When her back was straight again, her vision went pitch black and a heavy throbbing settled in her temples. The ship swayed worse than a second ago. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. 

The witch has been in that situation before. She stood still, because attempting to walk would've ended in a passionate kiss with the floor. 

When the sensations dissipated little by little, tiredness was everything left behind. 

"I'm gonna get some rest," she mumbled, the words a little slurred. 

With her eyes now opened wide enough to see where she's heading, she walked towards the stairs and cussed them out one by one. 

Falling like an idiot wasn't on her to-do list for that day. 

By some miracle, she managed to walk all the way into the galley. The room she shared with Nami was hers, but it was too far away. Her feet barely carried her to the dark red sofa she let her body fall on like a sack. 

She didn't care about the clothes she hasn't changed from, too caught up with everything that has happened. There was enough time for a shower later, when exhaustion wasn't seeping into her bones. The only thing she had the decency to do was to take her boots off. 

She stretched her legs and put an arm under her head, resting on her side to face the room. Not the most comfortable place to sleep in, but after all of that tumult, nothing mattered anymore. 

The sweet sound of jingling disturbed her again. 

Oh, god dammit. 

She was one breath away from cussing Zoro's ass and his earrings — despite being in ecstasy that he woke up. The witch, as if expecting his next move, bent her knees to make space for him. The swordsman plopped himself down with a grunt at the other side of the sofa and her bare feet touched his thigh. 

She didn't dare mutter a word about his presence. Zoro could stay. Gosh, as she was thinkingln about it, she could only believe it was a blessing he wasn't only awake, but also throwing remarks her way. 

It was so much better than telling stories of her past to an unconscious Mosshead. 

Right. 

The edges of her mouth curled in a smile. 

"What?" 

"Mosshead," she chuckled, eyes still closed. 

Zoro let out a scoff and she could imagine him rolling his eyes to the ceiling. 

"Didn't you say you were going to rest?"

His voice was unusually low and even soft, pulling her towards the dreamland. 

"I'd say this place is perfect," she mumbled.

The witch didn't bother to explain she was tired out of her mind or that her feet would most likely betray her if she dared to get up. 

The silence was filled with their breathing and the sounds of the water splashing against their ship, the cracks of the wood. She remembered the times when she traveled with her father's crew and she would many times fall asleep curled next to a barrel while the vice-captain was still singing sea shanties in the middle of the night. 

"Zoro," the witch whispered. 

She was too weary to care about what left her mouth. It acted like alcohol — it clouded her mind and she felt shameless. 

"What if I wouldn't have stepped on this ship?" 

That question plagued her mind and she finally said it out loud. 

"So the last ship was more to your taste?" he snickered. "It almost sank in the sea." 

"You're such an ass," and while that phrase might've sounded harsh in the past, at that moment it was filled with fondness. 

"Been told that before." 

I really missed that voice. 

"For someone with a big ass bruise on your neck, you sound more like a coward than I thought."

Maybe she deserved that serious tone thrown her way. Was he right? Only halfway through. 

"No," she was stubborn enough to fight the sleep for a few more minutes. "What if I would've been happier? Y'know, less worries, no people to haunt my ass. No anxiety."

No crying over you for being almost dead. 

The continuation sat on the tip of her tongue and got swallowed back with a gulp. Was there really a need for an admission? Puffy eyelids and dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips and bandages around her forearm soaked in blood. Those details were enough proof. 

"Do you hate us that much?" his low voice sent shivers down her spine. 

"It's not about that. Just…" she gulped and curled her fingers around the tarot deck she was still holding onto. "I want some peace."

"I say you should get some sleep." 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Standing on the deck felt right, even if the witch doesn't remember why she was there. She can't point out the weather clearly, it feels blurry. Seconds ago she was in the kitchen talking with Sanji about some unusual topic she couldn't remember. 

Then why was she suddenly on the deck, face to face with a kneeling Zoro who had two swords piercing through his upper body from behind? She didn't only know it was him, she felt like it was him, as if the pieces connecting in her head were just right. However, it horrified her. Everything around him was blurry except for him. 

Him, whose essence of life was pouring down his body, creating a puddle under him, sinking into the cracks of the wooden floor. The crimson liquid melted into his white t-shirt. Now that she was looking better at it, she noticed the sharp point of a sword penetrating all the way through his stomach to the front side of his body. 

He was looking up at her, despite the way his chin was tilted down. Those sharp brown eyes were boring holes through her. His beautiful irises painted with the warm nuances of chocolate and coffee were scary, like no other time. 

Was Luffy next to her? It feels like it was him, even if she can only distinguish a silhouette in the corner of her right eye. 

Why was Zoro looking at her like that? She couldn't move, as if her feet were stuck in place. She didn't know if she was breathing or if she was alive anymore. She didn't know why she was on the deck, why those swords took his life away. It barely made any sense that he had enough energy to stare at her. 

He didn't falter once. He didn't beg for help, her name didn't come out of his mouth, no groans, no nothing. 

She couldn't move. As she stood in the same place, her anxiety was rising up, up, up, until she felt like panicking despite the lack of reaction. She felt like exploding, but she couldn't express those horrific feelings. 

She couldn't help him. Her arms were stuck by the sides of her body, as if someone had put a spell on her. She had the will to move her legs, to get closer to him, she wanted to, but she remained glued in that spot. She couldn't feel her body. 

She had to do something, but she was trapped inside an unmoving object that was her own body. Why? 

Everything snapped. 

The smallest hope towards an escape woke her up. Her eyes opened instantly and she raised up in a sitting position, eyes frantically searching for more clues, for answers about the horrifying images she just saw before her eyelids. 

Her heart was beating so fast it made her wish she didn't have it at all, a deafening ba-dump repeating in her eardrums over and over again. 

Unfortunately, she was face to face with the swordsman she dreamt of. Instantly, as if she was shot, she looked at his upper abdomen. For no more than two seconds, she saw a big black patch on his bandages. 

She inhaled deeply and her heart was beating faster, suddenly unable to release that breath of air. Her eyes widened and her hands shook, chest tight. 

"Hey," she heard more of a background sound. 

She blinked countless times, until her tired brain figured out that it was just her imagination. It was so dark in the room and her nightmare was a shock, the reason why at some point the patch started blurring out, inviting her to blink until it turned to be one small spot. It has been there since he woke up from his slumber. 

When the realization sank in, she let go of that breath and let out a pitiful whimper. Deep inside, it felt like relief, her eyes now squeezed shut. 

This time, he clearly called her name after his fingers securely gripped at her shaking shoulders, avoiding her wound. Her hands were trembling, her entire being disturbed. 

Zoro said her name, not the nickname she got so used to hearing on that ship. Not the usual Witch, a word that sounded so endearing coming from her crewmates; no, it was her name and it was spoken so softly she could've confused him for someone else. 

She had a poor attempt at recalling those images in order to figure out the reality, but it backfired. The bloody scene stuck before her closed eyes pushed her to open them up again. 

Thankfully, his dark gaze was warm, filled with unspoken worry. For a brief moment she wondered how he woke up, since he slept like the dead sometimes. 

"I'm surprised I managed to wake you up," her voice trembled. 

He didn't joke back at her. Instead, his thumbs started rubbing slow circles into her shoulders in order to bring her back to earth. Or, better said, back to the ship that was peacefully sailing on the sea during the night. 

"I think you should correct your breathing," he pointed out. 

Once she changed from autopilot breathing, it felt like her throat was tight. 

"Breathe in."

Blindly, she trusted his instructions. That mere breath shook her again, feeling shivers when she allowed the oxygen to sink into her lungs, the same way his voice sank into her being, in the cracks of her soul. 

It took a few minutes until that normal bodily process didn't seem like an impossible task. Her muscles were tense until Zoro squeezed her shoulders again. 

She could distinguish more of his face than just the warmth she noticed not long ago. His expression seemed pained with worry and not from a wound that could kill him, even if there still were bandages wrapped around his torso. Maybe it was also fear that made him look so different from usual; or was it confusion? 

"I'm sorry for destroying your sleep."

It was half a lie. She wasn't sorry about the touch keeping her afloat, about how she managed to breathe again only because of his presence, because he was clearly awake and alive. At the same time, she knew he needed to rest so his wound could heal properly. 

"Be serious," he huffed in a lower voice, clearly displeased. 

"I am. You should sleep."

"Just like you should, but I doubt you will."

"I'd argue about that."

She was still tired, even if her shock from earlier struck her like thunder. Her eyes could close at any moment, which she feared, because another nightmare didn't sound good even for how stress resistant she became. 

Since he heard her soft whimper when she was still sleeping, he had no clue what to do, how to act. One thing was clear: it was better to wake her up, despite the possibility she might get defensive and attack. 

Alright, now what the heck do I do? He's had nightmares before, he's seen horrendous things during his sleep countless times, but he didn't have any idea about what to do for her. Was he even supposed to do something? She didn't like being pampered — maybe he should act like nothing happened. However, the fear coloring her face earlier shocked him as well. The witch has always been collected, she had such a firm grip on her reactions it was annoying sometimes. 

The swordsman shook his head, but didn't let go of her. Instead, he leaned against the cushions on his side, while his hands fell down to her forearms to get a comfortable position of his limbs and upper body. The wound on his chest sent daggers through him at each movement. Barely a day of consciously dealing with it and he's already got annoyed. 

The witch looked down at where their bodies were connected. His long calloused fingers were securely wrapped around her arms, close to her wrists. When did her legs end up in his lap she didn't know. Her bare knee tingled with warmth — why? 

"You had a weird reaction after you woke up," his whisper stirred something in her heart. 

"What do you mean? I had plenty of reactions."

Are you playing the idiot with me? Zoro thought. 

"You were more scared of seeing me than of the nightmare."

"Oh."

Why did the Mosshead have to be so observant? It was one of the reasons why she was attracted to him, evidently, but sometimes he exposed her too easily. 

She dropped her chin and looked down at her own hands. Admitting that she feared his role as the main character of a tragedy for the second time felt embarrassing for some unknown reason. She's been in enough humiliating situations and he never ridiculed her. 

Zoro was utterly stuck. Was he supposed to move away? His body felt too heavy to get off the sofa and go to his room. It wouldn't be alright leaving her alone with her crippling anxiety either, considering she was prone to overthinking. 

He wanted to do something, but what? 

He let out a long sigh and rested his head against the cushions, his fingers still curled around her wrists. Her pulse was fast, but as seconds passed by, it slowed down under the weight of his thumbs. 

The witch became hyper aware of the situation, but it felt too good to move away. Her tired brain entirely registered his presence and her eyes closed. She breathed in the chill air of the night and, while focusing so intently on Zoro's presence, she fell into a deeper state of mind, half asleep. 

He was disturbed from his own journey into the dream realm when he felt a light weight on his shoulder. Once his eyes opened, he saw the cause: she leaned in closer to him, clearly unaware. 

He smelled like the sea and the familiar scent of soap clung to the unbuttoned blue t-shirt he wore. With her forehead resting against his neck, the witch could vaguely point out his pulse. The safety of his embrace lulled her into a dreamless sleep while she focused on his slow breathing and the secure grip he had on her.

Zoro filled her senses so fiercely it was impossible not to melt into him, inhaling and exhaling in sync with him. 

The swordsman had different sentiments about this and they were all confusing. 

What am I doing? he scolded himself.

He moved his head and angled his face so he could look at the right side of her sleeping face. With long eyelashes resting over her soft cheeks, she looked like she didn't have a worry in the world, even if he knew better. Her shoulders would rise and fall rhythmically in such a slow pace, making him wonder what exactly exhausted her so much. 

Then, his gaze fell on the purple marks on her neck and his jaw clenched. If he would've been awake when Arlong appeared at Baratie, maybe none of them would be like that. Maybe he would've had enough stubbornness to get answers from Nami and maybe Luffy wouldn't have been so close to drowning. Maybe those marks on her neck wouldn't have been there in the first place. 

What the fuck am I doing? 

Giving up, he rested his head back against the cushions with a scowl. He didn't understand himself and it was even harder to understand the woman sleeping so peacefully, too close to him. 

Zoro let out a low displeased sound and closed his eyes, deciding to rest for a while. He didn't dare move away or wake her up either. 

First and foremost he was displeased about the fact that he liked the proximity. 

I wonder what that fishman's face looks like. It'll surely be a pleasure to slice him in half.  

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58 @katiemrty @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @freyademartel @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @melsunshine @loveyluv7 @waddlingwanderer @jesssssmaybankk @nadlx33333 @yoong1c0re @untoldshortsofthefandoms @mizzy-pop @zoromyluv

[berenwrites]

For Love – Steddie Flashfic – PG

A/N: Had a totally different fic in mind when I opened my doc to work on it, and this happened, so I hope you like it. Don’t forget to check out all the other great fics at @steddiemicrofic too💖.

Written for prompt: CHARM | 548 words | rated: PG | cw: none

Steve’s current position seemed oddly familiar, although this time it was claws at his throat, not a broken bottle, and he was being held against a tree not a wooden wall. Eddie didn’t look that much different really. His teeth were sharper, his eyes were darker, and he seemed incredibly strong, but Steve could still see Eddie underneath.

“Long time no see, Sweetheart,” Eddie said, voice deep and resonant.

It had been two months-ish. They were almost ready with the plan to end Vecna for good. Steve had been patrolling to make sure nothing had come through the rifts, looking out for demodogs or demobats, not dead friends.

“You don’t look afraid enough, Stevie,” Eddie said, leaning in close, “anyone would think you like this.”

Contrary to some peoples’ opinions, Steve was not an idiot. On their last adventure, he had seen the way Eddie had snatched glances at him when he thought Steve wasn’t looking. He could also guess how Eddie would assume he would react to something like that. The taunt was designed to make him worry about more than his life.

“Let me go and find out,” he said as best he could with fingers wrapped around his throat.

“Gonna run, Big Boy?” Eddie asked, leaning in close. “You won’t get far.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” he replied, staring into those dark eyes.

Eddie laughed, something between what Steve had heard before and a guttural hissing noise.

“All the more fun for me,” Eddie decided with a toothy grin, and the pressure on Steve’s neck lessened.

He could have run. Animal instincts looked at the predator in front of him and told him to, but he didn’t.

“Screw it,” he said, and as Eddie stepped away, he went with him.

Bringing up both hands, he took Eddie’s face between his palms and leaned in to kiss him. He held nothing back. None of the loss or need that had had months to percolate and grow after he had done some soul searching, realising what might have been. None of the passion he had used to charm so many girls, but never felt coming back. Because there was something else they had discovered since last time. Music brought people back because music touched something deep inside, and there were other ways to reach that too.

Maybe this was the way he would die, but Steve had to try. He put everything he was into the kiss, all his hopes, all his dreams, all his love. He might not have known Eddie properly for long, but he had listened to Dustin, to the other boys, to Wayne, who had refused to leave town, and he had learned.

Falling in love with an idea, a memory, was so clichéd, so very him. He hadn’t realised it, not completely, not until Eddie had come out of the darkness at him. Maybe the Upside Down had finally driven him mad as desperation filled him.

Eddie’s skin was cold against his. Eddie’s body was frozen. Eddie tasted like ash.

But Steve could not let go, would not give in. If there was a chance, he had to take it for the sake of them both.

And finally, after seconds that felt like eons, Eddie’s arms pulled him close.

[just-a-ghost00]

Surprise reading to celebrate my new oracle deck

I was kindly gifted an oracle deck by a French reader that goes by the name of Soul shadow, whom I admire a lot. It’s a 90s anime themed oracle deck. So to celebrate this new baby, I decided to do a reading on the following theme :

a message from someone you love ❤️

No picture to pick from today, just use your intuition and pick a number between 1 and 3.

Group 1

I had to take a break to sort things through. There were so many things I wanted to tell you but it would have been difficult for me to express them in the state I was in. I don’t want you to think that I’m mad at you or that I hate you because that isn’t true. I sincerely think that meeting you was the best thing that could happen to me. I met you at the perfect timing and there is nothing I would change about that. With you I really feel like I can tackle the world and overcome anything. I need time to understand what this means to me, to figure out how I can better fit you into my life, to solve my own issues and find my footing. I know that asking you to be patient is a bit unfair. But I really need the space right now. I can only hope that you understand this decision and that all ends well in the end. I know this is going to be difficult but I have hope that we can overcome this together. Will you wait for me?

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 Group 2

I really thought that I had it all figured out. But that was until you came into my life. At first, I will be honest, I didn’t like your energy. I thought you were too carefree. But the more I got to know you the more I understood the importance of going with the flow with you. Know that I am open to whatever may happen, now that I stopped overthinking, I can really appreciate the journey and I really feel hyped up. Though I don’t need it, I really like to be reassured by you. Every time that you encourage me or celebrate me, it’s just one more sign for me that I’m doing the right thing and I’m grateful for that. There’s a lot that I wish to say and I plan on taking the time to express them when I get the chance. I have now found a new goal, a new purpose in life and I intend on showing everyone, including you, what I am made of. I know that I can be better and do better. And though a part of me is scared, I know deep down it’s worth fighting for. It’s time for me to put some order into my life and work toward my desired reality. Thank you for showing me the way to my destiny. You really are amazing!

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 Group 3

I hate that I love you because I can’t have you. You were the one thing that I could not control and I believe you will be the death of me. I keep telling myself that tomorrow will be better, that I just should keep living and enjoying life. I try to forget you but I can’t. I tell myself that I don’t care. That I don’t like you. That all I need is my family who always supported me but honestly that’s just bullshit. You are family as well. You have always supported me and the least I can do is be there for you too. I’m haunted by my memories of you. I want to talk to you so bad and a part of me is that close to giving in to temptation. But another just isn’t ready to face it. Those memories are too painful. Behind my cold exterior lies a ton of repressed feelings that I can’t seem to control. Whenever I’m with the people I love I can’t help but to think of you and wish you were there. Whenever I’m having fun and celebrating life, I can’t help but to think of you who always stood for me and cheered for me and feel grateful because this victory is also yours. In these moments, when I am the happiest, the first thing I want to do is come rushing to you to share that happiness with you. Ah you make me go crazy. I just want to leave it all behind and come back to you asap. Fuck it.

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

Blood of my Blood pt.1

Pairing- Sully family x sully!reader

Summary- There is so much you would do for your family even at a young age but there is one thing you just couldn't do so you do the only thing you find reasonable you run.

A/N- so this is lowkey just a prologue but i hope you guys like it 🤭

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

Your mother, Neytiri sat you down and Jake, your father, held a contemplating expression on his face. ''Hi mama, dad.'' You said as your missing tooth smiled up at them. ''Y/N we have something to tell you.'' Jake began and you peered at him with big eyes looking up at him with childlike gleam in them. ''We have made an agreement with the Kekunan clan, you know the tribe we visited last week and you and Neteyam played tag with the chief's son Entu.'' Jake said and you shook your head. ''Yeah he kept hitting me and he played with and injured animal it was really mean.'' You say and Neytiri looks upset and she sees your thoughts of the boy.

''What about it dad?'' You say looking at him again as he takes a deep breath in. ''You and Entu are betrothed when you become one of the people you shall be his mate.'' Neytiri finished and all the joy you felt seeped from your body and into the earth. ''W-what do you mean mom?'' you knew what she meant, but you prayed to Eywa that it wasn't what you thought. ''You and Entu with be mates in a few years it is done daughter be happy.'' she smiled and you did the same getting up and running to Neteyam.

You lived normally existing as if the news your parents just delivered to you didn;t fill you with despair. Though, it was only one day you could see that Entu would be cruel, cruel to you, cruel to the clan. You couldn't subject yourself to this, you would do anything for your family even at your young age but this is one thing that you couldn't and wouldn't do.

It was late you fought the sleep that simmered in your mind and waited till you heard your dads loud snoring. Slowly crouching out of your cot grabbing a bag you packed a few days ago its intended use was for a get together at another clan but it would do for getting away. You opened a window flap and stepped onto the grassy earth that surrounded your home. You walk to the Hallelujah mountains, you knew it was too early for your Iknimaya but you had to get away somehow.

You stepped into the pit, all of them were awake skin glowing and bright eyes peered into your soul. They moved as if upset by your presence, they would attack you if they wanted you to be their rider but none attacked. But one didn't move.

He was small, wings looked weak, but his beak was strong enough to crush a grown Na'vi skull as he hissed at you getting in attack mode. 'Better than nothing." You whisper before you hiss back at him loudly as he stood up on his short legs. Getting your rope you wrap it around his beck jumping at him onto his back.

He threw himself on his back making you gasp. Grabbing your queue quickly connecting it with his, completing tsaheylu he flew off the rock and then your eyes widened as you though, ''Slow, slow.'' He balanced in the wind as he went forward at a slow pace.

Your back straightened as you reached behind you grabbing the bag that managed to stay in you. Opening it you grab a leaf scroll, unrolling it having the directions to a clan. ''Mangkwan Clan known for letting people in hm.'' You whisper and the Khal, that's what you named him, chirped. ''You how where it's at.'' He chirped twice in response and you just trusted him as he turned left and farther from your old home.

It was a week's journey, you felt yourself going hungry but you held hope when Khal stopped his flapping wings in front of a hometree very familiar to yours but with key differences. A blow of a horn took you from your amazement as many surrounded you so worried, some excited, two of three hissed at you. But then a man and a woman stepped between the swarm of Na'vi they must be the Olo'eyktan and Tsahik as everyone bowed their heads in respect.

The woman had goddess braids that stopped at her hips with intricate gems and jewels in it, her long skirt went up at the sides and shined with the amount of jewls that went through it, and a tattoo that started at her wrist and wrapped all the way up to her neck. Her wide eyes peered at you, studying your face and body language.

The man stood more protective than curious like the woman. He has a huge scar on his left upper arm, he has huge ear gauges, he had a head dress that shined like a million diamonds, truly the brightest thing you've ever seen that sat in his long dreads.

They stopped in front of you and you quickly bowed your head and the woman smiled before touching your bicep with her tattooed hand, making you flinch at the touch. ''Child please tell me why you've come, one of you put this young ladies ikran with the other.'' She spoke to the guards around you as she wrapped her larger arms around your smaller filling your body with warmth. ''May I please stay here I can pull my weight, I can hunt, paint, sing, weave anything but can I please-''

''Shush child, tell me your name and why you seek to live here. Is something wrong?" Her eyes looked bug full of wonder and concern for the young girl in front of her.

"My name is Y/N te Suli Neytiri'ite." You whisper looking down the woman's back straightened as she looks at the man who walked behind you, his eyebrows furrowed even more. "Y/N why have you come here?" The woman crouched to your height. "Um," you debated telling her the truth would she send you back.

"Um, well back home I'm betrothed to someone, someone I can't just can't be mates with. He is cruel, and my parents just don't see it." You look at the ground in shame.

The two adults looked at each other and tye man had a much softer look on his face now as the woman looked uo waiting for his final answer on the whole thing. He tilted his head down and she smiled. "Well you shall stay here with us." She said and you looked at the two and smiled. "My name is Peyral and his name is Kamun."

-6 years later-

Jake held a picture in his hand and then the sound of a leaf crunching pulled him from his thoughts quickly flipping the picture over not to show the image. "Ma Jake." Neytiri spoke and he rubbed his eyes. "Hey baby." He said and Neytiri looked puzzled. "What is wrong?" She asked and he only shaked his head opening a drawer to put the picture up but ahe snatched it just in time. Her face softened as she smiled, caressing the picture, it was of you jumping at your parents after your first time swimming and Neytiri finally figured out how a polaroid works.

She gulped and placed the picture in the drawer and grabbed his hand dragging him into the meeting with Mo'at.

"Ah JakeSully, Daughter.* She said bowing her head formally greeting them.

"Mother." Neytiri responded as she and Jake bowed their heads.

Sitting down around an unlit fire pit. "What have we come to talk about?" Jake asked and Mo'at lifted her head. "Yes, well some clans are threatening to battle over a few things." She said to the two and Neytiri's eyes widened as she now sat up straight as did Jake. "What should we do?" Neytiri asked Jake who ran over ideas in his brain. "You meet with them, you talk and you compromise." Mo'at blurted out and they looked over at her.

"Meet, Talk and compromise." Jake repeated and Mo'at shook her head up and down slowly. "Yes and I suggest you go to the Mangkwan Clan last." She said, looking off to the side. The two of them look at her curiously. "There may be something there for you, all of you." She said before blinking multiple times as Neytiri helped her up.

Neytiri and Jake stepped out of the tent and Neytiri went in her way as Jake did. But what Mo'at said simmered in his thoughts. What did she mean there's something there for him? For all of his family? He had no idea.

But he would soon find out.

Tags-

@ssc7514 @23victoria @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @chaoticmagazineboard @spicycloudsalad @ilovejakesullysdick @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @neteyamforlife @phoenixgurl030 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @kikookii @elegantkidfansoul @kurtsworld096

A/N- if you asked to be tagged and arent in gere it is bc i couldn't find your blog sorry in advance.

[babyspacekwid]

Some of my Astro placements and how they manifest

Chiron 4th house:

This placement talks of a wound surrounding the family and home, and well, I would often search for a home because no where to me felt like home. I still feel misunderstood and out of place, BUT, I have made deep and valuable connections that have helped guide me and make me feel the love I should have had. Not to say this placement is completely hopless, it’s beautiful and it’s real and it’s tough, but you come out stronger. I use to hate that fucking perspective too. Like okay??? Who gaf if I come out stronger I’m fucking suffering, like why didn’t I get the parents everyone else has? Why’d I have to walk on eggshells? I felt like my anger and sadness was invalidated because I didn’t feel strong. I felt worthless and disorganized. I was a mess and I still am. Idk if that’s ever gonna change tbh, but despite all, it’s true. You DO come out stronger. In every aspect I have. Home is your people it was never a place, home is your mother cradling you for the first time in a while, it’s your friends taking care of you when you’re sobbing. Home is your dad realizing his mistakes and apologizing. Home is a feeling, it’s refreshing and comforting. Home was never suppose to be stressful, or feel like a war zone. To whoever has this same placement I feel you and I love you.

Mars in Aquarius in the 5th house

I do things unconventionally and I only realize this when I’m with other ppl. It can be as simple as the way I eat my burger, to my taste in music. Which is everything. I like literally everything. I don’t care the genre. If it’s good and catchy I love it. I did a lot of different hobbies as a kid too? Like taekwondo, dance, soccer, painting, singing, writing. But I never stayed long in any of those hobbies. Loved anime which ik everyone likes these days but where I live and during my childhood it was still a bit taboo or considered weird to watch. I was the kid that got along with everyone at school too. I didn’t see the point in highschool having a social hierarchy of popularity. It’s fucking stupid. I remember this one kid in my class who everyone thought was weird, which from their perspective I understand because he liked to talk about taboo topics that everyone thought was outrageous, but I was enjoying conversing with him because his perspectives were fresh and built my own views and opinions. I also have a 5th house stellium and I just fucking hate anything that isn’t fun like. I can’t do the 9-5 I have to enjoy my life like this society was not meant for the way my brain works istg.

Lilith 8th house

Constant comments were made about my body when I was young. From good to bad to what the actual fuck are you saying to a 12 year old. No cause it still happens and I’ve learnt to deal with it, but it has greatly affected how I view myself, my sexuality, and my comfortability with it.

Sun and moon in Gemini

I got the worst of both worlds wtf is this?! Considering my chart is 60% air signs you’d think I’d be use to it but I’m notttttt. I try to stray away from the stereotypical “Geminis intellectualize their emotions” but it’s true we do, but I think it’s cause feeling our emotions are overwhelming. Geminis ARE emotional. There’s just so much going on that my brain decides “I need a solution to this now cause feeling is pain” also hate that I’m not consistent. Consistency is my worst enemy, it doesn’t agree with me and my behaviours and we have an ongoing tense relationship, so I don’t finish anything. Not the books I wanna write or the paintings I wanna finish. Working on it tho 😭

Jupiter in Leo in the 11th house

I know so many people, and the friends I’ve made feel like my soul family. We’re siblings at this point. (Also rlly love the spotlight. What can I say I’m an attention whore)

[sundeathh]

Another sail into hell

One-shot  |  Masterlist 

Pairing: Aizawa × GN!reader | Words: 1,2K

Fandom: BNHA | MHA  | Tags: Comfort, sensitive content

DO NOT READ IF YOU THINK YOU COULD BE TRIGGED BY THE FOLLOWING TOPICS: Self-harm, blood mention, suicide themes, mental health issues.

You tossed and turned in your bed, your eyes glued to the ceiling as insomnia held you in its relentless grip. The night stretched endlessly, the darkness outside mirroring the turmoil within your mind. The silence was deafening, broken only by the whispers of your thoughts, each one more disturbing than the last.

It started as a subtle unease, a gnawing sensation deep in your chest. But as the hours wore on, it escalated from simple thoughts of self-doubt into a storm of panic that threatened to consume you entirely. The weight of despair pressed down on you like a vice, and you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of hopelessness.

You knew you needed an escape, a way out of the suffocating darkness that clung to you and made you blind with despair. The thought of ending it all seemed like the only solution, a desperate cry for relief from the relentless pain.

But even in your darkest moments, you knew that wasn't the answer. You couldn't bear to hurt the people who cared about you. You still wanted to see the bright side of life that so many people seemed to have, yet you were still left to discover.

So, you turned to the only other release you knew, the one that had offered so much solace in the past. With trembling hands, you reached for the hidden blade in the drawer. The cool steel met your skin, and for a brief moment, the physical pain eclipsed the emotional agony.

It was a temporary escape, even though you wanted to cut your neck instead of your wrists. It still was a way to divert your thoughts from the abyss that threatened to swallow you whole.

But as the blood welled up and the sting intensified, you realized the depths of your desperation. Shame and guilt washed over you, and you felt like a failure for succumbing to this old habit.

You sat there, reflecting on how dumb and broken you were while tears streamed down your face, the room bathed in a crimson haze. You knew you had to hide the evidence, to keep this dark secret locked away. But the emotional pain still raged within, a tempest that refused to be tamed.

Aizawa was out on patrol, and you knew he wouldn't be home for hours. You were alone with your demons, trapped in a never-ending cycle of despair. You felt utterly helpless like you were teetering on the edge of an abyss with no way out.

Hours passed, and the room remained shrouded in darkness. It would be so much easier to just throw yourself out of the window. You were completely lost in your thoughts, unable to escape the relentless self-condemnation. The weight of your actions pressed down on you, suffocating and unrelenting.

And then, like a lifeline thrown to a drowning soul, you heard the faint sound of the front door opening. Aizawa was home, and you couldn't bear to face him in this state. But you couldn't hide either; he would inevitably find you.

In a failed attempt to hide yourself, you slid to the ground, curling yourself into a ball as if you were an animal hiding on its shelf.

As he entered the room, his tired eyes met your figure, and you could sense the concern and worry emanating from his silent footsteps as he approached you slowly, as if afraid to startle you further.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered soul.

You couldn't find the words, couldn't summon the strength to explain the turmoil that had consumed you. You never could. But you didn't need to.

Aizawa knew you better than anyone ever could, and in that moment, his presence spoke volumes. His eyes, those deep, understanding eyes, always held the weight of your pain and uncertainty without judgment.

With utmost care, he lowered himself onto the floor close to you, his movements deliberate and gentle, as if approaching a fragile piece of glass that might shatter at the slightest touch. His warm hand reached out to grab hold of your cold ones, fingers intertwining in a gesture that felt like a lifeline thrown to a soul trapped in hell.

The simplicity of that touch conveyed more love and understanding than any words ever could. It was a silent affirmation of his unwavering support, a promise that he would stand by your side through the darkest of nights. And, as his thumb brushed away a solitary tear that escaped your eye after you finally got the courage to lift your head, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude for his presence in your life, even though you were screaming with shame inside.

"You don't have to go through this alone," he whispered, his voice a gentle caress against the chaos in your mind. "I'm here for you, always."

At that moment, the weight of your shame and guilt began to slowly lift, like dark clouds parting to reveal a sliver of sunlight. Aizawa's presence was like a lifeline – a lifeline that you had been desperately reaching for amid a recurrent, never-ending storm.

It was a reminder that you didn't have to fight your demons by yourself, that the battle didn't have to be a solitary struggle.

With him by your side, the darkness seemed a little less daunting, and the path to healing, though still obscured by uncertainty, felt a little less treacherous.

His unwavering belief in you, even in your most broken state, was a testament to the depth of his love and the strength of your bond.

As the night wore on, Aizawa remained by your side, offering his silent support and comforting presence while seconds stretched to hours. He didn't push you to talk or explain; he never would. He simply held you close, a steady anchor in the storm.

It felt as if he had wrapped his arms around your shattered soul, providing a haven where you could let down your guard and feel safe while being vulnerable.

Eventually, though, he gently suggested, "Maybe we should consider going to the emergency room, just to make sure you're okay." His voice sounded like a whisper carried away by the cold wind of a winter's day.

The idea sent a jolt of fear through your spine, and you hesitated. The thought of seeking help outside these four walls was terrifying, not only because of the fear of judgment but also the fear of the stigma that came with admitting you needed help. What if they didn't understand? What if they thought you were beyond saving? People in the emergency room don't usually care about people who want to die, right?

Aizawa immediately sensed your hesitation, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly. "I know it's scary," he said softly, "but it's important to make sure you're safe. They can help, and I'll be right there with you, every step of the way. I won't let anything happen to you."

His words offered a glimmer of hope amid the darkness. With his unwavering support, you found the courage to nod, even though taking that first step toward seeking the help you so desperately needed was a lot more scary than being left by yourself, with the company of your so well-known blade.

The healing journey was far from over, but you knew you were not alone in this battle. And as you both left the safety of your home, guided by the light of Aizawa's love and support, you dared to believe that there might be a way out of the abyss after all. You had to.

Do not repost. Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, though!

[tnbc-thoughtsandheadcanons]

Conversations with Jack Skellington

From Disney Dreamlight Valley

"How's the Halloween business going?"

JS: I've been ruminating on our traditional Halloween themes...scary skeletons, jack o' lanterns, tell me -- do you have a favorite?

"Skeletons."

JS: How delightful! Or are you flattering me? You don't need to do that, you know. But I do love a good bone rattle. And no one can grin like a skeleton can.

"What are you up to?"

JS: I am practicing my Shakespeare. Would you like to hear a bit?

'Sure!"

JS: 'I recite chilling lines from various plays. Ahem -- let me begin... 'I could a tale unfold whose lightest word, Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand an end, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine!"

"Keep going!"

JS: 'Double, double toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble, Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake. Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard leg and owlet's wing!"

"More!"

JS: 'Deep night, dark night, and the silent of the night, the time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl, and spirits walk and ghosts break up their graves!"

"I love it"

JS: And now I shall customize one for our dear Valley... 'Alas, poor Mickey! I knew him: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar? Alas! Alas!

'That was wonderful!"

JS: Thank you! You were a lovely audience.

JS: Would you like to join me in some screaming practice?

"Let's do it."

JS: Marvelous! Now we'll start easy. A basic yelp.

"Yip!"

JS: Close! But that's a yip, not a yelp. Try another scream, but longer this time.

"AhhhhHHHHHH"

JS: Oh, I like the ululation - a terrifying touch! Now higher! A proper curdling scream!

JS: That sent shivers down my spine - exquisitely done!

JS: Have you ever felt stuck wearily in the same routine? Where everything seems dull and repetitive? What do you do?

"I change things up!"

JS: Of course! Sometimes you need something new, don't you? To give you novel ideas and a fresh perspective! Though.. Ah... it is good to be prudent about what new things you take on.

"You seem preoccupied."

JS: Friend, I'm sure you've heard that I once tried my hand at running Christmas. Alas, it was quite the disaster. I made so many mistakes, but I'm wondering if there was one fundamental flaw...A central confusion. A core to all the calamity.

"Maybe you let your excitement run away from you."

JS: I certainly did. Enthusiasm is quite powerful. And usually it's good! It animates my frights! Keeps me inspired. But it can sometimes... have a life of its own.

"Does that mean you've learned your lesson?"

JS: Of course. Hmm... but say I hadn't learned my lesson. Would that SCARE you?

"Yes!"

JS: Well then, perhaps...I've learned nothing at all. Ha-ha-ha!

"What are you up to, Jack?"

JS: I've been considering recruiting new fright-makers for Halloween. Do any of our Valley friends strike you as particularly scary?

"Definitely Ursula."

JS: A witch? That's perfect! And she had such a majestic presence. Oh... she'll likely want something in exchange for working with us.

"True, I guess you'd want someone who's in it for the joy of scaring people."

JS: Exactly!

"What's going on?"

JS: My search for new Halloween fright-makers continues! Do you have any suggestions for me?"

"Scar would be great."

"Penny for thoughts, Jack?"

JS: Now that has real potential to be terrifying! If only he weren't so cruel about it... Halloween is about scaring people, not hurting their feelings!

JS: I need your help thinking up some new ideas for Halloween. You know, fresh insights. Topical terrors. Contemporary creepiness.

"Vampires."

JS: You're right! Vampires have been experiencing a sort of renaissance. Which is charming, as many of them were around for the renaissance! But I do have colleagues back in Halloween Town who are vampires. SO I feel that territory is well-covered.

[let-us-cultivate-our-garden]

The Owl House Series Finale Thoughts, part 1

So, now that I’ve had time to vent and gather my thoughts I can say that The Owl House series finale, was a letdown. 

There were strong elements: the animation, the voice acting, the music, all incredible. I do deeply appreciate the hard work and talent the crew brought in making this show and how many people have felt represented and seen by the show’s inclusivity and themes. I feel that this show will be beloved and remembered for a long time.

However, I feel like the show made critical errors that actually undermined what it set out to do. Before I get into my thoughts, let me explain how I got into this show:

I happened to stumble upon the show because it looked neat and heard that the show creator also worked on Gravity Falls, another show I enjoyed. The first season was fun; bright, clever, and you could tell it wanted to tell a larger story with deep and meaningful themes. Season 2A was also fun and it had begun to depict a darker, more mature world. I didn’t think too much of the show, it was just fun, a typical kids’ cartoon show with good storytelling and memorable characters. Nothing really grabbed me about the show.

Until Hollow Mind.

Long-term fans will remember people being disappointed by the episode because they became attached to Fanon Philip that had appeared during the hiatus and we got something completely different in canon. How did this seemingly sweet young man turn into Emperor Belos? Turns out, he’s just a dick. A huge, murderous dick with a hero complex. 

I wasn’t there for Fanon Philip but what drew me to Belos was that in HM, his apparent backstory was in the literal background of the episode and it sparked my imagination. I joined the fandom because, like many, I wanted to know what Belos’ deal was. Many talented and creative people came up with long and compelling theories about the Wittebane brothers, speculation that was further fueled by the grimwalker reveal and Caleb appearing in Belos’ memories in King’s Tide. That speculation grew and people wrote whole fan fics and drew art depicting the trials and troubles of the Wittebanes. 

I became invested in the Wittebanes because their story was so tragic: two orphan boys who grew up in a cult, essentially forced to participate in witch hunts in an adapt-or-be-hanged situation, only for the elder to actually see the error of his ways and leave his younger brother behind, making him think he had been bewitched and that it was his duty to save him. 

We got more scraps of information in Thanks to Them, the most important being how the brothers only had each other and became witch-hunters to fit in. In For the Future, Caleb’s apparition appears--whether a ghost or hallucination is unknown---above his specter is a bloody knife, Caleb stares accusingly at the wretched, shambling remains of his younger brother. Philip lashes out angrily accusing him that it was his fault and that he “tried to save his soul.” This is a highly interpretive scene, and many thought it implied Belos’ deeply buried guilt and how he always lies to himself to justify his actions. All the while, deep down knowing the truth.

With all that in mind, what did we learn in Watching and Dreaming? What made this young man who ventured out to what he thought was literal hell to rescue his brother? His only family? Only to kill him in a fit of madness and spend literal centuries trying to recreate the brother of his childhood, to erase his original sin, all the while descending into madness and depravity?

Turns out he’s a dick. A huge, murderous dick with a hero complex.

“You assume Belos’ goal comes from a genuine place,” the Titan tells Luz. And seemingly the audience because fans wanted to see this story, this foundation to all of the horror and trauma. To understand how a man becomes evil. 

Well, according to the show, he’s just like that. Luz attempts to reconcile Belos’ goal of saving humanity with her own and wonders if their morality is really so different. Silly human, the Titan says. Your goals and motives are genuine, he’s just delusional and evil. So you can take comfort in the fact that your enemies’ goals are just self-serving, but yours are the real deal. 

Sorry but this is lazy.

You can’t say people are complicated and then turn around and say actually, no some people are just delusional and power-hungry and we’ll leave it at that. It seems that, in the universe of The Owl House, only good people are complicated; Lilith cursed Eda because she was desperate to get into the Emperor’s Coven but then she spends the rest of the time trying to cure her sister. Amity bullied Willow, but only because her parents forced them to no longer be friends, Hunter was the emperor’s right hand man, but only because he’s an abused teenager. Meanwhile, the villains of the show don’t have their motives given such depth, they just act in selfish and petty ways because they just are. 

I wouldn’t be bothered by Philip’s flat characterization if the show did not waste so much time giving us hints and clues that there’s actually more to him. What a twist! The villain you thought had greater complexity is just a Standard Villain, how genius! Such clever writing!

If he’s going to be simply a metaphor and not a real character then don’t tease us with a story that suggests otherwise. Keep your story clean and concise. Don’t dangle a potentially amazing storyline that aligns perfectly with the protagonist’s only to yank it away.

This is a waste of the audience’s time and squashes what could have been a wonderfully twisted and dynamic villain. But the show wasn’t interested. It's much easier and more comforting to just say bad people are just bad and never explore why. You could never become the villain because you’re good; don’t bother worrying that you and the villain have the same goals because his aren’t genuine!

 Remember kids, people are complicated. Unless you’re a villain. 

[aylen-san]

Night slowly descended upon the world, enveloping the jungle in silence, broken only by the sounds of insects and distant animal cries. Maglor sat motionless, as if part of the old cliff, but his mind wandered through the dark depths of memories.

His thoughts repeatedly returned to those he had lost: his brothers who fell in the bloody struggle for the Silmarils, the elves who, in their pride, defied fate, and the humans who came after them and brought new tragedies. He remembered how they fought, loved, built, and destroyed. In every step they took was hope for a better future, but each time they fell victim to their own pride.

He sighed, and his gaze turned once more to the creatures that might one day take the place of humans.

Hours passed, and finally one of the creatures cautiously began to play with a stone, tapping it against another. It looked helpless in its attempts, but there was a glimmer of some kind of awareness. Maglor suddenly felt something strange—a faint glimmer of hope. He knew that this new form of life, if given a chance, might find its own way.

But in that hope, there was also something bitter. How many people had he seen in his eternal life? How many lives had he touched with his voice, with his music? And how many of them had died, repeating the same mistakes?

"This land remembers more than you can imagine," he whispered into the night air. "You will take up the fire again, build cities again, and destroy everything once more. Such is your path."

Suddenly, a roar echoed in the distance—powerful, deep, and ancient. The creatures sitting by the tree, caught off guard, hurriedly scattered into the thick underbrush. Maglor remained in place, his cold eyes watching as darkness claimed the jungle.

"But for now, you have time," he muttered faintly. "Maybe this time history will turn out differently."

He stood up, feeling the weight of all the ages he had lived, and before turning back into the depths of a world that was no longer his home, he took one last look at the disappearing silhouettes of the creatures. And though his soul was scorched by eternal sorrow, in that moment, a shadow of desire flickered within— that at least some of them might reach the other world that his friends and brothers once aspired to.

Maglor took a deeper breath and turned to the horizon, where the first stars were breaking through. They were silent witnesses to his long journey, just as he was to theirs. In this world, no elves remained, but their songs might still find their listeners in the future.