#so much sap

[2aceofspades]

TW: Blood/Injury, Implied Death

_______________________________________________

With you

Lil one-shot I guess...??

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After the dust cleared, it was dead silent. The air was thick with moisture from the dark clouds looming above them all. Someone, probably Raphael, yelled out something Two didn't quite process, his ears still ringing as his vision slowly cleared.

A faint blue glow flickered in the near distance, not too far from where Two was slumped on the ground. More muffled shouts rang out as Two attempted to collect himself, staggering to his feet and trudging over to the source of-

No.

Just the image alone was enough to bring Two collapsing back to his knees. Stupid, he thought.

"H-hey..." One's weak voice just barely got through to Two, snapping him right out of his thoughts.

He stared down at the dimming blue glow, watching it flicker and fade in and out. How the hell are you still here, breathing?

His thoughts became flooded in his head, even more so as he felt his arms cradle his brother's near-lifeless body.

"Did we win?"

Two felt his jaw clench at One's question, feeling frighteningly close to grinding his teeth until they were flat.

Did we win?

The question echoed in Two’s head, as if that would better help him process this moment. In any other instance, he would have deflected and scoffed at such an empty, meaningless question. Did it matter? he thought as he titled his head up, looking around briefly at the wasteland that surrounded them. It was over, that much was apparent.

"Yes,” he huffed, looking down at his brother in his arms as he continued, “Now, shut it and save your strength. Your heart-"

"I know," One croaked out in between a few sputtering breaths, interrupting Two in more ways than one. Two tried to ignore the cast-off of blood coming from his brother's mouth, despising the sickening feeling settling in his stomach as it hit his chin. One smiled weakly up at his brother, his eyes dull and unfocused.

How dare you, Two thought to himself.

His eyes flickered from One's exposed heart, bleeding out and hardly beating, and back to his brother’s face. His brother looked beaten, bloody...broken. It wasn't a look he saw from him often, if at all. It was that damn smile that he watched waver as One's heart beat softer and softer. What cruel irony, Two couldn't help but think, a metaphorical expression brought to life by his stupid, thoughtless, idiotic brother.

Two could still fix this. Even as he held his brother tighter against his own plastron and felt his shirt get soaked by the horrid mix of blood and empyrean; he thought to himself how he'd be the one to fix this.

There was no other choice left.

“Good…” One let out the softest of chuckles, “…we…we can s-start over.”

Something in Two’s own chest faltered, even just briefly. It was enough to shut out the feeling of One’s pathetic coughs and wheezes against him. He watched how One's eyes dulled further, his gaze wandering away from Two's face.

Starting over? That wasn’t ever an option, not one that Two had ever weighed in his mind. He wasn’t sure if that was even an option now. After everything he had done, everything he sacrificed, worked for…his brother still wanted to burn it, bury everything down and out of Two’s reach. One wanted this win, he wanted the impossible.

“Impossible…” Two muttered under his breath.

He heard yet another faint chuckle. And then the dense silence that followed.

_______________________________________________

~bonus doodles~

(':

[thatbuddie]

after buck and eddie get together, eddie starts giving buck absentminded kisses all the time.

kiss on the forehead after he passes him his morning coffee. kiss on the cheek while buck is cooking dinner. kiss on the back of his hand as buck drives them to bobby’s house for a family bbq. kiss on top of his head while they cuddle watching a documentary. kiss on his shoulder while they sit on the station couch reading in between calls.

but buck’s favorite kisses? the ones edde blows him from a distance. when no one is looking during a call and they have to separate, buck doing evac and eddie treating some minor burns. when buck is pulling out of the their driveway to go meet maddie and jee for lunch and eddie sees him off from the front porch. during their family night out at the movies with chris in between them before the action film their son chose and they’re both probably going to hate begins.

every single blown kiss is always followed by eddie mouthing “i love you” at him, and every single time buck feels himself start to blush, the butterflies in his stomach staging a very chaotic and uncoordinated flash mob.

there’s something so exhilarating about knowing that no matter how close or far away they physically are eddie always wants to be kissing him. like eddie knows just as well as buck does that his lips were always meant to graze buck’s skin and leave behind goosebumps for hours to come.

even when they can’t see each other at all, buck knows eddie is thinking about it too because eddie does not go more than 3 hours without sending him little 😘 emojis. he doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t contextualize them because he doesn’t need to. it's just random 😘 throughout the day, scattered in between the rest of their texts.

buck [3:33pm]: got caught in traffic, chris and i will be there soon! eddie [3:33pm]: ok, hen and denny just arrived eddie [6:03pm]: 😘

&

eddie [11:27am]: can you write “chris dentist appointment” on the kitchen calendar for 10/17? buck [11:31am]: done! eddie [11:32am]: thanks, baby eddie [2:16pm]: 😘

&

buck [10:08am]: we also need eggs! buck [11:43am]: remind me to replace the lightbulb in chris’s bedside lamp eddie [1:14pm]: 😘 eddie [3:09pm]: your amazon package just arrived buck [3:09pm]: yaaaaaaay eddie [7:24pm]: 😘

&

eddie [6:02am]: 😘 eddie [8:56am]: 😘 eddie [9:07am]: 😘 eddie [12:31pm]: 😘 buck [3:17pm]: 😘😘😘

[void-dude]

I have to single handedly thank you for reminding me of Tad's existence I adore your take on him and I think I'm going to suck up every drop of content of him and Stan with a silly staw

Not to be a helpless sap but the amount of positive feedback and engagement has genuinely made me incredibly happy and sometimes even distressed (in a good way!) I can't thank each and every single one of you enough for the support and simple engagement you've given me! I don't have the words in my broken vocabulary to properly convey the happiness I feel whenever I see people enjoy my silly art and create their own things because of it. This is the first time I've gotten fanart and asks about stuff I make and honestly it's such a motivator! Thank you! Thank you all so so much for sticking around for a while! I hope you enjoy the ride as much as I enjoy making it!

[akiacia]

groggy is her favorite time of day

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 7: i miss my wife bonbon

[mint-ty]

guys (gn), today has been a lot (A LOT !) and I need to be sappy on the main tag for a moment about how much you all mean 💕

Ima take a page from Jere's book and say that this tumblr has been the best thing to ever happen ❤️‍🩹 I'm so proud of you and I love you all so much <3 This is the healthiest community I have ever been in, y'all always consider each other, don't jump to conclusions, organise and participate in gift exchanges, try to be respectful and genuinely care for each other and it's clear to see ❤️ And sure there are always things happening, and all of us are different people, but this place continues being so accepting and welcoming, and without any mods too!! Do you understand how rare it is to be respectful on the internet??? There's an anon option and y'all use it to send love messages!!! 😭💕 and thirst messages kekek (and for those who had bad experiences with anons - just lmk, we're always in your corner 🫂)

Also I need a tumblr seating chart so I can quickly see if anyone is absent (lurkers too). Because even if we never interacted, I truly care about you all and I hope you're doing okay, and if not - that things will soon get better 🫂 Stay true, be the way that you are, keep on loving and caring for each other. I hope you'll always have dry socks and loose change in all of your pockets 💕

[crybaby-bkg]

you’re watching one of those old timey movies with Bakugou on the couch one night, snuggled into his side as you share a bowl of popcorn. he’s been complaining the whole time and you don’t blame him, but you can’t help but feel a little mushy as you watch the lead actor dip his wife before consuming her in a passionate kiss. you hum under your breath, grabbing another handful of popcorn as Bakugou groans dramatically beside you.

“How come you don’t dip me like that when we kiss?” you ask him, tilting your head so you can catch the way his jaw works, how his eyebrows screw down a little as he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“‘Cause it’s fuckin’ corny.” He grunts, pinching your side a little when you huff under your breath. you don’t say anything else about it for the rest of the night, but Bakugou noticed how quiet you got, your deflated look momentarily before changing the subject to make fun of another bad part of the movie.

it’s been days, and you’ve honestly forgotten about the whole situation, which is why it surprises you at Bakugou’s sudden urgency when he stomps into your shared home. before you can even greet him, you take him in as he comes damn near charging at you. he’s covered in dirt and soot and grime, still wears his work boots that track footprints on your pretty floors, his mask pushed up messily into his hair as he comes at you with his hands out.

you squeak in surprise when he grabs you up, your whole world flipping, stomach dropping when you’re suddenly hovering inches above the ground. his face is close to yours, eyebrows drawn down, and you giggle in shock as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Katsuki, what the fuck are you doing?” you laugh, clinging onto him for dear life as he holds you there, staring down at you with this soft pout and even softer eyes. they search your face for a second before he grunts, ducking down to plant his mouth against yours.

“Shaddup and enjoy the romantic moment, dumbass,” he mutters, before fully pressing his lips to yours. it’s hard to kiss back when you’re smiling so hard, giggling against him as you kiss and kiss and kiss him until you feel his own grin and teeth clash against yours.

dramatically, Bakugou brings you back upright, fixing your clothes and pinching at your lips when he sees you about to talk again. you only smile as big as you can, murmuring, such a sap, as much as you can. he only huffs under his breath, kissing at your pinched lips before turning on his heel to take off his boots finally.

“My little romantic,” you coo at him as you follow him like a lovesick puppy. Bakugou only toes his shoes off with a cute frown at you, mumbling,

“Not a damn word about this, you sap.”

[failvillain]

i want parallel scenes:

Lestat and Louis going to the opera. Lestat being enraptured by the music, following the sheet music with his finger. Louis looking at him and smiling.

Armand and Daniel going to see Blade Runner. Armand being enraptured by the movie, leaning on the seat in the front of him. Daniel looking at him and smiling.

[daisyofwaterdeep]

Could I request Accidental Confessions Part Two where Femcis Reader got the antidote for Rolan and both of them just sat down & talked properly to each other after he's no longer under influence of the love potion? With apologies & a happy ending!

I had already planned to write a second part but im using your ask as a vessel to post it ╰(￣ω￣)

~~~~~~ Read the first part here!

Accidental Confessions (Part 2)

Rolan/femcis!Reader

~~~~~~~

You stand in front of the portal, close enough that the swirling magical energy draws strands of your hair forward.

You desperately want to step forward. You desperately want to run away. You have no idea which one is the best choice.

It's been two days since the incident. You haven't seen Rolan since then, and he's all that's been on your mind. You keep replaying the last moment with him, pulled together but still deissheveled as you handed the vial of antidote to him. The way he sat on the stairs, hands shaking, head hanging, eyes never raising to meet yours. And the terse words he spoke as he snatched the bottle from you.

"Thanks. Now leave."

The words weren't angry or sorrowful or pained. They were cold, closed off. You had no choice but to obey.

Rolan knew. That was the only explanation. Everything that happened, everything you allowed to happen, that you encouraged to happen...Rolan knew that you had taken advantage of the situation, and now he hates you. As he should.

Gods, what's wrong with you?

You take in a deep, sobering breath and step into the portal. Your vision goes dark for a brief moment before melting away into the familiar scenery of Ramazith's tower. Your eyes immediately land on Rolan, his back towards a shelf but already turning as you step from the pull of the portal. Golden eyes land on you, curious at first but hardening as he realizes who his visitor is.

"I've been expecting you." Rolan blindly shelves the book he had been thumbing through and descends the stairs, straightening his robe before folding his hands behind his back pertly. "It's best we get this over with."

Having him come toward you makes you want to dive back through the portal but you stay your ground, even if your knees shake. You cast your eyes to the floor, fighting the urge to bunch your hands in your dress as the tips of his shoes come into the field of your vision before stopping.

"Go ahead. Say your piece," He says after a moment of silence, voice curt.

The lump in your throat is so large that you're not sure anything will come out when you open your mouth, but it does, even if your words are small and wavering.

"I'm... resigning from my position."

You can hear Rolan exhale softly but with your eyes on the ground, you can't quite decipher why. "Alright. I'll have your final pay ready by the end of the day."

A dark, greedy part of you recoils at that. Even after everything, there was still a delusional hope that he'd push back-- that he'd protest you leaving.

There's another small stretch of silence, and you watch Rolan's feet shift.

"Well, there's obviously more you need to say, so say it already."

There is more you need to say, but you're fighting for your life to keep tears from blurring your eyes and choking your throat. You've rehearsed this in your mind hundreds of times, thought of the best words to show your sincerity, pictured every sort of scenario...and everything is lined up perfectly. It's the absolute ideal set-up for you to apologize. But the enormity of your remorse is swallowing you, and the only thing you can think is 'don't cry, don't cry, don't cry'.

Rolan's feet shift again. You can't stand here forever, and you know it. So you take in a deep breath and manage out two pitiful words.

"I'm...sorry."

Despite your best efforts, your vision instantly swims and hot tears trail down your cheeks. Damnit.

"Wh-" Rolan sputters, goes silent, then starts again. "You're sorry?"

"I'm sorry," you say again, throat tight and voice high and wavering, "I didn't stop you...I could have stopped you, but I didn't." The tears are coming full force now, a hot tirade that makes your eyes feel puffy and swollen. "I'm s-sorry, Rolan." Your words are hiccuping, toeing the line of full sobbing, "I d-don't expect you to forgive me, just p-please--" As much as it hurts, you finally raise your gaze to meet his eyes. "Please d-don't hate me..."

Looking at him face-to-face makes you want to crumple to the floor and bawl. It looks as if he hasn't slept since the last time you saw him-- dark circles crescent under his eyes, his clothes are wrinkled, and his hair is loosely and hapharzardly pulled back. But more than that, he looks dumbfounded, like he's completely shocked that you're standing in front of him crying. It makes you feel even more pathetic, which only makes the tears continue.

"I don't--" Rolan reaches his hands out to you, thinks better of it, then retracts them to his chest, "I'd never hate you."

The earnestness in which he says it should make you feel better, but it does the opposite. By all rights, he should hate you-- who are you to stand here before him, blubbering and grovelling, when you're the one who took advantage of him? Resigning from your post was supposed to be a small penance from you to Rolan, but instead, he's comforting you. You're disgusted with yourself.

Your despair must be written on your face, because Rolan takes a step forward, his voice trembling around the edges as he speaks.

"Y-you know, I had assumed... that you were here to yell at me. To tell me what a horrible man I am." Rolan lets out a short, nervous laugh, "I was fully prepared to take a punch or two."

He thought that you were mad at him? The thought is so absurd that you find your tears stopping as you stare at him, surely mirroring his dumbfounded expression from earlier.

"You'd have every right to, you know." Rolan continues, his jaw tightening as he straightens his arms by his sides, "To think I'm terrible. To hate me, even. Because what I did to you..."

"It wasn't your fault," You cut him off with a croak, wiping at your eyes with your sleeves, "You weren't yourself. But me, th-there was nothing controlling me...It was my responsibility, b-but I--"

"Stop." Rolan's voice raises, anger lighting his eyes, "Stop trying to take the blame for this. You are not the one at fault here!" He stares hard at you for a few moments before his shoulders slump and the tension in his face melts away, leaving him looking tired and small. Vulnerable, even. And his voice falls too, nothing more than a whisper. "There were times of clarity...times where I could have fought against it. If I had tried harder, I could have stopped a dozen times over. But there was a part of me, a part not influenced by the potion, that didn't want to fight it." A thread of anger edges it's way back to his words, but now you understand that it's edge isn't pointed at you. "So yes, it is my fault. I'm a terrible...horrible man."

You don't know what the right thing to do is-- in such an unprecedented situation, you're not sure if there even is a 'right thing'. But seeing Rolan standing before you, askew in both looks and mind, there's only one thing you can fathom doing, damned if it's wrong or right.

Rolan stiffens as you rush forward and throw your arms around him. Your heart hammers fast and loud in your ears and you feel breathless at your own bold action that seemed to come out of nowhere, but there's no way in the nine hells that you're going to let go.

"You're not horrible," You say against his chest, voice tight and runny as your tears begin anew, "N-not in the slightest. So don't s-say such things."

Rolan's body trembles in your embrace and you worry that he might try to push you away. After a few long seconds, though, he wraps his arms around you and returns the hug.

"I'm sorry," Rolan squeezes you tight as he says it, and you wonder if it has to do with how watery his voice sounds, "For putting you through that...f-for hurting you."

The vulnerability of it all makes is terrifying, but it's also liberating. A moment of pain and sorrow shared between the two of you--it's a feeling more intimate than sex.

"I wanted it." The confession falls from your lips without a thought, and you know that you've crossed a boundary that you'll never be able to return from, for better or worse. "I wanted to hear those things from you. To have you touch me...I wanted all of it."

Rolan lets out a choked noise above you and you feel his chest hitch. "D-don't lie to me."

"I'm not." You hold him tighter, as if trying to still your trembling muscles. "Having you need me in such a way, even if it was fake...I was happy."

You can feel every inch of the shiver that runs through Rolan's body. His chin touches the side of your forehead in something close to a cuddle as the hands on your back slide down, nearly cradling your hips.

"If you're being honest...I'd like to say something." You can hear Rolan swallow thickly before continuing, voice hushed and hesitant, "But please, you musn't think any less of me."

You try to pull away, wanting to see his face as he speaks, but the fingers on your waist dig in, as if begging you to stay in place. Curious, nervous, you comply.

"I'd never think less of you."

Rolan heaves in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, the warmth of it tickling the top of your ear. "I..." He starts his sentence, stops, then starts again. "The potion. I took it."

"Took it?" You were determined to stay silent and let him say his piece, but your confusion gets the better of you.

"I drank it." You feel Rolan's body tense as he inhales sharply again, letting the rest of his words fall out on his exhale, "I knew you'd be coming, and I wanted to-- it was only a small sip, I thought it would give me a push, just enough to be honest, confident--to say the things I was too cowardly to say. But it was potent, far more potent than I had realized--"

You can't think, can't breathe. A blanket of surrealness falls over you, making everything around you feel padded and dreamlike. Because this must be a dream, right? Your tired mind has supplied this sweet little scenario for you, has tailored it to your wildest imagination.

But the shaking man in your arms isn't a dream, as much as it seems. The hurried, scared breaths puffing against your hair are real, as are the hands, anxiously holding you tight. If those things are real, then the words Rolan has said...the confession he has laid at your feet must be real as well.

The courage it took for him to admit to such a thing seems to seep into you, and you find yourself pulling your head back, forcing him to finally confront you. His eyes are glassy and drying tear streaks shine against the hollows of his cheeks. He looks devastated, terrified-- and more beautiful than you've ever seen him.

This is Rolan. Not your crush. Not the wizard. Not the older brother. Not the owner of Ramazith's Tower. This is him, stripped bare, beyond titles and prestige and pomp. This is Rolan, raw and true and baring himself to you.

You kiss him. It's a stark contrast to the kiss shared just days before-- it's clumsy, nervous, hesitant. But that's what makes it so grand. The insecurities that Rolan had tried to hide behind a potion are all there, beneath your lips, your fingers. Every brush and breath sings of honesty, of a flourishing love that threatens to build into something momentous-- of the terror such a thing could bring. The enormity of the unknown.

But as Rolan's hands relax on your hips, as his lips part and soften on your own, you know that he's offering you a chance to explore that unknown together.

And you couldn't be happier.

[hydrachea]

I can't stop thinking about Blade saying gifts are unfamiliar.

And I can't stop thinking about Kafka and Silver Wolf, hearing that, and making it a mission to bring him gifts whenever they travel somewhere for their script - even if he's there with them. About the confusion in his eyes when they steal buy something and turn right around to hand it to him.

About his room starting out completely empty except for the bare minimum necessities, a few spare clothes and what he needs to take care his Shard Sword, but filling up with little trinkets and gifts over time. Clothes and jewelry and perfume from Kafka and posters, figures and plushies from Silver Wolf. About them also bringing food back, expensive specialties swiped from a restaurant and the weirdest option they could spot in a lone vending machine, a category of gifts that doesn't leave anything behind (except the photos they both take of the three of them eating together, or of the faces he makes when Silver Wolf manages to trick him into trying a suspicious snack while he's distracted with polishing his weapon).

About Kafka spending hours finding clothes and jewelry she thinks would suit him, because that's her love language. She gets him makeup too, refusing to let his good looks go to waste. She knows he can't put it on himself, they both do, and he doesn't care for his appearance enough otherwise - but he'll let her do his makeup for him anyway, because she enjoys it, and because he finds it soothing.

About Silver Wolf also buying him clothes, but the ones she gets aren't his style at all, and just barely his size. She gets them for him, but just so she can steal them right back - her love language is quality time, and she fills Blade's room with gifts she can borrow along with a moment of his day. It still counts as a gift, she insists, practically swimming in an oversized jacket she swiped from his closet.

About how in another life, Yingxing gave gifts to the people he loved and in this one, Blade receives them from those who love him.

[pinespittinink]

anyway description? i fucking love writing description. i love knowing what expressions look like, how characters move, what the light looks like, how the dark feels, what smells are in the room, a taste lingering on the tongue, the trees and the earth and the wind and birds and footsteps and salt spray and alcohol and sugar and velvet and the warmth of a hand through silk or against bare skin. tell me about pearl buttons and how the light bows off of curls, fingernails with half moon cuticles, drooping flowers and stale air and old floors creaking underfoot and ripe fruits dripping juice down a wrist. i want it all

[manasurge]

Just a bit of lore relevant vent art (with terrible proportions bc apparently I mess that up horribly when I'm tired ugh. Watch me regret posting this tomorrow. The head size is already driving me mad bc it's too big, and I can feel myself wanting to abort this mission already) of Mourynn just, lying down on top of one of those large elevated Pale Tree roots far above the Grove (and far away from everyone else), and during the time between the early years and before the Personal story. Caithe is gone (Destiny's Edge), Wynne is gone (bc well, y'know...), even Faolain is gone (bc of Caithe in DE), and she's just feeling miserable, lost, and alone. (Her hair is in between her sapling hair and the Zhaitan hair, so it's grown out a bit bc she's depressed, and she's meant to be in the new outfit she designed, but I'm in the process of redesigning it a bit, so I've made a few tentative changes for now. Her collar is now just an extension of her clavicle leaves which can be put up like a collar, or can be draped down over her shoulders or back)

[shootingstarpilot]

i would have been done with this chapter a month ago if these two idiots could stop being so disgustingly in love for TWO MINUTES-

[nat-20s]

I have already gushed about how much Shaun Temple loves and adores Donna Noble but I cannot emphasize enough that I am 100% certain she is JUST as wholly besotted with him!! I know in my heart they are like. An EMBARRASSINGLY lovey couple. I know Donna's like SHAUN!! HEY!!! and he's like YES HON?? and she's like. You have a cute butt :3. Hell it's probably WORSE now that her other special little guy is back and she's not trying to work around an open wound of inexplicable grief. Hope she has flex time at UNIT because she's been repeatedly late due to a impromptu 20 minute snogging session.

[bitchapalooza]

Imagine Usopp is older now. He's a dad of two. His oldest is currently four. He's putting him to bed, his nightly routine of bath, brushing his teeth, reading/telling a bedtime story, kiss on the forehead, and tuck in—when he's stoped that night with a cry before he shuts the light off and closes the door. Now his oldest is an anxious kid. Overly anxious. Especially for his young age. But a monster in the closet? That's new. So Usopp tries to calm his worries, checking the closet once, twice, three times. But nothing that Usopp can see is there to set off his son's anxiety. But he's insistent on it, crying about a monster that Usopp can't seem to find. He knows it's his imagination. Kids are silly like that, making up imaginary monsters and friends every day. So he really isn't worried about the whole monster thing, just the distress it's causing his son.

Then he gets an idea. So he leaves the room, says nothing to Kaya, who's tending to the baby, as he rummages inside their own closet, only to come back out in a red cape and beat up old mask, something wrapped clutched in his hand. He stalks back down the hall and into his son's room, proudly proclaiming who he is; "Greetings, little one! I am Sniper King. My friend Usopp tells me you have a monster problem, ey? Well fear not! For I, Sniper King, will take care of the nasty fiend!" He runs into the closet in a mild dash, careful not to make too much noise, and "fights" the "monster."

Sniper King comes back out, clothes disheveled to really sell it, and proclaims his victory with a hardened whisper-shout and thumbs up. The boy jumps up and thanks Sniper King, hugging him so tightly. Sniper King ruffles his curls, then shortly excuses himself. He rushes back into the hallway, around a corner, so that he may safely assume his true identity. He grabs the wrapped object he hid on the hall table and heads back to his son's room, where immediately he's jumping excitedly on his bed, asking Usopp if he saw Sniper King, too. Usopp says he did and he told him all about his scuffle with the monster. After settling him down again and tucking him back in, that's when Usopp presents the wrapped object. He carefully unwraps it and sets it in his son's palms.

A mask. Sniper King's to be exact. Usopp carved it years ago to replace the beaten up mask he used at Enies Lobby.

Usopp says Sniper King left it for him as a present. Usopp says he can wear it when he feels scared. When he needs to feel brave but can't muster up the courage to on his own, he can look to Sniper King for guidance. Why not? That's what Sniper King was for him. His inner bravery. Why can't he pass down the mask to his children too? Give them that security their developing brains need. They need it just as much, if not more, than he does now.

Usopp kisses his son goodnight. Turns out the light. Cracks the door. And doesn't hear his son's fearful cries. Come morning, his son is well rested and happy.

[lemon-grey]

let me leave the part of me behind that only wants to grieve / and in this light, I can see you as you are, in your frailty, in your might