#unnamed soliders

[clonewarslover55]

The Price of a Mile

Notes: Sabaton is a fantastic heavy metal band that sings about war to educate people.(They have a large youtube channel explaining all of their songs and it's GREAT! It's great for people who don’t like heavy metal and want to learn quick things!) Sabaton has actually taught me a lot about the many wars, battles, and fights that have plagued this planet over the short time the human race has been here. A lot of these songs make me think of the Clone Wars and the poor soldiers there! So I took one of their songs that breaks my heart every time I hear it, and made a fic out of it!

I also know that most Clone Wars warfare wasn’t trench warfare but I wrote it anyway!

I highly suggest you listen to The Price of a Mile by Sabaton and try many of their other songs! They are fantastic and heart wrenching.

Lyrics will be shown by either formatting or by ‘’

Warnings: This shit gets depressing. Battle details, gruesome here and there, mentions of death and blood. Its war, its ugly, gross, and sad.

The young clone sat in the trench, mud covered and soaked by rain and blood. He looked amongst his exhausted brothers, then glanced past them into the scarred fields. The fields of this world were once green and beautiful, now they are scarred and are nothing but mud and rain filled holes. Skeletons of destroyed houses and barns were scattered amongst the fields, dead livestock strewn about them. Bodies of clones and droids alike were everywhere as well, unmoving as the mud slowly sucked them into shallow wet graves.

Then it clicked for him. ‘What was the purpose of it all?’ The sun began to set as he gripped the arm of the brother closest to him. “We’ve been at this for weeks….We have hardly made any progress. Each foot we gain we lose hundreds of men. What is the price of a mile?”

The other clone looked at him, before he spoke a nearby shell exploded, covering them both in a fresh layer of mud and gore. He wiped the mud from his visor and sighed, “Thousands.” He spoke, his voice gruff and emotionless.

The young shiny just stared at him before turning to look past the trenches and into the no man's land, and past that, an army of droids. They had pushed them back some today, the remaining droids falling back so they could regroup when the Separatists dropped off more into the thick overgrown forests where they held their line.  

‘And as the night falls the general calls

And the battle carries on and on

How long?

What is the purpose of it all

What's the price of a mile?’

When it was time to push forward his heart strings pulled at the mere sight of it all. Dead brothers, everywhere. They were nothing but pawns, tools of the Republic to win this petty war. Hot tears ran down his cold face, but he could hardly tell through the sweat and rain that mixed with it all.

They pushed forward though, their commander leading the way. His once colorful armor was now patches of white underneath layers and layers of crusted over mud and blood. Their Jedi was still nowhere to be seen, he would remain on cushy Coruscant until the hard work was completed and they got to the Sepratist base. He gritted his teeth and began the march with his brothers.

‘Thousands of feet march to the beat

It's an army on the march

Long way from home

Paying the price in young men's lives

Thousands of feet march to the beat

It's an army in despair

Knee-deep in mud

Stuck in the trench with no way out’

The mud as they marched sucked their feet in, making walking difficult. The mud was so bad the tanks couldn’t be moved yet, their feet trapped. Their mechanical feet were stuck just like thousands of brothers already. Underneath the cold mud, dead and finally at peace. The mud was getting so bad it was beginning to trap and drown men who walked on the more unlevel spots. The young clone believed some may even have done it on purpose, the exhaustion finally enough for some.

They continued on, stepping over destroyed and mangled droids. The rain was pelting them like bullets, the wind so harsh he couldn’t hear the commander over it. Luckily the comms in most of their helmets weren’t broken so some could still hear orders. He could hear, his helmet still new. His armor was no longer shiny though, it was already scarred and painted by mud, and he had only been on the battlefield for a month.

Once at the next set of trenches they dug back in, the fighting and death starting back up. The young clone felt like he had won nothing… but of course the knowledge of how much he hated this. War was nothing but bloodshed and pain to him, thousands dying for just mere feet of ground! It broke his heart, so many young men dead. And for what?

‘Still a deadlock at the front line

Where the soldiers die in mud

Roads and houses since long gone

Still no glory has been won

Know that many men has suffered

Know that many men has died

Six miles of ground has been won

Half a million men are gone

And as the men crawled the general called

And the killing carried on and on

How long?

What's the purpose of it all?

What's the price of a mile?’

After they gained the sixth mile the young clone was caught by droid laser fire, scarring his armor and heart even more. Would he make it through? Did he even want to? Exhaustion and hunger gripped him, digging in and bringing down his morale. As he stared up at the gray sky, the rain pelting his armor he sighed. He didn’t feel much, just a deep sadness as he grew colder, his blacks now fully dampened by blood and rain.

The young clone could finally rest now, the terrors of war would no longer haunt him. The nightmares were over now, for him. But for many others it raged on, and it would never stop.

‘Young men are dying

They pay the price

Oh how they suffer

So tell me what's the price of a mile

That's the price of a mile.’

End note: I actually enjoyed writing about a song like this! I would love to do more if anyone asked! 

[kalcifers-blog]

Autism be damned I need to combine my interests together so now you have the silly JSE comic characters as the TMA S1 Archival Staff

[transingthoseformers]

Do you have a WIP you haven't talked about because it's not fleshed well enough?

Hmm, let me look through my notes because I think I talk about most of my WIPs even when they're just bare bones I chew on

A few of the plotlines I don't think I've talked about yet but I've been internally toying with include:

The earthspark mecha reconnect with Cybertron, only to learn the war is still very much ongoing up there (Rodimus and Megaempress may or may not be two big names involved here)

Earthspark Tarn and Overlord arrive on Earth, with a mutual deal that circles around killing Megatron. However, they end up disagreeing on how exactly they're going to execute this idea, and Tarn ends up doubting his alliance with Overlord the more he spends time with the blue mech.

Earthspark Trepan somehows his way to earth, and Megatron is torn between what, exactly, he is going to do with Trepan. Sometimes in this plotline, Trepan end up striking a malicious deal with agent Kroft and GHOST, which doesn't bode well

In general I have a million ideas about Megatron's pre-war past being dug up and consequences ensue

Vaguely tfp but it's been several years since the Great Cybertronian War ended, since the transformers left to go back to Cybertron. Except, for one reason or another, necessity calls Optimus back to earth and he isn't alone (he's with Megatron. Megatron is here. And his 💖husband💖, as it's made increasingly clear that a lot has changed since the bots left)

Instead of getting strapped down to the laboratory table, CYLAS becomes a decepticon and joins their ranks. He wanted to be one so bad? He gets to realize it's not all cupcakes and rainbows as it really sets in that he's not quite human anymore and that the decepticons suck fucking ass.

We only saw a bit of the bot brawls in Earthspark, but I like to explore the idea a little further— especially with the concept of an exgladiator getting involved with them.

Quintessons invading earth, causing the autobots, decepticons, and humans alike to need to team up is a favorite concept I like to fuck with

Tfp decepticon win or seemingly decepticon win scenario where Megatron, as part of his ever enigmatic plans, starts a planned pregnancy because to him? They've won, and it's time to move on to the next phase of the plan. Sure, rebuilding while on earth was not anticipated, but it's nothing the decepticons can't puzzle out :)

This one's a little more freeform and sillygoofy but, as part of peace negotiations, Megatron wants something unexpected: a sparkling. He wants Optimus to give him a sparkling.

Tfa decepticon win scenario where a disgraced decepticon traitor teams up with the autobots to topple Megatron from his throne

An au were some especially ambitious humans find a (bayverse?) hatchling, and take it in. They're about to learn raising a sparkling is you guessed it pretty fucking hard

What were things like when earthspark Megatron freshly defected? I like to think about that

Other stuff probably

[bonefall]

Please name Whitetail’s siblings Blackkit and Graykit (or any other color tbh) litters gotta be themed and probably boring just like Whitetail’s name

I gotta make sure their suffixes are EQUALLY boring... how about Blackfur and Grayfoot?

I'll update their names when they're given in-canon, btw. I'm committed to that.

[idontliketomatoesleavemealone]

lmao they literally just cut Anthony from Maddy’s gang

[uwu-scraptrappy]

If they EVER do a saw remake it has to follow every single canon event and trap except everyone is genderbent and the story changes slightly according to this new canon

John Kramer? Oh, you mean Josephine Kramer, who tragically lost her baby Gladys after trying to help her husband Jack Tuck after the attack? And also has brain cancer?

Instead of Adam and Lawrence in the bathroom, it's Eve and Laura. Yes Laura still cheats, and also she and Eve kiss in the bathroom

Instead of Amanda, it's Aiden in the reverse beartrap and later becomes a Jigsaw apprentice. Along with Mark I mean Maureen Hoffman.

Uhhhh Logan is still Logan just as a girl now. Fuck that guy

No one is spared. Billy is Millie now.

[britneyshakespeare]

throughout the series of drake and josh it pretty consistently implies that josh nichols is a christian (josh peck is jewish) and in the finale of the series helen (played by yvette nicole brown, not jewish[?]) is portrayed as a practicing jew

[staygoldsunshine]

The Yet Unnamed Wizard Book is now at 30k words WhaT tHe HeCk??

[chatadile2]

Smrh I wrote on twt that I wanna share here aswell, too tired to write it down differently, so gonna copy it and add stuff to it here:

"I have been brainstorming on a httyd au for a while now, contemplating on posting stuff for it proper and posting it mainly on here, but possibly on twt and inkblot as, but we'll see

Just gotta come up with a name for it that fits and can, like, suggest on what's in it? I think that's the word, but don't matterr atm

Also, it's mainly of Tiaxy and her dragoons, but probably will have interactions with the main cast in the setting of the 2nd movie I'm thinking thinking

Still wip, cus anytime I imagine it, I like to imagine what would happen if smth else happened, and then smth else happens and then it might become actual canon or no and the og sticks and so on, so not many things stay solid, most of the time changing and shaping into smth else

But it does have it's solid lore and moments tho

Like how Tia has started out and is going and such mostlyy

So that's smth I'm sticking with mostlyyyyyy, yknow yknow

You'll see it probs :]"

Yeah, smth smth httyd related, but much more oc centric, I already made stuff for it, wrote down some info on some of the dragons and ofc Tia herself, all her dragons are from sod, so that's gonna be a bit to write everything for every dragon, but I'm determined and will do it

At some point

Dunno when it'll be finished, but it is gonna be finished, that is guaranteed, I have been on this au for more than enough time already, so yeah, future planss:D

[emwheezie]

Our comic is called Die Laughing. After so many years, we finally have a solid name!! No longer will this project be called "unnamed band oc comic thing"

This is a scene of Tony and Lennon from the middle-ish of the story. Title drop ftw!!

[transingthoseformers]

Is this when i tell us that I've had a wavewave child design and concept stuffed away since 2020?

[hawkinasock]

haiii pls spill abt ur chimera yq ideas... i have my own (https://www.tumblr.com/waterfrontcomplex/758520749229277184/dunmeshi-chapter-37ep-17-spoilers-look?source=share)

i also drew my own idea of him (swallow + abundant deer)

Yes ofc!! I'm so happy that someone else has had this idea too, it has so much potential. I want to see all the chimera Yanqings.

Mine looks like this. I actually didn't have a design drawn out for him initially, so I had to whip something up quickly. That's why it took me so long to answer </3

Originally, he had a more swallow-based design.

I still really like it, but I changed the lore a lot, so I made the new one, the current au, which goes something like this:

(CW for blatant body horror, descriptions of digestion, as well as brief details regarding real world animal death)

Here's my idea. Like most aeons, Lan The Hunt has emanators that carry out their will. One of these emanator's is currently unnamed and without a solid design yet. It has an animalistic appearance in my head. Imagine Feixiao's inner beast, or the Mourning Aix from WuWa. That'll give you the best reference.

It travels the cosmos, tracking down and eliminating the Abundance. it does this with the use of extremely powerful olfactory cells. Even with galaxies separating them, the emanator can detect abominations through smell alone, and when it finds one, it will consume it to ensure it cannot possibly regenerate.

Suffice to say, it's very good at its job, and Yanqing, unfortunately, is not an exception to their heightened senses. Surprisingly to no one, Abundance Yanqing coexists with this au, and he is immediately recognized as an abomination when the emanator is in proximity of the Luofu. Yanqing is unaware of his status as an spawn of Yaoshi, so when the devourer of monsters (working title) visits the Luofu, he never would have expected it to turn its eyes onto him.

To say the Luofu is thrown into chaos when one of Lan's emanator's eats a Liuetenant of The Hunt is an understatement. The emanator insists no mistake has been made and it is justified through Lan's divine will. It actually shifts the blame onto Jing Yuan for assigning an abomination as his Lieutenant in the first place, citing incompetence on his part. Kind of a shitty thing to do after eating the man's son but okay...

Not long after, the emanator starts to... change. It begins experiencing sudden and visible signs of mara: bouts of aggression, delirium, and eventually flora and fungus sprouting from its flesh. It's incorrectly concluded that Yanqing's death was a result of early unset mara in the emanator, and Jing Yuan decides the emanator has to be killed via decapitation, such is their duty as followers of The Hunt.

You can probably guess where this is going.

So, you know how bones are capable of fusing together or into other objects during the healing process? Like that deer that was shot by an arrow and the ribcage actually fused itself with the arrow? That's essentially how chimera Yanqing is born.

As an abomination, Yanqing is capable of postmortem regeneration, and as an abomination that is particularly favored by Yaoshi (in my delusional mind) his regeneration capabilities far exceed that of the average denizen, and one this emanator's digestive system was not capable of overriding.

Much like how that deer bone fused with the arrow, Yanqing's body begins the process of fusing back together after partial consumption, and during that process, he inadvertently fuses with the emanator's body, which triggered those mara symptoms. Additionally, because there had also been remains of other denizens in the emanator's stomach, they were unintentionally included in the revitalization process. This, in the end, gave the chimera's body the claws of a Borisin, the wings of a Wingweaver, and the head of a human (his body structure is also the same as the Houyhnhnm, but that's obviously a coincidence on my part lol).

The flowers and mushrooms don't really serve any other purpose besides looking pretty and emphasizing his connection to the abundance - his power is so palpable that life is literally sprouting through his skin. I just think it's kinda neat.

Anyways, in terms of psychological aftereffects, Yanqing himself is still there. However, his sense of self is muddied and most of his memories suppressed. Because he's at the head, he's in control of his own movements and actions. Usually, he's completely docile, but in the face of people currently trying to kill him, he becomes confused and scared, and fights back in self-defense. He's also experiencing prolonged dysmorphia from his new form, which causes him greater confusion and even pain.

For Jing Yuan? I think everyone would agree he wouldn't want to kill Yanqing. He believes there's still a way to reverse Yanqing's affliction, even if the Ten Lords insist otherwise.

Currently I don't have an detailed outline of what happens next. My current ideas are similar to yours actually, where the disciples take an interest in Yanqing for whatever reason, be it desperation to stop the Luofu from killing him and seeing him as blessed by Yaoshi, what have you. It could honestly go a similar route as Dvalin's manipulation by the hands of the Abyss. If I were to give this au a happy ending, I could incorporate the Viscorpus' ability to shapeshift and have Yanqing hone that ability, allowing him to regain his human form.

That's all I have for what was meant to be a short, detailed summary </3 All these asks always end with me yapping, forgive me. I've had this au cooking in my head for so long now, and I'm glad I have an excuse to spurge about it now.

(p.s. pls make more of your chimera au, I would eat it up)

[crazymadpassionatelove]

Cool Fiancè

Notes: 18+ sex mentioned

Special shout-out to @ab4eva and her fabulous editing skills! This is the second installment in my cool girl saga. Read Part 1 here

---

Five Things to know about Austin Butler’s New Fiance ::

Although his reps couldn't be reached for comment, sources close to the Elvis actor confirm he has popped the question to his mysterious lady love!

Butler and the stunning brunette were recently spotted at the iconic Les Puces market in Paris last Friday, and she seemed to be sporting a new accessory. Austin was dressed in a black leather jacket, a white v neck tee, and black moto boots. She was clad in a classic trench coat and vintage Dior kitten heels as she kept her head down and let the winner lead the way. His face was mostly obscured by aviator sunglasses, but his smile was very apparent according to onlookers. “Austin was holding her hand and pointing out jewelry at different booths. They were very friendly with local vendors and Austin ended up buying her a gold charm bracelet. He told the dealer the bracelet was a momento to celebrate their recent engagement,” a fellow American tourist overheard. The twosome reportedly spent the prior week soaking in the city of lights and meeting with the YSL fashion house. Austin was recently tapped as the brand's newest ambassador.

Since returning stateside paparazzi pics have finally surfaced and revealed a closer look at that ring. Montana based indie jeweler Jada Kaye has been revealed as the designer of that serious sparkler. The 5 carat, flawless emerald-cut emerald is set in solid gold and flanked by two white diamonds on either side. Inside sources told Elle Magazine that Kaye and Butler worked closely together to craft the one of a kind creation. There's even rumored to be an inscription on the inside that's significant to the couple and the ring is estimated to cost a cool $100,000. Austin's fiancè was photographed heading into a ballet studio yesterday wearing pink tights, a pink leotard, Ugg boots, and of course that ring. Her curly dark brown hair was slicked back into a bun and she seemed to be sporting a pair of the actor's sunglasses.

Here's everything you need to know about the future Mrs. Austin Butler;

She's from New England —

A, as she's known, was born in Rhode Island. She grew up splitting her time between Rhode Island and Kennebunkport, Maine. Her teenage years were spent working the local Del’s lemonade truck, former neighbors say. She attended the Rhode Island School of Design after high school but never graduated.

She and Austin met via her former job –

Whilst working at the New York location of Vibrant Vintage, A, served as the fashion archives buyer. She also happened to be on hand when Butler visited the store. Supposedly she helped him find the perfect pair of leather boots, and the rest is history. Things clearly moved quickly between the two lovebirds, with A relocating to Los Angeles not long after. According to Vibrant Vintage, she is no longer employed there but “remains a close friend and consultant,” says their PR team.

She's a hit with his friends –

She organized a birthday party for her man’s co-star and close friend, Callum Turner. Turner posted an Instagram story showing off a fairly large garden party celebration and a “homemade blueberry glaze cake” according to the post. “Huge thanks to Austin's lovely lady xx” accompanied the video footage. She and Austin were also seen dining with his other Masters of the Air co-star, Nate Mann, while in Paris recently.

They've (supposedly ) got matching ink –

An unnamed employee at the iconic Bang Bang tattoo in NYC has said that Austin and A made a late night visit to the tattoo studio. Where exactly are the said-to-be matching minimalistic tattoos? Reportedly, Austin was inked on his left hip and A on her inner left thigh.

Old fashioned love letters are her thing -

Notably social media shy, Austin and A have taken up the lost art of handwritten love notes. Sources exclusively say that custom monogrammed stationery was crafted for the duo whilst Austin was filming in England. The hand pressed, vintage inspired paper bears a unique coat of arms style symbol with intertwining letter A’s and two sparrows (Fun fact! Sparrows mate for life and always find their way back, no matter how far they fly). While separated, the couple often writes letters to one another, even having the letters sent via jet instead of mail for privacy reasons!

_______

Suddenly one morning articles begin to pour in about your engagement. It catches you off guard, that ring akin to a skating rink has been sitting pretty on your hand for a bit now. The engagement had happened so naturally as everything with the two of you seems to. In the early morning hours while his swollen, rock hard member thrusts into you repeatedly you begin to awaken. On your side, his teeth clamp down on your shoulder as his finger twirls round the curls at the nape of your neck.

His gasps and needy groans tickle your ear. “Couldn't help myself..”, he shudders as you suddenly clamp down around him, barely able to register it all. You stretch and arch, allowing him the room and space to take what he needs. It is his after all. His teeth and pillowy soft lips mark your shoulder blades and when you reach down to where the two of you are joined, you feel his very full balls. Your newly manicured fingers tease and tug the best you can, scrunched up like some sort of acrobat. “Ugh, ugh…baby… you're gonna make me -”. Then he does. Hot, viscous, cream floods you and makes you sigh in a contented whimper. “Thanks darlin’,” he pets your head and you close your eyes dreamily. That is until you hear him rustling around in the bedside table next to him.

You cock open an eye, figuring he's looking for smokes or even the book he had been reading late last night. Your hands are stretched above your head, gripping a pillow. The perfect position for him to suddenly slip the most gorgeous piece of jewelry you've ever seen onto your finger. When your eyes shoot open and you jump up, he's lying there grinning that smile that makes you weak at the knees. “Will you be my wife?” As if your answer would be anything but yes, please Daddy. You smother him in kisses, straddling him and giggling. It's the perfect moment, the perfect proposal. You were never one to want a fireworks display or heaven forbid, those ridiculous and wasteful walls of flowers other celebrities seem to have for every occasion. This private, simple moment is everything you could ask for.

You feel the sudden urge to take him in your mouth despite him just finishing. With your head hanging off the side of the bed, you take him down your throat. Choking and gagging, you really give it your all. Fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see the way his lip curls and his eyes slam shut. Talking is always your thing. This time, though, he's sputtering and rasping words of utter devotion and love. Promises to worship your body until the day he dies. My perfect, perfect wife. Soon you can't be sure if the tears are from his cock down your throat, or his beautiful words. Maybe both. Those pretty boy fingers twist and tug on your nipples and then crawl lower and flick that special spot. The only fireworks you enjoy happen, twice for you actually. He's so dutiful and charming, when you're done pulling yourself back together and fixing your hair, he's handing you a surprise glass of champagne. What a way to mark the occasion.

You decline a proper press announcement. Phone and FaceTime calls follow to those who truly matter to you both - your families, both absolutely thrilled. Then Baz, Cal, The Presley's, everyone can't stop gushing about how perfect you are for each other. That ring, oh how sweet he designed it himself. You come up with a family-appropriate story to describe the proposal and the evening that followed, conveniently leaving out the mind-blowing sex the two of you have all over the house and in the hot tub. Why do things feel so different now that you're engaged? You can't get over the way the light hits the ring as you stroke him and something in that dirty girl heart of yours feels like it's really, truly, official when you have to clean his cum off the stone.

He's due back to set for some reshoots a few days later and of course you follow. Bringing throw pillows from your living room to spruce up his trailer and plotting out how to plan the most private, under the radar wedding possible while you lounge in his trailer in a cute little dress you sew yourself from vintage scarves bought in London. Your newest hobby, that and the ballet classes. He yammers on and on about wanting to sneak in and see you dance. You're sure it's just the tights and leotards spurring his interest though, let's be real. The paparazzi are as relentless as ever, but head down with big sunglasses helps keep the chaos at bay.

You visit Disney World, a whole crew, the two of you, your families, friends with their little ones. Thankfully Disney security is familiar with celebrity guests and you can actually let your guard down for once. Which is good, because seeing Austin chase after your friend's newly toddling little ones makes your stomach flip flop with joy. You make a mental note to expedite the wedding plans, he makes it known that he's chomping at the bit to be a father. When you visit Main Street, you decide a pair of new Mickey ears are in order. Gold stitching with Mrs. Butler is what you finally decide on after Austin's encouragement, his hand on your lower back as you walk miles and miles around the park with hands full of churros and cotton candy. Sure, some overzealous fans snap cell phone pics of you with your ears and immediately post them to those ridiculous Austin fan blogs who've now decided you are the evil villain in his story. You won't allow them to burst your Disney bubble though. Your fairytale is just beginning after all.

__

[fanaticsnail]

A day is all I need

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 6,900+

Synopsis: Serving as Trafalgar Law's chronicler aboard the Polar Tang, he convinces you to finally cast aside your former love for a man long since passed. In a bid to move on, you find an intriguing figure in the market who bore a striking resemblance to the man who held your heart.

Themes: Donquixote Rosinante x f!reader, otherworldly themes, fluff, heavy angst, hurt / comfort, love, pining, crying, sorrow, no happy ending, platonic love, confessions of love, magic, world building, unnamed OC introduction.

Notes: This is a fic that has taken me months to complete for a swap with @ghostiequill who wrote me a Rosinante foster parent au fic. I hope you enjoy this one!

The pool swirled and coiled in a rotating spiral, the water within coiling and clouding out to become vapor at the circular edge. Within the viscous pool swirled several hazy images within the waters depths. Faces shrouded by clouded light, the echo of indistinguishable voices, and a soft forlorn melody humming beneath the water beckoned all who heard the song to approach the menacing liquid. 

“Why now?” a voice slapped in a reverberating purr, beckoning the tall figure closer to their arched light, “Why would you choose now, after so very long, to ask permission to return?” 

Inhaling a deep, shaky breath, Rosinante stepped forward with his eyes lowered to the pool. Gazing into the depths, he witnessed a grown man with patchy, blotched skin, pierced ears, and tattoos on his chest, back, arms and fingers smiling up at a polar bear mink. Rosinante lulled his head to the side, smiling warmly with his lips in a solid line before glancing to the other side of the pool.

The image swirled and dissipated, morphing into something new and away from Trafalgar D Water-Law and his crew, and shifting into a person sitting upright and rigid at a desk. Their hand movements scratched away at a page, chronicling quests and organizing calendars while shaking off fatigue with a soft sigh.

“Why now, Rosinante? You will answer me when I speak to you,” the voice spoke, smoke and vapors clouding in a spectral mist and swelling in a clap to reveal a figure clad in a dark robe with large, dark wings protruding from his back. The figure’s hair shone like gold in direct sunlight, his face expressionless and holding an unspoken taunt behind the amber hue of his eyes. 

“Forgive me, sir,” Rosinante bowed his head, closing his eyes and sinking down onto his knees with his palms clapped over his thighs. “Truth be told, I didn’t know I could ask. I thought we were only able to watch from here, not go back.” The figure offered Rosinante a soft smile, making his eyes gentle as he stepped forward with his hand extended. 

“Of course you can ask,” he confirmed while gently tilting Rosinante’s head up to pierce his gaze down onto his face, “It doesn’t mean I am likely to aid you in your plight, but you can always ask.” Rosinante’s eyes held both understanding and a gentle plea behind his expression. The figure suddenly looked to the side before gently kneeling down in front of him. 

“If I am to do this for you, there are a few things you should be made aware of,” he uttered in a voice just above a whisper, still gazing to the side while clutching Rosinante’s chin, “I don’t grant just anyone a trip to The Over. Many have asked, but The Over can only handle so much of this energy at once.” 

Rosinante nodded along to the warning, keeping his hands firmly affixed to his thighs as the figure’s fingertips began to tingle in gentle licks of flame against his face. The wings fluttered behind the creature’s back, feathers flickered and shook with subtle ribbons of golden shimmer falling from his shrouded skin. 

“There are two ways, you may choose only one,” he uttered, gently turning back his attention to Rosinante in front of him, “The first is, I allow you to visit in the form you are now: spectral in nature, but natural in appearance. You can speak with only one individual and a single touch can be granted in this form. It will only last for an hour at the most, but you will be able to accomplish all you need to to visit your person.” 

The golden bob of Rosinante’s head depicted his understanding, but his eyes held a slight disappointment within his caramel orbs. The golden-haired man hummed and smiled broadly while arching his brow high. 

“You seem dissatisfied with the first option, should you desire to hear the other?” he chuckled at Rosinante, gently smoothing his hand over his cheek before resting on his shoulder, “The other is a path less commonly taken.” 

“Please,” Rosinante whispered, his lips parting and eyes darting between the two spectral and intimidating orbs staring into his soul, “Tell me the other.” The man smiles and shakes his head softly. 

“You will borrow my wings for twelve hours,” he shrugged, his wings fluttering behind his back before falling to the ground and sweeping behind him, “A half day venturing between here and The Over at will.” Rosinante’s eyes widened, looking over the figure’s shoulder to his wings and back at to meet his gaze once more.

“Is there a catch for this option?” he asked, immediately charting a course internally to how he could travel between the realms with haste to visit the young boy once in his care, and to return to his unspoken love in The Over.

“Of course, sweet Rosinante,” the man hummed, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, “But I believe you would choose this option regardless of the consequences.” 

“I believe we can both agree on that,” Rosinante gave a gentle hum, exhaling a laugh through his nose and smiling down at the pool beside them, “How soon do we begin?” 

The winged man fluttered his feathers behind his back, his intimidating eyes baring through Rosinante's head and into his spirit. 

“Immediately.”

Sitting in your office, you finally exhale a hefty breath you didn't realize you held within your chest. Chronicling the journey for the Polar Tang in their quest to meet up with the Straw-Hat and Kid-Pirate crews, while ensuring the rendezvous doesn't collide with maintenance and replenishment of supplies for the grand submarine, really began to take its toll on you. 

You had been traveling with Law for the past twelve years, ever since he had attempted to join the Donquixote Pirates and serve Doflamingo as his right hand in training. Rosinante was quick to stifle that craving, aiding and serving him to rid himself of the amber-led poisoning, while attempting to zap the lightning desire to stay alive as opposed to longing for death. 

Smiling, you turn to your desk and lift up a small pendant on your desk: a gift Law had given you when you accepted your title as ship's chronicler and professed your wishes to serve him officially. The heart-shaped locket had a small picture within, something you didn't think the sixteen-year-old Law managed to capture with the Den-Den snail shell. 

Rosinante was holding your waist, sitting you on his lap with the warm light of the fireplace warmed both of your features. The way he looked up at you spoke volumes, his eyes both rounded and half-lidded, his lips parted in a soft smile, and his gaze never leaving your face as you spoke down at him. 

Running your fingertips over the picture framed within the locket, you snapped it shut before tucking it within your desk drawer. You never had the chance of giving in to your emotions with Rosinante, never confessing your love for him because Law was simply too important and finding a cure for his health was a far greater need. 

You had served Doflamingo since childhood, given the choice between becoming a person serving in the ‘Passion District’ of Dressrosa, or using your skills as an in depth chronicler to catalog the deeds, decrees, and contracts for Doflamingo and his crew. You chose the latter, and you were ever thankful to be given the opportunity to do so. Growing your skillset, you had become incredibly detailed in your work, and your code deciphering skills were unmatched. 

You were only five years older than Law, growing and serving alongside him as he trained beneath Doflamingo to rise in the ranks. You couldn't pinpoint for sure when exactly you began to develop romantic feelings for Rosinante, the new Corazon of the Donquixote pirates, at the time. 

All you knew is you never had the opportunity to confess your love and adoration for the lanky man. Your heart was his, through and through, and you had never felt the swell to match its equal since. Sure, you had taken a handful of overnight lovers from port to port, but in truth: your heart belonged to him and him alone. 

Marching away from your desk with your journal clutched in your grasp, you found your captain sitting beside Bepo manning the helm. 

“Captain,” you have him a curt bow before fully closing the distance, “I have the itinerary you required.” Law smiled at you, shaking your head and softly gazed lazily up at your stature. 

“Chronicler,” he acknowledged, reaching out his tattooed hand and gesturing for you to pass it over to him with a soft beckoning of his hand. As you passed your journal into his hand, he softly tugged you to his side and held up his index finger in a gesture to halt your movement. You nodded your head in understanding to wait by his side, gently rotating your neck and easing the tension on your shoulders. 

“You know, Chronicler,” the nasally voice of the red-headed orka-man called from beside you, “If your neck and back is still giving you trouble, I'd be happy to ease the tension you've got gathering there, or anywhere else.” You rolled your eyes and gently chastised him with your pointed gaze. 

“While I am pleasantly intrigued, as always, to be on the receiving end of your flirtations, Shachi,” you gently arched your brows and looked him over from the hat on his head to the boots on his feet, “We both know that it'd be a bad idea. Also, we're both on the clock right now. You should be manning the pressure gauge, honey.” 

Immediately, Shachi straightened his back and returned to work with a newfound hastened pace. You didn't ignore the barely audible chuckle falling from Law's chest, gently reaching for his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. He raised his hand to your wrist, gently cradling it against his face and offering your knuckles a swift peck. 

“While I don't think Shachi would be an appropriate match for you,” he whispered, alongside the sweetness of your name on his tongue, “I do think it might be time for you to find someone. You've been wearing black for far too long.”

While your uniform was cream in color and embroidered with the dark design of Law’s Jolly Roger, you appreciated the nod to your plight of mourning for a love you never claimed. You leaned forward and offered Law a swift kiss on the forehead as he passed you back your chronicler journal. 

“What do you suggest, hm?” you ask Law with a soft tease in your tone, “Find some unwitting soul and offer them a place in my bed for a night of heat and passion-?” 

“-I accept!” Shachi called over his shoulder, hiding his blush beneath his hat and focussing his glasses-shrouded eyes behind his darkened glasses. You chuckled, shaking your head and pulling your hand away from Law's shoulder. 

“Did you hear your name in this private conversation, Shachi?” Law growled at his red-headed crewman. Shachi shook his head with a muffled “no, sir” in response, prompting Law to bark back at him, “So mind your own business. Keep an eye on the gauge, we're about to reemerge.” 

You offered a soft giggle, looking at the chroniclers journal and noting several changes Law had suggested in the margins of the calendar border, mostly to do with the duration of interaction with both Eustass Kid and Monkey D Luffy was to go on for. Shaking your head, you gently scolded him with a soft tap with your journal on his shoulder which gathered another breathy chuckle beneath his breath. 

“I'm serious, you know,” he again whispered a call of your name, gently tugging at your wrist, “You deserve a chance to move on.” 

“Like you did, you mean?” you offer Law a knowing look, gesturing with your pointed gaze down at his chest tattoo, “Heart Pirates, the Jolly Roger, the feathers in your pullover. Of the both of us, who truly needs to move on?” He scoffed at you, pouting and crossing his arms. 

“That's different. I'm honoring him,” he gently mumbled, your body slowly stopping forward and reaching down to squeeze at his knee. 

“In my own way, so am I,” you whisper down at him, “But I will try for you, captain.” Offering him a more intentional kiss on the forehead before returning to the base of the Polar Tang porthole window with Ikkaku, you thought on the words your oldest friend offered you. 

You had been mourning the tall man for upwards of ten years, no longer the woman you once were and now fully embracing the identity you carved for yourself as a pirate. You pictured what would've come of Rosinante if he had survived. 

He would be thirty-nine years old, would be still wear his face paint? Would his hair be worn in the same style? Would he have joined you and Law and embrace a life of piracy, or rejoin the ranks of Marines? All questions that you would never know the answer to. Nor would you know how he would've responded to your confessions of love. 

As you docked at port and settled the three crews in together, you gave Law a gentle nod to excuse yourself from the meeting to resupply the ship with the essentials. Penguin was to accompany you a little later, after he managed to swap stories and recipes with Sanji and Killer; the chef's of the other two crews. 

Humming a soft tune from the days long since forgotten, you sift through a variety of ingredients at the local flora and fauna shop, enjoying the scents and looking at a large assortment of carnations. The one that took your eye the most was the soft, pastel pink bordering the crimson hue of the droopy leaf. 

“Carnations from Dressrosa?” you asked the shopkeeper, prompting him to turn to face you. 

“We got a shipment over the past week. Worth a pretty berry now, considering it's being shipped out by King Riku Doldo III,” he commented, ushering you closer into the shop and urging your basket onto the trolley, “While he's done a lot of good for the kingdom of Dressrosa, after the former king was dethroned and rotting in impel down, he's not as passionate about flower production as the Donquixote was.”

You offer him a soft, forced smile at the comment, knowing intimately well how much Doflamingo truly enjoyed flowers. It reminded him of his mother, and it was disclosed to you in one of his drunken stupors that he desired to fill the castle with carnations as a memorial to her kindness. 

“I'll just take what's in the basket, sir,” you nodded to him, offering a handful of Berry to claim your remedies, perfumes and spices. He nodded, placing them in a canvas bag and handing over your change and receipt. 

As you moved to turn on your heel and away from the shop, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and urged you to turn to face the source of the wandering touch. Before you had the opportunity to meet their gaze, you saw the familiar petals of red and pink from the waving curls of leaf. 

“You forgot this,” the deep baritone softly called over to you, gently tugging it down to reveal their soft eyes to you. You darted your eyes between his, inquisitively mapping his face with your gaze. “If I may?” he softly gestured to your hair, raising the flower up to your ear. 

Softly nodding, you curiously accepted the gift of a flower in your hair as he tucked the petals into the crevice of your ear. Your eyes never left his face, finding something familiar in his gaze and a familiar softness in his touch. 

“Thank you, mister…?” you lulled your head to the side and looked from his whiskered chin up to his war-torn eyes. 

“You can call me…” his eyes seemed to search yours with a foreign pleading, “...anything you want, love. I'm not fussy.” You arch your brow and scoff at the unbridled flirtation, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. 

“Alright then, smartass. Keep your secrets,” you step away from his touch and turn to make your way back to the market square where you suspect to be meeting with Penguin in a few hours. 

“Smartass?” he mumbled in a soft, appalled whisper, “That hardly seems an appropriate choice.” You click your tongue while biting back a growing smirk. 

“Any reason you're choosing not to give me your name?” you ask without turning to face him, eyeing off several of the fresh produce and marking the better priced goods for services in your journal. 

“Why, is there something wrong with yours?” he smiled at you, gently sifting through the fruits and finding several varieties of citrus. You offer him a lopsided smile of surprise, your tongue toying with your molars as you stare at him in awe. 

Using this soft moment of silence, you gently rake your eyes over his form. He was tall with lengthy legs, his back long and shoulders broad. His blonde hair hung in loose curls over his head and tied back by a piece of pink leather, his beard shrouding his lips was manicured in a light and maintained scruff. 

“Who are you?” you asked him, folding your arms over your chest and analyzing him further. 

“Just a man journeying the crossroads of life and death,” he shrugged, lifting an orange in his grip and offering the vendor his Berry. 

“Can you be any more vague?” you arch your brow up and narrow your eyes at him. He turned to face you, his expression mirroring yours in a soft mocking demeanor. 

“Can you be any more intrusive?” he laughed back at you. Your smile all but fled your face, your brows downturning and lip curling in an appalled pout. 

“Fine,” you shrug, reaching up and taking the flower between your index and middle fingers and offered it to him. He was taken aback, looking between you and the flower before slowly reaching his larger hands out and taking the flower between his index and middle fingers from you. 

As he placed the stem between his fingers, a soft moment of familiarity washed over you in a crashing wave. The small gesture felt like passing a hidden cigarette with Rosinante after all the crew had fallen asleep, passing notes well into the cryptid hours and swapping stories of your adventures. 

Before you had the opportunity to turn fully away, he raised the flower back up to your face and darted his eyes over your form with an expression of forlorn longing. 

“This is yours,” he whispered, gesturing to the vibrant flower in his fingers, “Please, keep it.” Softly pouting up at him, you nodded in a subtle bob and allowed him to once again place the flower in the crook of your ear. 

His smile seemed all-too familiar, but no matter how your heart yearned to place a name to his face, you refused to give in to the intrusive thought. 

“I'm going to go back to my crew now,” you assess him with your gaze, shrugging off your inhibitions and biting back your nerves, “Did you want to join us for dinner with the lot of them? My captain won't mind, I assure you.” The man seemed to stiffen and back straighten in a rigid beam. 

“Are you inviting me back to meet your crew?” he asked inquisitively, his gaze dating over your eyes and face as he assessed your intentions. 

“If you don't want to, that's all you had to say,” you scoff, turning back to the produce and marking another symbol over the page, “No need to be rude about it, Smartass.” 

“No, no, you misunderstood me,” he chuckled nervously, softly placing his hand on your wrist to halt you, “Please, let me join you. I just-... I didn't expect you to extend an invite back to meet your family at the offer of a simple flower.”

“Well, you caught me in a moment of weakness,” you tug your wrist away from his grip, softly scolding him with your eyes and turning your body away but holding your gaze against him, “A weakness I won't be willing to extend again in a hurry-.”

“-Please,” he halted you with his gentle, careful whisper, “I'll stop, I'll behave. I was just being playful. It's-... It's been a while.” You shake your head, offering him a soft smile. 

“It's been a while for me since I've received such an intentional pursuit too,” you offer him, giving him a soft, tight-lipped and sheepish smile, “I tend not to lean in, but my captain gave me a little push earlier today. This is what my new leaf looks like, believe it or not.” 

Your companion gave you a soft grin, a knowing look found in his eyes as he offered you his arm and clutched the assembling bag of groceries you ordered on behalf of Penguin. 

The questions fleeing from his lips, from what your current passions and hobbies were, to your family and crew felt organic and natural in each fluid sentence. It felt like you were talking to an old friend, his caramel eyes holding something within that seemed truly familiar and all-knowing. 

His smile never left his face, the softness found in his expression was soothing and almost dreamy. You felt your heart swell the longer you spent with him. 

As you rejoined the crew, you introduced him to your friends and comrades as, “The Smartass.” He didn't seem to correct you, only offering a soft smile and holding up his hands defensively and confirming the soft title. 

The glare from your captain to your blonde guest never left him, feeling as perplexed as you were the longer you held discussion with him. You gently excused yourself from your guest and moved over to your captain's side. 

The bearded stranger laughed alongside the Heart-Pirates, enjoying a few lengthy monologues from Bepo and balancing the soft teasing from both Shachi and Penguin with fluid-like ease. He was a natural, and it was unnerving to witness such ease and rapport from a stranger to the crew. 

Sitting down beside Law, you looked down at him and gently nudged him with your shoulder. 

“Does he seem familiar to you?” you asked Law, gently nudging your shoulder with him. “He kind of looks like-.”

“-Don’t say it,” Law growled below his breath, “It can't be. He's dead. Don't, and this is the last I'll speak on it, you hear?” You gave him a gentle nod, excusing yourself from his side and gently bowing out to leave the table. 

“I understand,” you whisper quietly, softly pressing your lips to his temple and turning away, “Give my best to our guest. I think it's better if I just bow out now before I say something stupid.”

“I didn't mean-,” Law began, turning to face you and reaching his hand out towards you, only to stop as your words covered his. 

“-Goodnight, Law. I'll see you in the morning, okay?” you gently smile at him, softly upturning your eyes as they meet with the ground in a stopped bow. “If both foreign captain's offer you any trouble, send them my way and I'll sort them out.” 

“And your new friend, the smartass?” he asked you in a soft growl, “What you want me to do with him?” You shook your head, softly smiling at the way the blonde was gesturing and speaking with animated gusto with Penguin, Shachi and Bepo while they all sat and ate their dinner. 

“He seems rather involved with whatever is going on over there,” you confess in an amused hum, “If he's too much trouble, send him away. If not, enjoy him. I'll be in my quarters.” You gently turn towards your guest, nodding to him to excuse yourself with a polite smile. 

He snaps away from his conversation and begins to move to stand with a subtle urgency in his step. Shaking your head, you urge him to stay and giggle in response to his soft fluster. His eyes darted between yours, softly slinking back to his seat and looking up at you with his eyes rounded and innocent. 

Once away from the troop, your bearded guest turned his sights onto your captain and gave him a gentle smile. A smile Law knew all too well. 

A phrase from the past, a momentum of the friendship he had with the heart of the Donquixote pirates, the smile that held everything in its soft emotion. 

“If you ever think of me in the future, I want you to remember me smiling.”

Law immediately sprung up from his seat, kicking the discarded stool behind him and marched over to the blonde guest while uncaring as to who saw. 

“You're not him,” he barked down at the blonde man, Law's eyes wide and feral in nature, “You're not. I won't believe it. This is some trick, some cruel gamble.” The blonde man held out his hand defensively, gently attempting to soothe him and repress his fiery temper with a soft gesture. 

“Listen, kid,” the man softly whispered, his eyes rounded and feigning innocence, “You need to keep calm.” 

Law’s eyes widened as his heart caught in his throat, immediately raising his hand and calling for both, “Room,” and “Shambles,” to give the two of them a moment of privacy to talk. 

Blissfully ignorant and consumed with your own plight and struggle to withhold your emotions, you simply dove back into chronicling in your journal to cast aside your comparative narration regarding your new potential lover. 

Several hours had passed, your mind finding escape within your pages enough to remove your memory from the dull ache reawakening your love for a man lost to you. Shaking your head, you gently coax all thoughts aside from work from your mind. Carving words in code onto your page, you gently discarded several blemishes from your divider and slouched back into your seat. 

A gentle knock on your doorframe calls you away from your work, prompting you to look up and witness the lanky form smiling at you in the threshold of your room. 

“Law said I'd find you here,” your guest hummed teasingly at you. You turned your whole body around in your swiveling chair and lulling your head to the side, “He's a fine young man, you've done so well with him.”

“Excuse me?” you arch your brow, scoffing at him and eyeing him up and down, “Do I look like his mother?” The guest all but slipped and tumbled unceremoniously against the doorframe, mumbling his apologies and stuttering. 

“N-No, I just. He said-... didn't you-? Did you-?” he continued to relay, tripping and stumbling within your office and causing your brow to arch up and your lips to purse. 

“Slow down before you fall over more than your words and your feet,” you shake your head, gesturing with your hands to welcome him in, “Come on in, make yourself at home.” He smiled up at you, gently walking in and collecting himself. 

“What I meant to say was,” he straightened up his pale shirt and fixed the seams at his wrists, “I spoke in depth with your captain. He's grateful to have you still with him after all this time, and all you've been through together.” You look down your nose at him, puzzled by the words he's producing, the flurry seeming more cryptic than ever. 

“Oh, and how did you manage to coax that out of him, I wonder?” you scoff, folding your arms over your chest and offering him a scolding look. He raised his hands defensively, remaining silent to the cause and always gentle in his movements. 

“Call it ‘shared history’, if you like,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders and biting back a soft smirk. You rolled your eyes, gazing over to your desk and finding your gaze immediately drawn to the locket you drew out for comfort earlier. 

“A friend of yours?” he asked, his head tilting to the side and reaching for it with his thumb and middle fingers. While you would normally halt such a touch to something so personal, your heart clenched firmly as you forced yourself to stop. 

As he held it up to his face, his eyes held a sense of purity you thought you almost recognised. He rolled the pad of his thumb over the piece, his face seeming to hold himself back from saying something he felt he shouldn’t. 

“He was my best friend,” you confessed in a soft whisper, turning your face away from him to gaze down at your boiler suit uniform. Avoiding his gaze seemed to spur you on, your soul screaming at you to talk about your emotions with a non biased party. Taking a shaky inhale, you gulped back and poised a question to your guest. 

“Would you mind if I spoke about him?” your voice was almost too quiet, but your question was answered immediately by your guest with an urgency you could almost laugh at.

“Please.” 

You fought back a shaky laugh at his haste, gently rising a smile to your lips while continuing to peer down at your uniform. Your guest, the smartass, was really growing on you, and you were grateful he allowed you the freedom to use him to pour your heart out about your lost love. 

“He was… everything to me” you began at the beginning, your smile beginning to shake at the corners, “Although we didn’t speak for some time, his selective mutism ensured that - a long story.” You held your hands up defensively while you moved your head to gaze out of the window. 

“He always listened when I needed him to. And… When he told me the truth, about who and what he was,” you bit the inside of your bottom lip to halt your emotion from swelling to full intensity, “He told me to stay behind, remain bound to the desk beneath the whim and thumb of his older brother.” You snuck a look at your guest to gauge his reaction, his back remained turned to you.

“I said ‘no’.” 

Your guest chuckled at your comment, his shoulders shaking with a clumsy laugh. His laugh was contagious, mixing with yours as it fell effortlessly from your lips. Even his laugh held that familiarity to you, and you felt at ease with his close proximity.

“Why did you go with him, if you don’t mind me asking?” he queried, the small chirp in his question felt innocent and prompted you to smile a little wider, “Was it the boy? Your captain spoke to me about it a little.” 

“Law was sick,” you nodded to him, “But that wasn’t why I came with him. I… I was…” You steadied yourself, gently taking in a large breath and breathing out steadily, “I was so, desperately in love with him, I couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving without me. Selfish, I know.” You shrugged, watching the man’s back as he continued to stare down at the image of you and your heart within the warm light.

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” his voice fell from his lips in a soft whisper. “Why didn’t you ever tell him?” 

“Who’s to say I didn’t?” you giggled in response, toying with the sleeves of your boiler suit before rising to your feet. Walking over to stand beside the taller man, you don’t move to gaze up at him, only peering at the locket in his hand, “I told him I loved him every day.”

“How?” the question left his lips before you uttered the last syllable of your former sentence. This prompted you to snap your gaze up and meet his eyes as they bore themselves into the image within the frame. 

Truly taking him in, really studying him, you could see the melancholy in his face. The soft creases in the corners of his eyes, soft pucker lines from cigarette addiction, the scruff of blonde and silver in his beard, and the soft curls framing his face. He was so beautiful, you felt yourself becoming lost in his presence. The deep sadness swelling within his chest escaped from within, littering his cheeks with a slow outpour of emotion from his eyes. 

“In the little things,” you nodded to him, placing your hand over the locket and gently holding the stranger’s hands, “In the way I made his coffee, in the blanket I’d draw over his chest to keep him warm while I kept watch. In how I would clear up the rum bottles to hide from Law, and in the soft touch I would sneak with him.” 

Rolling your thumb on the back of the stranger’s hand, you demonstrated the initiation of a gentle and innocent touch. 

“He probably didn’t read much into the actions, but this is how I showed it,” you shrugged, stilling your motions and holding your hand still in his. His other hand timidly reached up to withdraw the flower from your ear and fiddled with it in his fingertips. You sighed softly, truly enjoying being able to rid yourself of the burden caging your heart with him.

“Do you know what my favorite part of today was?” he asked, a softness in his eyes and his heart pressed on his sleeve. He finally shifted his vision from your hands to your own eyes, darting between them gently. 

“Tell me, Smartass,” you smirk at him, gently caressing his bearded cheek with your unoccupied hand, and smoothing your thumb over his jaw. In a bid to return playfulness rather than heavy conversation about love and loss with him, “What was your favorite part?”

Placing the flower down on your desk, he removed his hand from yours and softly returned the locket to its former position. In just those actions alone, you could’ve seen that same man you were speaking of within him - but that could’ve been that hope you spoke of moment’s prior with Law. 

His hands now bare reached towards you, gently drawing you closer to him and pressing his forehead against yours while stooping low. You closed your eyes on impact, almost expecting a kiss from the stranger but happy to sit in his presence and share breaths with him. Spectral golden dust began to surround his body, pooling at his back and spilling down to fall at his feet, prompting his anxiety to rise and propel him to confess. 

“I had the chance to fall in love with you all over again.” 

Your shock was evident on your face, your eyes widening at witnessing the otherworldly transformation of the man in front of you. 

“Rosinante?” you choke back your sob, the swell in your chest threatening to burst and force tears from your eyes immediately. Pulling away from his forehead, his face morphed with the aid of the golden dust and shedded his beard and shortened his hair. 

“I'm here,” he whispered, softly reaching down and claiming your hands within his own, “And I'll be waiting for you thereafter. Always.” 

Your heart burst at seeing the young man once more, makeup on his features and that smile you loved splitting up his face. Every emotion burst in your chest and flooded your cheeks with warm, heavy tears. The unspoken questions of how, why, when, what, and who couldn’t release from your lips regarding his ethereal presence: especially now with the presentation of large, black wings in lieu of his cloaked jacket. 

His body began to fade, the light shining in your eyes prompted you to squint to continue to gaze at him. Instead of asking the questions that plagued you, and leading truly with your heart, you managed to stutter out an articulation of your sorrow. 

“How can I move on without you? How can I live without you, Corazon?” you whimper out, gently reaching up and surging your head forward to meet his chest, “What should I-...? How can I-...? I can't-... Please, I can't move on without you-.”

“-Whichever person you welcome into your heart next, mi amor,” he whispered calmly, softly pressing his lips to your forehead and fighting the urge to release his own tears, “Rest assured, my heart is big enough to hold them with you too.”

“Corazon-.”

“-I love you.”

Your cabin split with a flash of gold, a flutter of black wings was all that echoed as you were once again left alone with your thoughts. All that remained was gratitude that you had what little time stolen from you from the beyond, and the hope that you would see him again one day. 

Once your tears dried up, and you deemed yourself appropriate enough to explore the corridors and halls of the Polar Tang, you would find your Captain in much a similar shape as you were. His face was stained with emotion, his eyes red and puffy while his heart was lighter than it had been for some time. 

“Did you see him, or was it all a dream?” he asked you, using the back of his sleeve to clear his cheeks of their spillage. 

“I saw him,” you nodded, immediately moving over to him and circling your arms around his shoulders to soothe him, “And we will see him again.” 

Law nodded into your chest hastily before his lips began to huff out heavy sobs. You never dreamed of hushing him through it, feeling the tension boil over in your own heart and beginning to mourn for your lost love all over again. 

“He said he was proud of me,” Law whimpered, his hands grasping the back of your boiler suit in heavy fistfuls, “And he loved us both so much.” You nodded, burying your eyes into the mop of dark hair at the crown of his head. 

For the next several moments, you both allowed one another to sob openly in the comfort of each other’s arms. The tightness in your chest felt itself becoming untethered the longer you clung to one another. After allowing yourselves the time you needed to calm down, you softly whispered into your captain’s hair. 

“I know I don’t tell you enough with my words,” you rubbed his back and gave him a reassuring squeeze, “I love you, Law, as much as one friend could love another. I would follow you anywhere, as my captain and as my friend.” 

Law held onto you further, his bottom lip quivering at the beginning of a rise of fresh emotions. 

“Stay with me?” he asked innocently, “Just like we did all those years ago?” 

“Of course,” you nod, pressing a kiss to his temple and holding him firmer against yourself, “For as long as you need.” 

For the next few weeks, the two of you would become as inseparable as you once were all those years ago. You were a comfort to one another, and that was all you needed to be until you were ready to part from shared quarters.

“You will look as if the years were never taken from you, a body that should’ve been yours should you have lived,” the winged Avariel confessed to Rosinante with a gentle hum in his tone, “They will likely not recognise you, regardless of how you dress and present yourself.”

“They will still know you as the man you once were, even in the form you are now, you will be familiar to them,” the man removed his cowl, offering it to Rosinante with open hands, “But you are not permitted to give your name in any form. No “Corazon”, no “Rosinante”, no “Donquixote”. If your name is spoken, you will return to me immediately.”

The blonde nodded his head, his heart beginning to stir and vibrate in longing. His gut clenched, his breath slowly returning to him as an ethereal ray swirled from the pool around his body.

“You will only have this day, and this day alone,” The figure stepped closer in, donning the wings on Rosinante’s back while pressing his forehead against the blonde’s own. “You will never be able to do this again, and remain here with me in The Under until you are reunited with those you love at the waters.”

Rosinate felt his body shift and change, age weathering his features. The sprouts of scruffy hair on his chin had his eyes begin to pool over with a bittersweet sorrow. He had always wanted a beard, but his marine lifestyle and his presence with the Donquixote Pirates required him to remain neat and tidy until he served his purpose. Knowing, should he have lived, he would’ve had a beard growing shaggily on his face meant he would’ve chosen a life of freedom and piracy. Before he came too involved with the way he looked, the figure spoke to him once more.

“Do you understand, Rosinante?”

“A day is all I need, sir” he confirmed with a soft whisper, clapping the wings onto his back and donning the shrouded cowl with a gentle clap over his chest to honor the otherworldly man, “All I'll ever need.”

“I just need to tell them how proud I am of them,” he whispered, feeling life return to him with the flutter of darkened wings firmly shaking to life, “And tell them both how much they meant to me.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[chogiwow]

for well and for good | park sunghoon

pairing: sunghoon x gn!reader

genre: angst

wc: 1k

warnings: allusions to a toxic past relationship (sunghoon and unnamed ex), crying (a lot), hurt-no-comfort fic, heartbreak; sunghoon realises his feelings for you too late

a/n: all i want is to break hearts <3

a/n pt 2: umm, not a solid plot but more so like a scene building concept?

there wasn’t a more heartbreaking moment than this, not for sunghoon; not even when the consequences of his actions that led him here had played out exactly as you had warned him it would.

now it was too late, and beg as he might, a heavy feeling in his chest slowly settled against his favour, a premonition turning true and cry as much as he wanted, everything was spiralling out of control so fast, he wasn’t sure who he should save first.

“(y/n)...(y/n) please, i can’t do this, i can’t live without you. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, please don’t leave, i need you…i love you.”

the more he weeped for a lost cause, the more it hurt your chest and ripped you apart piece by piece but you made no attempts at stopping the pain.

everyone had always assumed that you and sunghoon would be the endgame. it was so obvious! you both were head over heels for each other, but of course, of course the heart wavers ever so often now and then. sunghoon let himself ignore all the signs, pretend that the affection and sweet words weren’t another ploy for his wealth, his looks, his popularity, the safety and love he was so willing to provide someone, because he was always so very generous. generous and ridiculously naive; always looking to give away a piece of himself to anyone who so much as asked for it.

and a man in love is hard to sway again, especially when the man is sunghoon, with his giving nature and so much love that filled his heart that he couldn’t contain it any longer.

words were said – spit almost venomously at the cost of saving face and pride, and how dare you question his love and hers, when you had no business? how dare you make assumptions about this beautiful woman who loved him – at least he hoped she did – as much as he did?

and then…and then everything you said came true. your warnings carefully etched themselves like knife carvings on a paper – vehemently and so very stubbornly irreversible. now he’s here, after months of grieving not just the loss of his trust in love, but also you. and he had to make things right, but how does one convince a person they've broken and trampled upon so mercilessly, that they are indeed in love with them?

how does sunghoon convince you that he’s so utterly in love with you that he could physically feel the pain of your pointed ignoring and cold looks? how does he even begin to express how sorry he was when the unsaid apology squeezed the breath out of him in aggrieved pants? how does sunghoon not lose you again?

“”i’m sorry hoon, i can’t do this anymore. i can’t love you anymore, i don’t want to love you anymore…you’ve hurt me too much.”

“(y/n) please, please i beg you,”

and beg he did; getting down on his knees on the cold tile floors of your living room, he wrapped his arms around your waist and dampened your shirt with his hot tears. neither he nor you were making much sense of this conversation anymore.

he felt you shake in his embrace, your own tears and gasps of air breaking his chants of an apology, his hands tightening around you to physically feel your touch after months.

“hoon stop it,” a wretched sob, ugly as it sounded when it tumbled out of your lips in pain, like a helpless rotten fruit falling off its branches, makes you whimper and clutch onto the clinging man's hand who refused to let you go.

in a hurried motion sunghoon is up on his feet, holding you by the shoulder that shakes with the cries staining your cheeks.

“i can’t live without you, please give me another chance,” he shakes his head frantically, mumbling out his words in a frenzy as he is yet again painfully reminded of exactly how weighted his words were and how much truth they held in them. it weighed him down, your refusal to look past this, like a sack of cotton drowning in water, and yet he could not bring himself to blame you, hoping against hope that his words would make a change.

his lips find your forehead, pressing down on them in a hot kiss; the trembling of his lips breaks you, you wish would stop – but he doesn’t. he’s kissing your shoulder, your arms, your wrists, your palms and he’s kissing your forehead – again and again and again and again – until you push yourself away, your eyes closed, shaking your head.

“don’t, it’s time we stopped this. we can’t hope for things that were never meant to be.”

sunghoon was standing on the edge of a cliff, and you just pushed him off into a bottomless pit that made his insides curl into themselves, his hands shooting in the air for something to grasp but there’s only air that passes through his fingers like bullets.

in his last attempt he kisses you on the lips. he holds your face so gently and kisses you so deeply and for a moment you feel yourself swaying. you let him kiss you, because you know this would be the last time you would let this happen. you whimper into his mouth and he lets a broken sob tumble on your lips where it stays as a reminder of this very moment, searing you both apart. you don’t kiss back.

“stop it, please. you’re hurting me.” it’s a whispered plea, but to sunghoon it’s a huge boulder that blocks his way from you. you’ve planted it there for once and for all, and he knows that there’s nothing he can do to make you move it.

“i’m sorry, i love you, but i don't want to anymore. i’m sorry.” 

sunghoon rests his forehead against yours, your tears mingled and continuous and he knows he’s lost you now, for well and for good.

[callsign-rogueone]

conscription day - a.g.

Aaric Graycastle x reader words: 1.2k 🏷: at incredibly long last, here begins the story of Aaric and Sunny! no pronouns used in this chapter but future ones will use she/her. very minimal Iron Flame spoilers. their story will follow the whole book so more major stuff in future chapters. in this one: canon-typical peril, dragon fire, implied death of unnamed characters. proofread, but with a migraine. five points of extra credit if you can identify another girlfriend or two in here 👀

Crossing the parapet was easy enough, and that should be the hardest part of your day today, yet you still can’t kick the nervous feeling in your chest, even after you have both boots on solid ground and your name has been recorded as having made it across, after you've been organized into a squad...

It persists through the handful of boring patriotic speeches about the commitment you’ve made to your country, which go in one ear and out the other. You know why you’re here. You don’t need to be given any other reasons.

You look over at the boy next to you. He doesn’t look scared of anything; not the quartet of dragons perched on the stone wall fifty yards away, nor the rest of the cadets around him who are all armed to the teeth, but he’s not loud and proud about it like some of the other cadets you’d heard talking on the Parapet. He’s keeping quiet, and watching. 

It’s almost like he doesn’t want anyone to see him, trying to blend into the crowd as an average guy so as to not make any enemies or expose any weakness he might have — but he certainly doesn’t look like he has any weaknesses, tall and strong and well trained, wearing his weapons like he knows how to use them, silently watching the rest of the crowd in the courtyard.

Maybe you’re a little bit alike in that regard; not in your level of preparation — you’re definitely the least-armed person in the squad, and likely in the entire quadrant, with one knife at each hip and absolutely nothing else, as that was all you’d been able to afford before you left for Basgiath — but in the way you present yourselves to the rest of the world, focusing on figuring everyone else out and keeping quiet, not sharing much.

Your nerves are finally starting to settle. The four dragons continue to eye you, some scarier than others; a battle-hardened red, a bored green and an equally disinterested brown that actually yawns -- and looks to be missing a few teeth when it does, and a mean-looking blue at the end of the row. Just missing black and orange.

As if the thought had manifested into reality, a massive, one-eyed orange dragon swoops down to perch on the wall too, stone crumbling under its feet. The other dragons clearly weren’t expecting this — the red bares his teeth at the intruder, the others backing up to give him a healthy amount of space.

One of the wingleaders, the only girl of the four, shouts something you can’t distinguish, and then there’s a chorus of screams as the orange unhinges its massive jaw, spewing red flame upon the formation.

A girl across the courtyard springs into action, leaping in front of her wing with her palms outstretched, making some kind of invisible shield over herself and the group of students behind her that deflects the fire. Clearly there isn’t anyone in your area that has this ability — everyone hits the ground, or yanks each other aside and prays they’ll be far enough away to avoid being burnt.

The boy you’d been watching locks eyes with you, and then you’re on the ground underneath him in a matter of seconds, wrapped up in each other; chest to chest, his hands braced against the gravel on either side of your head, one leg between yours, your faces less than three inches apart.

The intimacy, the implications of this position you’re in with a total stranger, a man you’ve never met, and an armed one, at that, should make your skin crawl, should make you want to kick and scratch to get him off of you, but you stay in place, under the safety of his armored shoulders, because it’s clear that he doesn’t want to hurt you, or to assert his power over you — but to protect you.

You have a deep-down feeling that you can trust him, despite not knowing anything about him. He doesn’t know anything about you, either. You don’t think he even knows your name — you’re certainly too shaken to remember his, if you’d heard it -- but he hadn’t hesitated to put himself between you and danger, turned his back on a fire-breathing dragon to make sure you were safe.

You’re still transfixed by the color of his eyes, a gorgeous jade green with a ring of gold around his pupils, which are dilated with the same mix of shock and fear that yours must be -- maybe he’s not as fearless as you thought. No, brave is a better descriptor. Isn’t that what bravery is, being scared but doing it anyway? 

If every day at this school is like this, you could certainly learn a thing or two from him.

The screaming stops and the heat lessens, replaced with the sound of an earth-shaking roar and the smell of smoke and charred leather.

“Are you okay?” he asks, the first time you’ve heard him speak. His voice is soft and cool, soothing.

“Yeah,” you manage, blinking up at him. “I’m okay.”

He rises to his knees, then his feet, extending a hand to help you up. You take it appreciatively, regaining your footing, surprised by the steadiness of your steps.

He reaches forward to brush the dirt from your hair, tucking a loosened strand behind your ear.

Your heart has never beat this fast in your life. You’ve never been touched this gently, never seen such a deep look of concern in a man’s eyes, that gorgeous shade of green looking down at you…  You realize that he’s still holding your hand -- rather, you’re still holding his. You let go quickly, your cheeks warming with embarrassment. 

“I’m okay,” you repeat, as much of a reassurance for yourself as it is for him. “Thank you,” you add after a second, still a little stunned by the events of the last two minutes — especially by the way he’d acted, to come to your rescue without hesitation.

He would smile at you if he hadn’t just watched a dozen people be incinerated. “We’re supposed to look out for each other, aren’t we?”

You manage a nod, your eyes finally moving from his to assess the damage and regretting it immediately. All of Second Wing seems intact, having been protected by the girl who had put up the air shield. She looks a little unsteady on her feet, but otherwise unharmed — it must have taken a lot of energy to do something like that. First Wing was far enough away to be unscathed, but Third Wing, and the squad beside yours… if you had been placed anywhere else, there would have been a reasonable chance that you’d have been burnt alive.

You don’t have much time to dwell on it as the girl you remember to be the squad leader, Rhiannon, barks out an order to fall back into formation. 

You step back into place at the back of the block, between your hero and a blonde girl who looks like she regrets eating breakfast this morning. “Deep breaths,” you whisper to her. “In through your nose, out through your mouth, like you’re blowing bubbles.”

She blinks at you, but tries it anyway, and it seems to work, her posture loosening slowly. “Thanks,” she replies quietly, keeping her eyes forward. 

The boy is right — the three of you should look out for each other, if you want to make it out of here alive.