#ship: broken cage

[sekaithemystic]

run away with me [chapter 1]

or as known as the songv roadtrip fic that was supposed to be a oneshot but my hands slipped and now it's going to be insane

ao3 link

It had been a crazy idea. Let's drive across the country to New York! But then V realized she wouldn't mind spending the last few months of her life visiting that forgotten part of So Mi, and So Mi started talking about places she used to frequent, then before any of them could have a second thought, they were already three hundred miles away from Night City.

The room was as cramped as V expected, but she still couldn't help a sigh from escaping her lips. At least the bed looked decent, and she immediately threw herself upon it, unconcerned about everything else. 

Well, maybe one thing—one person, more specifically.

“Jeez, here I thought I was tired.” So Mi put their backpack against the wall, and V didn't have to flop on her back to know she was wearing that teasing smile that never failed to make her heart race. 

“Have 'ever driven this far,” the mercenary replied, finally finding the strength to sit up. Song came to settle down on the foot of the bed, so she scooted lower until their shoulders bumped against each other. “And you kept pointing the wrong way.”

“How am I supposed to know that they hadn't updated the map of this area for years?” So Mi jabbed her elbow at V's side, and the younger woman cackled, hands moving to defend herself from the upcoming assault.

It had been a crazy idea. Let's drive across the country to New York! But then V realized she wouldn't mind spending the last few months of her life visiting that forgotten part of So Mi, and So Mi started talking about places she used to frequent, then before any of them could have a second thought, they were already three hundred miles away from Night City.

So here they were, sprawling across the bed in a motel out of nowhere, tired and dust-covered after a long day on the road.

“Come on, let’s take a shower before you fall asleep.” So Mi pulled her up by the arms, metal fingers curling around her wrist. V grumbled in protest but followed her nonetheless. The bathroom was, surprisingly, clean and neatly organized, not like there was much to begin with. The mercenary went for the water tap and twisted it counterclockwise until her grip was met with resistance. It was rather cold for an evening bath, but whatever, she supposed, before turning around to face So Mi.

A naked So Mi, more specifically.

She had shed the Samurai t-shirt she hastily took from V’s wardrobe before they left, leaving her bare skin on display, even though V doubted much of it was actual skin anyway. The last thought was drowned away by a wave of embarrassment and self-consciousness on the fact that this was the first time she saw the netrunner unclothed, and as if to make the matter worse, she was staring at the woman quite impolitely.

Um. Shit. Fuck.

In a rather clumsy attempt to hide the rising heat on her cheeks, she pinned her gaze on the tiled floor, one hand covering her burning face. Above her, a laugh rang out, so full of teasing that it only intensified whatever emotion she was feeling right now. Right, she was a full-fledged, soon-to-be 24 years old, who had been through enough shits to be called a legend in Night City, and she was also blushing like a maiden.

“Full of surprise, aren’t you?” said the reason V couldn’t even look up, the echo of her chuckles lingering by her reddened ears. “Come on, what’s there to be so embarrassed about? I’m sure you have had your own fair share of experience before.”

Song wasn’t wrong about that, but it was not like she could mutter back a response when she was still too busy to calm her racing heart down. She didn't understand why she was acting like this, either; but before any more questions could take place, So Mi's hands came to rest on her waist, urging her to undress as well. Mindlessly, with her head bowed, she complied, fingers sluggishly popping button after button of her drenched shirt, revealing the sports bra under. V could feel Song's gaze lingering on her exposed skin, admiring the well-defined muscles and hard edges, and goosebumps broke out on her arms, a chill threatening to rush down her spine. Her hands moved up to push the fabric away and smooth over her shoulders, toying with the cotton straps. Those mechanical fingers that were meant to type on the keyboard endlessly did a wonderful job of evoking nerve-wracking sensations inside her, and had her brain been a computer, it would have been fried long ago. Her arms suddenly wrapped around V's neck, forcing her to look So Mi in the eyes.

“You are beautiful.” Words left her mouth even before she could comprehend it. So many times, and the woman had always left her starstruck by her beauty like in their very first meeting. Could it be possible to fall in love with the same person over and over again?

“I know,” So Mi answered with a raised eyebrow as if it was obvious for V to be smitten. “But that bath is calling to us, so take those pants off, V.”

Reluctantly tearing herself away from the warm embrace, the younger woman unbuckled her belt, pulling both her jeans and underwear down until they pooled around her ankles. The tub managed to fit both of them, somehow, not that V complained. She still found it rather awkward to look at So Mi, instead opting for a blank spot on the wall. For a good moment, there was no sound, save for running water and the hum of the air conditioner. The peacefulness overwhelmed her senses, to the point she almost forgot that she would die, soon.

Yes, she had six months left, six months before her body failed and dragged her to the grave. The selfish part of her demanded an explanation on why she was wasting her time out here, trying to please someone whom she had to sacrifice her own chance of living for, but the selfless one—the stupid one really, found it rather comforting that she was able to show kindness, even when the world was ending for her. Then it led to another question: should she break the news to So Mi?

“What’s on your mind?” Brown eyes met hers in the dim light of the bathroom, full of worry and concern, and V knew the woman would only blame herself if she got a grasp on her situation. She had just escaped years of burdens, years of guilt; there was no way V could do this to her.

Or at least, the “good” part of her advised so.

“Just… thinking.” V swiped her hair back, feeling water trickling down the back of her neck. “A lot’s been happening and I haven’t had time to actually sit down and think about them, suppose.” Especially the part where I am dying and I’m not sure how to deal with that.

“You want to talk about it?” The offer was sincere, even without So Mi’s consciousness lingering inside her. How much should she talk without being too tightlipped or oversharing?

“Johnny and I, we parted on bad terms.” Bad terms was an understatement—she couldn’t recall their last talk without remembering that one last disgusted look he threw at her. More than just disgust, anger, disappointment, and betrayal were burning in his eyes, all at the same time. “I’m not sure how to deal with the knowledge that I failed him.”

“Because you trusted Arasaka?” inquired So Mi, and she nodded solemnly. “There are always strings attached when you run with corporations, we both know that,” V winced at the absolute fact that she knew but ignored all the time, “but in the end, it comes back to you: how do you feel about your choice?”

Like shit, she was tempted to answer so; however, she thought back to her options, of how most of those would have her putting her friends and acquaintances in danger. What were the chances that Panam couldn’t walk out of Arasaka Tower alive? Or Rogue? Or herself? 

Or that one person she had promised to protect with her whole life, a long time ago?

“I think I chose right,” V admitted with a sigh. So Mi smiled then, fingers twirling a strand of her pink hair; it had grown longer since the last time they saw each other.

“There you have it.” She reached over to lay her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “Right doesn’t always feel good, but at least it’s your choice, not his, not a choice you made under his influence, either.”

But sometimes she wished he would have made that choice, instead of her. It was always easier to follow others than to follow her own way, or maybe she couldn’t escape her nature in the end.

The bath had turned cold by the time they left it, but something warm burned inside V’s chest; a tiny fire, made by So Mi, started its new life here and now, right at this moment.

.

“Turn that valve, and check if there is any soot inside.” Her father’s voice was rather static through the phone speaker, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise at all, considering how bad the signal was.

“Yeah, there is a little stuck in here,” replied V, stealing a glance at the pixelated image of the older man on the screen So Mi was holding. “Do I clean it?”

She dreaded the idea of their car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, but now that it came true, there wasn’t much she could do aside from hoping that her amateur mechanics skill would be enough to get them to the nearest garage. Her father turned to speak with someone else, likely one of his apprentices, before directing his attention back to her.

“Grab a napkin and use your finger. Something’s wrong with the fuel pipe probably, so this is just a temporary solution for now.” That made both of them wince; whatever happened with the car sounded critical and beyond their ability. Funny how defeated Night City’s rising mercenary and one of the world’s best netrunners were at doing such mundane work. “I should have taken a look at your vehicle by myself hadn’t my headache persisted. Told those kids they still had a lot to learn, and apparently I was right.” He huffed, and V could imagine those young mechanics sweating nervously while thinking of the upcoming berate.

“Well, it’s fine really. We’ll manage.” Even she didn’t believe her own words, but whatever to keep her father’s worry at bay. So Mi chimed in, a polite smile that would absolutely charm him plastering on her face.

“You already help us more than we can ask for.” It was impossible to read his expression with how bad the video quality was, but V assured herself that Song’s words probably had an effect on him somehow.

“Remember to call your mom later before you turn in for the night,” he reminded her, before hanging up, leaving both women heaving a sigh. 

“Here to hope that heaven will bestow a lifesaver upon us,” V grunted and So Mi cackled, handing her a dry towel to clean her oil-covered hands.

Twenty-three miles later, with the clock barely hit eleven in the morning, they spotted what must have been a dozen pickup trucks and cars heading their way. So Mi shifted nervously in her seat, and V couldn’t help but mirror her action. Best case, it was just a normal nomad group; worst case, the Raffen Shiv had decided that they were the latest target, and the obvious solution was to fight their way out.

But that symbol on the flying flag tugged at the back of her hazy mind, a familiarity she couldn’t place. Something started with A, a place that had accepted her to be one of them.

“Pan!” V leaned out of the window, screaming at the top of her lungs. Poor So Mi was probably startled by the sudden reaction, but she would apologize later; right now, her eyes were squinting to catch sight of that figure returning her gesture. Unsurprisingly, she heard a response, the sound almost lost in the wind and sand of the desert.

“V you bastard!” Panam laughed, or cursed, or whatsoever, and her car skidded to a stop right next to theirs. She looked the same as V last saw her, with even more energy than usual. “What the Hell are you doing out there? Thought you and your city girl ass would never set foot out here?” 

“Road trip,” the mercenary replied, motioning at So Mi awkwardly sitting next to her. “Panam, So Mi. So Mi, Panam, as known as the most natural asshole of Badlands.” 

“That’s no way to refer to a lady, you rat!” She swatted at her shoulder, though that grin didn’t look like it would disappear any time soon. “Come, we are setting up camp soon. You and your friend should join us.”

“Not gonna say no to that,” V chuckled, waving at Mitch approaching them, “especially since we need a good mechanic to take a look at my car.”

Later, when they were following the Aldecaldos across the desert, So Mi finally spoke up, her gaze setting firmly on the younger woman as if she couldn’t believe whatever just unfolded in front of her.

��Interesting friends you have.” V only laughed at that, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “How did you end up being friends with a nomad group?” 

“Come on, I’ve done wilder things, and you never ask about them.” The pout elicited a smile from So Mi, who nudged at her teasingly in order to coax the story out of her, and it was not like she could deny the older woman if such a thing was possible in the first place. “I did what I’m best at: getting between family drama and, well, you know the rest.”

This time, it was So Mi who pouted at the vague answer; now that V had seen how cute she was, she felt like she should do this more often. Still, she offered an apologetic shrug, one hand scratching at her sweating nape.

“To be honest, a lot of my memories were jumbled as an effect of the Relic.” Her gaze softened at that, and V couldn’t help the sudden warmth rising in her chest. “So if you want the whole thing, it’s better to ask Panam, really.”

“So you had to go through it too.” A shiver.

“Not as bad as you.” She thought back to So Mi’s words in Dogtown. A snowflake lands on my glove. I can calculate its unique fractal structure, but what did my mom’s voice sound like? “It’s like, someone goes inside my home and puts everything in the wrong cabinets, instead of taking them away. And now I have to reorganize the whole thing.” If I can live until then.

“So listening to others should help you?” V twisted her lips in thoughts, before giving a firm nod.

“I guess? Only one way to find out.” Before she could return her full attention to driving, So Mi laid a hand on her arm, fingers curling around her wrist. Their eyes met, and she gulped, not sure what to expect at this moment.

“Just know that I’ll help you however I can, I promise.”

#am i insane? probably #sekaiswrite #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #song so mi #songbird cyberpunk #songbird #cyberpunk 2077 v #songv #good lord i sat down and wrote 2k words #valerie phan #ship: broken cage #but like i made v as ambiguous as possible (?) #still have mention of hanako x v / glass sanctuary

[lilyharvord]

Flash Fic Friday #4

I'm in Coriane and Nikolas (my OC) Brainrot Land. I have a whole playlist for them now and it makes my heart hurt for them. You're Gonna Go Far by Noah Kahan with Brandi Carlile is definitely the song for them in this. So here is Nik being a stupid boy and Coriane being (a maybe) aware girl. Prompt 4 for flash fic friday @nortaeventcouncil. Enjoy everyone (:

            “Why would I stand by while he said those things?” Nikolas Samos was by no means a small person, nor did he have short legs. He walked fast when he needed to, and yet, he was worried right now that he should be running to keep up with his best friend.

            Almost a head shorter than him, Coriane still managed to to be three steps ahead when she was upset. She had practically left him behind as she berated him. When she whipped around though at his words, her school bag almost smacked him in the stomach. He ground to a halt on the stone arboretum path they always took to get home. The loose stone under his worn boots kicked up and snapped against the toes of hers as she took a half step closer to him.

Rarely was Coriane this upset, and if he was being questioned by anyone, he would say it was terrifying when she was in a mood like this. If he was being perfectly honest, which he never would be, he would admit that she was ridiculously attractive too. Her eyes went from the jewel fall leaf colors to burning ore in seconds as she drew her lips in a tight line and adjusted her bag so it was hanging in its original place on her shoulder. He was like a bar of iron under that gaze, fracturing and melting to an ooze that would very easily roll back down the hill.

Gods be damned when she scrunched her brows like that, he wanted to take his thumb and physically smooth out the lines like he was working with a particularly temperamental sheet of metal.

“Because Nik,” She seethed as she glared at him. “People have said plenty of horrible things in front of and behind my back my whole life. One more won’t kill me.” She threw the words like darts and each one pinged him like one.

He didn’t mean to, but those words made him draw up to his full height. Coriane was not ignorant, she wouldn’t be his aunt's best if she were. Which could only mean she was and had always been willingly ignoring all the things he had been doing lately. It was driving him insane. He could barely sleep while thoughts of her drove him to almost get up and pace his bedroom. When he had slipped that beautiful corsage on her wrist for the stupid dance he hadn’t even wanted to go to, he had so desperately wanted to trail his fingers along her wrist. Instead he’d let go a little too quickly and teased her not to get too excited and wilt the flowers with her body temperature. She’d smacked his arm hard enough to make it ache, but then she had held the same spot with both hands a minute later and sent a chill down his spine during the quick round of pictures by resting her head on his arm. After that he’d stood in a daze and smiled and looked down at her while she pleaded with her parents to just let them leave already, that yes he would have her back by midnight like they had agreed to, that she would be careful, on and on it had gone, but he hadn’t been able to stop looking at her. She had looked so beautiful with the black liner highlighting the shape of her eyes and making them so much brighter in the evening sunlight, the dark red lip stick, and the tiny amount of glitter she had painted across her shoulders. He had to hold himself back from trying to catch the tulle of her dress as she spun around and grabbed his hand to drag him down the street to meet their friends to go. He still thought about that dress and the way the cut of the top had accentuated her waist and shoulders and collarbones. He'd wanted to trace the bones with his fingers the whole drive to the dance. And afterward too, when she had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the back as Douglas had raced back up the mountain to get them back by midnight in his new drop top that his father had gotten him for his birthday. He still dreamed about the smell of her hair after it had drifted around his and across his face in the wind after she had let the curls out from the half up-half down style that had shown off her neck. He'd wanted to trace her neck and kiss it, and cup it the whole night while they danced and laughed. His hand still burned from her holding it the other day while he sat on her porch and told her about what he had seen on his Peidmont mission.

Her ignoring the way he had been watching the side of her face while they sat near the lake last week was just another string in a long line of them that had driven them to this point. It was making him insane that she so clearly was not experiencing the same thing.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He said coolly. “You’re my best friend, I’m not going to just stand there while Xavier say that you took his dick like a princess.” The words felt like poison going through his teeth. They still ached from how tightly he had been grinding them when he grabbed the front of Xavier's jacket and pinned him to the brick wall outside the history building after he said that. It had taken Cori and Douglas to pry him off of Xavier who had trailed after them teasing and cajoling him, asking him if he was jealous from his pathetic position in the friend zone. Douglas and Vince had to physically hold him back while Cori pushed him back and got in his face to tell him to calm the fuck down. She didn't cuss unless she was really and truly pissed off, which had made him come down a few notches. But it had started to open that can of worms and he was so afraid now that she was about to rip the top off of it.

She exhaled an exasperated sound from her nose as she threw her head back and her hands up. The sunlight cut across her features so perfectly it made his stomach ache and he crossed her arms self-consciously as she brought her hands back down to rest them on her hips.

“You’re being ridiculous.” She retorted. “Why do you give a fuck what Xavier says about me?”

“Because he only says shit like that if he’s actually been with that girl!”

“And why would it matter Nik? What does it matter if we did or we didn’t?” She laughed bitterly as she dragged her hand through her hair, pulling the unruly curls out of her face.

“Because I—” He swallowed the rest of the words, watching as the corners of her brows scrunched together just a hint. He shook his head instead and began again. “Because I care about you and what people think of you.”

That crease didn’t disappear but her eyes softened as she clung to the strap of her messenger bag and took a step closer to him. He wanted to back up so badly, but he held his ground as she looked up at him and said, “I can take care of myself with stuff like this.”

“I know.” He admitted, the fire in him dying like she had taken it from him. She always handled those things with such grace, and he was envious of her ability to just roll her eyes and purse her lips. He knew that wasn’t going to stop him from putting a good solid fist through Xavier's mouth if he said anything else. Still she smiled at him, and her eyes lit bright as she shrugged and turned, throwing her comment over her shoulder.

“Besides,” the word was like a hook and he was a fish willingly caught on it. He immediately began to trail her and then came into lock step within only two strides. She smiled at him and teased, “I’m still looking for the right person for that stuff.”  

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. I'm right here, he wanted to say as he adjusted his jacket. He forced a laugh anyway and said, “I’d like to see you find someone who isn’t afraid of your dad.”

Her smile turned wicked as she winked and replied. “He’s not the one to be afraid of, my mom is.”

That wink punctured a hole in his chest and even as the air left in a rush that he hid behind a laugh again, he still felt the way his heart broke a little more in his chest over her smile.

#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne' #post broken throne #coriane barrow calore #nikolas samos #my oc #Corilas #they break my heart #I love them both so much #my writing #rq flash fic fridays #I forgot how much I loved them as a ship #nik is a stupid teenage boy desperately in love with his best friend #who would not be in love with Cori though #can't blame him #and cori... may or may not share the feeling #she's the aware one of the two of them #she's the problem it's her XD

[dullweapons]

hi sorry for not writing nor really answering DMs -- been working on overdrive on my webcomic ( ADHD meds got me so focused ) so have ray enjoying the afterglow w/ his husband gwalchgwynn .

#usfw tw #⸻ RAY : visage ✦ rusted cracked & broken : but still standing ˎˊ˗ #⸻ RAY : desires ✦ i’m starving’ darlin’ let me wrap my teeth around the world ˎˊ˗ #⸻ NPC : gwalchgwynn ✦ dreams breathe life into men & can cage them in sufferingl ˎˊ˗ #ray x gwal / tbt / ship

[drawredasdawn]

Flufftober 2022: EsDeFan

Day 1: Blind Date (Maven and Thomas)

Day 2: Masked Ball (Mare and Evangeline)

I’ve started doing very short sketches for the month of October and picking/letting my friends pick ships/duos to draw. This batch should have also included day 3 (Fake Baby) and 4 (Shared Crafts) but i struggled very hard with these two as I chose Farley and Shade for the first and then wanted to do little calore brothers for the second and i have no perception of Shade Barrow in my head and i have a bad track record of drawing children.

I may go back at a later date render these drawings but for now im trying to make quick, easily perceived drawings to teach myself to draw faster and be much less precious with my art.

#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #Broken Throne #victoria aveyard #maven calore #thomas #thomaven #mare barrow #evangeline samos #do they have a ship name? #flufftober2022 #I love hair so much #every other part of drawing is evil. Hair? sexy as hell

[stra-tek]

This is one of the greatest things ever. Walk around every single version of the U.S.S. Enterprise in photorealistic 3D in your browser, from the Roddenberry Archive. On a phone you just see wraparound 3D pics. On a PC or laptop you get the full 3D interactive experience. They NEED to make this VR compatible, it'll be beyond words.

There are more Enterprises here than Tumblr will allow me photos of, and more will likely be added.

Here's the TOS Enterprise, which appears in several incarnations ("The Cage", "Where No Man Has Gone Before" and TOS proper as well as TAS with the second turbolift!), has the correct original graphics and is perfect.

This is the bridge from the unmade Star Trek: Phase II series (whose pilot episode "In Thy Image" was rewritten to become Star Trek: The Motion Picture), with it's legendary big comfy command sofa seat and tactical display bubble!

The Motion Picture, such an accurate recreation that there's even a very faint flicker on the rear-projection animated screens as seen in the movie.

Enterprise NX-01, looking exactly as it did in "Broken Bow"

Recognise this? It's the briefing room of Discovery season 2's version of the U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701. Although at the front of the saucer on the "real" ship, here it's off the second bridge door which may well be where the set was IRL.

I wasn't expecting modern Trek to be represented equally as the originals in this project, but it is. This is the Enterprise from Strange New Worlds, with Pike's Ready Room located just off the bridge.

Star Trek V: The Final Frontier. My favourite version of the classic bridge, as a kid I drew all these control panels and stuck them on my bedroom walls. And now I can look around and look at them all close-up! They've even replicated the noticable TVs stuffed into the panels for the more complex animated screens.

The Enterprise-C bridge from "Yesterday's Enterprise". This one has always fascinated me, being a low-budget TV set (formerly the Enterprise-D battle bridge, originally built from the rain-damaged TMP set's back wall and redressed endlessly though TNG) representing TNG's immediate predecessor. In the episode they mostly shoot the back wall and imply the consoles make a huge circle, but here you can see the set's real dimensions and the weirdness of the classic movie helm/nav console in front of the TNG con/ops panels. I love it.

You know how much I love the Kelvin movies, so seeing this was amazing. For some reason the consoles don't have their screens lit (hopefully this'll be fixed soon), but you can see the saucer under the window and it's shiny and amazing.

The last thing I expected was the U.S.S. Titan-A/Enterprise-G bridge, but it's here. And the lights are on.

Other bridges available to explore which I'm out of pictures to show: The Enterprise-D (of course), Enterprise XCV-330 (the ringship, based on concept art for the unmade non-Trek series "Starship"), the Planet of the Titans U.S.S. Enterprise (again, based on concept art for a cool multi-levelled set) and the "launch" U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701 (based on the very first piece of TOS bridge set concept art), the Enterprise-E, the Enterprise-F (seen on viewscreen for all of 2 minutes in Picard) and the U.S.S. Voyager NCC-74656!

Take a bow lads, you've done good. Now just add VR support!

That link again.

#star trek #star trek aos #star trek movies #tng #voyager #star trek picard #star trek phase 2 #roddenberry archive #strange new worlds #set design #deep lore #star trek ships #star trek tech #star trek discovery #star trek enterprise #enterprise #uss enterprise #ncc 1701 #starfleet museum

[padawansuggest]

13 yo Obi-Wan: You guys are keeping me captive 🥺

Jaster: Ob’ika, we are bringing you back to the temple to reunite with your people.

Obi-Wan: 🥺 then why am I in a cage?

Jaster: *looks pointedly at Jango covered in bite marks, bandages and a torn kute*

Jango: Jas’Buir, he’s really cute, the bites didn’t even hurt 🥺

Obi-Wan: Yeah, I’m just making friends 🥺

Jaster: *soul deep sigh* I am not letting you out of the cell so you can maul my ad again.

Jango: Buuuir, he’s just an ad’ika, lookit his ik’aad fangs, he won’t actually hurt me!

Jaster: You we’re begging me to get his fangs out of your wrist five minutes ago.

Jango: He’s just teething!!

Jaster: Jan’ika, I know you want to keep him, but he’s not even house broken yet.

Jango: Neither was I when you adopted me!! He’s chosen me! Lemme keep him!

Obi-Wan: 🥺 I will be a good boy if you stick your fingers in my enclosure 🥺

Jaster: *physically holding Jango back* No. We will revisit this when the baar’ur has given him a Xanax omfg- *dragging Jango out of the ship hold*

#and that’s how Jango adopted a baby 🥰 #star wars #obi wan kenobi #incorrect star wars quotes #jaster mereel #jango fett #Obi really liked Jango but being lost gave him anxiety and Stewjoni anxiety means I BITE YOU I BITE YOU I BITE YOU #and Jaster is the only one comprehending that rn #basically Obi can’t consent to an adopting at the exact moment so he’s tryina stop Jango from being an idiot till the kid got a Xanax in hi #those notes added later cause I literally stopped in the middle of the sidewalk on the way home to write this #it’s also based off that one scene in Futurama where Zoidberg keeps attacking Amy while in heat #fool me seven times shame on you fool me eight or more times shame on me #but Jango is too enamored with the baby to step back he’s a chew toy now

[uselesslexbian]

the tortured poets department sentence starters.

i was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

my husband is cheating. i wanna kill him.

thought of calling you, but you won't pick up.

who's gonna hold you like me?

who's gonna know you, if not me?

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

everyone we know understands why it's meant to be. 'cause we're crazy.

who else is gonna know me?

i should've known it was a matter of time.

we could've played for keeps this time.

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.

he told me i'm better off, but i'm not.

fuck it if i can't have him.

i might just die, it would make no difference.

fuck it if i can't have us.

'cause fuck it, i was in love.

i stopped trying to make him laugh.

how much sad did you think i had in me?

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.

just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode?

you swore you love me, but where were the clues?

i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.

i forget if this was ever fun.

no, i'm not coming to my sense.

i know he's crazy, but he's the one i want.

i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.

i'll tell you something about my good name - it's mine alone to disgrace.

you ain't gotta pray for me.

no, you can't come to the wedding.

it's gonna be alright, i did my time.

i will never lose my baby again.

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up now that i know what's at stake.

they said i was a cheat. i guess it must be true.

yes, i'm haunted, but i'm feeling just fine.

tell me i'm dispicable, say it's unforgivable.

am i allowed to cry?

i keep recalling things we never did.

someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts.

if it's make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

they're gonna crucify me anyway.

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

you don't get to tell me about "sad."

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said.

who's afraid of little old me?

at all costs, keep your good name.

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

so tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?

say they didn't do it to hurt me, but what if they did?

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

i'm fearsome, and i'm wretched, and i'm wrong.

you caged me, and then you called me crazy.

i am what i am 'cause you trained me.

i can fix him. no really, i can.

come close, i'll show you heaven.

trust me, i can handle me a dangerous man.

you said i'm the love of your life.

well, you took me to hell, too.

what we thought was for all time was momentary.

are they second-hand embarrassed that i can't get out of bed 'cause something counterfeit's dead?

you're the loss of my life.

i can handle my shit.

he said he'd love me all his life, but that life was too short.

i can do it with a broken heart.

i'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague.

i cry a lot, but i am so productive. it's an art.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

i'm sure i can pass this test.

they said, "babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and i did.

'cause i'm miserable! and nobody even knows!

was any of it true?

who the fuck was that guy?

they just ghosted you. now you know what it feels like.

i don't even want you back.

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man.

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

'cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

i would've died for your sins. instead i just died inside.

i'll forget you, but i'll never forgive.

i haven't come around in so long, but i'm making a comeback to where i belong.

this town is fake, but you're the real thing.

the crown is stained, but you're the real queen.

you're the new god we're worshipping.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

#rp ask meme #ask meme #rp prompts #rp starters #rp meme #lyric starters #lyric memes #idk what else #if there's typos no there's not

[essycogany]

The Roll Reversal Between Sonic And Amy

In Sonic Prime did Sonic and Amy’s rolls get swapped? Because MAN THE IMPLICATIONS IN THIS SHOW IS BOTH SUBTLE AND NOT SUBTLE AT THE SAME TIME.

The reason I say the two hedgehogs rolls are swapped is because one line in the entire show is the only indication of Amy’s crush on Sonic.

Sonic: “You like me….To some extent.” It’s never hinted at in the original Green Hill. Though a funny and random detail I liked is Amy apparently tricked Sonic into getting into the water (Probably to teach him how to swim) and I thought that would’ve been adorable to see.

Now onto Sonic’s part. Sonic possibly having a crush on Amy shouldn’t be a surprise. First of all the implications in actual canon Game/Modern Sonic is increasing more and more in my opinion. Secondly, this show’s version of Sonic is probably the most emotionally driven and affectionate. He’s not as secretive about how he feels either.

Sonic in episode 8 s2: “We’re all in this together. And I’d really think you’d grow to love them as much as I do.”

Onto the small details. We have short, but not hard to miss moments of Sonic just….staring at the different Roses. Sure, it can be viewed as platonic, but it’s the constant softening his gaze in a bunch of different scenes that didn’t have to be added, but was. It’s all up to interpretation.

Anyways, Sonic and original Amy’s first interaction is with the blue blur coming up to her excitedly and standing in a flirtatious manner. His tone of voice when he says “Got a little sidetracked,” could be interpreted as anything, but how he’s animated makes me pretty sure it’s intentionally flirtatious. That’s just me though.

Then we have the flirting teasing at Rusty Rose in the pirate dimension.

Rusty: “Not that anyone will remember you.”

Sonic: “Now you’re just being hurtful.”

Sonic not minding Black Rose hugging him and might even appreciates it.

And almost all the scenes between him and Thorn Rose was ship fuel for me. With Sonic calling her “Thorny,” as a nickname. He kept the location of the green shard a secret so Thorn could trust him. Sonic stopped himself from fighting Thorn as much as possible. (The Amy Flashback was adorable) Not to mention the last few scenes with Thorn holding onto Sonic was sweet as well.

Sonic even helped improved the sisters lives.

With Rusty finding her humanity and ability to live without her Flikie.

Thorn regained her broken friendship and trust with the Bose Cage Gang.

And Black Rose became the new leader of her Crew. (I say that knowing it was mostly Dreads redemption that helped, but still)

Sonic’s also the reason for all the Roses to gain a sisterhood. Which was one of the most precious part of the entire show. Season 3 has scenes of them running up to Sonic to make sure he’s alright, and helping Sonic twice by saving the last three pirates from No Place and getting him back home.

And here’s my favorite detail. I love how Sonic adores Amy’s way of thinking in Prime. When helping Thorn come to her senses, Sonic mentions how the original Amy would handle the situation. Expressing herself and discussing how she feels. The reason I bring it up is because Sonic finds value for Amy being able to do it without issue. Understanding he’s not the best at expressing himself.

Thorn: “I don’t know. She sounds pretty great.”

Sonic: “Yeah. You are.”

In fact. Sonic thinks so fondly of Amy that the show couldn’t end without having him come to her bashfully and calling her, “Sweet Amy.”

Also the posing with Sonic’s hand behind his back and feet up doesn’t help.

Last thing I’d like to point out is Sonic’s implied crush on Amy is very subtle and despite all of this can be interpreted as platonic which I’m fine with. But the thought of a roll reversal between two characters that’s never experienced it prior to now is awesome to speculate.

Stay Creative! 💜

#sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #rusty rose #thorn rose #black rose #sonamy #sonic prime #sonic and amy #sonic x amy #sth #I can NEVER get tired of talking about them #Especially not in a show where it’s SO obvious #THESE MOMENTS WERE SO CUTE

[aratribow]

What would happen if yanqing died.

I need more angst about Yanqing and jing yuan pls

AHHHHH I ACTUALLY HAVE SO MANY YQ MCD WIPS? That my lazy ass never completed..

But I present you ONE polished thingy. (Don't mind me adding in a ship as well ^^)

An au where Kafka was a bit too late with the spirit whisper, where Jing Yuan was a bit too late to save Yanqing from the shard sword aimed for his chest.

Ps: Yanqing is a bio renjing child here, but Ren didn't know about his existence because he left to get milk and never came back. ^^

Warning: Yanqing MCD

The sun sets, the bird ceases its song, and the lion mourns: (title suggested by @itsredpaint )

He distantly watched as the window curtains flew with the breeze, a chill so familiar. Lying motionless in the assigned bed at the alchemy commission, Jing Yuan felt numb; if the scratchy material of the sheets felt mildly prickly – then he couldn't tell. His barely taken breaths, the only sign of his survival.

There's nothing left.

The momentary fragile trust that took everything, for just a fraction, was broken on a whim.

Another loved one lost to the winds, too young and tender for the graves, too young and tender to wonder if even the ashes will remain.

Jing Yuan was supposed to die there, die at the hands of the Lord Ravager, he had everything prepared beforehand, so why. He was not supposed to be stranded on the mortal world with nothing left of his own, he had already lost plenty, what more was there to lose anymore.

For the moment, he couldn't even recognize if the dull throbbing pain from his chest was entirely the work of Cloud Piercer or not. The lingering remains of Destruction still pulsing through his chi didn't help either.

In the quiet solitude of the night, Jing Yuan's harsh breaths kept him up, the ragged pathetic sound so bitterly familiar.

If he was just a little bit faster…just a little bit faster to save the only sun left in his life.

(The other sun had already been lost to the stars, with nothing left of her other than the telltale bravery of her ill fated luck sewed into the few remaining strands of her lilac hair.)

With a bated breath, he realised that he would never see his retainer again. He would never get to see his dust blonde hair, which, despite being deftly tied up in a high ponytail, always ended up covered in dirt from the spars. The way it gleamed with a gentle sheen of gold whenever Jing Yuan combed through the knotted strands of his freshly dried hair after a long day of work, the action soothing his nerves into a pleasant buzz of tranquillity with Yanqing nodding off on his shoulder. He would never get to see the vivid shade of molten gold in his eyes either, which would crinkle at the edges with a beaming smile at the mention of a favoured sword.

People around General Jing Yuan always remarked as to how his retainer's eyes completely resembled his own, he wondered why, for he always thought that if there was someone who could rival the Sun, it would be Yanqing. not anymore, though

Confined in the cage of his short-sighted immortality, the Divine Foresight mourned. Could he have saved his disciple, his lieutenant, his retainer, his son if only he hadn't undermined the play orchestrated by fate itself? If only he hadn't trusted his life with the phantom of a man once loved and cherished.

Seeing nothing but the blurry lines of the ceiling, he dared not to blink as he let the tears cascade down by themselves, framing his face in a warmth he could only ever dream of now.

Despite being consumed by the guilt of failing yet another, he did not fail to discern the presence that breached the privacy of the room. If not for the silent footfalls, then for the tenseness permeating from the body.

He blinked once, twice.

"He was your son, too." Jing Yuan said, voice barely audible, barely held together against the lump in his throat, threatening to choke him. If not for the dead of the night, void of any activity around, the words would have been lost, blown away by the chilled breeze coming in through the windows.

With eyes still focused on the ceiling, he noticed the body wince in his periphery.

Jing Yuan never thought that it would come to this, but now? Now he wanted this person to mourn alongside him, to share the pain that tore his barely beating heart out and reduced it to shreds. But perhaps it was even more foolish of him to think that Ren would care.

If he had, he wouldn't had left, not when Jing Yuan needed him the most, not when Jing Yuan missed him so bad it hurt, a tender wound damaged again and again with no respite, with no chance to heal, to the point where Jing Yuan felt the kindling fire die within him…and he let it.

The only time he dared to show face was to kill their son, to take away the only light left in Jng Yuan's dying world.

Because what would it matter to Ren when it was Jing Yuan who had to raise Yanqing all by himself. It would be Jing Yuan, who would ever know about Yanqing's child-like antics despite the act he proudly put up for his role as a lieutenant.

It would be Jing Yuan who would remember his pleading eyes at barely the end of the month, and despite the visible disapproval he would still fulfil the wishes, just to see a triumphant smile grace his son's face for winning a war that didn't exist in the first place.

It would be Jing Yuan who would cherish his joy at the agreement of eating outside at a favourite restaurant, relishing in the simplicity of it. It would be Jing Yuan who would know of his boundless determination, his passion, his courage to overcome obstacles at such an early age, his dream of becoming the sword champion...that would remain a dream in itself.

Perhaps…if he had kept him away from the ruthless reality, and if he had just provided the comfort of a father and not the sternness of a mentor, a General, then…perhaps-

Despite being surged by the bitter feelings, he could hardly feel it in himself to move, it seemed to further drown him within the sheets instead. Perhaps it was for the best because he couldn't tell what he wanted to do with his limbs or his body anymore. His grip on reality, failing him.

Before he could choke even further on his misery, he felt a rough bandaged hand coming to rest on his forehead – just then, he finally found his body moving as he violently recoiled against the hand. If it was the tender hand of a lover before, now, it was just the hand of a murderer that dripped with the blood of his child.

Something must have been written on his face besides the silent stream of tears, for he saw the body retreat back quicker than it came to be. He wondered if he would retreat back through the door, never to show face again, just like last time.

But Jing Yuan could care less. If Ren wished to stay for some sick godforsaken reason, just to haunt him in his last moments, then he probably should. Jing Yuan didn't have it in himself to stop him, he'd rather have that same blade plunge through his heart and seal the final deal for him.

He knew the mara wouldn't be long after this, he had lived enough already, and his son was the last straw.

"Baba.... it hurts.." Yanqing said as he had coughed out a string of viscous red that shouldn't be there, not at this age, not now.

Jing Yuan remembered the feeling of pure rage dissipating only to be replaced by unadulterated anguish instead as he collapsed to his knees beside his child. There was a gaping wound that shouldn't have been there-

No, it shouldn't have been there, and yet it was.

Yanqing had laid there, in his arms, seeping precious blood into the ruined tiles of the Dragonvista Hall. Jing Yuan recalled feeling helpless as he watched the blood gurgle from Yanqing's mouth, making it hard for him to breathe. The strength in his tender face long gone as he watched the colour receding rapidly, leaving nothing but pure fear in its wake. His son was scared, scared and he could do nothing to soothe the pain.

He used to pull his son close into his arms, secure him there and read him stories or recount tales from the past at nights Yanqing couldn't sleep. He wonders if he should have paid more attention to the beating heart against him, comforting in the constant rhythm of alive, alive, alive-

His grip on Yanqing faltered as slick blood sluggishly gushed out of the wound on his tiny body. How could someone this small lose this much blood?

Before he could’ve tried to bring his son a false sense of security, the least he could've done for his frightened child, he saw his breath even out and his eyelids flutter shut against the remaining tears streaming down his face. The tears that washed away the grime on his young face only to leave tracks of evident pain behind.

Jing Yuan couldn't do anything when yanqing slowly nudged his face into his neck, with his last remaining strength, to breathe out a final…apology.

"Baba, I'm sorry....I...failed you."

Before he could retort back to dispel the thought, (How had he failed to notice this brewing insecurity? What kind of father-) he felt the body completely slump into his arms, warmth dissipating from his body already.

Oh how he wished for the cold to be from Yanqing's frost, and not from his dying body.

He couldn't remember how long he sat there, but it must have been enough for Dan Heng to approach him and rest a (reassuring?) hand on his shoulder. He might've spoken something but Jingyuan could hear nothing over the blood boiling in his veins, over the unresponsive body in his arms, pulled close to his own to at least share a portion of his own body heat in desperate hopes of convincing himself that his son was still alive. He clutched him tightly enough to probably hurt, but hurting would have been good, it would've meant that he was still breathing.

The haze eventually cleared when he felt the dam finally break in its wake.

Jing Yuan swayed forward into his lap with his hands covering his face, hiding himself from the world, from himself, and from him. He heard a loud whimper before registering an inhumane cry of pure agony, not realising that the sound was torn out from himself.

He wanted to slam his fist into the mattress, feel the wooden frame of the bed break underneath his hands. He needed to let out the pain somehow, but he could find no purchase when he felt a pair of hands firmly, yet gently, remove his tightly clenched fingers clutching the bunched up sheets. He felt bitterly vulnerable as he struggled against the firm hold, pushing him back down onto the bed, the rough material of the bandage grating against his wrists. He cried out at the cruelty that denied him the simple notion of curling in on himself, the need in his body to clutch something, someone close against him growing stronger by the second. What more could Ren want from him?

"LEAVE!” He lashed out, sobbing with broken hiccups. He hated how exposed he felt, having nowhere to hide his face.

"Leave like you always did! Leave like you were always meant to, because leaving is the only thing you are good at-"

The words promptly got stuck in his throat though, as he distinctly felt a drop of tear hitting his face. The following whimper made Jingyuan finally turn back to gaze into Ren's contorted face, his lips pulled into a wobbling snarl with his brows tightly knit together. Ren hovered over him as gold met red and more tears struck his skin as they emerged from eyes barely kept open.

Despite a faint voice in his head urging him to wipe away tears if his past lover, Jing Yuan couldn't find it in himself to be merciful for this once. He has shown enough mercy in this lifetime, he wanted to be selfish for once.

"You killed our son, Ren. It was me who had raised him, and now it again has to be me....to see through his funeral." Jing Yuan weeped, still reeling from the onslaught of guilt. “How many more Ren? How many more?”

If Jing Yuan went overboard with his demands, then he did. The patience meticulously crafted over the years shattering in mere seconds.

He saw Ren violently wince, and it…shouldn't have been as satisfactory as it was, but he couldn't deny the cruel satisfaction of watching the murderer collapse under the realisation of his own crimes. Perhaps this is what Ren wanted to feel as well when he chased Dan Heng across the universe.

Ren finally left the hold around his wrists as he sank onto the ground to his knees, his face dejectedly pushed into the mattress, going completely still despite a hand still faintly holding onto Jing Yuan's own. If it was an apology, then Jing Yuan couldn't tell.

#aratribow #my...writing? #honkai star rail #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #hsr blade #jingren #yanqing #jing yuan and yanqing #jing yuan is YQ'S PARENT #me @ ren: *how does it feel to kill your own kid?* #renjing with possibly no happy ending i suppose #i love yq mcd because it puts his father through another bouts of severe depression and what ifs

[aura2023]

👉👈 do you have more content from your DW/Hijack crossover?

[ Edit January 2024 -> This was an ask from june 2023. I didn't realized that I left this ask in the drafts for more than 7 months and didn't post it. I'm so sorry anon :,( ]

Hello! And yes i do! Here are some of the sketches :D I don't have written down how i want the interactions between the characters to be yet. I choose the 10th doctor for now but i'm still in doubt of which regeneration i want hiccup to meet

I don't have like an AU or a story planned (? but i can share some little ideas under the cut.

The first time they meet is by accident. Hiccup and toothless got separated. It's the night fury the one that hears a strange sound. Following it into a cave there were dragons in cages along with a man with strange clothes opening those cages. The man sees the dragon and greets it, He calls himself The doctor. And tells toothless to get away before the dragon trappers get back to the cave.

The doctor invites hiccup and toothless to travel with him. Promising an adventure not only far away from the archipielago, but far away in the stars. When they see the tardis for the first time hiccup couldn't believe that it was bigger inside. He even started to take measures and making notes.

Hiccup learns that the doctor can speak dragon. He watches as the doctor and toothless hold a very long conversation. When he asks about it the doctor just says "Isn't it obvious? I speak dragon. Don't worry toothless was just saying good things. " Hiccup wants to learn dragon speech.

Hipo at first goes traveling with the doctor without telling anyone since they can go back home 5 minutes after leaving, time travel stuff. This is perfect for hiccup, he can go and have this crazy adventures without compromising his duties as the son of the chief.

Of course if you are observant you would notice that the boy started to became more taller really fast, and when asked about things that happened in the day he wouldn't remember those very well. This starts making problems.

- Hiccup and toothless go with the doctor and see different worlds, space whales and dragons surfing through the stars. The technology and the change of scenery can be too much but they are de terminated to explore and learn.

For the hiccup and jack ship in this Doctor who crossover.

This is in our time present (2023). When jack first appears, he is like a ghost. Can't be seen so he is always alone. Like a wind. He spends his time doing pranks and helping missing kids go back home.

His body is trapped in an old alien machine but his mind is " roaming free" in the world. That machine is inside an alien spaceship that fell into the earth many years ago. Jack "found it" when he fell into the frozen lake +/- 300 years ago. Jack like in the movie has seen the world go forward.

Jack can't go time travel into the TARDIS since his connection with his body will be broken. They can still travel around the globe.

In between adventures Hiccup and the doctor visit Jack. It's the most "normal life adventures" they can get lol. Jack teaches Hiccup about the technology and what the 21st century has to offer. Videogames, comics, how he spooks people in old buildings. Hell they can even go and urban exploration. Stop the typical alien invasion with the doctor. Jack meeting toothless. Hiccup talking about his life back at berk and his adventures with the doctor.

One day a group of aliens attacks a city searching for this machine. The doctor alongside Hiccup, Toothless and Jack try to stop the enemies plan. They discover the machine and that jack's body is inside of it. If the enemy finds it they will kill jack in order to use it themselves, the doctor wanted to destroy the machine but now they now is the only thing that is keeping jack "alive."

Now i don't know what they will do after that. Haven't thought much about it. But i know that i want Hiccup to meet both jack in the future, and in the past (before getting trapped in the machine) Maybe he does time after jack is gone. The doctor takes Hiccup 300 years in the past and meets Jackson Overland the week before he falls into the lake and into the machine.

He can´t stop what's going to happen to Jack but he can prolong it. So one day he asks him if he would like to join them. He does. Until jack decides to go back with his family and the day after that he falls into the ice.

I'm sorry that Jack/Hiccup doesn't have a happy ending. My friends told me that i can be a little angst machine.

Edit January 2024 -> I kinda remember that i made another ending but i can't remember where i wrote it. I'm so sorry anon, perdoname por las tardanzas y las respuestas largas. And please forgive me if there are grammatical mistakes and not correct use of words. Tried my best.

#hijack #fanart #my art #frostcup #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #jack frost #el anon :0 #ask #doctor who au

[sekaithemystic]

like new york city, i never sleep

#their clubbing outfits? idk man #my imagine for what they wear in new york #valerie gave her the jacket btw #this is how i spent my sunday #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #song so mi #songbird cyberpunk #songbird #cyberpunk 2077 v #valerie phan #cyberpunk 2077 oc #cyberpunk 2077 virtual photography #just realize i forgot to tag ship ksnsks #ship: broken cage #songv

[lilyharvord]

Evangeline watching Cal interact with Mare at any point during war storm: 

#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #marecal #this was literally hiding in my fucking drafts #I can't believe I left this her for 1+ years #like thats so rude #it's funny as hell #i'm rereading RQ cause i got my pretty litjoy set and I'm giggling to myself over everything #there are so many parts I forogt #like I completely forgot about the part where mare finds him literally taking panels off the inside of the submariene and shes like: #bitch you're scared of fucking water why are you taking apart the ship?> #and I also forgot about the part where he unbuckles his armor with his teeth #thank you Julia for reminding me that bit exists #cause I'm so sad I forgot about it #and of course who could ewver forget: "and they can even breed #BWAHAHAHA Carmadon saw his opportunity and fucking took it #if Farley didn't know they fucked in the woods before that she knew right after from Cal's reaction

[meraki-sunset]

Guess what

I got a fever the other day and while bored in bed I made another AU (this is a short thing i won’t make an mspfa about it)

An AU where the four CSAU seadweelers are mermaids

And the premise it’s basically, Feferi and Fefeta are siblings (they love eachother) and so are Eridan and Erisol. (they get along fine)  Mermaids are suposed to be something from violet to fuccia in color (fefeta’s color is normal here). But Erisol is basically the mutant here and his bright green color makes him too easy to spot. which makes the other mermaids not like him, because he can lead predadors and hunters to the rest of the mermaid population under the sea. (his friends have grown used to surround him when in danger to make him stand out less since they were kids)

the four of them grew up together. Feferi and Fefeta held the tittle of heiress still and Erisol and Eridan were sort of like princes too. As kids they tried to make Erisol feel like a normal merkid

Eventually Eridan and Feferi got into an arranged marriage by their ancestors, they never considered Erisol an option due tu his blood (fefeta is considered to have a normal blood, while her sister manifested royal blood, she is still a heiress, she is just a little less special in the eyes of royals)

Erisol grows older and feels more and more like an outcast. he grows apart from his brother and friends

Eventually Erisol and Eridan fight. They both have feelings for feferi. Erisol calls out how eridan has become a big jerk. Eridan tells him to fuck off and probably mentions his mutant condition as the reason he’s not the one engaged to feferi

Erisol disregarding his safety swims to the surface to be alone for a while, where no one will bother him

He happens to be spoted a by hunters, they roam around looking for mermaids who get too close to the surface and sell their tails in the black market

Mermaid tails are most likely used for medicine, beauty products and also rich people cook them as a rare dish.

Erisol being a mutant means the hunters hit the jackpot. Mindfang could sell him for a shit ton of money

They put him in a big barrel cage belowdecks and head to the next port. They assign one of the lower workers on the ship to feed him twice a day.  He happens to be Arquius, who’s been on the ship for a while

They don’t get along at first

Arquius limits himself to just giving him food, but can’t help talking to him when doing it. Erisol just whatches him in silent at first

As days go by they Erisol starts letting his anger out on him and Arquius just endures it, yelling back

over time they began arguing more often and over longer periods of time

The arguing tuned into conversations

And the conversations turned into pleasant chatting they would try to make last as long as they could.

Turns out Arquius is also mutant in the troll hemospectrum. He’s in the ship working his ass of in exchange for not being turned over to the authorities for culling. Traveling form place to place keeps him sorta safe, but they hold his life over his head every time they need to

They day before they were meant to reach the port, Arquius had already made up his mind. He might be stuck in the ship but he could still free his friend

But he wasn’t smart enough and got caught pretty easily. He got stabed and left to bleed by the Capitan Mindfang.

Suddenly the ship begins to shake and get engulfed by a giant moster. It’s Feferi’s lusus. Erisol’s friends are here to rescue him after several days of looking for the ship

The ship breaks and sink. The barrel is broken and Erisol is free

His brother and friend come get him but he doesn’t want to leave his dying new  friend

And Erisol as a last reasurce uses the majyykal power all mermaids have.

The four of them get out of the now sunken ship

Arquius is no longer a land walker, he’s a merman now. a mutant merman tecnically.

He joins the others and lives a happier life as a merman, becomes fefeta’s moirail, Erisol’s partner. Eridan and Feferi most likely don’t get married in the end.

Arquius no is no longer stuck in a ship and Erisol isn’t the only mutant. they’re just happier and chill in the ocean forever, 

The end

This is like, the typical super basic mermaid AU and a poor  excuse to draw Arqisol but they’re my guilty confort ship so yeah

I’m still working on the epilogue for those wondering, don’t worry :P i just took a break to complete commissions and, you know, get a fever and hallucinate a new AU, the usual

I hope you like this thingy i made. i love yah *muack*

🌸👍☀️

#csau extra #homestuck #homestuck au #meraki #erisol #erisolsprite #arquius #arquiusprite #mermaid au

[rel124c41]

IN ALL MY DREAMS I DROWN. poly!octotrio

Husband/Captain says the best medicine is sleep. You plead and beg with him to find another remedy. "I know what is best for you," Husband/Captain says.

tags: mythical beings & creatures, references to scottish folklore, seasickness, implied/referenced abuse, prophetic dreams, blood and violence, forced marriage, rape/non-con elements, no abuse done by octotrio, eventual happy ending, rescue mission, & happy mermay

word count: 6,690

There is a storm on the horizon. Alas, that is normal. Your husband has terrible luck with sailing.

Truthfully, it has felt for as long as you have breathed, you have breathed in the calmness before a storm. Anticipation for something awful on your tongue. Dry, warm air before a storm hits in your lungs. There is always a storm on the horizon. You have never seen another type of sky while sailing. 

Dark clouds pile onto each other like stones. Icy blue and cold black spreads across the south like rivulets of oil. There is a faint tingling in the air. You look down. So deeply tired, the motion almost causes your eyes to lock close – like when a rocker-eyed doll is tilted. Blankets of goosebumps sleep on your arms. You know with sighed resignation that the upcoming weather will be one of the worser ones you have experienced.

No matter how many waves you sail upon, your husband cannot escape the looming storms, try as he might.

In your hand, you hold a lantern. It walks with you. Burning brightly, it works effectively to prod off the combined darkness of night and storm. Hypotonic red and yellow twirls over each other. A caged calamity which sways somniferous with each step you take. 

This is the forty-second time you have paced the entirety of the ship. From stern to bow, croaking wood weeps under your aimless poltergeist motions. Some cuckoo clocks, upon the stroke of each hour, release little trapped dolls to dance and spin in circles upon the stroke of each hour. You are quite similar to them. Except, you are a doll in a broken cuckoo clock who works its dancers tirelessly. Spinning and spinning, stern to bow, then again, stern to bow, repeat, stern to bow.

With each step, the fire in your lantern sways like a hypnotist's watch, undulating red and yellow. 

You have been awake for two days so far. However, you only walk at night to fend off sleepiness. In the daylight, you keep yourself busy with menial tasks. Walking helps to fight off the sleep before it envelopes and rains upon you.

Yet, it seems you are making too much noise with your endless pacing. Your scolding comes with the cry of a single creak. The wooden door of the captain’s cabin opens. 

Eyes once up to absorb the sight of the creeping storm, the layout of the ship, and any sight you wanted to see suddenly drop down.  Eyes now on the floorboards, you listen to the pitter of feet marching down steps. Wind howls in your ears and rakes through your hair. Endless pacing comes to a sudden halt. With retreating eyes, you stand by the shrouds. 

When a pair of boots enter your eyesight, thorns wrap around your heart. Panic settles in when he speaks, “Another sleepless night, my dear?”

You have no idea what your husband looks like. Never gathering the bravery to look up and with him never having the want to tilt your chin up, neither of you have made eye contact. His face is like tenebrous darkness casted by storm. Numerous features could lay on it. Numerous possibilities yet no answers. No beard though; you know this when he places a palacting kiss on your forehead where your brain stews with undreamed dreams. No coarse hair tickles your skin.

However, your husband knows what you look like. Taller than you, stronger than you. Knowing your features and face shape in this uneven marriage, that is his right in nuptial laws. Spouses should submit to their husband, he told you when the ship first departed from the dock of your hometown.

Though, you cannot remember your hometown. Or really anything before him. 

All of your life (because you must have had one) before him is blank like empty waters. From the Memory Sea, you search desperately for something. No matter how many lines you cast out, all you pull up is stringy, golden brown kelp or thick, ebony black kombu. The fishing rod of your desperation cannot possibly successfully make a catch in empty waters. How foolish of you to even cast a line, Husband/Captain would tease.

You know him only as your husband. He never gave you his name. You heard the men under his command call him captain. He adopts two names on your tongue, Husband/Captain; though you hardly use either.

You hardly address him first. He addresses you.

“My dear (Name),” a finger oscillates gently on your cheekbone. “I do not think the moon is as lonely as I am without you in bed. I miss you.” When you move your head to the side in shame, the finger guides you firmly to look at him – or at least his shoes. 

“Speak.”

Lips feeling looser, you weigh your next words carefully. What can you possibly say this time around? Is there anything left to say? Fitful in your resolve, your eyes travel to take in the pulsing glow of your lantern and how it illuminates different colors. The image paints itself in your memory: the empty lantern that is devoid of anything but a pile of ash, the chest in the corner which you are not allowed to open, the bed with its silky sheets that inundate you with dreams of drowning. 

You dream of drowning every time you sleep. When your head hits the pillow, it is like falling into a bottomless puddle that goes much deeper than anticipated. Idiosyncrasy to yourself, you are only one of this swaying ship that fears the reality of drowning.

Below your feet, almost breathing, the ship rocks back and forth. It feels like you imagine how it feels to be rocked gently by a mother. Maternally, even the ship wishes for you to sleep. The captain and his vessel conspiring against you together.

But – you cannot – so you must bargain some way to stay awake until the vessel docks. “I was … I was growing a bit uneasy over the storm. And I could not –.”

Husband/Captain hums and you know to immediately fall silent. 

The pattern of the lantern handles indents in your hand. Digging steel hurts like a bad punishment. What a silly excuse. For two months all you have known is encroaching storms, why would you suddenly develop an anxiety over them now? You look out upon the ebony, mature cumulonimbus clouds. 

“Isn’t there an old saying: out of sight, out of mind. I’m positive that watching it does little to quell this uneasiness,” he says.

If anything a rainstorm would be a blessing, diverting his attention from you.

“If I’m aware of it, it helps dispel that anxiety. If I’m away from it, not watching it, I feel quite worried about what could happen.”

“I share that sentiment. I’m quite anxious with you out of my sight.”

So it seems, you think, so it really seems. Your husband has pulled you away from the ship’s railings on multiple occasions, hand a shackle on your wrist, reeling you back onboard. Staying within his sight is an unspoken wedding vow.

You tense prematurely, already knowing his next words. You have lost for the night. Oh, how you have lost deeply. “I don’t want to sleep tonight … please … –” in all my dreams, I drown. But you cannot talk anymore because –

“Now hush, love,” Husband/Captain coos. 

“Here’s your gown.” 

What he holds out to you is rivulets of soft cotton. A sleeveless gown with fragile, ornamented straps which will hang gently on your shoulders. The pattern is a delicate stitch like doyle napkins and a little bow rests on the chest’s center. Ending at the shin, white lace replicates the look of distance waves, twisting up and down.

You take it within your scarred arms. Diagonal slashes racing down and then another group of diagonal scars racing up coat your forearms. Memory Sea has yet to unveil how you got these scars.

“Please,” you plead. It takes so much bravery to say that one word that you feel winded after.

Your head is patted in fruitless consolation.

The captain is not happy about today’s catch. Not happy is really too subtle of a way to put it. He boils with a rage known of a tyrant’s disposition, body exploding into a mess of volcano-esque fire. It is a strange sight to the men. What they pulled up from their nets would feed the crew without the need of rationing. Their catch was bountiful; what is there to be possibly upset about?

It is because all they caught is codfish. Codfish pyramiding upon codfish. A family reunion of hundreds of generational codfish. Oh, and one common ling. Which he took from the nets, it serpentine amber and white body oscillating in hand, as he howls at his crew, “A fucking ling! A ling!”

Eyes down, you had a perfect view of the ling being dropped to the floorboards and the captain raising his boot to mallet it down upon the fish’s head. Red and white puss splattered in a gory firework, piscine epidermis popping loudly. 

Then, the captain stomped off, leaving a one-footed trail of red behind him. 

Antipaction and questions lingered in the eyes of the crew. The crew looked upon you with high expectations. Well, aren’t you going to follow the yellow-brick road, the red footprint trail? Weren’t you going to head into the captain’s cabin and help your husband – lie on the bed, stomach down, as he punched fireworks into you, until he worked out his anger? This ship’s crew really has no delicate manner of speaking with their eyes.

Averting your eyes, sheepish, you shake your head. You are not inclined to want pain. Fleeing, you took to entering the kitchen to cook, growing ill at the sight of nets.

Nets. Just the cross-hatching pattern could make you feel consumptive. Like your stomach is empty or your stomach is bloated, it makes you so incredibly sickly to watch the crew pull up their meshwork that cradles school upon school of fishes. 

Upon your forearms are scars, scars of an identical pattern.

When the men take to dumping their catch into a circular, steel tank that is about the size of a Queen bed, you thank them in a whisper. Looking into their eyes is like falling off a cliff, missing the water, and landing upon a bed of jagged stones. Eyes like stone, not resentful but still dangerous. You work to keep your head down until they all leave. 

With the captain so vexed, you delegate yourself to preparing his meal first. The rest of the crew can wait until mid-afternoon. So, you prepare a dredging station with quick work. Find a shallow bowl, cut the lemon, mix together a double serving of spices with the flour. Your husband is fond of sharp herbs mixed in with fish.

You have learned to cook with his guidance.  He likes to say, “A country’s cuisine reflects their culture and history. It’s a fascinating field of study.” Then, fingers guide you with firm resolve to work upon dicing, cutting, and slicing. 

Now, you are almost a veteran at preparing fish. Mostly codfish, though you would have longed to experiment with a ling – you remember the pomace of oozing brains and otoliths, multiple streaks of red like lightning on the floor. 

But you suppose you are not allowed to. It is probably for the best. Staying with your routine. 

Seasonings scenting the air, you hear your stomach growl. Ah. Perhaps just a bite won’t hurt.

Triple-checking, you make certain that none of the crew lingers by the kitchen. No curious eyes are peeking through the window. When you are assured in your resolve, down to the bone and up to the skin, you crouch down by the bucket. Into the pool of threshing codfish, your hand swims. 

The one you take out is a medium-sized portion. Green and yellow skin a similar hue of summer moss. As it squirms wildly, you turn it belly-side up. It takes a great deal of effort with such dull teeth. Yet, after a bit gnawing, the piscine epidermis finally breaks with a loud pop in your omnivorous mouth. 

Rotating it around like corn-on-the-cob, you munch down upon the live and raw codfish with ravenous hunger.

A fortnight after, you wake up gasping for breath. Saliva is like a second tongue in your mouth, overcrowding. Unhesitant, you turn over the edge of the bed and wait for a soup of briny seaweed, torrential waves, and a codfish to splatter upon the captain’s bedroom floor. A single jellyfish tail of bubbly saliva is all that hits the ground. 

Lungs so incredibly strained cannot comprehend where all the water went. 

Coughing, you cringe against the sensation of water in your mouth. The natural lubricant of saliva is suffocating, pressing hard on the walls of your buccal cavity. 

And though your lungs kick painfully, there is nothing more to spit out the tiny dime of water already spat out. Coughs come and go until they ebb to you panting softly in bed. Fatigued breaths eventually wither, to you just breathing steadily and staring off to the only light source. 

Pointed spirals of light move in a kaleidoscope pattern. Leather red brightens to a bloody crimson. Rich blue wood absorbs the glow. You are a bit unsure what is really rocking back and forth, swaying with such somnolence: the boat itself or the chest where a star is locked inside.

The chest you are not allowed to open. 

In your ears, you hear the ocean gnash and moan.

Blech and blarghhh. Blech and blarghhh, you go. 

Over the bow of the ship, you puke. 

Bile falls heavy into the awaiting waves below. One teary, squinting eye watches the pallid greenish-yellow sludge sink.  Your nose is sour by the scent of imaginary citrus oranges; your head is a spinning dreidel.  On the night of your three month anniversary on the ship, you woke up from another drowning dream with a secondary heart heavy in your throat. Prisoned, it banged and banged for release. So, you rushed up to the bow and granted its plea for freedom. 

To the sea, let me go to the sea, your bile begged. And you listened. 

A powerful blech and blarghhh has you stumbling feverishly. Your feet skid on wood like a lynched cowboy’s who kicks fruitlessly to feel solid ground. Stomach and railing biting each other, you lean far with the force of your next hurl. Far enough where you too could fall into the awaiting waves below.

Your heart spikes because you realize, puke only halfway out and face winking in agony, that you are falling in. You have gone far enough. Cerulean waters seem to reach out in an awaiting embrace.

Just as your feet start to lift from the ground, the saltine noose around your neck pulling, a hand wraps gently yet firm against your waist. You gasp wetly, bile lipstick thick, as you find yourself back on solid ground.

“Easy there. Easy. I got you,” Husband/Captain murmurs. He presses a kiss to your neck but does not hold your hair back when you gurgle again. Throat fluctuating with heaving breaths, he lies his nose on that weeping patch of skin. Salt is thick on you. “Sudden sea-sickness will pass. Happens even to the veteran sailors.”

Not this extreme, you want to argue. You are too cowardly to object. And besides … Vomit acts as a reliable tape over your hatred. You wish his hand would stop rubbing a thumb on your stomach and instead gather up tendril-esque hair. 

“Though I would have never expected you to succumb to such an illness,” he says, awestruck as if you are breaking some bodily law. The thumb on your stomach becomes more pressing. “Perhaps … perhaps it is not the matter of the seas that turns your stomach so.”

You realize with a cold sweat what he is referencing. “It is not that.” A helpful hand (your own) rises up to start wiping off the pallid greenish-yellow cosmetic. Fingers fling and flick the remains of your regurgitating stomach into the waves. 

“I would be able to tell.”

“Is that possible,” his voice doubts. “How could you?”

“Of course I could. It’s my body.”

Husband/Captain chuckles like you have told a funny joke. Now it is not his sole thumb that oscillates back and forth on the skin of your nightgown, he opens up his hand like a flower. He takes to rubbing your stomach until his hand goes down to cradle the spot between your legs. 

You wish the ocean would take you. 

The night sky is full of stars. Stars are a rarity. You never get to see them often because of how normal it is for your husband’s ship to be caught in a storm. Tonight, all is tranquil. Tonight, you are in the embodiment-al heart of the calm before the storm. And, lastly, tonight, you will try something new and exciting. You will use those pinpricks of light to paint pictures; you doubt anyone has ever thought of such a fabulous game before. 

It takes a while for you to get into the groove of it. When there is this strange, thrusting force behind you, bile pops out your lips like blood. Stars align to make a teddy bear, fashioned with a little bow. When your tears fall into the awaiting waves, they catch them with so much tender sorrow. 

There is a melody in the air. A little different from blech and blarghhh. Far different from the harsh hit of his hips. It howls below you.  Water licking on the side of the ship seems to say: dont worry dont worry i will save you. 

When you strike the match, it hisses and balloons with a fierce flame before shrinking down to something petite, something weaker. With great care, you press the match through the open lantern panel. It transforms with a fiery jump. 

You stick the match between your lips once you wave it in the air harshly, killing it. Lantern panels now all closed, you hold it up to illuminate the revolutionary sight before you. It has been a day and three months … you have to know what’s in there. The rich blue box sits in your path with all the magnetism of precise metals. You crouch before it, nun-like.

The top of the wooden chest is an arch, so you rest your lantern to the side. Out of your sock, you pull two fishbones – ones you had cleaned down with your tongue and whittled down to points with a kitchen knife. 

You cannot remember anything of your life before this boat. Against his wishes, you have been trying to remember what could have been of you before this boat. The storybook must have more pages, a prologue of sorts left unsaid. This boat … nothing but him lives your memory. Hand outstretched like thorns, sand, snakes, poison, fire, and nightmares. A hand that puts a glittering circlet on your ring finger. Your first memory is being wed. 

Into the mouth of the lock, you slowly slide in the first fishbone. Behind you, the sound of a blanket hitting the floor thumps. Thin and fragile, the fishbone snaps halfway in the lock as you rise to your feet – and you rush, hand just managing to grab the lantern, as a raging storm at your back runs at you.

“YOU UNFAITHFUL FUCK!”

You run up the stairs three at a time, heart jackrabbiting with fear.  

Tears are already in your eyes before you comprehend them. Your hand depresses on the door. Wood clatters and shakes with tremendous rage below you, growing closer. Run away, you scream at yourself, just as you realize there's nowhere to run to. When the door opens, water pelts your face in a thousand exploding fists. 

This is the closest the storm has ever been. But it was clear yesterday ? – calm before a –?

A scream tears from you as a reaching hand misses your arm, his dirty nails almost tickling the goosebumps coating your skin. With reckless abandon, you jump down the flight of seven stairs just outside of the cabin. The deck catches you with all the care wooden arms have – which is very little. Wide yet still finite, the deck faces off with you in the fierce, piercing rain. Where to escape to, it asks, as violent waves rock below. 

Left knee bleeding and a section of your nightgown ripped, you sprint towards the bow. And from the south, a savage, ravening storm follows. Dark clouds pile over. Icy blue lunges.  Maybe it would not be so bad to fall off the edge. Is that what all those ceaseless dreams of drowning meant — you have to drown to finally be at peace? 

An ethery scent explodes in the rain. The marriage of the sounds of breaking glass and petrified screaming kisses in the gusty air.  In the blimp of chaos, both of you hit the floor, right next to where fire from a broken lantern starts to eat up the wood.

“No … No, please,” you cry. “Please no!” 

By his hateful hands, you are turned on your side. Before you can make eye contact, he punches you across the face with an intensity reserved for crewmen in brawls. The wind howls mournfully in your ringing ears. Blood pops out of your mouth in tiny lightning bolts. 

As ringing and blustery winds ebb in sound, you catch the last of your husband’s words, “...I know what is best for you.”

“Scold or hit me! I cannot go back to sleep! Please!”

He grabs your head in a vitriol grip. Acid burns pierce where his fingers dig in. Husband/Captain lifts you by his hold on your head, like a lion might do with a cub by the scruff of its neck. Eyes stomp shut in fear. You fear the intensity of his face will overwhelm and drown you. 

“Help me! Someone! Please, help me!”

“Now hush, love.”

“SOMEONE! ANYBODY PLEASE –!”

“Here’s your gown.” Then, he slams your body on the ground. Your head cracks with the fragility of an egg.  Molten dreams with rainbowing incandescence slip out from the lightning-shaped fractures, spilling all over deck. 

The moon is full tonight. 

You feel in your bones that you have not seen a full moon in a very long time. Despite it being a monthly occurrence, storm clouds shield it away; even when unveiled, the nude moon is caught waning or waxing. This phase of the lunar sun kisses uncloudy skies with a powerful completeness. How you missed it with a whirlpool fervor. You feel so at peace.

A silver eye not missing any weight or heft. Hanging on a vertex, it hums with the sprinkling song of moondust and moonlight. With that melody, it shaves the weight of weakness that has shackled you. Avoirdupois lightens; the full moon brightens.

I have not seen a full moon this serene since I was a little boy/girl, you remember that much.  It is such a wondrous sight that you do not notice the water rising up by your ankles. 

No – not water, bedsheets. Bedsheets that snake serpentine like individual rivers connecting together. With a fluidity unique to water, white linen slithers across the curve of your calf and climbs up in gusts of silk to the tendons in your hamstrings. Moisture still clings to you; dry sheets juxtaposingly soaking you.

I am going to drown again. You frown delicately at the sentiment. Yet, despite the acknowledgement that watery suffocation is going to repeat itself, you think this time it will be a metamorphosis. Something different from previous dreams. 

You only think this because moondust and moonlight hug your slowly submerging body and tell it to you. Reassures you of it, to wade off fear of drowning.

Sheets climb up to your sternum. With rocking motions, they purl and lick at your shoulders. Ribbons weaving in and out of each other, pulsing up in gigantic breaths to climb upon you. Cloth falls over your mouth and silences you. Tendrils of linen rush into your nostrils. You keep your breath for as long as you can. As the bedsheets engulf you, you keep your eyes trained upon the full moon.

A silver eye not missing any weight or heft. Complete. I want to be complete again. 

Once fully submerged, you open your eyes. There is a tentacle in front of your face.

There is a tentacle in front of your face. It lies on its side. Facing you like how two lovers might turn to pillow-talk at one another. About as thick as an elephant leg, it stretches fully across the deck, dipping down into unseen depths over each side of the ship. 

Suckers squirm like a breathing wall before you. Voluminous in numbers. Almost replicating plasma barnacles of the underside of aquatic vessels. Individual suckers purl and roll with fake breaths. Fluctuating up and down in uneven patterns, unorganized hive mind motions. Most of them were a vibrant lavender yet – like moles on a wrinkled face – cheetah spots of violet-whitish squirms in slower beats. Moving like bubbling lava, lavender stirs and beckons. 

You cannot resist. Pushing your hand upon the breathing wall, you breathe in the scent of salt.

There is an ocean beneath the surface. Blood and plasma swims warmly underneath the skin. Despite the cold and salty water that falls like tears over shells of suckers, there is a warmth. An alive warmth. 

It cannot wrap itself around you; this particular tentacle is wrapped from one edge of the boat to the other like a behemoth bow strangling a Christmas present. However, touch is reciprocated in other methods. Like an expanding stomach, lavender pushes into your starfish spread out fingers. Suckers harmonize in a circle around the area where you put pressure. 

Hypnotic, eldritch beauty finds primitive comfort in you. Even though the side of your head is still sticky with clotting blood, you think you feel comfort too. It is only ripped from you when a crewman shouts, “God, help us all! A Kraken! By God, a Kraken!” 

Beyond the goliath, shielding tentacle, the ship and its crew are in discord. And once it reaches your ears, awareness of it crawls into all your other senses. Drawing away from the tentacle, you realize while standing up that the scent of ether in your nose is overwhelming. Half of the deck is engulfed in flames. Warmth from fire blankets you in heavy sheets. And –

“Someone! Anybody please –!!” And men are being dragged off the boat and killed by twisting, gnashing tentacles. 

The boat tilts. Stumbling feet are magnetized backwards; you trip over the tentacle you were just touching. A shriek that pains the wound on the side of your head erupts from you as you are rolled across the deck like a dice across a game-board. 

Your tentacle (the one you caressed) does not reach to steady or save you. Instead, it squeezes tentatively on the vessel ensnared in its grip. Splintering wood spreads up like a field of pointy grass. Then, after a moment, it slithers back into the ocean just as your spine hits the railing of the tilting ship. 

Over your shoulder, you see a raging sea. Waves curve into each other, resounding claps of exploding water striking your ears. Above, bullets of water clip fast upon the awaiting ocean. That familiar saltine noose reemerges around your neck, as your feet lift with gravity. Everything happens in a millisecond and in an eternity, dream-esque.

Your knees hit the deck when a hand pushes you away from the edge. You suck in deep breaths in a panic, prematurely housing oxygen away before you were doomed to fall in. But you had not fallen in … because … because there was a hand. Sprawled on the wet and burning deck, both elbows down on the ground, you turn over your shoulder one final time. 

His hair is the color of the sea. You never expected to see hair a different shade than black, brown, or blonde, perhaps a rare red, but his is breathtakingly blue. Coping, your mind fixates on it because you cannot comprehend the three-points of fins growing where his ears should be. There must be a mystified expression on your face regardless. The man smiles at you with covetous patience. 

“Hello, (Name). I wanted to be first to say on behalf of us, we are terribly sorry for our delay.”

Delay? “I don’t understand.”

“Do not stress. A great deal will soon resolve itself. Are you hungry? Can I do anything for you?”

Kindness is far more alien to you than the sight of piscine traits that your mouth falls open in a tiny circle. Words fail to form. Just as your bottom lip starts to quiver, the man amends, “Is there perhaps something you don’t want me to do?”

Meekly: “Do – Don’t go.” Apologetically (and quickly too): “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that.” 

Desperately, you wish you had something to hide in but all that you wear is a slim cotton gown. It is innate to leech onto goodwill after such a drought of it. An amused warmth settles of his features, then it softly falls into a deep sadness. Once more, you fumble for words, upset that you have upset him … “I’m sorry – I –!”

A loud noise breaks the moment. There is a pyramid of hundred or so noises caterwauling in this storm, mixing together like how a tornado tears up earth and neighborhoods to mix a smoothie of different items. Something salient breaks through all that cacophony – Husband/Captain shouting, “Give that back, you beast!” And then three consecutive popping sounds as he fires his gun.

You watch the figure of your husband, his spine facing you, wrestle with a tentacle. Like an obsidian tongue, the tentacle emerges from the door to the captain’s cabin and sways back and forth, trying to tug something from your husband. It is a tug-of-war with a predictable winner.

Strength evolves into desperation. A shout undulates into the rainstorm as Husband/Captain is thrown up. His body somersaults in the air. The tongue churns back into the mouth of your bedroom like a retreating snake. Clutched in a protective grip is the blue chest. Defeated, Husband/Captain pushes himself up on his elbows, nose broken.

Through sheets of rain, you two make eye contact for the first time in ninety-two days.

People say he is the fairest of them all. Women and men in the town swoon over him. And with a husband/wife to match, those jealous men and women think when their eyes land upon your awe-striking beauty. Yet, when you look upon him now, all you see is a hideous man. Like a swan (yourself) marrying a condor (him) – he is ugly beyond putridness. 

His bloody mouth moves. His shaking hand moves. You do not move. 

You cannot tell if the next sound you hear is the ring of a gunshot or the bang of a lightning bolt. 

It is like when I bite into the codfish, you think deliriously, watching red soak your nightgown. Hah. What a strange color. You think the man with the blue hair is trying to get your attention but the crimson color has you in a trance. Like mold, it grows slowly on the wrinkled creases of your nightgown, a little bit below your ribcage. So much – so much red. 

Yellow interrupts your mesmerization. Cheeks squished together, you look into a black pupil ringed by a honey wedding band then backdropped by a white planet. The triptych of color has you equally magnetized as the man takes his dominant hand and settles it under your rib.

“Breathe in.”

You do obediently. 

“Breathe out.”

Once more, you follow instructions. With your exhale, the wound in your abdomen closes up like a sleepy eye. He cards his non-dominant hand through your hair with excellent care. “There, there, are you feeling better?” When you nod, he whispers lovingly, “I’m so glad to hear that, my dearest.”

He smiles and reveals a collection of cutting instrumental teeth, shark teeth. 

The man looks like he is about to inquire more yet a voice interrupts in a lazy drawl, “Caaan I kill him now?” 

You turn to see your husband covered in red, down to a level where it almost looks like a second skin or a set of clothes upon him. His body is bent over the railing and a man with almost identical features holds him by the top of his torso, a piscine hand tight around his throat. “Kinda gettin’ of tired of his squirmin’ – he’s all sticky.”

Jade knows that is not a truthful admission. Floyd likes when they squirm. Jade wants that vile man dead too with as much intensity as his brother does but – “Come now, we are not barbarians. We have rules for our way of life.”

“Don’t care. He made Sealy cry. I’mma tear off his penis.”

“Please, refrain from such violence for a moment longer. Sir – well, that is too polite for you. Hm, Captain. Captain, we have customs where we challenge the owner of a particular vessel to a certain game. Will you play along?” The only response is an opaque red-white trail of slime dropping from his trembling lips. “Good. I will say the first two lines of a poem. You must complete them.

“Floyd, if you would, please.” The squeezing hand releases and your husband gasps for breath as if he has just escaped drowning on dry land. Shadow and light from the flickering flames shudder across his choking lips. “O my Luve’s like a red, red rose / That’s newly sprung in June.”

“Get off my fucking boat!”

“Hm, another verse then. As fair as thou, my bonnie lass, / So deep in luve am I.”

“I’ll roast you alive, you overgrown fish! (Name), get away –”At the mere utterance of your name, the man returns to strangling your husband with an explosive vitriol that it almost seems his gold and olive-brown eyes will bulge from his face in anger.

“Shut the fuck up.” He seethes with rage.

The other man responds to your husband. “Sorry but the responding lines are: And I will luve thee still, my Dear, / Till a’ the seas gang dry. Go ahead, Floyd.”

Red. So much red. It sprays out when Floyd rips off the skin enveloping around your husband’s throat. Glittering seafoam rivulets that arch beautifully. Leaping and pirouetting through the air. Thicker rivers start to follow after the initial misting, jetting shower. Some of the spume lands upon your temple. Already sticky with salt and blood, you do not flinch at the sensation. 

Then, the man, the man named Floyd, falls spine first into the thrashing sea, taking your husband with him. It takes a few moments before you realize the other man is gone too. 

You are not sure how long you stay sitting on the deck, letting rain drench you. It could be three or thirteen minutes of absent minded staring at the skies. Cords of white lightning are thrown across the canvas like spools of yarn, wavy and disorganized. Water pelts your face angrily; the weight of it hurts. Below you, the watery depths wail with ghastly noises.

The noise does not lessen or quiet to announce his presence. He simply emerges. One tentacle pushing up from the railing is followed by a hand which is followed by another hand. Then, hovering about three feet in the air above you, the Kraken analyzes you.

Wind picks up, howling. If you were standing, it would be a very real threat to push you off the ship. Tangible winds pick up tendrils of your soaked hair and cheerfully play with, whipping it back and forth in painful, fast-paced oscillation.  Entranced, you watch the Kraken’s very dry hair flow in the air with gentle grace. 

“Hello.”

You almost faint. His voice is each raindrop, sleeping in each ebon cloud, racing through each electrical bolt that shatters in loud cracks. Blue eyes with a horizontal, pill-shaped pupil squint in worry at the shiver you give at his voice. 

“Are you cold, angelfish? Ah, here,” only two behemoth tentacles have to umbrella over your form to completely stop the downpour. You lose sight of the man due to the massive, lilac parasol of muscle that covers you. He enters your sight again when his upper body slithers forward under his tentacles. “Is this better?”

He is so inhumanly gorgeous that he leaves you spellbound. Around you, his numerous tentacles wrap across the deck and into holes he has made into the ship’s helm like hungry snakes in a garden of mice. Prism-like, Stygian black glitters with each rain freckle that races down the arches of muscular tissue. Light shimmers evangelical on each part anatomical droplet. 

Yet, his real eldritch splendor is in his human-mimcing top half which leans towards you amorously. 

Silver hair, like the color palette of a full moon has dropped into it, sweeps across his face gracefully. The skin of his neck and collarbone pulse with each measured breath. A blue much mellower than the typical rough ocean hue shines in his eyes. His lips move and your eyes dilate just a smidgen.

He whispers to you in your little pocket universe. It feels you two are floating on a planet designed only for the two of you, heave ho-ing back and forth on waves made of stardust. He speaks so softly.

“I’m,” his voice breaks slightly like a chipped mug, “I’m terribly sorry for being so delayed. We tore down countless ships before we arrived upon this one … That is no excuse though. I should’ve been stronger and taken all of them down in a week.”

You do not really get what he is talking about but you still ask, “How many did you take down?”

“A hundred and thirty seven. Each one just another bleak joke. My angelfish, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s quite a number.” 

“Ah, yes, I suppose. We would have done a thousand more. Floyd, Jade, and I –”

“Who’s Jade?” Then, as an afterthought. “Can I please know your name as well?”

He blinks at you in confusion. After a heavy, contemplating moment, he states resolutely, “Let’s get you out of this wrong skin and into something proper.”

“Proper?” You blink in replicating confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Hush now, hush love,” Azul says, more tender than – than someone that has drowned in Memory Sea, never to be remembered again. Honestly, you do not recall there being any reasons for apologizing.

The parasol of tentacles peels apart and, hand in hand, Azul guides you towards the railing. You take care not to slip.

“Here’s ya gown.” The man who had ripped out your husband’s throat – you do know his name is Floyd – holds something out to you, leaning over the railing.

What he holds in his hand is unlike soft cotton. It is wetly sleek, patterned with black and white which diffuse into each other with freckling gray. There are no straps for your arms to slip and where the train of a dress should end is hind flippers. A dog-esque face with long whiskers stares at you with hollow eyes, awaiting for you to slip it on. It is a seal pelt.

Boldly, you look into his eyes. Gold and olive-brown, warm eyes. They are so earnest that you have no inclination not to believe him. That is your possession in his webbed hands, and he is returning it to you. 

In the span of three months and one day, you have had seventy-three dreams where you drown in them. In the span of three months and two days, you rejoin the ocean where you were always supposed to be, sunrise and clear skies on your tail.

#twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #if you notice the obvious azul favoritism hush i miss writing for him in 2022

[munchmemes]

taylor swift lyrics, the tortured poets department edition, part one

fortnight

▸ i was supposed to be sent away but they forgot to come and get me. ▸ i was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic. ▸ no one here's to blame but what about your quiet treason? ▸ for a fortnight there, we were forever. ▸ i took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary. ▸ i love you, it's ruining my life. ▸ thought of calling you but you won't pick up.

the tortured poets department

▸ who uses typewriters anyway? ▸ you're in self-sabotage mode. ▸ we're modern idiots. ▸ you smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate. ▸ i chose this cyclone with you. ▸ sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me. ▸ so tell me, who else is gonna know me? ▸ that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

▸ you should've seen them when they first got me. ▸ i only break my favourite toys. ▸ i should've known it was a matter of time. ▸ we could've played for keeps this time. ▸ i know i'm just repeating myself. put me back on my shelf. ▸ i'll tell you that [you/they] run because [you/they] love me. ▸ i knew too much. ▸ you saw forever so you smashed it up. ▸ once i fix me, you're gonna miss me. ▸ you took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart, left all these broken parts and told me i'm better off but i'm not.

down bad

▸ for a moment, i knew cosmic love. ▸ now i'm down bad, crying at the gym. ▸ everything comes out of teenage petulance. ▸ fuck it if i can't have [you/them]. ▸ i might just die, it would make no difference. ▸ i might just not get up, i might just stay down bad. ▸ fuck it, i was in love.

so long, london

▸ my spine split from carrying us up the hill. ▸ i stopped trying to make you laugh. ▸ how much sad did you think i had in me? ▸ i didn't opt in to be your odd man out. ▸ i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free. ▸ you say i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it. ▸ my friends said it isn't right to be scared every day of a love affair. ▸ just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode? ▸ you swore that you loved me but where were the clues? ▸ i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.

but daddy i love him

▸ i just learned these people only raise you to cage you. ▸ i just learned these people try and save you 'cause they hate you. ▸ they slammed the door on my whole world. the one thing i wanted. ▸ you should see your face. ▸ no i'm not coming to my senses. ▸ i know [you/they]'re crazy but [you/they]'re the one i want. ▸ all my plans were laid. ▸ growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all. ▸ i'll tell you something right now, i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning. ▸ i'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace. ▸ i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing. ▸ god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me. ▸ you ain't gotta pray for me if all you want is gray for me. then it's just white noise and it's just my choice. ▸ scandal does funny things to pride but brings lovers closer. ▸ fuck 'em, it's over. ▸ time, doesn't it give some perspective?

fresh out the slammer

▸ fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be to. ▸ handcuffed to the spell i was under, for just one hour of sunshine. ▸ years of labor, locks and ceilings, in the shade of how [they were] feeling. ▸ it's gonna be alright, i did my time. ▸ as i said in my letters, now that i know better, i will never lose my baby again. ▸ my friends tried but i wouldn't hear it, watched me daily disappearing. ▸ ain't no way i'm gonna screw up, now that i know what's at stake here.

florida!!!

▸ you can beat the heat if you beat the charges too. ▸ they said i was a cheat, i guess it must be true. ▸ this city reeks of driving myself crazy. ▸ little did you know, your home's really only a town you're just a guest in. ▸ i'm barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine. ▸ well, me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time. ▸ yes, i'm haunted but i'm feeling just fine. ▸ all my girls got their lace and their crimes. ▸ i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body. ▸ i've got some regrets, i'll bury them in florida. ▸ tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable. ▸ love left me like this and i don't want to exist.

#rp meme #rp starters #sentence starters #lyrics rp starters #lyrics starters #lyrics rp meme #roleplay meme #lyrics meme #taylor swift lyrics rp meme

[the-fluff-piece]

"He did WHAT?" - one piece guys dealing with your toxic asshole ex - headcanon

Summary: lots of people have one - the toxic asshole ex boyfriend that did some horrible stuff to you. You told your new OP bf about what your previous relationship was like after some time to explain some of your more unusual behaviours. What might happen when they get the chance to serve that dick some revenge?

A fluff collection of headcanons about Law, Sanji, Zoro and Luffy giving that bastard what he deserves.

And check out my headcanon masterlist

Cw: mentions of unspecific abusive behaviours and trauma responses, and of course, comic violence like it happens in the show.

That said...Enjoy some revenge fantasies! Share in the comments what you want them to do to your asshole ex!

Disclaimer, I feel I need to say this) : I am no psychiatrist! This is just some silly headcanons and in no way a real help. If you feel that things people did to you years ago still haunt you, get professional help, it's really good!

Law

When he first hears the story about how you have been treated, his expression darkens. "I am here now, he's gone" is what he tells you - and himself, too. But it gnaws at him. He hates manipulators that put people in literal or psychological cages. And he hates that it happened to you.

When they meet in person, Law will rearrange your ex's body and is open for your suggestions. Why not replace his head with a cannonball and take his dick as a trophy? He doesn't need to spew abusive bullshit anymore and no one needs his sexual attention anyways.

Law will sleep better, knowing that he did to him what you wouldn't have because you are too good a person

He is not one for elaborate compliments and he is no therapist, but he will try to help healing the wounds you sustained by being the most supportive and positive boyfriend you ever had. If you need his shoulder, he is there. If you feel bad, he will do anything to make you feel better. He will not make you do anything you don't feel comfortable with.

Sanji

As you casually tell him about your past relationship he catches fire and has to run around the ship a few times to cool down. He switches between pampering you extra, extra EXTRA nice and angry mutterings to himself. He promises you if he ever meets that guy, he is going to kick him through all the grand line and back again

When the moment comes, Sanji switches into total ruffian mode. You have never heard that string of merciless trash talk from anyone before and it doesn't take long until he has totally set off your ex, luring him into throwing the first punch. It is, of course, futile, but Sanji takes his time to finish him off. He should, after all, learn that no one should hurt his lady.

He is visibly relieved to have finally gotten revenge for the unacceptable things that guy did to you. He is awaiting your praise eagerly.

Since he knows what it feels like first hand, he feels even closer to you and tells you his stories if you want to hear them. You will heal together, in time. The memories will fade and be replaced with better ones you make together. You support each other in breaking through the self harming behaviour you developed.

Zoro

His initial reaction to your explanations about why you still feel uncomfortable doing certain things is total helplessness. He cannot fathom that someone would ever take the time and effort to systematically destroy their partner. He believes you, but it is so far out of his own experience that it is hard to grasp for him.

It makes him angry, however. Because that dickhead insulted you you feel insecure? What can be broken can be fixed is Zoro's motto, so he will comment positively on everything every time. Even though he is not very creative, his compliments come from the heart, and you feel it.

When he finally meets the guy he is a bit disappointed. That is no worthy opponent. He doesn't honor him with the use of his swords. Zoro will grab him by the collar and throw him off the next cliff. "For what you did to y/n, you coward."

The job is finished, no need to talk about it anymore and forget the bastard ever existed.

Luffy

When you merely tell him about it he will think you got over it just like he doesn't stay angry for long. But when you cry the first time or refuse to do something fun because of him he realises that you are still affected by what happened to you. He will not have it.

When they meet and your shitty ex makes a mean comment? Luffy gets his murder expression and punches that guy to the other side if the city.

You get luffys hat whenever you need emotional support. No questions asked. You get to sit in his favourite spot whenever you want to. You even get the last bite of delicious food if it's what you need.

#i am a bad person and very petty and i wish my ex all the worst #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #zoro x reader #law x reader #law x y/n #trafalgardwaterlaw #sanji headcanons #trafalgar law headcanons #one piece headcanons #law headcanons #zoro headcanons #one piece #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #op zoro #op sanji