#'speedness' - at least learn english first

[tumblasha]

europe is so interesting. they treat me like a cute kid, backpacking across europe at age 21. the next second they ask me why i'm responsible for gun violence in the united states.

[coquelicoq]

Une petite houle, venue du large, imprimait au canot un léger roulis, et quelque crêtes de lames clapotaient à son avant. (Vingt mille lieues sous les mers, 2e partie, chapitre III)

today in sentences that would have made me weep quietly into my dictionary if i had read them a year ago before jules verne expanded my marine vocabulary by ~1700%.

[ateliersss]

Blooming Family Part 3 - He Shan‘t Lose

Pairing: Yautja x F!Reader Summary: Mere two months ago, you returned home after the incident on Earth. Now you were back, ready to indulge yourself and go on the weekly "date night" with your mate. If only your unborn pup had better timing… Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 6,716 Part 1: here Part 2: here Masterlist

⇨ Oh, I missed my Mi‘ytiar.

⇨ I can't believe I finally got this done and I'm able to present this to you. Also, my birthday, guys! God, I'm 20 and I already feel old. Please spoil me with comments, re-blogs and likes.

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

“Be'jaa, go! Go! Good boy.” You laughed as you watched your four-legged companion chase after the trail he had scented.

Hell Hounds, they were called, and probably the closest thing to a pet you could get on Yautja Prime. You learned quickly, after your first encounter with them, that they were similar to the hounds on Earth, and like hounds on Earth, they had one purpose — hunting prey.

Unlike a curious Beagle, a devoted Pointer, or a stubborn Basset Hound, Hell Hounds were more similar to Yautjas than dogs, both in looks and characteristics. But you still could recognize some traits that reminded you of your childhood dog.

You didn’t hunt with Hell Hounds often — it was more special and intimate when it was just you and Mi‘ytiar — but your mate had insisted that at least one of them should accompany you. As experience showed, the two of you had to split up at times; sometimes he also kept in the shadows, high on top of a tree, to watch you hunt on your own. It was simply a safety measure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle the prey on your own. The creatures you hunted were either as small as a cat or as big as a horse. They were insignificant opponents, laughable for a Yautja and not nearly on their hunting standard, but Mi‘ytiar felt different. He didn‘t care how tiny or weak the prey was compared to him.

It wasn't about him, after all.

Those hunts were solely for you, so you could be a part of his culture without him having to worry about endangering your life. 

He had been ecstatic when you voiced your wish years ago for him to teach you how to hunt, how to track, and kill as it was custom on his home planet. And even now, after you had exceeded his expectations, he still was immensely proud of you every time you succeeded.

No, Be'jaa wasn’t only there for tracking or for flushing out his targets, but also for guarding. You were in the final stages of your pregnancy, and your strength, your speed, and your stamina had decreased, leaving you more vulnerable should prey ambush you. 

Speaking of him, he had been gone for quite some time.

“Be'jaa?” You called, whistled, and waited for a moment for him to return to you.

When you neither could hear him bark, or see him running towards you, you tried calling him again, “Be'jaa?”

And again.

“Be–”

The other half of his name turned into a strained whimper as a stabbing pain pierced through your body, coming from your stomach. You stifled a scream, but when something wet suddenly ran down your legs, a shaky breath escaped your lips.

You knew what this meant.

Your water just broke.

“Oh no. Not now, my sweetling.”

Clutching your stomach, breathing in and out, you slowly approached a tree and practically slumped against it. One of your hands gripped the meaty texture of the tree trunk for support, the other snaked down and between your thighs. When you pulled your hand back, it was coated with the clear substance of the amniotic fluid.

And blood. There was also blood on your fingers, but it was nothing too alarming. When you had been pregnant with Akail, there had been blood too, but it was still an unsettling sight to you.

“Ahhh!” You cried out as another wave of agonizing pain washed through you, your head thrown back.

As much as you had enjoyed the mostly perfect pregnancy, you had completely forgotten about birthing the pup at the end. Maybe you had just pushed the whole thing aside since the mere memory of Akail‘s birth was still able to instill that deep-rooted dread within your body.

You went into labor when both moons were at their zenith.

Mi’ytiar, who had slept peacefully next to you, was hovering over you the second you tried to wake him up. 

It took one panicked look from you and he knew what was going on. 

He got up from his lying position on your nest and knelt beside you.

You had already pushed the furs you used as a blanket to the side and he saw your legs shining with moisture in the moonlight.

“My water broke.” You faintly answered his silent question. “Our little one is coming.”

Mi’ytiar was on high alert as he knew what that meant. 

He tried to lift you into his arms, his mind fully set on bringing you to Cahrein, the healer, but unfortunately, a contraction hit you right at that moment. The pain plus the one you felt as Mi’ytiar lifted you up ripped a heart-wrenching scream from your throat. 

It hurt so very much that you punched him out of instinct, an instinct telling you to do anything to stop the pain, hitting him right in the face.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh God, Mi‘ytiar. I’m so sorry.”

His heart clenched at that. 

You shouldn’t apologize. He’d barely felt the impact anyways, your human strength too weak to actually hurt him, but he didn’t deserve to not feel anything. 

He should have felt pain, should have been knocked from his feet.

He had hurt you, had caused you more pain than you were already feeling.

You noticed the guilty expression on your mate’s face and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay, tahní. It‘s o–”

You cut yourself off as you pressed your lips together while another contraction hit you.

“–kay. It’s okay.” You panted, “Just get Cahrein.”

Mi’ytiar shook his head determinedly as he placed his free hand on yours, which clasped his other hand in a death grip. 

“Cannot leave you.” He growled.

Another contraction made you cry out, “Mi’ytiar, please!”

It took a lot of persuasion for him to finally leave your side to get the healer.

You understood that he didn‘t want to leave you on your own, out of fear something bad would happen to you if he let you out of his sight only for a second, but you needed Cahrein to deliver your son safely.

The healer had gotten to work as soon as his eyes met your tiny, withering body. Putting aside the various instruments he had taken with him — you recognized them from one of your visits where he had shown you which ones he used for births — he helped you to remove the panties that you wore with the little piece of clothing you called nightie, which you had already pulled up, over your bulging stomach, and out of the way.

Usually, you and your mate slept naked with nothing shielding you from each other’s skin, but since you got closer and closer to due-day you wanted to be prepared. You wanted to keep at least a little of your dignity, not wanting to lie completely bare in front of Cahrein. 

Even though you knew he wouldn‘t care, taking his job far too seriously for that, your body in all its naked glory was meant for Mi’ytiar‘s eyes and Mi’ytiar‘s eyes only.

With your mate on one side and the healer on the other, you spent hours in indescribable agony.

Mentally, you were so far gone, blacking out for a second here and there. You barely caught how Mi’ytiar was insistently talking to you, or how Cahrein alternately injected you with a transparent and a bright green fluid.

It felt like a miracle when the unbearable pain decreased bit by bit, but not fully disappeared. Your fuzzy mind and your blurry view started to clear. 

With the pain now more bearable, you could finally focus on the natural instinct that told you to push.

What you didn’t know was that the following screams and cries woke up the clan in alarm, gathering almost everyone in front of your home, eagerly awaiting the new addition. 

This occasion was special, after all. Their fierce and mighty leader was expecting his first pup, something no one had expected to happen. Ever.

The tense uncertainty inside and outside of your home dissipated as soon as the whiny squeals of your newborn pup finally filled the air.

“Such a bad timing, my sweetling.” You mewled.

Tears were gathering in your eyes and you quickly blinked them away. You didn’t know if it was because of the pain of the contractions, which were now four minutes apart, or out of fear of being all alone in a hostile environment.

With your tongue between your teeth, you waited until the pain subsided, fully intending to call for your mate, but when you did, his name only escaped your lips in a short-winded whisper.

It was like you couldn’t breathe.

Biting back a sob, you formed your hand into a fist and hit your chest repeatedly, trying to get yourself to breathe regularly again. And when you thought you had enough air in your lungs, you bellowed, “Mi’ytiar!”

Your breath hitched and tears finally streamed down your cheeks. You bend your upper body forward, towards the tree, and pressed the palms of your hands against the tree trunk. With your head facing the ground, tears left your eyes, and rolled down the bridge of your nose before dripping down the tip to the forest floor.

You were crying and panting, your body clenching every time another contraction hit you.

“Mi’ytiar, please, please… I need you… please, please.” You begged, your voice barely audible.

Contentment.

That’s all you could feel as you adjusted your lying position on the soft fur and the woolen and cotton fabrics of your nest. It was living up to its name as it reminded you of an actual nest, a bird’s nest; just as round but with more comfortable materials. Mi’ytiar had been very picky, something that amused you to no end.

That and the fireplace embedded into the floor, enclosing the round platform the nest was on, kept you warm and cozy.

You and the pup that was sleeping on your chest.

Little Akail let out little purrs while he enjoyed the warmth of his mother’s body that kept him tranquil and happy.

Only ten hours old and he already had such a significant place in this clan and his parent’s hearts.

You hummed quietly to your pup, only looking up from the endearing sight when Mi’ytiar entered your home and came to a halt in front of your nest, taking in the very welcome view of his (tantalizing naked) mate and his newborn son.

“Don’t get any ideas.” You warned him playfully when you noticed his heated gaze racking over your body.

“Back on Earth, some parents hold their babies like this. The skin and warmth forges a strong bond between them and the baby can get used to its parents’ touch.” You explained, your fingers slowly caressing Akail‘s back.

Mi’ytiar only clicked his mandibles in acknowledgment before he started to take off his armor and his traditional clothing as clan leader. 

You had to bite your lower lip, reminding yourself of your own scolding words only seconds ago, but you simply couldn’t help yourself. Your mate was a fine specimen, a strong and gorgeous Yautja. You were one hell of a lucky woman.

You watched him get on the nest, now only dressed in his loin cloth, and he moved on his knees towards you. 

You wrapped an arm around Akail — still curled up into a ball with his head tucked under your chin and his feet resting on your belly — and got up into a sitting position.

Mi’ytiar grabbed you by your thigh and hip, lifted you up, and pulled you to him so you were sitting on his thighs while your legs were wrapped around the width of his hips.

He looped his arms around you, drawing you into an embrace, so little Akail was now nestled between both of his parents’ warm bodies.

The smile that had grown on your lips since the moment Mi’ytiar had entered your home was now so bright and wide your cheeks started to hurt. 

But you didn’t really care. You couldn‘t hide the sheer happiness you were feeling right now at this moment.

You felt movement against your throat and above the valley of your breasts, and when you looked down as best as you could manage, you saw Akail nuzzle his face into your skin while his tiny hand was now lying on your chest where your heart was beating.

You wanted to cry happy tears.

You had never expected to become a mother, never planned on it, never even remotely wanted it if you were being honest, but having your baby now in your arms made every antipathy disappear. 

You placed a soft kiss on Akail‘s head, using as little pressure as possible so he wouldn’t wake up.

“He’s perfect.” You whispered and looked up at Mi’ytiar who was already watching you intently. “Are you happy?”

He cocked his head to the side, his chest vibrating when he confirmed, “Happy.”

He felt Akail‘s small body against his own, felt his tiny body press against his every time he was breathing.

Breathing.

A beating heart.

Alive.

He loosened the embrace of one of his arms around your body to reach between the two of you and for his son, his fingers tracing from Akail‘s forehead to the back of his head — there, he had the same scale pattern as his father, only with reversed colors — and from his temple over the hints of dreads on each side of his little head with his thumb.

Akail was indeed perfect, just like his mother, and he loved him with all his heart already, but the price he almost had to pay for having him here…

“I thought I would lose you today.” He admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

You lifted your head from where it had been resting on his chest to look up at him with a small smile.

“For a second, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would never meet our son." You nodded, thinking about the sharp pain and the feeling of life leaving your body as your pup fought his way out of you. “But Cahrein had prepared me as well as he was able to. He helped me through it. Who knows, hadn’t he injected me with your blood…”

You trailed off when Akail began to stir. You quickly started to rock him up and down, luring him back to sleep.

“He’s a very gifted male. I’ve trusted him with my life since the first time we visited him together after my arrival here so many moons ago.”

You adjusted your arm and its hold on Akail, the other reached up and cupped Mi’ytiar’s cheek. You let your fingertips glide over the scaly texture of his skin and dragged them over his jaw to his chin, down his throat to the middle of his chest.

“He also told me that I would be able to give you another pup in a foreseeable future…”

Mi’ytiar frowned, asking skeptically, “After what you gone through today?”

You shrugged and leaned your head forward, your cheek pressed against his pec. “I’m not talking about now or tomorrow, my love, but someday. In a few years, maybe.”

Mi’ytiar bristled, a loud rumble shaking his torso. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He shook his head, a very human gesture in your eyes. “You almost died.”

You smiled into his skin. Protective through and through, even when it came to his own offspring.

You were incredibly lucky to be chosen by a Yautja like him. 

It was rare for them to be interested in a human. It was rarer for them to treat that human-like an equal instead of a slave or one of many lovers. It was the rarest for a human to be injected with Yautja blood to largely adapt to their DNA and enable life on their planet.

And Mi’ytiar told you himself — you were the only human ever being Life-Mated to a Yautja who carried his offspring and had a similar leading role as him as the mate of a leader; all in one.

You were the rarest of the rarest, a uniqueness, something completely new.

But humans had birthed Yautja-Human-hybrids long before you, most of them more than one or two.

“The next time will be different, Mi’ytiar. My body will be stronger and mentally I will be more prepared.” You told him and peppered his chest with feather-light kisses before you looked up at him again, a loving smile on your lips. “You shan’t lose me.”

You whimpered in relief when you finally heard the familiar growling bark of a Hell Hound. 

“Be'jaa!” You called, “I’m… here!”

You felt something move under you and fill the free space between your bend-over position against the tree. You opened your eyes, which you had closed to calm yourself and your breath, and looked down to see the Hound’s face already fixed on yours.

“N‘yaka-de. Get him.” You panted and watched as Be'jaa turned around to run.

When he suddenly stopped to walk hesitantly back to you, not liking the fact he was about to leave you behind who was obviously in distress, you stomped with your foot and yelled, “Be'jaa, fucking now!”

He darted off and you felt a tinge of guilt for lashing out. After all, he was loyal and a surprisingly good cuddle partner.

“Argh!” You cried out when another stabbing sensation almost made your legs give out.

Once again it felt like you were being torn apart, but at least you didn‘t feel like you were closer to death than life like at Akail‘s birth over 30 years ago. You were kind of proud of yourself, actually, considering you were still able to stand. 

Yeah, standing against a tree for support instead of lying in your warm and soft nest where you had actually planned to deliver your second pup. You didn‘t want to give birth in an unsafe environment, with no Mi’ytiar and no Cahrein. 

But who would have expected that your pup was ready to be welcomed into the world on a hunt?

You did. 

You had felt premature labor pains for two days now, but you hadn’t paid them any mind as Akail was born only six days after those pains had started. 

But even those pains had felt different in those two days, so why hadn‘t you just listened to your body when it undoubtedly told you “No!” while you answered Mi’ytiar‘s question “Hunt?” with an enthusiastic “Yes!” ?

You knew the answer to that, too. 

While women on Earth had to stop certain activities at one point in their pregnancy and were limited in their doings, Yautja females could still follow their everyday lives throughout their whole pregnancy. Meaning, they could still jump from one obstacle to another, chase their prey, and kill it. 

Thinking that you were able to do that too had been utterly stupid and arrogant, but you just didn’t want to seem weak. Yes, the clan had accepted you and saw you as one of them, as the mate of their leader, but you couldn’t stop the suffocating need to prove yourself again and again.

It was unnecessary. Mi’ytiar had told you that, Cahrein had told you that, the Females you liked to spend your time with and considered friends told you that and, hell, even a few Males that were close to your mate told you that.

But here you were, crying and groaning when another contraction cursed through your body. You regretted leaving your cozy home, regretted not being pampered by your loving mate in your nest, and regretted leaving your son behind, who had been by your side all the time, hovered over you in case he had to step in should you need anything in your state, followed you around like a lost puppy if you weren’t napping in your nest.

It reminded you of the time when he had been much younger and much smaller. He had been practically attached to your hip and everywhere you went, he was there. He had been such an adorable and shy little boy. Who were you kidding? He still was, but you missed those times anyway. He had grown up too fast.

You were nervous.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your body, you watched the hustle and bustle in the distance. They were preparing for the departure of the five Young Bloods who would soon leave for a faraway world to hunt and complete their initiation into Adulthood.

Among them was your son, your Akail, who would leave you for who knows how long to presumably search for the largest and most dangerous beast and kill it to prove himself.

Just like his father, you thought.

In the first year of your relationship, Mi'ytiar had told you everything imaginable about himself, and one evening about his own initiation ritual. He had told you how reckless and sure of himself he had been as a Young Blood, how he threw himself into danger to impress his clan.

Although that had secured his position as leader, he’d summoned his son the day before to admonish him to proceed with caution, to be logical and strategic, and to not let arrogance control him.

Lost in worried thoughts, you didn't notice as Mi'ytiar approached you, dropped to one knee, and pulled you to his torso with his strong arms. He nuzzled his face into your hair, his mandibles running through it.

He loved your hair. It was just as soft as the rest of you.

“What on your mind, yawne?” He asked.

“I’m scared.” You breathed.

“On your home planet, oomans worry too when child leaves?”

You put your hand on one of his arms that was wrapped around you. “They do, but not like this. On Earth, human children leave the safety of their homes every day to go to school, to learn, and then they will return. In a few hours Akail will leave the safety of his home to finish school, so to say, but will he return?” You told him absentmindedly, your attention still fixed on the ship. “Human parents don't have to fear that particular day when their children go on a journey to possibly get killed just because of a custom.”

You felt his arms tighten around you. “Do not be scared.” He said.

“I can’t help it. I’m his mother.”

Mi'ytiar let out a chuckle that sounded more like a growl than an actual laugh.

“And I his father.” He said and turned you around, not loosening the close embrace. “I trained him well. Made him strong and made him smart. Doubting my skills, yawne?”

Although he had already lowered himself, reducing his height to be closer to you, you still had to raise your head to look at him.

God, you loved his eyes. Even though there were rare variations at times among their kind — sometimes a lighter shade, sometimes a darker shade, sometimes more orange than yellow — the eyes of all Yautja had the same color.

But to you, Mi'ytiar’s eyes were different, even though one couldn’t possibly spot a difference when he was standing next to other Yautja. To you, they were brighter, more intense, more expressive. Or maybe it was just the way he looked at you, with so much gentle affection and love you wouldn't credit a beast of his stature with.

“Of course, I’m not. I could never.”

You suddenly could feel large arms engulfing your body from behind, pulling you into an upright-standing position, and you just let yourself instinctively fall into their embrace.

You knew those limbs, knew their warmth and their strength.

“Mi’ytiar, the pup… the pup is coming.” You panted and dug your fingernails into his forearm.

You felt him move behind you. He lifted you up, his arms supporting your back and the back of your knees as he held you to his torso. He briefly registered how you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck before he took off.

He ran like he never did. At the same time, he was careful not to let your body jolt around too much as he jumped over fallen tree trunks and climbed rocks to reach the Scout Ship while you clung to him.

Every time a contraction hit, he could feel your body tense in his arms and your mouth press against his chest as you muffled another scream.

Oh, how he wished he could take away the pain, but at least it wasn’t as horrible as it was at Akail’s birth.

Mi’ytiar remembered your glistening tears and your little withering body, how you had squeezed his hand so hard that even he had felt pain, and how you had begged both him and Cahrein to stop it. Especially the fear of death in your eyes haunted him to this day.

He had almost lost you — you, his precious human — all those years ago and it had been his entire fault.

The possibility of becoming a father had been zero, non-existent, and at one point in his life, he had accepted the fact that he may be not meant to be a father. He stopped caring and someday just forgot about it entirely. The wish to continue his line like any proud leader faded away and instead he settled for the idea of passing on his knowledge and experiences to the pups and Younglings of his people.

Then he met you, this petite beautiful thing, when he was lounging on a building near an alley. He heard you before he saw you, heard you and them.

They were calling you strange names and were whistling after you before they decided to follow you down the street. Trying to escape them, you took a left turn and quickened your strides as you crossed the alley.

Mi’ytiar, who was attracted by the noises, slid down the rooftop and soundlessly landed on the metal balcony of one of the apartments. Even from the third floor, he had a perfect view of what was happening down in the alley as the men grabbed you, pushed and pulled on you, and he felt mildly impressed when you started fighting back; kicking, scratching and screaming.

The men’s playful, taunting behavior quickly turned fatal when one of them, fed up with your attempts to flee, slapped you so hard across the face that you stumbled back, tripped over your own feet and fell backwards to the ground.

Your screams quickly turned desperate when one of them pushed up your skirt and tore on your panties, mumbling something about teaching you a lesson, while his companions held you down.

At this point, Mi’ytiar knew something had been wrong. Mating between a Yautja male and female consisted of fighting each other, too, but not like this; not with more than one male and not with the female resisting long after the male fought the female into submission.

Your behavior told him everything he needed to know — you weren’t even close to being interested in mating with those males — and before things could get any worse, he jumped down and killed those who forced themselves on you.

By the time four bodies in various morbid states of dismemberment were littering the alley, your whole body was trembling as you stayed on the ground, cowering.

He had crouched down to your level and one of his bloodied claws reached out to touch your face, your horror-widened eyes watching him with caution.

To him, you were what a kitten was to a human. You were so small, he noted, so small and soft and pink. He also thought you were beautiful, contrastive to what Yautja usually thought about your kind. He took you with him that night and the rest was history.

Even though you weren’t a suitable mate, his clan begrudgingly accepted the idea of a human being with their leader. He couldn’t have pups anyway, so why not just let him indulge himself and let him seek happiness and pleasure in other things?

And then, one day, you told him about your wish to carry his pup. He had been excited, absolutely ecstatic, but not about the image of your rounding belly with his offspring — he knew he was unable to have one — and rather about the fact that you were willing to mate with him in a way that could lead to a child. The fact you loved him and trusted him enough was all he cared about.

As much as he loved his son, he should have done something the second both of you learned that you were pregnant. He had been so overjoyed his human mate was extraordinarily able to have his pup that he never thought about possible consequences.

Anyone would have had serious doubts and would have objected because there was no way a human would survive that, but Mi’ytiar didn’t, too blown away by the prospect of becoming a father.

That changed as the day of the pup being due crept closer and closer, and slowly worry and fear set in.

And to make one thing clear: if you hadn’t been injected with Yautja blood from the beginning — first daily, then weekly, then monthly, until it stopped years ago — you wouldn’t have made it and Akail would have torn you apart from the inside out.

He was glad that Cahrein had kept a cool head and realized that his blood would help you when all other means had failed.

It was like history was repeating itself as he tried to focus on the task at hand — getting you to the ship — and not let the fluid running down his arms and body distract him. He wished he hadn’t dared to look down, to look down and see the blood you were losing, coming from a source that was his fault.

Why did he let you convince him to have a second pup? Why did the mere thought of getting you pregnant again make him so ignorant of your near-death experience? Why did he listen to Cahrein when he told the both of you that another pup was possible? Why did he forget that you weren’t like his kind?

His heavy, thumping footsteps suddenly sounded different, and when you pulled your face away from his chest to look around, you noticed the soft earth of the forest had been replaced by the cold metal of the ship.

As careful and gentle as he could in his rattled state, he put you down on the closest surface he could find — the table used for planning, briefing, and orientation with several holo-maps — and slammed his fist down on the surface. He growled and hissed a few words you couldn’t understand. Your translating earpieces were perfectly fine, but your brain was only picking up the pain shooting through your body instead of noticing any stimuli from your surroundings.

You were so out of it, the tears blurring your view, that you missed the conversation between Mi’ytiar and the holographic image of Cahrein.

“Mi’ytiar.” Cahrein greeted his leader in the customary way of placing his left fist on the right side of his chest while slightly bowing down his head.

“The pup is coming.” Mi’ytiar said without hesitation, straight to the point.

Cahrein rounded the table to stand next to him and he leaned over you to get a better look at you. He reached out to grab your calves to open your legs, but his hands went right through you.

“Pauk. I can’t help her like this. You have to bring her here.”

“No.” You cried out, answering before Mi’ytiar could even open his mouth. “The pup is coming now.”

Cahrein looked conflicted, contemplating about what to do next as he was restricted in his actions. He could already tell that this was going to be hard.

“Mi’ytiar, I packed a Medicomp for emergencies when you said you two would go hunt. Get it.”

You let out a whine when your mate disappeared from your side, which was quickly occupied by the healer who noticed your distress. “Calm, (Y/N), calm.”

“It hurts so much.” You cried out.

“I know.” He retorted and eyed the red fluid running down your thighs to your calves, dripping down your toes. “You need to take off clothes.”

With trembling hands, you started to open the pants-like cloth that hugged your legs like a second skin and circled them from your ankles up to your hips. You struggled with the complicated lacing and cursed as you began to rip on them out of frustration.

Bigger hands replaced yours and when you looked up, you saw that Mi’ytiar had returned and stood between your legs. He used his sharp claws to cut the cords open and he pulled the rest of the garment down. He was more considerate with the bloodied panties underneath and tried not to rip them, although you believed that they were irreversibly ruined.

The first and last time he had torn your panties to shreds, you had scolded him for it after he was done fucking you from behind like a dog in his rut. You didn’t have much of your human clothes left — most of it had been replaced by self-made clothes of local fabrics inspired by their style anyway — but what you definitely wanted to keep was your underwear. So when Mi’ytiar returned to you one day from a spontaneous trip to Earth with a dozen new undies, you had been more than thankful.

Mi’ytiar grabbed your ankles, placed both of your feet flat on the table, and spread your thighs apart, stepping aside for Cahrein to finally take a look at you.

The healer’s holo-image got down on his knees and peered between them at what was happening between your legs.

You wanted to hide and press them back together, but you knew that it wasn’t much of help and just let him do his thing. Instead, you let your head loll to the side and looked at your mate.

Mi’ytiar had his hands in fists, keeping them tightly pressed to his sides, and he watched Cahrein with concern and something else in his eyes. You knew he was worried about you. He tried to hide it, tried putting his true feelings behind the mask of a collected and strong leader and warrior like he always did in dicey situations, but you could see right through it.

“And?” He urged Cahrein to finally give him an answer.

“She is ready. She has to push.”

“What about the blood?”

“Incidental. She has to push.”

So that’s what you did.

Taking a deep breath and gripping the edge of the table for the support, you strained every muscle in your body. The resulting, blood-curdling scream even got the two Yautja to flinch and Mi’ytiar lunged forward. He pried your fingers away from the table where you had been holding on for dear life, and intertwined them with his. You instantly squeezed them and Mi’ytiar let out a surprised hiss.

After a moment, your tense body slumped down. It simply gave up after not being able to endure the pain any longer.

“You need to keep going.”

“I can’t.” You hiccuped, choking on your tears as you shook your head vehemently.

“You can. You did this 30 years ago. It was impressive. I never expected such a tiny creature to survive, but you did. You will again.” Cahrein turned to Mi’ytiar and pointed to the Medicomp. “Take the syringe, take your blood and inject it.”

Rather reluctantly, he loosened the hold you had on him and opened the Medicomp. He rummaged through it, found the syringe, and jabbed it into the flesh of his arm, uncaring of the following pain. You were far more important than anything else right now.

While he filled the syringe with his fluorescent-green blood, Cahrein was talking to you and encouraged you to keep going. He tried to distract you and keep your mind from drifting off to a place of no return.

“Something is wrong.” He murmured after a while.

He had watched Mi’ytiar inject you with three doses of his blood already, but you still were in agonizing pain. You even had lost consciousness twice, something that hadn’t even happened when you birthed your first pup.

You squeezed your eyes shut and only opened them again when the pain subsided a bit. “W-What?”

“You should have started crowning already, but you don’t.”

“Why?” You asked in a long-drawn cry.

Cahrein, for the first time in over thirty years, looked baffled and completely clueless. He couldn’t explain it as he had no idea himself. There had never been complications when the females of his clan gave birth. You were the only exception.

“What are typical problems that arise for oomans during childbirth?” He asked, not knowing what else he could do.

It took a moment until you became aware that you had been asked a question.

“Am-Amniotic fluid e-enters the bloodstream… the u-uterus tears… the ba-baby is in an abnormal p-position… it’s s-stuck…” You offered between pained huffs, trying to come up with as many options as you could think of. “In most emergencies, w-when a natural birth isn’t possible, they d-do a c-section… they cut into t-the woman’s belly a-and get the baby out... and then…”

Mi’ytiar wanted you to stop talking. He wanted you to stop putting images of your cut-open body in front of him. He wanted you to stop making him think of your lifeless form after the pup was pulled out of it.

“You have to incise into her abdomen. I will instruct you.” Cahrein finally said.

Mi’ytiar immediately straightened his back and let out a roar. “No!”

“If you do it, either the pup and (Y/N) survive, or just the pup... but if you do nothing, then they will both die.” Cahrein pressed and eyed you for a second.

You were running out of time.

“I… I can’t.”

He sounded defeated. You had never ever expected to see him like this — so vulnerable, so hopeless, so broken. He was the definition of strength, of courage, of accountability, of resilience, and now only a hollow shadow of the man he was was standing in front of you, thinking about the chance of losing his entire world.

He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t.

How could it be possible for him to live, breathe, without you?

He had a taste of a life he never wanted to leave, a life he wasn’t able to quit, a life only something as extraordinary as you could give him. Not because you were human, although that was probably one of the aspects, but because you were you.

He loved you.

You had taught him that love was the most valuable thing to a person. Love was worth more than anything else in life. It was such a strong, overwhelming feeling no one could put exactly into words until one actually felt it.

And he loved you.

“No, Mi’ytiar… you have to, you have to.” You urged him between panting breaths. “Save our… our baby. Forget me… ju-just save our son… please.”

Mi’ytiar looked down at you as you begged him to do something he wasn’t willing to do in a million years. Cahrein would have hesitated in his stead, but he wasn’t your mate and would have cut into you. Mi’ytiar, on the other hand, could never do something that would harm you.

But he already did, though. He had doomed you the second his seed took.

“Mi’ytiar!” Cahrein barked and pulled the male out of his thoughts.

His body was on autopilot when his hand reached for a scalpel-like tool from the Medicomp.

“Thank you, thank you!” You cried out.

The only thing you felt was relief as your body slowly went numb, tears clouding your view. Everything around you became blurry and Mi'ytiar started to disappear. The world around you grew darker and darker as he set the sharp blade onto your skin and slowly applied pressure, cutting into you until blood flowed onto the table, and down to the floor of the ship, creating a red puddle.

You never even registered the feeling of him cutting you open.

Your body shut down before you could.

continue with the fourth part He Shall Prevail

[wraithdance]

https://www.tumblr.com/wraithdance/765961917651140608/i-really-liked-your-explanation-of-the-whole?source=share

I am really bad at articulating my thoughts but I think about this a lot as someone who hopes to 1- major in neuroscience (i'm 18, going to uni next year) and 2- is trans. I know being trans is not the same thing at all as POC experiences with fic, very cognizant of that, but more to the point where I relate to the aspect of not being able to get over the like mental wall of seeing "neutral" readers as me? I don't know what my brain is doing when i read certain fics but sometimes i can't do it.

I feel like I should close read some of my favorite fic and least favorite fic to see if there are triggers I didn't notice on the first read. does that make sense or seem similar to what you experience? Again I know it's not the same thing, but like i am so curious as to what cis straight white people put in their fic that makes it so obvious that they're cis straight white.

I am sorry if this bothers you, really not my intentions, I am obviously a future brain nerd and i can't stop thinking about this

Congratulations fellow Nerd! You've activated my interest in Race theory and fandom writing from an academic perspective!

Writing reflects life and to answer this question properly, I have to talk about life shit to catch you up to speed, (this should help if you take a sociology or cultural anthropology class lmao) So, Welcome to:

Calvary yaps: Sociology & Intersectionality in fandom writing 101!

Disclaimer: I'm just a random bitch on the internet who loves English and the ridiculousness of social hierarchies, this will be referencing American social constructs and in groups only, with a focus on my experience as a Black American woman who reads a shit ton of books. Don't fight me if you hate my explanation, I will simply not respond.

Read my house rules before sending me an ask, I'm just being a dumb ass rn and word vomiting my interests, so pls i beg no follow up questions unless I say I'm open to em later.

Definitions to know:

Socialization: the act of preparing individuals to participate in society by learned social norms taught in ones family or social settings like school/friend groups. (one can be socialized in gender, race, cultural practices, etc.)

Social Hierarchies: systems of social organization in which some individuals enjoy a higher social status than others (in my opinion this is a lingering safety measure from lizard brain cavemen hunter/gatherer days)

Intersectionality: A term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw; The process of acknowledging the unique parallels a marginalized person experiences when they have more than one marginalization (ie: race, class, gender, sexuality, ability, size, etc.)

Matriarchal society: Social groups/family structures that center female figures as representatives of authority.

Implicit Bias: Unintentional bias a person may have towards a group or individual based on learned stereotypes, prejudices, perceptions based on another's background or state of being.

first, yes anon you are making sense! So the main question:

'What cis straight white people put in their fic that makes it so obvious that they're cis straight white?'

I've been mulling this question around in my head for a few days and tried to figure out how to articulate this without going into depth in Sociological theory, but I can't! So here we are lmao, this is long as fuck so TLDR here.

I've talked to a LOT of Black and PoC people over the last months because I thought I was the only one who felt strange or could tell immediately when a writer was white, despite doing the best job they could to be neutral.

Every person I spoke to agreed they could tell right away even if we don't share similar racial backgrounds.

The answer I've come up with to why that is, is because white people are socialized (taught by society/their parents how to behave) in a way many black and PoC people are not, so their reader characters will often act in a way PoC people have learned not to, so it flags for many of us.

I plan to answer another question about this at a later date so an example is with shit like:

An over deference to hyper masculine male characters (for PoC cultures like certain Black/Latine groups that are often matriarchal in nature and don’t ascribe to as many traditional gender roles, this is a flag), lack of interpersonal/familial connection, over meekness, no challenging of external factors so things just HAPPEN to the reader and lack of awareness of surroundings to name a few. 

A lot of the language of the irl world places white cis people from Western countries as the default and everyone else as others. In which, PoC people have learned to navigate the world very carefully with a hyper-focus on what will potentially bring them harm/scrutiny/ostracism especially in white dominant spaces.

That extends to when we have down time while reading or partaking in media smfh.

I'm sure you've had to learn the same as a trans person navigating cis spaces and it's the same with any marginalization! If you are disabled you have an awareness of able bodied people and their expectations, same with being fat amongst skinny people, etc.

The more marginalizations you have, the louder the rules of social hierarchies become. Which is why many marginalized ppl stick close to those who 'get it' in their social groups as an act of safety in numbers. (Many of us attempt to have strong family connection/harmony because of this)

So referring to your comment about being trans is not the same thing at all as POC experiences with fic, it is when you are a Black or PoC trans person! My angel face @/buttdumplin has spoken a lot about that as a Mexican transman reading fics by cis people!

(Please for the love of God no one come to me explaining how marginalized they are so they shouldn't be lumped in with the white ppl PoC are cognizant of, I will check myself into a psych ward)

So what does that gotta do with reading fics?

No matter what anyone thinks, it is damn near impossible to not frame your writing from the perspective of your lived experiences. It's why even when I try my hardest to make my characters not sound Black, they will always read that way because I have been Black all of my life!

And it doesn't just happen with race, go on tiktok and search male authors writing women. (or here's another article lmao)

Also ask a Southerner how they know someone has never been to the South and don't know shit about our accents when they write Graves. There are linguistic tells that flag off and why we flame actors who pick up southern accents for their roles.

(They chew on that terrible goddamn Appalachian or Louisiana Accent not realizing Southern accents come in many fonts.)

So when I read a fic about Kyle Garrick from a non black person, I can tell the writer is non black by linguistic implications, the things they emphasize about him and what they don't. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy reading fics from non black people, I can just tell!

And sometimes that means I, and other PoC's associate the Reader as a white OC while reading fics.

For example, all black people are not monolithic because of our cultural and regional experiences, but many of us share common threads. That's usually family involvement, colloquialisms, that stupid fucking cookie tin our elders put sewing supplies in...

Other non Black PoC people might share similar cultural practices, so when I'm reading fics from say a latina, I will cock my head and go wait.... are you...? And surely enough, they are a person of color. 

But even while reading from a non black PoC, I have to tread carefully because anti black sentiment exists in many cultures, which is why you'll hear me say Black and PoC/Non black people interchangeably.

It’s how the conversation of Implicit bias comes up, because unknowingly non white characters can sometimes be written with a hyper focus that makes them seem inhumanly one characteristic or with little to no background while the other characters are fully fleshed out.

like the character of color is just a stand in to move the plot around white characters forward. 

So all that to say, without sometimes meaning to white writers will always sound off to me in a way that my brain can pick up on in the most minuscule ways because my awareness of my blackness/otherness has been drilled in from birth and reinforced by social norms.

I can even tell immediately if a white person has been around only white spaces their whole life with the jokes they tell lol.

In the grand scheme of things the race of the writer is most important to me when something jarring comes up that slaps me away from the experience, it explains so much of the disconnect.

Every marginalized person has a threshold for what they can ignore as a ‘trigger’ before they’re ejected from reader inserts, mine is usually the association with racial historical happenings, certain gender dynamics, etc.

It's why I mention crying like a little bitch when I read my friend Jess's (Kyletogaz) TF 141 Hair series, Dragon’s (Dragonnarative-writes) Transferrable Skills, and even Xavi's (Buttdumplin) Piercing fic.

Reading those fics felt like safety and familiarity. It was a moment where I realized I could drop the mental load I had no idea I was carrying, where I was trying to prepare myself for potential emotional damage and just READ.

It's also why as a Black person who fucks with kink and sex work it's been so touch and go when navigating dark fics/kink fics/fics about Sex workers.

Because there are different rules of engagement non white kinksters have to be aware of and that leads to a point on the collective vs. Individual experience as a PoC in kink, that I’ll eventually make a post about at some point or another. Maybe…

So yeah I’m tired of yapping. I hope this long shit was enough of an explanation!! Thanks to my friends Kiko, Jules, Xavi and Folded for yapping with me so I could articulate this better!!

[i-starcreamed]

Hey can I get three different scenarios if, Optimus, Mirage and bumblebee from Rotb, had met a tameranean who is like Starfire in a way, and is a princess. How would they react when they meet her and learn how strong and powerful she is, and what would their romantic relationship be like. Also the reader acts like starfire too, but I would find it funny if she kissed the Autobots to learn their language when she too comes to earth cause they were the nearest thing near her. Sorry if this is a lot I just love the idea since she too lives in space, that they may know a little bit about each other. Also I would find it adorable if they had sparklings with her since I head canon tameraneans can practically mate with anything. (I’m gonna scream if you except this, cause I don’t think you will but thank you for at least reading this! ��🏾)

i actually thought this idea was super cute, anon. I decided to do long-ish headcanons because I wasn't sure how to fit everything into one scenario for each.

[ tameranean!reader post includes: ROTB Optimus, Mirage, and Bumblebee

OPTIMUS

once he assesses that you're not a threat, I imagine he'd be super curious about your powers and abilities. Once he finds out you're too from space, I feel like he'll be able to confide in you a bit more than he would with humans?? Like, you're an alien like him, possibly stranded on Earth as well

he respects you so much, because wow you're a princess? He admires your bravery, especially if you're willing to help them. Despite being reluctant at first

Just imagined Optimus Prime bowing down to you a little, started going crazy

anyways

The Autobots were the first you came across upon landing on Earth, you didn't speak their language nor did you speak English. You proved you weren't a threat, but they didn't understand you or know your motives yet. You realized you landed on yet another civilization that doesn't speak nor understand Tamaraneans. And so, you did the only thing you could do. Optimus was the closest, so you gave him a simple peck on the mouth. The other autobots around were trying not to giggle at the look on Prime's face. He was shocked, confused, and maybe a bit flustered. You swore he didn't answer for a couple minutes when you greeted everyone.

He's suchhh a big fan of your Tamaranean features, you're so unique and yet so human as well. Again, he admires your bravery and strength and your attitude. Genuinely enjoys your company. If you're somewhere secluded, he'll go on a drive with you maybe flying next to him as you talk :3

I think Prime would be one to want sparklings with his significant other, he could only hope they will live in a world outside of war. He would never want them to experience what he and many others did. Also deep down, the Orion Pax in him that would've never thought about fighting in a war would've wanted to happily settle down somewhere. Knowing that you're a bit stronger/resilient than normal humans (or most types of aliens he knows of) he feels a lot more secure with having sparklings with you. How many? No one will ever know.

MIRAGE

okay so imagine you meet in the middle of a fight accidentally. You've been trying to blend in like a normal citizen of Earth ever since you got here, you were shocked to see that humans were in fact not the only species that lived here. Unfortunately for you, the same city you were staying at was being attacked by giant evil alien robots.

You're in the middle of the street, not really knowing the extent of what these robots can do. One second you see a Porsche, a semi truck, and a camaro speed past you and transform into more alien robots...but this time they're fighting the one destroying the city so they're good you think? The next second, you were too frozen in admiring these aliens when suddenly a car goes flying towards you.

It happens in slow motion, Mirage is the only one who sees it go straight for your face. But he's confident, he knows he can catch it and save you. Except...it slips through his servos. His spark nearly stops. Instead of seeing a poor 'human' go spat on the ground, he can't believe his optics when you reach out and catch the fucking car??

After that whole incident, he's asking you a bunch of questions. You give him a lil kiss so you can answer him in his language, you're slightly surprised when suddenly you know english and cybertronian, whatever that is

Honestly, I could imagine Mirage never letting go of that kiss, like he's going to joke about it for years.

You're a princess? hell yeah, he thinks you're super badass and wants to see you in action tbh. He's still gonna act like a knight in shining armor but he knows you can handle yourself, he wants to impress you fr

Wants you to teach him your language, he will try but it'll sound like gibberish. Either that or he will learn it immediately because uhh cybertronian super advanced robot?

He's definitely an excited father to your sparklings, you will need to make sure he doesn't teach them to be troublemakers because HE WILL raise them into little fuckin risk takers

BUMBLEBEE

Unfortunately he would not be able to learn your language since there are no tameranean radio stations.. but hey you can still kiss him!

once he gets to know you and where you're from, he's a huge fangirl I think

definitely hypes you up and praises you when you chuck a car at a deception or something. Once he knows you're probably as strong as they are, you guys do some cool combos out in the battlefield.

power couple !?!?!

jokingly does a little bow every time he greets you, then crushes you in a hug. Probably plays some cheesy line from some radio station

he lovesss how you're so kind and compassionate to species you don't know and a planet that isn't yours, but also the fact that you're brave in the face of danger. He knows you can defend yourself and still come back to give him a lil kiss afterwards

he asks if you can carry him. you probably lift him up by one hand and he's going crazy that you might drop him.

you will both learn about Earth together, as well as each other's home planets :3

laying out in the middle of nowhere, staring at the stars and reminiscing about your home? of course

he'd be sooo nervous about sparklings, nervous but excited. He'd be the most caring boyfriend and equally as caring father

thinks your sparklings are the cutest ever ever

[simp4pedropascal75]

bad guy (Joel Miller x Reader)

summary: since joel came to jackson, you only had eyes for him. but he didn't had eyes for you.... well, he did. but he hid behind a facade of a cold, mean asshole.

trigger warnings: 18+, minors dni, mature content included, some angst, fluff, explicit language, mention of guns, smut (f!nger!ng, p in v, mention of daddy k!mk, praising, degrading), age gap (reader in his 20s, joel in his 50s)

words: 2k

a/n: hey guys, so, this is my first post after a long break now. this was my first time writing smut, i'm still learning yk, but I hope you like it! Please keep in my mind that english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for spelling mistakes and stuff.

Also I wrote this while driving to Croatia and I'm still sitting in the car, so yeah. There'll be a part 2 of this ff:) now, I wish y'all a fun time reading<3

-------------------♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡--------------------

Why do girls always love the bad guy? Why can’t I just find normal people attractive? And especially men in my age, you think.

Obviously I can’t, because I love Joel fucking Miller.

Since he came with this girl Ellie to Jackson, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. You tried, you really tried. But no, Joel stayed in your mind. Every fucking time he walked past you, butterflies flew in your stomach like crazy. When he looked at you, your heartbeat speeded up. And god, when he talked to you, even for just 10 seconds, you needed to squeeze your legs together, because you couldn’t bear the ache between your legs.

But sadly, he didn’t talked to you often, he didn’t look at you, he just always walked past you. Sometimes you two had to go on patrol, but to be honest, he was an asshole. He didn’t talk much, and when he did, he was mean. He was so cold towards you. The only person where he softened up, was Ellie. You and her got along well, she is a smart girl, with a big mouth, but still smart.

But, what did you expect? He’s like doubled your age. But you always found men, who could be your dad, more attractive than boys in your age. Older men are more mature and… they have experience.

With every boy you slept in your age, has never made you cum, never.

Not to mention your daddy issues.

Actually, you’re on patrol with him right now. It was quiet, very quiet, while you walk through a abounded building with him. You’ve met some clickers on your way, but they were easy to kill. “So, was it already so quiet when Tommy was out on patrol?”, you ask him while you reload your gun. “‘haven’t talked to him”, he answers cold. You look at him confused, because they usually always exchange about their patrols.

“Why didn’t you?”, you ask curiously.

“Why would you care?”, he scoffs and doesn’t even look at you. He stands up and continues to walk.

Asshole.

“We have to move, come on”, he adds. You just roll your eyes at him, get up and follow him. “Well I care, because we have to know what we have to expect.”, you mumble pissed.

He turns around to look at you with a stern look. “If you would shut your fucking mouth, maybe we could hear what we have to expect”

Yeah, that’s it.

“You know what, I don’t fucking care. I understand that we’re definitely not friends, but that doesn’t mean you have to act like the arrogant bastard you are.”, you speak upset. “Guess what, I don’t like you either, but at least I try to be nice to you!”

“Shut up.”, he whispers harshly.

“You want me to shut up?! Did I hurt your ego because someone finally said how you really are, Joel Miller?! I swear I’ll soon kick you in your non-exciting balls-“ He suddenly slams you against the wall and covers your mouth with his hand. “I said, be. quiet.”, he growls quietly. You try to move and push him away, but he’s too strong.

As you give up and stare into his eyes, you hear it too, stalkers.

You feel how the speed of your heartbeat increases and feel the big ache between your legs again, but even stronger as the last time’s. His chest was pressed onto yours and you sense his hot breath on your neck. While Joel’s concentrated on the sound of the stalkers, you get a chance to admire his face closely. His hazel eyes, his lips… and his nose.

Fuck.

As the stalker noises get quiet and disappear, you gulp as he stares into your eyes. He releases your mouth from his hand and you take a deep breath. “s-so.. where was I-?”, he cuts you off.

“You really can’t shut up, can you?”, he raises an eyebrow at you as he asks.

“You fucking basta-“, suddenly he smashes his lips on yours. That’s when you get quiet. Your heart was beating out of your chest while you were melting under his touch. You can’t resist and wrap your arms around his neck while kissing him back.

Joel’s hands run up your curves while he’s pulling you even closer to his body. You feel how his dick begins to harden under the fabric of his jeans. He stops kissing your lips and continues to place kisses on your neck to leave you with his marks. You whimper softly as you feel how his hand glides down your stomach. As Joel slides his hand under your pants, he touches your already wet panties. “god, were you so desperate to be touched? you dirty little girl.”, he whispers in your ear and nibbles on it. “Fuck, Joel-“, you breathe. He pushes your panties aside and his thumb starts to rub your clit slightly.

“you need to be quiet, darling.”, he whispers again as you feel his hot breath on your neck again. As you nod and give him your permission he slides two of his fingers into your core. “Joel- I-“, you begin to breath heavy. You really tried to keep quiet, but as he starts to pump his fingers into you… “Joel, I can’t-“, you moan, that’s when he puts his hand over your mouth again.

“keep fucking quiet, you’re gonna’ get us killed..”, he growls as he stares into your eyes.

While he continues shoving his fingers inside you, your hands make your way to his belt. As you start to unbuckle it, he slaps your hands away. “not here.”, he whispers harshly.

“Please Joel-, I need you.”, you whine.

“No.”, he says with his deep voice, which even more aroused you. You start to feel your climax coming nearer, so does Joel as your inner walls squeeze his fingers gently. “Joel, I’m gonna-“, you cry out and he immediately covers your mouth again. “thats it, baby.. cum all over my fingers, darling…”, he whispers right into your ear and that’s when you reach your climax. He presses his hand onto your mouth to quiet down your moan and a slight smirk appears on his face. As your legs are still shaking, your hands try to unbuckle his belt again, but this time, he lets you do it.

“Fuck, y/n… you really want to get us killed, don’t you”, Joel groans quietly.

“Please Joel-, just-“, he cuts you off while slamming his lips onto yours again. He flicks his younger against yours and gasps as your hand touches his clothed dick. “Goddammit, y/n!”, he growls.

“Please Joel, I need you inside of me-“, that’s when he can’t resist your begging and he turns you around the wall and pushes you against it. “‘risking to get killed, just to be fucked by daddy’s cock”, he whispers and you hear how he pushes his pants down, which leaves a smile on your face. He takes his dick into his hand and rubs the tip at your wet pussy. His other hand glides to your mouth again, because he knows you definitely can’t keep quiet.

And he’s right.

You cry out loud as he pushes his shaft into your throbbing core.

God, he’s big.

“Fuck.”, he exhales. He begins to thrust into you while your moans get louder, he presses his hand harder on your mouth. “Such a good girl, taking my dick so fucking good”, Joel praises which makes you squirm under his grip. His other hand rests on your waist and his breath starts to get heavier. As he increases the speed, you feel how your legs begin to shake again. “how long have you been waiting for this, hm…?”, he breathes into your ear and wraps his arm around you to pull you closer. Joel begins to hit your g-spot and as your breath becomes heavier, your moans do too.

“Use your words, princess”, he groans into your ear.

“S-since you came here-“, you try to answer while he’s trying to muffle your moans again. You hear him chuckle. “‘never thought that you’re such a dirty girl”, he whispers. “‘squeezing my dick real good- you’re gonna’ cum?”. You nod.

“Words.”, he growls. “Y-yes, I’m gonna cum!”, you whine and you rech your climax. As your pussy tightens around his cock, you hear his groan and feel how he fills you up with his cum, leaving you two breathless.

.

.

.

As we walked back to Jackson, he was quiet, too quiet. “‘you’re okay?”, you ask concerned and also confused while he’s walking in front of you. “This was a mistake”, he growls and keeps walking. “What- I don’t understand-“, you mumble confused and grab after his hand so he stops walking. “What don’t you understand?”, he speaks louder and pulls his hand away. “This, was a mistake”, he points with his finger at you and himself. “A fucking big one.”, he growls and turns around to walk. “So, after you just fucked the shit out of me in a building full of zombies, you tell me that this was a mistake?!”, you almost shout and walk after him.

I can’t believe him, you think.

“yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”, he points out and it seems like he really doesn’t care. “Are you kidding me right now?! Don’t you notice how fucked up this is?! You fuck me and now tell me it was a mistake, and you don’t even feel bad!”, you shout after him upset and try not to tear up. “Exactly”, he just answers coldly.

“And now what huh?!”, you try to grab his hand again and finally get him stop walking. He turns around and just looks at you, his eyes were pitch black now. You don’t see any emotions in his face.

“Now, we’re going our separate ways”, he grumbles coldly.

.

.

.

Why do girls always love the bad guy?, you think.

It’s already been two months since it happens with Joel. And like he said, we’re going our separate ways. He didn’t look at you, he didn’t talked to you and he didn’t even went on patrols with you anymore. And you really tried to hate him, and did because of what he did, but you couldn’t get this night with him out of your mind anymore. Every time you close your eyes, you feel his lips on yours and his dick thrusting deep into you.

So, since he really didn’t felt bad and ignored you like you don’t exist, you tried to keep on with your life and tried dating again. You’ve met a really nice boy, Jack. He was two years older than you and he really was a gentleman. He was nice, kind and lovely. He made you laugh and feel safe. Since Joel didn’t go on patrols with you again, he did. And it was fun. Today you’ve had your third date already and as you walk into the bar, you see Joel sitting there.

Fuck.

And that’s when it hits your memory again. His hand pressed on your mouth, his hot breath on your neck and his dick pounding into you. You got pulled out of your mind, as you feel Jack’s hand on your waist. “Hey there, beautiful”, he says with his sweet smile. “Hey”, you smile back and go with him to your table. You thought Joel didn’t notice you, but he did. He saw you with this guy before, and god it has made him jealous. But Joel’s good at hiding his feelings, always hiding how he looks at you in secret.

You and Jack had a good time. Sometimes you took a glance at Joel, but his back was turned towards you. As you two finished eating, you stood up and wanted to look after Joel, but he wasn’t sitting there anymore. “I’ll pay real quick, you can wait outside”, Jack says and places a kiss on your cheek.

You nod and go outside. It’s already dark outside. A breeze of cold air flies against your body and you get goosebumps. That’s when you let your keys fall. “Fuck…”, you swear and try to see them in the dark. As you spot them, you bend down but suddenly someone else picks them up.

As you look up, you freeze:

“Joel.”

-> part 2

[penelopepine]

Maybe I'll write this later:

Ghost x Reader x Soap: Alien AU

You got abducted awhile ago, and has been trapped in a cell ever since. The only good thing so far is that the aliens all seem to be frightened of you.

Every single day since the first has practically been the same which is why when you hear a lot of noise coming you instinctively move to the back of your cell. Which seems to be the right move because just a few moments later the door is being opened, and a figure is being thrown inside. The door just as quickly is slammed shut once more.

This is the first time you meet Soap. He looks like what you assume a werewolf might look like. Once he sees you though it's not fear on his fear, but surprise; at least you would assume so it's hard to tell when dealing with an alien species. What surprises you though is when he say 'Hello' ... in English. You cried tears of joy for the first time in this cell upon hearing a single word.

The days that pass after that are filled with you and Soap learning how to communicate with one another. He can speak very minimal English, but that is enough for you to put some trust in him. After all another human must have taught him right?

Soap also seemed very interested in keeping you close to him anytime one of the other aliens visited your cell. Always keeping you behind him as he seemingly yelled at them. It's clear that they had planned for you to kill Soap. You know you had been aggressive towards them, but did they really think you would just kill him?

It's a few days of this before they take things into there own hands in getting rid of Soap. Two alien guards show up, and open the door to the cell and attempt to grab Soap. What they don't account for though is when he fight backs you do too. This might be your only chance out of here; you're not going to waste this.

Surprisingly, you two actually do mange to defeat them. Soap does do most of the work, but you still helped as much as you could. As soon as their down he's grabbing onto your hand, and dragging you out into the hall. He had to know more than you so you willingly followed.

It was good you did as well because after a few minutes alarms are blaring through the ship. That doesn't seem to affect Soap though as he continues to lead you around. Eventually you arrive at a door, and before you can even question what's happening Soap is pushing you inside.

Looking around you saw that this was some must be some kind of emergency pod. The first thing Soap does is help you with the straps to your seat before finally taking the drivers seat; starting up the pod up as fast as he can when someone starts banging on the door.

That doesn't seem to affect Soap though as you two very suddenly are taking off at speeds you've never experienced before. Once far enough away the speed slows to be more manageable to handle. He turns towards you, and says 'safe' and 'sleep'. And you do after all the day you've had all you want to do is sleep. You assume Soap knows what to do, and doesn't seem to want to ditch you anytime soon.

The next time you wake up it's because of a loud beeping sound filling the air. Looking out you see that you are actually entering another ship. Panic fills your veins as you look at Soap. He on the other looks to be the calmest you've ever seen him. Soap must know this ship, and hopefully trusting him won't turn out bad for you.

Seeing you're discomfort Soap puts a comforting hand on your shoulder before encouraging you out of the pod now that your fully landed inside. Everything seems to be calm as you step out, but that is before door leading farther in the ship opens up.

The first thing you notice about this new figure is that they have an eerily human look. What concerns you though is the mask that they're wearing; it's looks like a human skull. You instantly think that you've made a mistake trusting Soap.

The figure and Soap quickly move towards each other, and once in reach are pulling the other into an embrace. You watch as Soap whispers something into there ear, and in an instant there eyes are snapping towards were you stand still near the pod door.

Taking a hesitant step towards you they reach up to remove the mask. Underneath is a balaclava, but that's not what get your attention. What gets your attention is the distinct human eyes. The man in front of you is human.

He introduces himself as Ghost.

[writer-freak]

male Valorant agents walking in on you changing (gn reader)

Characters: Yoru ,Chamber, Sova, Phoenix, Cypher

Warnings: gn reader, headcanons, can be read as romantic or platonic I think, characters walking in on you, mentions of reader being shirtless or just in underwear, english isn't my first language, probably ooc,

I just got into Valorant just a few days ago I still need to get to know the characters a bit better so this could be ooc but I wanted to post it anyways I will probably also do a version for the female agents if people would like to read that Inspired by some random tiktok I saw about horror icons walking in on you

Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated 🖤

Yoru

He just tends to forget to knock 

Normally that isn't so terrible because you're just in your room resting or something like that

But this time was different

You just came back from a mission, and sweat completely through your clothes

You just wanted to get them off as quickly as possible before taking a well-deserved shower

Imideatly after walking into your room and closing ou door, you started stripping out of your clothes

Yoru was already searching for you earlier before hearing that you were on a mission

When he saw you close your room door so he went over

When he opened the door he was greeted with the sight of you taking off your shirt

Flustered Yoru incoming

You were also embarrassed but you couldn't say anything because he quickly closed the door again

He shouted through the door "Lock the door next time!"

You could still hear how flustered he was and that made you giggle 

You retorted "Maybe you should learn to knock" 

Then finally getting your shower

Chamber

In the Vp, there were occasional company parties

Some fancy events were people had to attend as a cover for the Vp

Today it was your job to attend one, and your partner for the night was Chamber

You were already running late and now trying to get ready as quickly as possible

You had informed Chamber to get you from your room

So after getting ready he made his way over

You were still frantically searching for something not having put on your clothes

Chamber knocked on your door but in your search, you couldn't hear him 

He opened the door and found you only in underwear

He cleared his throat trying to get your attention 

"Chamber get out!" you shouted while throwing some clothing article at him

Sova

He is such a sweetheart 

You two often conversed about food and he raved about how good his babushkas cooking is

You of course said that you would love to try some

So the next time Sova took time away from the Vp to visit his babushka 

He talked a lot about you in general but also mentioned how you would love to try some of her cooking

She gave him some Kotletki for you

He was never this excited to be back at the Vp but he couldn't wait to give you his babushkas cooking

In his excitement, though he forgot to knock on your door 

You just got out of the shower and were putting on your clothes when Sova barged in

Sova was very embarrassed, to say the least

He quickly apologized before closing the door again

Seeing a flustered Sova was definitely a sight to see 

So after putting on your clothes you went out and Sova gave you the food

Phoenix

You two one day just decided to walk into each other rooms unannounced

You don't even remember how it started but until now it didn't make any problems

Today Phoenix got some new shoes and wanted to show them off to you

You on the other hand were out the entire day and just got back to your room

He opened your door while saying "Hey" but the rest of his words ended up being stuck in his throat

You were just about to change into something more comfortable and pulled down your pants when he opened the door

Phoenix turned around and closed the door at the speed of light 

For you, it took a minute to follow what just happened but when it registered you finished changing 

Then you went to search for Phoenix

Cypher

You have a lot of knowledge in different areas

So sometimes Cypher asks you for some information instead of searching for it himself 

He had a pretty important question for you and quickly went to your room

You on the other hand were changing your clothes

Noticing that you couldn't find the shirt you wanted to wear right now

You were turning your whole wardrobe upside down

That was when Cypher barged into your room

You didn't notice him at first having your head entirely in your wardrobe

He on the other hand just saw you shirtless rummaging through your closet

But he quickly apologized and closed the door again which brought your attention to the door

He will probably make you some Moroccan tea as an apology later

Thank you for reading I appreciate it

[agendabymooner]

pag-ibig, traducido (love, translated) || cs55 fic

carlos sainz x ofc (filipino!content creator!ofc)

EXTENSION TO RIDE HOME

Summary: Magdalena ‘Magda’ and Carlos Sainz can bring the two worlds together through words and actions. OR, moments in which the Filipino woman and her Spanish husband learned to love each other while learning more about what they know about themselves. 

Content warning: Use of explicit language, shitty Tagalog/Filipino and Spanish translations, a lot of Spanish colonial and Filipino history jokes, parental abandonment, brief reference to religious and cultural practice (weddings), mentions elopement, secret marriage, briefly mentions PR relationships/girlfriends, time skipping, what is beta reading lol

Note: The last part of this story is loosely based on the idea given to me by @clairalle and the song 'Paninindigan Kita' by Ben&Ben so thank you so much! ❤️

Letting you all know that some Filipino dialogue here are translated based on how I know it in both English and Tagalog language??? And also, there are some words in here that are the same in context BUT written in two different spellings - some of the words are spelled based on phonics or how it sounds. Enjoy xx

masterlist

i. 2016 — shit, ayos ka lang?

Ramona Magdalena normally had the patience for Tesco. She wasn’t sure what it was, but everything had her seething with no apparent reason. She tried to figure out what went wrong. 

It was only 3 p.m., for goodness sake! 

Her third year at the university was supposed to make things easier, but the way she clenched at the handle of her shopping cart as she sped through the aisles of Tesco showed nothing of the sort. 

She was so tense, her jaw clenching as she asked herself repeatedly if there was an actual reason for her getting worked up over something. 

Her mother, Alma, was being herself; she was merely calling to see how the university was for Magda. Alma only told Magda about her cousins in the Philippines and how they were looking forward to getting the “balikbayan” box in August, only for the younger woman to respond grumpily. Alma was a dear— so clearly Magda’s grumpiness had nothing to do with her mother’s daily check-in. 

She appreciated her mother’s efforts to keep up with Magda’s well-being; after all, Alma did everything she could as a single parent who immigrated to the UK long before she took Magda. 

So no. She loved her mother so much that she wouldn’t get unreasonably cranky towards her. Not easily, at least. 

But her questions withered away when her speed walking was interrupted by her shopping cart crashing into a figure. Her eyes widened, and she shook herself out of her thoughts. 

“Mierda!” Shit! An accent escaped out of the man’s mouth. 

Now, Magda had been a citizen of the UK for a while now— she knew when to speak English and how to utilize her vocabulary in a reasonable manner. But everything seemed to be in panic mode as she exclaimed, “Shit! Ayos ka lang?” Are you okay?

The man was still groaning, bent over as he clutched to his stomach. He glared at her for a moment as he asked, “¿Por qué no observas a dónde vas?” Why can’t you watch where you are going?

“Hah?” She cocked her head slightly. She only picked up on the first two words. Por qué? Why? 

He’s Spanish, Magda deduced. She stepped away from the cart and walked towards him, “I’m so, so, so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going—“

“Obviously—“ he muttered hastily, still touching his aching side. 

“I’m also in a rush, and I’m so frustrated and tired. Three years into adulthood and I can’t make shit right,” Magda hadn’t even realized that she was ranting to a stranger as she rambled, “GCSE clearly didn’t do shit to me because I’m still here bitching about what to cook��� punyeta naman kasi, ‘di ba.” What the fuck, am I right?

He stared at her for a moment, not even interrupting her as she spoke. But the silence made Magda pause as her face flushed red, earning a soft smirk from the man. “Mama said I have a problem with speaking too much without thinking.” 

He chuckled at her rambling before sticking his hand out, “We can call it… truce— I think is the word?” 

“Yeah, okay, truce,” she reached out and introduced herself while shaking his hand, “I’m Magdalena.” 

“I’m Carlos.” 

“So, like… you’re Spanish, right? Or do you just speak Español? I’ve only picked up on some words because they’re quite similar— or I suppose I learned it through some song from years ago.” 

“I am actually Spanish; good guess. And you said puñeta— I can assume you also speak Español?” 

“Oh, hah, about that— no. That’s not spoken in Spanish. That’s— yeah, that’s something.” 

ii. 2017 — irog means love

“Ate Magda! Totoo ba?” Is it true?

“Jowa mo galing Spain?” Your boyfriend is from Spain? 

Magda almost died laughing as she FaceTimed her cousins, who were certainly supposed to be asleep at this time. The Philippines was seven hours ahead, and with her cousins being awake at two in the morning, she could assume that they had a holiday. Everybody always sleeps in if it’s a long weekend or a national holiday. 

But she hadn’t expected their night to be spent gossiping about Magdalena’s boyfriend, Carlos. 

“Niño, bakit ‘di mo gamitin yang utak mo sa school kaysa sa jowa ko?” Why don’t you use your brain for school instead of my boyfriend? Magda huffed out her laugh, making her other cousin Paloma laugh next to Niño. Paloma’s laughter caught Magda off guard as she called out, “Oi, Lomi, don’t be laughing— ikaw ang nagpasimuno nito. Akala mo ‘di ko alam?” You started this. You think I didn’t know?

“Papa brought it up,” Paloma defended herself with a cry, “he kept calling you a national hero, and I had to ask why.” 

“Ano ba naman ‘yan,” what the hell. Magdalena cried out as her head slumped against the couch, raising it to look at her cousins on the screen, “Tell your papa to keep his mouth shut. I love Tito Gerry— I do, but he needs to stop making jokes about that.” 

“—About what?” Magda seemed to be more drawn towards her uncle’s joke that she hadn’t heard her boyfriend enter her flat with a curious look. He had just arrived from Milton Keynes, and this was a surprise as he normally arrived later than this. 

Carlos had taken off his shoes and placed his bag down, walking around the couch to sit next to Magda as he pecked her lips. “Hello, cariño. How was your day?” 

“Hm, good! I’ve finished my paper,” Magda grinned. 

They were so caught up with each other that the only thing they heard was gagging from the phone that the Filipino woman held. Magda and Carlos peered down on the screen as they watched the two teens exaggerate at the sight of the couple being too sweet for each other. 

“Reparations,” Paloma gagged jokingly, “but at what cost?” 

“Matulog na nga kayo!” Go to sleep! Magda exclaimed.

“Okay po, master,” Niño rolled his eyes before waving at the camera, “nice meeting you, Carlitos!” 

"You're Niño, right?" Carlos grinned as he kept his face in front of the camera before waving, "Nice meeting you too!"

“Yeah! Buenas noches, Don Carlos!” Good night, sir Carlos! Paloma giggled, the other side of the call abruptly ending before Magda could berate the pair even further.

She sighed heavily and tossed her phone aside, giving her boyfriend a look of despair as he giggled at her. 

“What did they mean by reparations?” He asked her, genuinely curious at what they were joking about. 

How was she going to explain it to him? Did they even teach at Spanish schools about their country’s history of colonialism? Magda didn’t have an answer to that. 

“Oh, just you know…” She mumbled, “Filipinos were originally Spanish people living in the Philippines. Apparently, dating you made us a deadly combination. Enemies to lovers, or whatever trope that is.”

“Reparations? Oh… OH!” Carlos exclaimed in realization, earning a nod from his girlfriend as he murmured, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, I understand now, mi corazon.” 

“Irog,” Carlos said aloud, making Magda hum in a questioning tone. “Irog, bébé.”

“What’s that, bé?” Magda asked mindlessly as she stared at the screen of her computer. 

Carlos turned his head in her direction as he said, “I don’t know. You’re the one who speaks the language.” 

She paused from doing her work, looking up at him before she pondered the first word he brought up. Then she let out an ‘ah’ before nodding. 

“So…? What does that mean?” Carlos asked. One year of relationship and his thirst for knowledge was an obvious factor that came with it.

“It means mahal,” Magda answered, remembering the word. She continued to read Filipino literature as she grew, not wanting to stay away from it regardless of the fact that she spent her last school years in a British school. She asked her mother questions whenever she didn’t have a single clue what a word meant, so this was a helpful thing to do, especially now that Carlos continued to ask her to teach him how to speak her language. 

“Mahal, like expensive?” Carlos asked for clarification. 

Magda shook her head, “No, not that mahal. Like mahal— you, mahal.” 

“Oh,” Carlos let out before he reiterated what she said, “mahal, like love?” 

“Yes, mahal,” she snickered quietly, calling him by the term of endearment. “Like love.” 

“So irog means love?” 

“Yes, bébé. Irog means love.”

iii. 2018 — patata, patatas. what’s the difference? 

“Oh! Hey, Mr. Alonso, you’re here just in time,” Magdalena grinned. The older man, who just arrived, shot her a confused look as she stood there with her lips spread out to a grin.

“Magda, hija, call me Fernando. It’s also nine in the morning,” Fernando Alonso sighed quietly, his hand running through his face as he looked back at the girl in the white McLaren shirt. “I think it’s too early for your optimism.” 

“You’re right,” Magda’s shoulders slumped, and her smile fell, her face showing nothing but defeat as she walked towards the Spaniard, “but don’t let my sadness get in the way of your duties today. My supervisor said that you have to do your filming for the next two videos of the channel— and you cannot, I mean CANNOT, back out this time.” 

“I can’t,” Fernando smirked playfully, “or can I?” 

“Mr. Alonso, with all due respect,” Magda sighed heavily, “I started this year. And if you continue to ditch your duties because I cannot convince you enough then I’m going to have to leave not of my own will. I did not last four years at the university just so I can have a manchild act so sassily at the person who’s merely trying her best, so please—“

“Calmaté, Magdalena. Are you okay?” Calm down. Fernando asked, reiterating his question and emphasizing the word you. 

Magda had anything but an answer; her lips pursed as she shook her head. “Can I… shit. Sorry, can I be excused for a moment? It's been a morning for me.” 

“Take all the time you need, querida,” Fernando told her with a smile, patting her on the shoulder as she gave him a grateful look before she walked out of the McLaren garage with a heave of sigh. 

Fernando Alonso pursed his lips as he caught sight of the young British reserved driver, calling him with a whistle as Lando Norris looked in his direction with a questioning expression.

“Norris, you know Carlos Sainz, yes?” Fernando asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Lando replied with a nod. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“Do me a favour, if you don’t mind,” Fernando requested, “will you please tell him Magdalena’s on break?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Lando obliged before his curiosity got the best of him as he asked, “Is she alright?” 

“I think McLaren broke her.”

“Leche,” she swore quietly as she stood behind the McLaren motorhome. Thankfully, nobody else was there to witness her on the verge of breaking down. Otherwise, that would have been embarrassing. 

She had a bad habit of pleasing people. Living in the Philippines, with her mother working overseas and her biological father being a dickhead fuck knew where Magdalena grew up wanting to appease her friends and family. Her immediate family cared very little about the achievements she reached — they were proud, sure, but how she got there was beyond what they wanted for her.

Some kids who grew up in a Filipino household aimed to please, and Magda wasn’t an exception to that. She, however, did more than what she should have been doing. All thanks to the father she had never interacted with before or ever.

Much like now. She aimed to please. Maybe that was why she got to this predicament now; crouching with her head down as she tried to keep her composure. 

She knew that everyone would kill to be in her place— working for a racing team. But for some reason, her urge to please was replaced by her fear of discomfort and disappointment. Being in a relationship with a Formula One driver taught her a lot about the sport, and she landed herself a job in a team based in England.

Being able to travel with him was a plus, but she felt that she had disappointed him. She didn’t feel as good as he told her she would when she first announced McLaren’s offer to hire her for the season. 

Was this what most Formula One wives and partners felt? Or have they embraced that lifestyle long before the drivers became so popular? She wouldn’t make a good girlfriend for everyone should they find out that she had nothing but anxiety in her system as she graced the grid with her presence. 

She was a disappointment of a Carlos Sainz fan.

His cologne lingered in the air as she witnessed him crouch down in her level, his fingers pulling her hair tie off her head, letting her long dark brown hair fall as she smiled grimly. 

He was in his Renault fireproof, his race suit hanging off his waist. He made things more angelic than normal, and she loved him so much for it. His lips pursed as his fingers continued to massage her scalp. 

“Few more months, mi vida,” Carlos murmured, his soothing voice making her feel at home. “You’re doing so good for them. Don’t let them say otherwise.” 

Sure, she could be at the hotel with Ben&Ben blasting on her phone and her figure crying in the bathtub. She could be falling into the deepest depth of her sadness, but with Carlos ditching his team before the free practice — she would rather be here than be in their shared hotel room. 

“Now c’mon, mi corazon,” he pulled her up, “I’ve managed to get my manager to come drop off some pancit to the motorhome from the hospitality.”

“Pancit?” 

“Malabon,” Carlos beamed at her, pressing his lips to her forehead. “One of the caterers gladly took my request to have some pancit malabon at the menu. It took them a couple of weeks until they finally got tired of my constant asking.”

“Hm, you’re the best, my love,” Magda told him lovingly. “Though, I prefer palabok, remember?” 

“Eh,” Carlos paused, “patata, patatas. What’s the difference? Pancit is pancit, mi amor.”

iv. 2019 — magda, maldita 

“Carlos, bebe, mahal kita. Mahal kita sobra.” I love you. I love you so much. Magda sighed as she glanced over the notepad that her fiancé left on the end table of the side of her bed— their brainstorming notepad. “But do you really want to get married in a church? In the Philippines while you’re at it?” 

“It’s an idea, mi amor,” Carlos said while he continued to do whatever he was doing in the bathroom, making her listen from the bed as he spoke, “Just how bad is it?” 

“It’s nothing bad,” Magda said quietly, “it’s just something that I wouldn’t personally do. There is a lot of paperwork to do when getting married in a church. Did you know that? Not only that, but we’d have to attend seminars about family planning— which is not right up my alley, seeing as my mother is an unmarried single mother.” 

“Paperwork is what you are worried about?” 

“Why can’t we just elope instead? My Lola grandmother and Lolo grandfather did that, and look— they have my mom, my tito uncle and tita aunt,” she suggested out of the blue. 

“And risk getting killed by either of our mothers?” Carlos scoffed, “I think we should stick to the church idea, yes, mi amor?” 

“Did you not hear the story of my grandparents, love?” Magda asked him, thankful that he couldn’t see the baffled look on her face. 

“More than I can count, mi corazon,” Carlos answered, “they ran away from home, didn’t they? Got married and had your Tia Maria, then your Mama after? They eloped because they weren’t close with their families— but we’re both very close to ours. We can’t do what your grandparents did.” 

She sighed. He wasn’t even wrong. 

The Spaniard walked out of the bathroom, his face now clean-shaven as he sat next to his fiancée. “Look, we don’t have to do the church thing. It was just an idea, hm? I know you don’t want to get married in the Philippines either, so that’s alright. We’ll just send your cousins, your aunt and uncle to wherever we’re going, then we’ll get married. Don’t worry too much.” 

“‘M sorry,” Magda murmured, her fingers fidgeting with the gold engagement ring as she continued, “I’m a killjoy.” 

“No, you’re not,” Carlos huffed out and clasped his hand with her left hand, “you’re the bride. The bride is more than permitted to weigh out the options. If you don’t want the Philippines, that’s okay.

“Truthfully, I just want to marry you,” Carlos murmured as he pulled her closer, “if we didn’t have such scary mothers, I would’ve already married you. You and your YouTube channel.” 

Magda’s chuckle vibrated in his chest as she perched on his lap, “I don’t even know if that will even work out.” 

“I am sure the wedding plans will. If it doesn’t, our marriage certainly will work out for you and your channel.”

“You are a dickhead, mahal.” “I can’t speak the truth now?” 

“There was no need to bring up the channel, dumbass.”

“Mabuti nalang may passport yung mga pinsan mo,” It’s a good thing that your cousins have passports. Alma San Pedro, Magdalena’s mother, brought up as she sat across the aforementioned woman.

Magda skimmed through the spreadsheet laid out on her laptop’s screen, keeping her eyes on the things Carlos typed out on the guest list as he actively listed who’s responsible for the catering.

Alma continued to speak, “Why didn’t you want to get married in the Philippines? You’ve always wanted to get married in the Tayabas basilica— I could have had your Tita Marie look into it.”

“That was mainly because I thought you got married there,” Magda glanced at her mother before leaving a comment on the name that Carlos had just typed down on the guest list sheet.

“Lando Norris” — Magda San Pedro (monamagsp) commented: “He finally RSVP’d?”

Carlos Sainz (carlossz) replied: “Yes. He said he forgot to do it, but I managed to get him to fill it.”

He was still at Monaco for the race, but between the busy days of partying and racing he decided to abandon his friends and stayed at the hotel to plan his wedding with Magda instead. “Besides, Ma, the wedding’s in two months. Travelling is also time-consuming for most of us.”

“You’re so picky, anak,” child. Alma replied with a playful scoff.

“And you’re not married, Mama,” Magda shot back with the same amount of humour in her tone. “People complain about both, but we can’t find ourselves to care, hm?”

“Hay nako, Ramona Magdalena,” Alma rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. A rhetorical question escaped her mouth, “Bakit ka kaya maldita?” Why are you so cheeky/sassy? 

Mona shrugged, “Tita Maria didn’t take any shit from my private school teachers, Ma. She’s the one who took care of me while you worked here, remember? Go figures.”

“I can’t believe you’ve invited me to the wedding,” Lando’s eyes glimmered under the warm light of the ballroom hall as he excitedly spoke to Magda. “I know we didn’t speak as much last year, but the fact that you allowed Carlos to invite me? I’m so grateful, mate.”

Magdalena San Pedro— or wait, Magdalena Sainz stood across from the British man with a grin as she tucked her hands into her pockets (she had pockets on her wedding dress that she began to think that God was treating her right today).

The San Pedro-Sainz wedding ceremony took place in the Westin Palace of Madrid. With the hopes of celebrating the love that they shared for years, Carlos and Magdalena managed to get through the hour-long ceremony without a fuss. The romantic venue created an environment full of celebration while keeping it as intimate and private as it could be for their guests and themselves.

Carlos had already made his name known to the Formula One world, his talent being recognized by every fan as the season went on. But nobody knew who Magdalena was to him, and he intended to keep it that way — thus prompting him to keep his marriage a piece of confidential information. Everyone behind the scenes knew he was in a relationship, and with the hopes that he’d get even more popular, PR relationships were introduced and tossed in his way. 

None of the women he was put in the spotlight with ever lasted, and he was slowly earning the title of a Casanova. He didn’t care; he was just doing his duty and driving his car around the tracks while he worried about his partner, who now worked for a designing company based in London— where they both lived. Nobody else in the grid nor anyone in the motorsport community knew who he was romantically involved with. 

Magdalena was another story. She only began to record some videos about her lifestyle as she continued to work for some local designing firm, telling whoever was watching her videos about what she knew about this field of work or what kind of food she’d eat on certain occasions.

She wasn’t as popular as him, but she continued to keep his identity a secret. She lived an average life and she was quite content with it. She’d rather post a video of herself fucking around, but they’ve made a choice to stay private for as long as they could. 

Now Lando Norris was known to be a blabbermouth, but Magdalena had grown quite fond of him when he was still a reserved driver for McLaren as she worked as a PR coordinator for the team. They rarely spoke, sure, but she was certain that she could trust him with anything and he wouldn’t blab about it. Carlos was also friends with Lando, and they continued to be close friends, so Magda never protested against Carlos’ idea of inviting the younger man to the wedding. 

Lando then said, “I find it quite enjoyable— your wedding, I mean. It’s clearly not as big as I would have expected because well… Carlos told me that Filipino weddings are often big, but I love it! I’ve learned more about your wedding traditions than I have in sixth form about geography.”

“Gah, don’t even say that,” Magda rolled her eyes, earning a giggle from Lando as the woman continued, “It’s barely there, I think. We tried not to pour our hearts out into what they would normally practice in the Philippines or here in Spain. Some Filipino things are here — the food, my dress and my family — but it’s just something superficial, you know?” 

“It’s not even just the wedding that taught me a lot!” Lando exclaimed as he laughed, “Your cousins, Lomi, Niño and Lucia? Yeah, I sat with them during the whole ceremony so they kept telling me about wedding traditions and some superstitions: like how you shouldn’t have any relative marry at the same time as you because it’s cursed.” 

“Really? I’m surprised they haven’t said anything mundane,” Magda saw Lando nod at her statement.

“They also started to say that you took one for the team—“ Lando’s forehead creased as he said, “I asked them what they meant by that, then they only said you’re heroic.” 

“Diyos ko.” My god. Magda scoffed. Her cousins spelled nothing but trouble and god did she despise them at times. 

“What? What did that mean, Mags?” Lando asked.

Magda sighed exasperatedly, and with a defeated tone, she answered, “Making up for the challenge we’ve lost, apparently.” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s— just ask Carlitos,” Magda waved off, “I’ve had to explain the concept of colonialism to too many people before. I think it’s time Carlos did it for me.”

v. 2024 — paninindigan kita (stand by you)

Mamahalin kita buong-buo. I will love you completely.

“So, tell us about yourself.”

“I’m Carlos Sainz— or wait, do you want me to speak Tagalog?” The Ferrari driver asked as he stood in front of the camera, his linen shirt in the view of the lens as he waited to be instructed.

“Directing this music video is the dumbest idea I could’ve ever made,” Magda deadpanned from behind the camera as the videography crew laughed alongside the band members, her voice being picked up by the microphone easily.

Their Philippines trip, which they should’ve made a while ago, was something of an experience for the couple.

It was the first time they’d been seen in public— with everyone finding out about their marriage after Carlos’ Instagram story slip-up when he accidentally posted a photo of Magdalena’s selfie that she sent when she travelled to the country long before this. 

It really was an accident if you were to ask him. But it was something inevitable, and all Magda could do was laugh and make her presence known not only to her fans but to those who were more than interested to know about her. His fans. 

Now, they were in an Airbnb somewhere in the Quezon Province as they filmed some form of documentary. It was meant to be a storytelling music video about their relationship and the romance that came with it, but after seeing Carlos’ script reading at the Shell commercial, Magda practically banned him from acting.

She was a popular content creator in the Philippines regardless of her living situation; she lived in Madrid with her husband for almost five years. And with her popularity in the Philippines came acquaintances who were more than willing to collaborate with her. The folk-pop band called Ben&Ben asked if she was more than willing to shoot a music video with them. Direct it, even. 

The song they released practically spoke about her life with Carlos. At first, she didn’t think too much of the lyrics and just enjoyed the rhythm of the song, then she realized how similar it was to their relationship, from the courtship (and her outward refusal to continue this romance with him at the very beginning) to their vows to love each other as they grow old, and decided that perhaps it was time to show to the world how they truly love each other. 

Carlos agreed, knowing that outside of his life as a Ferrari driver and a Formula One figure, he had nothing else in life but her and her alone. He knew that she was the one thing that he kept from everyone to provide security for his wife. He waited patiently for her — and it was now paying off. Now, he was standing in front of a camera, waiting to be filmed for his interview. 

It was better than the countless documentaries and the Netflix series that he had to do interviews and filming duties for. Because this time, he got to discuss his wife, Magdalena Sainz, instead of his car. 

“Can I speak Tagalog?” Carlos repeated, his typical confused expression being displayed before the others.

Magda shook her head, “You’ll butcher it, Carlitos.”

“Excuse me, Ramona,” Carlos gasped in mock offence. “I can speak it!” 

“Clearly not good enough,” Magda shot back, making the others laugh at the banter between the pair. 

“Your Español isn’t any better then, mi vida,” Carlos scoffed, placing his hand on his chest. 

Magda said, “There’s a reason why I only listen to you and your family when you speak, honey.” 

“This is what I have to deal with every day, by the way,” Carlos pointed out to their audience, making the others burst out laughing as he offered his wife a playful glare. 

One of the videographers spoke before Magda could make a comeback, “Wait, the camera’s still on.”

“Oh shit,” Carlos and Magda both swore before they both laughed. Their banter was caught on camera and they were laughing about it.

It took them good ten seconds to return to their composure as the camera stopped recording. 

Magda cleared her throat, clapping her hands as the camera began recording, and she instructed her husband, “Carlos, we can both speak English— it’s fine. Just speak in English, alright?” 

“Okay, fine,” Carlos rolled his eyes and muttered, “mi esposa. Muy quisquilloso.” My wife. So picky. The microphone attached to his shirt picked up on his comment.

“This is so going to the music video,” one of the band members giggled. 

Magda then continued with the recording segment as she spoke to her husband while she stood behind the camera, “Alright, please state your name and how long you have been with your partner?” 

Carlos nodded and beamed slightly as he stared back at Magda, who was smiling as she expected his answer. With a cheerful tone, he said, “My name is Carlos Sainz. I have been with my wife, Magdalena San Pedro Sainz, for seven years and three months and have been married to her for four years and six months.” 

“What prompted you to stand by her?” Magda asked as she continued to beam at him, not even noticing the heart eyes of the other people in the room. 

Eight years and still extremely in love. 

He answered, “Her determination, wits and her ability to stand by me no matter what kind of disaster came and went made me realize that falling in love with her was worth the effort to make.”

It was no wonder people thought their relationship had nothing to do with two worlds colliding.

Even with their constant light bickering, Magdalena and Carlos Sainz learned how to love each other through words — whether it was their native languages or their secondary ones. What mattered was that they understood the meaning of their love, regardless of what kind of language they had to translate it to.

fin.

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 14

Hello! Sorry this is a couple days late. I was really struggling with Eddie's reveal in the last part of this chapter and I wrote three different versions of it before I liked it well enough to be considered done.

And then WIP Wednesday was a smashing success and it kept me busy almost all night. I had so much fun. You're always welcome to join me and send me asks.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

So without further ado...

***

That night when Steve closed up his shop with Robin, Steve looked down at the necklace that had been around his neck all day.

“Robin?” he whispered.

She froze and turned to him slowly. He never called her that unless it was serious. It was always Robs or Robbie, never Robin. As she face him, she spotted the necklace dangling from his neck as he rubbed his fingers over the warm surface.

She walked over to Steve and carefully took it from his grasp. “Is that a guitar pick?” she asked gently.

Steve nodded. “It’s his lucky guitar pick, it was the first pick his uncle ever bought for him when he was learning how to play.”

Robin looked him in the eyes. “You want to know what it means that he gave it to you, don’t you?”

Steve gulped and looked away. “I thought I was reading too much into his feelings for me when he made the joke about Chrissy, but now I’m not so sure. The only thing he took from what you told him was my coffee order. The flowers, the necklace, the bagels...that was all him.”

Robin let the necklace drop and wrapped her arms around him. “Look, I know it’s tempting to jump feet first into this. But you can’t. Get to know him. Take it slow. You don’t know what kind of hell he’s been through in the intervening years.”

Steve let out shuddering sigh. “It’s so hard. I’m really struggling with this. It’s like I don’t know how to make friends anymore.”

She smacked him upside the head.

“Ow!” he cried. “What the hell was that for?”

“You made friends with Argyle and Chrissy,” Robin reminded him. “Not to mention Miranda and the other band members. You can make friends just fine. You’re sweet and personable. And clearly he at least wants to be friends with you.” She tugged on the necklace.

Steve looked down at the necklace and let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”

She poked his forehead. “You are letting your intrusive thoughts get a better of you. You’re in love with him, that much is clear. But if you love him, you’ll go at his speed. Capeesh?”

Steve lift his head and tried to steady his jaw as it shook, trying to cry.

“I’m so scared,” he whispered.

She kissed his cheek. “I know, Stevie. But you’ll figure it out. You’re smarter then people give you credit for.”

He hugged her tight. She hugged back just a fiercely. “Now, come on,” she said with a hint of a sniffle. “I would love to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

Steve snorted. “I think it’s clear when I’m not tattooing him, I can’t be left alone with him.”

Robin sighed. “Right, next time he comes over I won’t spend the night at Erica’s. If nothing else to make sure you go to bed on time.”

Steve grinned. “You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, yeah...”

*

Eddie got home to from the shop, glad that Steve had forgiven him. He touched the spot where the necklace used to be. He didn’t regret giving it to Steve. He wanted to add roses to the apology bouquet but he was terrified of sending the wrong message. Pink meant friendship, white purity, red romantic love. And if he was honest Steve was all of those things to him, but hella confusing in a bouquet. So he just didn’t.

Steve was surprised he remembered the everything bagel he would bring to class when they shared English together Eddie’s second go at graduating. But how could Eddie forget? The teacher hated it because it had a strong scent to it. Most of the class didn’t care so the bitter old hag couldn’t call him on it. It was glorious.

Eddie cherished any memory of the teachers having as rough a go at it as he was experiencing. No matter who was causing the grief. So yeah. That might have been the first time he realized he was head over heels with Steve Harrington resident queen bitch.

He loved that Steve had leaned into the whole royalty thing for his tattoo shop. It was funny in a way most shops weren’t.

Before he could get too deep into his thoughts, there was a knock on his door. He got up to answer it and there were Jeff and Mandy.

“Hey, guys,” Eddie greeted. “Come on in. Pizza’s on it’s way.”

“Score!” Mandy crowed. “Let’s see it!”

Eddie turned around for them to look at it through the cellophane wrap. “It’s not ready to come out yet, but I figure it would be ready for the lotion by the time we finish dinner.”

Mandy’s blunt nails dragged along the outside of where Steve had worked on today. “Jesus Christ, Eddie I’d marry him for his art work. That’s so fucking incredible.”

Eddie nodded. “Add to the fact that he’s the right balance of bitchy and sweet, hot as fuck and might totally be into me? Yeah, if I don’t ask him to marry me by this time next year, you have my permission to beat the sense back into me.”

“So the apology went well?” Jeff asked.

He pursed his lips and nodded, rocking back on his heels. “I made a fool of myself in front of the entire shop, too. For extra ‘apology’ points.”

Jeff tapped Eddie’s sternum. “Gave the man your lucky pick? Does he know what that means?”

“Does he know that it’s the most important object I own?” Eddie asked. “Yes. Does he know that it means I’m head over heels in love with him?” He raised his hand and waved it back it forth. “Ehhh...maybe?”

Mandy chuckled. “You are such an idiot, but that’s why we love you.”

The doorbell rang and Jeff went to go get it. He handed the guy a a ten dollar bill as a tip and closed the door.

Eddie pulled out a dinning table chair and flipped it around so that his back wasn’t pressed against anything as he ate.

He picked up a slice of pizza and began telling them about poor Steve’s horrible morning.

“I get that she like, lied,” Mandy said, “but it doesn’t change the fact that he was dating her because he thought she was eighteen.”

Eddie nodded. “Robin said she got a call back from the police, not only is Steve’s mom not paying for his bail or lawyer, but she served him with divorce papers, too.”

Jeff’s eyes went wide. “Dude fucked around and found out, man.”

Eddie smiled. “I never got why men would cheat on beautiful, successful women. Like what are you getting out of the side piece that you couldn’t get from your actual wife?”

“The thrill of cheating on a beautiful woman,” Mandy said. “It’s stupid, but some men just can’t go beyond their lizard brain.”

“I’m just sorry Stevie had to see that,” Eddie murmured. “He didn’t deserve to have his father come to his place of business and make an absolute ass of himself in front of his employees.”

Mandy nodded. “But you got to come to his rescue and trust me that will win you a shit ton of brownie points with the man.”

“And his friends and employees, too,” Jeff added around a bite of pizza. “Robin was already rooting for you two since day one, so use that. Let her help you get your man. Because it sounds like she’s more than willing. Especially after this morning.”

Eddie wavered.

Mandy put her elbows on her knees and leaned forwards. “Eddie, my love. You know I adore you. But you can’t keep expecting the next guy to come along is going to treat you the way Seth did.”

Eddie didn’t have a lot of exes but Seth was the worst and unfortunately the last. He was everything Eddie thought he wanted in a partner. Long blond hair, tattoos, piercings, long legs in tight leather. He was charming and funny. He started off a little clingy, and ended up full on possessive. He became jealous of the band. Of Mandy, even though Seth knew Eddie was gay.

Eddie cleared his throat and rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“I know.” He grabbed the back of the chair and yanked his arm straight, throwing himself back as far as he could without falling off the damn chair. “The man was a serial monogamist, and from what I remember back in school, all the girls would talk about what a romantic he was, how sweet and gentle he was with them.”

Jeff nodded, picking up the pizza boxes to throw them away. “He was too much of a romantic, the poor bastard,” he told Mandy. “Flowers because he thought his girlfriend would like them. Tell them that an hour was too long between meetings. Kiss them tenderly in the halls.”

“Which is great if you like that sort of thing,” Mandy concluded, “not so much if you don’t.”

Jeff and Eddie nodded.

“So even though it feels like you’re comparing apples to apples,” Jeff said to Eddie, “you’re comparing a rabbit to a hare. They might look the similar on the surface, but they are not even close to being the same.”

Eddie sighed again and tilted his head back. “Is Seth the hare in this scenario?”

Mandy laughed. “Yes, monster hell beast, Seth verses cute little bunny, Steve.”

Eddie huffed out a chuckle. Jeff tried to stifle his laugh, but he caught Eddie’s eye and they both burst out laughing. Soon they were all laughing about the image.

Mandy and Jeff came over and hugged him.

“Talk to Steve,” Jeff suggested. “Tell him what happened and how wounded Seth left you. I’m sure he’d understand.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I’m seeing him on Thursday for day three of this bad boy,” he jerked a thumb at his back, “I’ll talk to him about it then.”

“Good,” Mandy said, rubbing her hands together. “Now, let’s make sure Stevie's artwork is protected.”

Eddie laughed and let them help him take care of his latest ink.

***

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

[karolamurdock]

SpiderWoman 2099 Pt.2

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

Sinopsis: The year is 2106. By day, you work as the head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division at Alchemax. By night, you are the one and only Spider-Woman, fighting tirelessly to protect New York from the tyrannical clutches of crime and delinquency. Your days are spent in an ordinary, organized routine: it's just you, the only barrier between your city and oblivion, dealing with the violence and pain that comes with being a superhero.

Everything is just normal. Then your dead husband appears in front of you, talking about alternate universes, spider societies and canonical disasters, and you discover that all your sorrows, losses and failures were possibly always meant to happen.

What the fuck.

Notes: I had to look for tutorials to learn how to tag, but I made it. (っ◕‿◕)っ ♥ If you want to be tagged, just tell me in the comments. Enjoy.

Warnings: Angst, mild violence. English is not my first lenguague.

Word count: 3.3K

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Or at least that was your intention, for his speed and dexterity quickly became apparent when your claws hit nothing but air.

Spider-Ben shouted something, but you couldn't hear it over the roar in your ears. Anger surged through you, flooding your body faster than your own mind could process it. Adrenaline, noradrenaline, and cortisol; your nervous system activated your fight-or-flight response so quickly it made your head spin.

You spun quickly to throw a small grenade that opened at his feet with a loud twip! Soon, Spider-Ben was completely enveloped in golden webbing, your own organic formula, just a feet away from the Paralyzed Goblin.

You felt the impostor's hand on your shoulder and shook it off with a powerful kick. The man flew, somersaulted, and landed crouched on the pavement, his claws unsheathed as he glared at you.

You ran, throwing your nets at two streetlights behind him to propel yourself again, and landed hard against his forearms, locked in front of his face. You somersaulted in the air, and the man recovered quickly, landing two quick punches that you dodged by ducking, taking advantage of your smaller stature, and stepping into his guard to land a punch to his jaw.

You almost flinched, hurting his face, but the man gave you no time to regret your attacks. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed you by the throat and threw you over a vehicle across the street.

The air escaped your lungs with the hard landing. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a silver flash and instinctively turned away from the fist digging into the car window.

Your attention was briefly drawn to the anomalous watch on the impostor's wrist, and an impromptu plan began to form in your mind.

You stood up quickly. You raised your leg and delivered a kick that he quickly blocked with his arm. Your other leg came up and the knee to his stomach knocked him back a few steps, forcing him to duck to meet the hook to the stomach that you threw his way.

You wrapped your legs around his shoulders and slammed into him with your elbows as he grabbed you around the waist, tightened his grip, and lifted you into the air, slamming your back against the top of the vehicle. You coughed and almost shuddered at the feeling of your ribs cracking under the pressure.

Your hand shot out: and grabbing his forearm with both hands, you stood up, digging your claws into his arm and ripping the metal band that held the device fastened to his wrist.

The watch fell, open in your expectant palms. At his roar of protest, you delivered a hard headbutt to his nose, taking advantage of his brief recoil to aim your nets at a nearby building and escape with a powerful leap.

You tore through the air like a bullet, dodging buildings, antennas and drones as you alternately glided and swung between buildings. The fake Spider-Man followed you, matching your speed and showing an impressive agility in dodging the shots from your webs.

"Stop!" He shouted, and you were surprised to hear his voice closer than you expected. "You don't know what you're messing with!"

Your eyes landed on a familiar tower in the distance, and your swing gained more height as you prepared to climb the Alchemax building. If you could reach your office, you might be able to use the lock system to catch the intruder: you might even be able to use your spider drones, small robots the size of your fingernail, loaded with a substance analogous to your venom, which had hypnotic and sedative effects. You had not yet tested it on an enhanced being. However, if this individual possessed abilities similar to yours (as you were able to prove during the brief period of your pursuit), you were willing to give it a chance

A few feet from your office window, a red whip was wrapped around your ankle. You tried, in vain, to dig your claws into the rafters below your window, but the man tugged at his webs and managed to pull you abruptly away from the building.

The light of dawn peeked from behind the towering buildings. The man's suit glowed blue and his claws flashing, the tips of his curls dyed orange in the light of the new day, and as you fell and the world cracked around you, you wondered, distantly, if the Goblin' blast had actually reached you. If your body was still limp against the dirty street, and you were dead and this was really what heaven felt like.

Or in your case, hell. Though the only fire was the one burning in his red orbs, and you were deaf to the cries of the helpless because of your buzzing ears. Perhaps the wind stole the sound, or you were falling so fast that your eardrums never registered the voices of those you could not save.

You couldn't even save your own husband.

You failed to save Miguel.

That's why it was hard for you to understand why the hole in your world opened up under the tempestuous figure of your husband. What was he doing with his face, with his body, with his voice.

He even had the same accent. His rich voice, tripping over the "r"s and rolling them on his tongue like graceful fingers on the strings of a guitarrón, vibrating in his chest and lulling you to sleep as you rested against his naked form. With every sweet murmur he would open the doors of Conchata's kitchen for you. With his accent, he would welcome you to his world, to the beautiful corners of his childhood.

That voice, now screaming behind your back, overcame your wandering imagination: how it sounded when it growled at you as it evaded the shots of your nets. How it sounded when it called you Mi amor.

You closed your eyes, recoiling from the dreamlike vision, and threw a net onto a balcony behind you, slowing the impact of your fall to finally land rolling hard against the roof of a building

You shook off the impact with a grunt. Your fingers wrapped around the watch, and you heard, before you saw him, the man landing crouched behind your back.

"Stop." You warned, shaking the watch in your hands.

"I know you must be confused." He began, and you felt the soothing tone of his words as you watched the shadow on the ground of his outstretched hands. "It will be easier for both of us if you allow me to explain."

You felt the burning sting of tears, and clenched your fists as you exhaled a shaky breath. How dare he...

Your mask receded, the technology shrinking to reveal your low bun; the locks escaping their confines to frame your contracted face.

How could he know...

How long it took you to stop making dinner for two. How hard it was to get used to not seeing his chanclas in the driveway. To not listening to soccer games on the TV every Sunday. To stop waiting for his arms around your waist while you worked in your apartment office. His coffee and brown sugar flavored kisses, his rough hands, the smell of cologne and shaving cream on your pillow.

After him... you slowly began to distance yourself from the family. You stopped attending backyard barbecues with los tíos. Missed calls from Conchata piled up on your voicemail. You spend every Christmas alone, in your lab, with only a snow globe hologram on the corner of your desk.

What would this... anomalous being that so easily wore the face of your best friend know? Your best confidant. The man who made you laugh, who carried tampons and painkillers in his briefcase one week out of every month. Your lab partner, your most brilliant colleague. The madman who shared your wry sense of humor.

"It's too soon." You whispered to his calm face. Staring at his pale features, his blue lips and glassy eyes. "We haven't even had time to start a family, my love."

You thought about your future plans. Your prestigious positions at Alchemax had afforded you a spacious, three-bedroom apartment, a few blocks from your workplace, and with excellent access to schools and hospitals. You thought about how you would have adjusted the months of your maternity leave: how happy Miguel would have been to name his son after his brother Gabriel. Would he have had his chocolate curls, his tanned complexion, his strong jaw?

Or would she have been like you? A daddy's girl, with bright eyes and untamed waves? Would she have shared your love for science? Would she have watched her own little biome grow in a glass bowl by her window? Or would she have played soccer with her dad, while you cheered from the stands in the distance?

The metal of the clock creaked under the powerful grip of your claws. You watched, eyes bright with unshed tears, the man's alert posture, his hands clenched into fists and his muscles contracted, ready to continue his contest.

Then, suddenly, the man became as silent and motionless as a stone.

The faint glow of morning broke through over your head, and in its light, Miguel saw your face for the first time. He beheld your stony expression: your tight lips, your rosy face and your red eyes, and his hands fell limply at his sides as all his resolve crumbled like fine sand under the slow fluttering of your wet eyelashes.

His knees gave way, and the man fell under the powerful spell of your gaze. The seconds dragged on, and he remained so; motionless and silent before your hoodless figure, illuminated by the morning sun, unable to look away from your stormy expression.

"Miguel O'Hara is dead." You said, and it was easy to hear the pain deeply rooted in your words. "He died in a sabotaged experiment at the hands of his own employer: his DNA was damaged beyond repair."

And Miguel heard your words, and saw himself as in a broken mirror, distorted by misfortune, and shrank from what he saw.

"And you appear before me, bearing his face, through an atypical portal with the intention of 'capturing' the creature I subdued on my own, claiming to be Spider-Man from another universe."

Sparks landed on your fingers, and a beep sounded from the watch clenched between your claws.

"How convenient." You growled.

"I know you." He finally said, one of his hands outstretched, but it seemed to waver between the watch and your face. "Long ago... I knew you. And your memory remains in my mind like an old dream."

"How can I believe you?" you asked. In the distance, the horizon turned blue, and you considered your present circumstances, superior to the dream of your senses.

"Your name is (Y/N) (L/N). You studied at a school for gifted young people, where you graduated with honors. Soon after you went into genetic engineering, and got a good position at Alchemax after impressing Tyler Stone with your degree thesis on germline gene therapy. " He told you. You gritted your teeth at the generic information. Your academic and professional history was public knowledge.

You opened your mouth, but he continued, "On your first day at Alchemax, you arrived three hours early because you miscalculated the distances and wanted to make a good first impression. No one was there. You sat with the guard in the lobby until your colleagues started arriving, two hours later."

You froze, and looked at him with your mouth still open as he continued, "From then on, you sit on your couch and watch nature documentaries to make time before you leave, because even though you can estimate time well now, you can't break the habit of getting up too early before work."

"You like the smell of damp soil. You always open the windows, ever so slightly, to let the cold air come in and flood your living room with the scent of petrichor."

"Wait." You erupted, your heart beating erratically in your chest.

"You brush your hair in the shower, because you say that your conditioner works better that way and you get rid of knots easier."

"How do you know that?" you snapped, feeling a treacherous blush creep up your neck and over your ears.

His words poured out like water from a broken dam. His voice avalanched, and his accent thickened, "You enjoy cursing in Spanish, but you don't do it because you think it makes you look unprofessional in front of your colleagues."

"You have your mother's eyes, and your father's skin tone. Your birthdays make you feel melancholic, and you enjoy Christmas but are sad when it's over. You sleep with a very cold room temperature so you can cover yourself with more blankets."

"Enough!" you scream, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your ears with your hands. The clock pressed against your temple, the beeping vibrating against your sweaty skin. "I won't listen to your lies! I was there... Miguel died in my arms. You can't be…"

"I know it's hard to understand." He whispered, and his husky voice sounded thick and diffident. "Why I am here...escapes my comprehension. This dimension remained hidden from my radar until the anomaly attack tonight."

The man ducked his head, exhaled a shaky sigh, and looked at you, and you finally met his stormy gaze head-on.

"But... if you could allow me to show you, you will understand that this situation is as unusual for me as it is for you. "

Perhaps it happened that a shadow of prescience clouded your judgment. For gradually you found yourself letting down your guard and allowing his tall, impetuous figure to approach you, with slow, premeditated steps, as if approaching a wounded animal.

"Lyla." He said, when he finally was standing just inches from your rigid figure.

The watch in your hand came to life with a slight uncertain flicker:

"For one solid moment I thought you would let me be reduced to pieces." An AI appeared over your shoulder, her plush arms crossed in front of her chest and her rose-colored glasses glinting with disappointment.

She turned to look at you, and you managed to see her doing a double take that would have been comical had it not been interrupted by the man:

"Help me, please." He said. The AI seemed to catch his stern tone, because she nodded softly and, with a flutter of vaporous hands, opened a hexagonal door into the space in front of you.

Colors, again, swirled in bright reds, oranges, yellows, and purples. The loose pebbles on the ceiling rattled, and you jumped when you felt the man's soft hand touch yours.

Instinctively, you gripped his wrist tightly. The man looked at your firm grip, but didn't flinch at the claws that grazed the inside of his wrist. Instead, he allowed you to cling to him as he carried you through the hole in your dimension.

As you stepped through the portal, you wondered if the colorful pulses rippling before your eyes were remnants of a vast infinite fractal, a mosaic of distinct pocket universes separated by an inflationary ocean that would swallow you up like night swallows the sun. Or would your physical form then be absorbed, never to be observed again, your immaterial silhouette trapped in an event horizon, vulnerable to the gravitational pull of universes larger and heavier than yours?

It didn't happen. You appeared on a sprawling metallic surface, inside what appeared to be an office, very... similar to your own at Alchemax.

"Lyla. Do the thing." He called. And you watched as the room around you was replaced by a dark pulse that left you standing in the middle of an empty space.

A drop of light fell from the air, and slowed its descent right in front of your face. "Here... lies everything."

The drop fell to the ground, and formed a hexagonal sling that illuminated the space in a trace that diverged in several directions, like the leaves of a Ficus Elastica. And then it disappeared, replaced by a... spider web woven over the ceiling, above the floors and covering everything around you.

"All of us... all of our lives come together here. In this complex web." His irises reflected red light as he spoke, "It's what we call the Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse."

You spun on your feet, immersed in the grandeur of the scene before your eyes.

"So, it's true... the universes are superimposed one on top of the other." You said, and he nodded.

"And those universes are what shape reality."

He caught your gaze, lost in a mirror of unfolding events at the center of one of the nodes, and continued:

"That's where our destinies converge. These nodes...are the canonical events. Events that are part of all our histories, that bind our worlds together."

You contemplated the anomalous figure of the masked hero depicted on the grid. So strange, yet so familiar, with their arms wrapped around an inert male figure against the concrete.

"My job is to protect the multiverse from threats like the Green Goblin, who challenge the integrity of what keeps our realities whole."

You closed your eyes, looking away from the kaleidoscope of images around you, but behind your eyelids impertinent images played. You saw yourself, your face furrowed with despair as you watched your husband fading away. You remembered the cold as the dreary rain fell on your dark figure on the roof of the church where Tyler Stone's body was guarded. Finally you opened them again with a new stern frown. You thought, tried to reason, and considered your ideas again, dissociating your feelings with the grace of one versed in the ways of the scientific method.

That means... there are different versions of you in different quantum branches. And they are constantly creating new unfoldings of you: "I don't understand. Would this mean that it is not each version of yourself that shares the same common past, but the unique version of each of the Spider People? A similar origin, but one that has a different future ahead of it."

You ran your hands over your face, and cupped your lips with your fingers as you murmured to yourself, "And yet, the subsequent histories in each of the branches coexist simultaneously in the sprawling thread of webs that connect them."

"Observation changes the observed." You imagined his voice, his lips pressed against your ear and his warm body pressed against yours.

You clenched your fists at the phantom vision and contemplated the scrutinizing gaze of the man beside you.

"How long have you known all this?" you finally asked.

"A few years." He replied curtly.

"And this artifact allows you to jump between dimensions?" you pointed out, waving the poor, misshapen watch between your fingers.

"It's a gizmo." He corrected you. And he held out his hands as you dropped the battered device into his palms.

He squared his shoulders. You looked at him, erect in all his majestic height, his face mostly stoic, except for his tight lips, for that melancholy dip at the corners of his mouth; sad as greatness. And finally you heard him:

"My name is Miguel O'Hara, and I am the Spider-Man of universe 928. I have dedicated myself to protecting the fragile fabric of reality, safeguarding the integrity of the nodes that connect our worlds and offering my life in exchange for the fate of the multiverse."

"I come from a different reality. I met you in a world where you were not Spider-Woman... And in that world, just as in yours, I loved you, and you loved me."

Her hands caressed the covered skin of your arms, and descended to brush your stiff hands, your long claws, your empty palms.

"And in that world... I lost you."

@alicefallsintotherabbithole @digipaw2-0 @sunshowernaps

[pycobutterpie]

Stranger in my kitchen

Summary: Dean goes full to protective dad mode, as he sees a stranger in his kitchen touching his daughter.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: firing a gun in front of a baby

Word Count: 1392

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please don't judge me for using a translator for this original text. I wrote it together with my friend Minnie who has added the part of Lu and Y/N. We are so exited to add something to this beautiful community of writing for dean. Also this is my first fanfic ever published outside my inner circle of writing friends. (In our story it also became true, that Dean is Bens real father. And Bobby never died. ;) )

[Y/N's POV] It was actually a normal day at the Winchesters' house. Dean had been on a hunt with Bobby and should be home soon. Ben was still sleeping his bed upstairs. The two dogs were running around in the garden and also needed a little time to themselves… Baby Cassidy was already awake with her mother Y/N. Cassy was in damn good hands and was currently sitting in a little baby bouncer on the kitchen counter and Y/N was clearing out the dishwasher. But they weren't alone. On one of the bar stools sat a man, not much older than Y/N and Dean, in a smart dark blue suit and white shirt that wasn't completely buttoned up. In his hand was a steaming cup of coffee and on his hand was a ring with a black rectangular stone in it. With the other hand, he nudged Cassy's bouncer and smirked at her. Y/N had just tied her hair up in a bun and was wearing just a top and hot pants as she crouched behind the counter at the dishwasher. Cassy started laughing and just babbled to herself.

[Dean's POV] Hunting. An activity in which Dean felt completely free and could rely entirely on his instincts. It was what he had learned, what he was born for. Making the world a better place, saving lives. The family business.

For once, it wasn't about changing diapers or talking to stuffy principals. No, Wendigos didn't talk and Dean understands Bobby without words. So the men had chased the thing in the nearby St. Jeffreys mine for a few hours and finally sent it to purgatory. It was life like before the unexpected baby happiness. The hunt had been all about instinct, speed and accuracy. That was what Dean had been living for the last few hours.

And that was what he needed now, when he saw a strange man sitting at his kitchen table, holding out his hand for his Cassidy. The strange man was wearing a suit. He was sitting with his back to the doorway through which the hunter had just stepped. An advantage, if only for a split second.

And the pistol was already in Dean's hand, loaded with silver bullets, aimed at the stranger's back.

Dean pulled the trigger immediately.

There were no thoughts clouding his mind. No details that he noticed. Shoot first, ask questions later. That had always been the motto. At least that of John and Dean Winchester. The bullet that Dean hoped would save his daughter went off with a loud bang. Then his gaze was diverted by a person appearing from behind the counter. It was Y/N, who Dean's subconscious had classified as missing before. That's why he hadn't hesitated for a moment to shoot the stranger. Because nobody was allowed to get too close to his little Cassy. No one.

If you had time to look at Dean, you'd see a serious guy with soot and dust on his face, trousers and jacket. A bloody scratch adorned his left cheek, his knuckles were cracked and his palms were scraped open.

[Y/N's POV] Y/N hadn't given any thought at all to the fact that her cousin Lu had announced himself. Twenty minutes before his arrival. Of course, that was typical of him, as always. If he announces himself at all. But she was a good hostess after all, offering her visitor a coffee immediatly. And although he wasn't purely human, she knew he posed no danger whatsoever. Not to Ben, not to her, let alone to Cassy. She had even asked him to help her with some of her research into Cassy's powers and how to secure certain parts of them. But nonetheless, she knew Dean would be back later today. But she just figured the situation could be resolved with a simple round of introductions. But that wasn't the case. Dean came in in the manner of his father and started shooting at everything he didn't know and couldn't categorize. Great…

But Lu was quicker. He had already heard the footsteps crunching on the smooth tiled floor. Because Dean's shoes didn't look particularly clean from the hunt in the forest and so he also heard the safety catch on the gun and then automatically raised his hand towards Dean and the bullet made it out of the barrel of the gun but fell to the floor just before it hit his suit.

Y/N screamed briefly and slapped her hand over her mouth, but then saw how battered Dean looked… "Baby! What happened?" She had also dropped a cup that she had just taken out of the dishwasher and then immediately ran over to Dean, took the gun out of his hand and stuck it securely in the back of her waistband.

Lu had stood up in the meantime and straightened the front of his Armani suit and then looked over at Cassy again and stroked her lightly over her small hand. "Well, it looks like your daddy in a damn bad mood…" He looked to Dean with a grin now, being slightly provocative of course… But that was just the way he was. Otherwise, he was a kind-hearted person, if you could call him that…

[Dean's POV] Dean lips twitched in anger as the guy stopped the bullet just like nothing. That wasn't human. Something like that shouldn't be in this house. Briefly, he froze slightly as Y/N took the gun away from him and remained totally calm. She even seemed taken aback by Dean's reaction. Only slowly did he realize that she could also have an insurance agent visiting or someone from the youth welfare office. But that was out of the question, because the man was totally unimpressed by the fact that he had almost been shot.

What was wrong with the guy and his mocking grin? Dean looked at Y/N in amazement, because she must have guessed what had happened. He almost nagged at her: "A strange, supernatural guy is trying to touch my daughter. This maybe?" Long slimy fingers trying to hurt a cute baby. But not in Dean's kitchen!

Quickly, the hunter rushed to Cassidy and picked her up from the rocker to his dirty arms. The comforting smell of fresh baby skin and diapers came into his mind and grounded him a little. The little girl didn't quite know whether to be happy or cry and looked a little frightened.

Dean turned his child away from the stranger so that he couldn't touch her again. The protective father turned threateningly to the suit guy: "Get your paws off her or you'll have mine in your face!" He would love to deform that polished face a little, given the stranger's audacity. Dean protectively placed a hand on Cassy's head. Only Y/N's light-heartedness kept the hunter halfway to the ground. Eagle-eyed, he tried to spot something about his girlfriend. Some strange behavior. Was she under a spell? "So, what's this, huh?" he asked, still growling slightly.

[Y/N's POV] Lu stood there grinning, his hands buried in his pants pockets by now and leaning against the counter in the kitchen, really very relaxed and not at all intimidated. He then picked up his coffee cup, spread his little finger and simply watched the spectacle that was unfolding between the two of them. As panicked, angry and heroic as Dean was acting, it really amused the cousin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but then realized that she should have warned Dean that Lu was coming over. She ran a hand through her hair and then said, "Dean…please… If there's someone in this house, I let them in here, otherwise Evangeline and Bones would have struck. And I told you about my cousin Lu from Vegas back then, didn't I? May I introduce…my cousin Lu from Vegas…yes, Lu is not human. He's a warlock. And yes, I invited him here to think about this magical barrier for Cassy's powers and to talk to him. But that won't work if you just shoot him. He's my biological cousin and I hope we've settled the issue now!", she said with a sigh. "Lu? This is Dean… My fiancé and father of my daughter. He's not usually that pissed off. But with Cassy, he sees red… And he has an aversion to strange men in suits…"

[ununotter]

I kinda wanna write something up properly reflecting on my time at Japanese language school but the main thing I've learned from being here has probably been how I best learn a language and what I'm going to keep using to continue studying after I leave, especially since I signed up for the N3 in December.

Not that I'm an authority on learning Japanese in any way but in case these help someone else I figure I'll make a list of what I'm finding most useful (w web/Google Play links where applicable!) as learning resources. Just an NB for anyone looking for recs, I have ended up paying for most of these services either for additional unlocks or just because they are fully paid but most do at least offer some functionality or a free trial so you can check them out and decide if you also find them worthwhile.

Kanji

I like apps on my phone for this and what I'm using at the moment to prep for kanji tests at school is Kanji Dojo since it lets me create custom lists that can include individual kanji or full words including compound kanji and okurigana and I can set it to review my word lists with writing practise since we get tested on writing kanji not just recognising them (for me these are two _very_ different things and just know I envy you if you can remember how to correctly write a more complex kanji from memory without practising it like crazy beforehand).

On a similar vein, I also really like Kanji Study although its main shortcoming is that you can't add full words to custom lists for writing practise, it's just individual characters. But otherwise I really like all the features and the fact that it as an additional library beyond just the JLPT kanji lists.

If you don't feel the need to learn stroke order/writing then I think the undisputed king of kanji learning is probably Wanikani since it really focuses on teaching you how to see complex kanji in terms of radicals also gives you a lot of vocab on the side. Speaking of which:

2. Vocab

So if you can look up a word for something once and just remember it, great, but if you're like me and have to encounter a word a few hundred million times before it forms a solid part of your instinctive vocabulary then you can't go wrong with plugging into an SRS system regularly. I feel like Anki is the big dog in this space but personally I came to Kitsun first via getting the premium version of it bundled with another service I'll mention later and I really like its web UI. But whichever, really. I know you can add existing lists to your library or make your own custom ones with both of these so solid options.

I'll also note here that both of the services I'm about to discuss in relation to grammar also have vocabulary learning systems on the side, but I particularly like being able to make custom decks for mined vocab really easily using Kitsun (the card generation tool that lets you hook right into Jisho.org's database is very helpful).

3. Grammar

What I've loved most about language school is having teachers explain Japanese grammar points in terms of whatever Japanese we already understand. So while the services that I'm going to list next give text based explanations in English, I also like to try to find YouTube videos where the usage and nuance of grammar is explained in simple Japanese and plenty of examples are given.

I mainly use these because on top of getting an understanding of the grammar point that way, if I want to actually be able to use the grammar smoothly and correctly myself I have to get used to, for example, putting the verbs in the right form on the fly - so again good SRS systems that will drill me on that kind of thing are a real necessity for me.

Currently, I think Bunpro has the most complete grammar library in terms of JLPT coverage however I do think it's worth mentioning what I think is probably their main competition in this space: MaruMori. MaruMori is still adding N3 content and I don't think has anything for N2 or N1 yet at all but given the speed of their development and the amount of features they already have not to mention what is on the roadmap I feel comfortable giving them a rec. The overall style might be on the cutesier, more casual side but I have to say I do actually find the conversational and humourous style of their grammar explanations more engaging and less dry than Bunpro's.

[landorris4]

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

Hello and welcome to my comfort space! I'm Elly, a brazilian teen addicted to books, music, novels, speed and culture. My favorite Formula One team is Mclaren, my favorite drivers are Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri and Carlos Sainz, and i also like basketball, go Warriors! I love One Direction, Louis Tomlinson, Taylor Swift, Bruno Mars, Tate Mcrae, ABBA and like a billion more artists.My hobby is reading, hence my appreciation for writing, where I venture from time to time. English is my second language, so stories may contain a translation that is open to interpretation and shallow language.

Here you will be able to enjoy stories created by my mind in creative evenings. Feel welcome and comfortable to ask for stories here or on my curiouscat.

Requests are open! and you can ask for any driver from the list below:

🏁| AS1 | MV1 | LS2 | LN4 | SV5 | KR8 | GB10 | CL16 | PA17 | YT22 | AA23 | GZ24 | EO31 | LH44 | MS47 | CS55 | GR63 | OP81 | OB87 |

© All of these stories are my creation and I kindly ask you not to copy the work. These stories cost me time and creativity to write. You have my full permission to translate them if you give proper credit (Portuguese versions are posted on wattpad by me).

ᯓ★ 「 ✦ Lando Norris ✦ 」

── ☆ airplane memories

☆ Lando Norris loves creating memories with his girlfriend, Mackenzie Prescott.

── ☆ streams and kids

☆ Lando Norris is a formula one driver, game streamer, CEO and very charismatic, but now he is also a stepfather and boyfriend, and people are still getting used to these two new titles. Even he is.

── ☆ fake it all

☆ Carolina is great at lying, it wouldn't be difficult to convince her family that she had finally started dating someone.

── ☆ quadrant house

☆ Maybe Lando Norris was more than a friend, and maybe it was time for you to learn that.

── ☆ Hard launch

☆Lando Norris is a much desired man, but he is in a relationship. People just don't know it… Or at least they didn't know it until now.

── ☆ mine mine mine

☆Lando Norris is obsessed with his girlfriend. She doesn't mind.

ᯓ★ 「 ✦ Charles Leclerc ✦ 」

── ☆ who fell first?

☆ After the scandal that resulted in the announcement of a relationship between two Formula One rivals, everyone wants an exclusive with you. In an interview, you(Giulia) and your boyfriend are asked who fell in love first. Funny story, you love to remember it.

ᯓ★ 「 ✦ Gabriel Bortoleto ✦ 」

[saffronapplemanga]

Tenmaku no Jadoogar: A Witch’s Life in Mongol - 天幕のジャードゥーガル

HISTORICAL, DRAMA

Tenmaku no Jadoogar: A Witch's Life in Mongol by Tomato Soup

(1 volume, ongoing)

JP only. Hopefully, it gets licensed! Please hire me to translate this, publishing companies. The first 5 chapters are up for free in JP here.

Links to my other manga posts here

An Irani girl named Fatima who’s a captive of the Mongol Empire and uses her education to her advantage??? 

Hello, my name is Fatimah, I’m half Irani, and it’s finally my time >:)

I hope you guys are ready for history and cultural lessons! I worked really hard on this post and she’s a long one... I literally just came back from an Iran trip and got some books, took pictures, and consulted people who know more than me for this post (the trip wasn't for the post, that was a coincidence lolllll).

This series won first place in the オンナ編 (Female Category) for the このマンガがすごい！2023 / Kono Manga ga Sugoi 2023 / “This Manga is Amazing! 2023″. I’ve talked about the Male Category’s 1st, 2nd, 3rd place winners. Check the links if you’re interested :)

This post will be broken up into the following sections - What's It About? - Some Background - Representation - My Localization Choices - Story - Art - Culture Time! - Let's Talk Religion - The First Word From God, "Read".

Enjoy!

What's It About?

I usually don't like to go into plot details too much so you can discover the story for yourself. But since it isn't currently accessible in English at all, I figured I’d summarize the first chapter so you at least know what it’s about. Then I’ll summarize the rest of the chapters in a spoiler section for those who are interested. That way, we can all be informed enough to discuss it. I might touch on themes or other things outside the first chapter in the discussion, but I’ll try to do it in a way that doesn’t spoil for those of you who want to wait and read it for yourselves.

Chapter 1

We kick off with a rather poetic reference to scholars using geometry to measure the earth and the idea of trying to quantify fate. In 13th-century Iran/Persia, in the city of Tous, we meet a family looking for a domestic worker. The family is a woman, Fatima, who is newly widowed, her son, Mohamed, and her brother. A slave trader offers her some options, but they are rather pricey. So he suggests she take a little girl, Sitara, for a heavily discounted price. The slave trader asks Fatima to educate Sitara since they are a scholarly family, so she does.

However, Sitara plays dumb to ensure her value as a slave stays low. That way, no one would bother taking her to faraway lands to sell her for higher prices as she wants to stay close to her home to try and go back. Sitara tries to sneak out and runs into Mohamed, who talks to her about why he thinks learning is so great. He inspires her to pursue an education so she can have the tools to handle whatever life throws at her. Mohamed wants to travel and learn from others to find the "truth" for himself. He promises Sitara that he'll write letters to her and his mother, which further inspires her to learn to read.

The chapter ends with Mohamed leaving Tous, and the narrator tells us it was the last time Mohamed and Sitara ever saw each other.

Chapters 2-5

I'm going to speed through the rest now that we got the setup out of the way.

***SPOILERS FOR CHAPTERS 2-5***

*

*

*

8 years have passed since Mohamed left and Sitara has been pursuing an education under the direction of Fatima and her brother. While the Tous army is investigating strange activity near their borders, Fatima shows Sitara some things her late husband left behind such as books and astrology tools.

As the Mongols are closing in on Tous, Fatima and Sitara hunker down in a cellar to wait the threat out. Unfortunately, they're found, and one of the Mongol princes takes a book that belonged to Fatima's late husband. Sitara tries to stand up to him, causing her to be attacked. Fatima takes the blow, saying, "Don't touch my daughter," before passing away.

Tous is razed to the ground, and its citizens killed or driven out and forced to march to the Mongol camp. Sitara finds out that the city of Neyshabur, the city Mohamed is studying at, was also attacked. His whereabouts are unknown.

Interestingly, the Mongol prince was specifically looking for the book he took since his fiance had asked him for it. However, the book is in Persian and they are unable to read it. Sitara meets a boy who is interpreting for the Mongols in an effort to make himself more useful to avoid becoming a meat shield in battles for them. While he can speak Mongolian and Persian, he can't read. But, Sitara can. He asks her to team up with him to help each other become more valuable to their capturers. Sitara will read the stolen book, and the boy will translate. He suggests she come up with a more "elegant" or "majestic" name before presenting herself to the Mongol princes. She steps into their tent and introduces herself as "Fatima".

*

*

*

***END OF SPOILERS FOR CHAPTERS 2-5***

Some Background

Quick disclaimer, I'm by no means an expert. A lot of this is what I know and what I've experienced. I might have to make some generalizations or else we're gonna be here all day.

I feel like I’m about to overshare but I want to offer my perspective on this series. I don’t get to do this often so indulge me please. This background is so you have an idea of some things that influenced my perspective on this story.

For those of you new around here, I'm a Kuwaiti/Irani-American, Japanese-to-English translator (I speak English, Arabic, and Japanese).

What that means more specifically is that I've grown up/lived in the U.S. my whole life, visiting Kuwait when we could, until I moved to Japan after college. My parents are both Kuwaiti with Kuwaiti fathers, born and raised, but both of their mothers are Irani. They know Farsi to varying degrees of fluency as a second language. I never learned it since their first language is Arabic and that was the language they focused on teaching me while living in the U.S. They usually spoke Farsi if they wanted to keep me and my brother out of a conversation between adults, rude. But I can sometimes pick up on some things being said. One of my best friends is Irani-American (Her name is also Fatimah! It's a ridiculously popular name) and our experiences are quite different, but there's overlap as well!

For those of you who don't know where Kuwait is. It's a tiny little country in the northern end of the Persian Gulf in Western Asia. FYI "Mina" in "Mina Al Ahmadi," which you can see on the map, means "port".

Most of our Kuwaiti relatives have Irani roots and some Turkish. There are a lot of ethnic groups in Kuwait because it started out as a port city that was a part of the Silk Road network. (I actually wanna study the Silk Road more!) So lots of people from all over gathered there. There are afro-Kuwaitis, those with blonde hair and blue eyes (my mom's relatives are like this), those with more East Asian features (my cousins), those with darker features (my dad's side), etc.

The Silk Road in the 1st century, courtesy of Wikipedia. You can see the route going through Kuwait. It was specifically part of the Maritime Silk Road route.

Because of all the trade, you can see the influences of many other regions in the food, clothes, language, culture, and so on.

But, yeah! History is cool.

Representation

I am indeed one of those people who is annoyingly passionate about representation. Like, I could write a whole Master’s dissertation on why it’s so important, but I’ll spare you… for now. More eloquent people have already done so anyways.

As you can imagine, I’m not used to seeing myself represented in media. And any representation I did get, was… well, how do I put this… not great? Bad™ actually. Beyond racist tbh. So can you blame me for being excited? I’m still mad about that one episode of Grey’s Anatomy when that girl whipped off her scarf/hijab to save a patient IN A FULLY STOCKED HOSPITAL!!! That would NEVER happen ;_; like imagine if you pulled your pants off to put pressure on a wound when the gauze is literally right there. I CAN’T, where do I even begin??? But I digress.

And even if I wasn’t a person from this culture, it’s just cool to see rep we don’t usually get! For example, Requiem of the Rose King is fresh in my mind right now, but having an intersex main character is not something I recall seeing. While not intersex myself, nor a noble from ye olde times, I related to Richard a lot and appreciate what the story did. I can see people from other cultures relating to Tenmaku no Jadoogar, or simply just learning new things about a culture we don’t get to see a lot of rep about.

My Localization Choices

There are no official spellings for this manga, so some explanations as to why I wrote things the way I did. Thankfully, these are all real-world names with context, so I'm not pulling nonsense out of thin air. Localizing uncommon/made-up names is... hard... traumatic flashbacks to when I had to look up official spellings for Gundam and Kamen Rider and the client didn't give me glossaries... Literally did research about Sypha Belnandes' name localization being all over the place for this blog post. Spoiler, I don’t think it was supposed to be Belnandes.

It really be like that...

Sitara - シタラ "Shitara". This isn't a name I was familiar with, so I asked my mom and Irani-American friend if it sounded like a name they knew. I wanted to say "Sitra" sounds like something that has a more "West Asian pronunciation" than the Japanese pronunciation in the manga. I was wrong and it's "Sitara" which means "star" just like what they said in the story.

Fatima - ファーティマ "Fātima". Same as my name! It's a super popular name. I katakana-fied my name as ファティーマ, which is the same, I just put the dash that elongates the sound in a different place. Why? Fatima is an Arabic name فَاطِمَة. In classical Arabic, it's pronounced like Fā-dtee-ma or Fadt-ma in Kuwaiti Arabic (the letter طِ doesn't exist in EN/JP and the best way I can describe it is it's like D+T sound.) An Irani pronunciation is more like Fā-teh-meh, which is what my grandma and Irani-American friends call me. In English, I personally pronounce my name like Fuh-tee-ma, but people have various preferences. So basically, I took the Arabic and English pronunciations and katakana-fied it how I thought it would sound best in Japanese. And no one has ever pronounced my name wrong in Japan since katakana is phonetic and is actually pronounced how it's spelled. Wild I know. Meanwhile in the U.S. ... *cries* I have a half-Irani-half-Japanese acquaintance who doesn't put any elongated sound in her name like ファティマ, and it's all just preference tbh. There are also different ways you can spell it in English, but "Fatima" is the most common way.

Mohamed - モハンマド "Mohanmado". This one is pretty straightforward. I think most people are familiar with this name. Also super popular. There are various English spellings as well, so I just went with a common, shorter spelling (manga bubble space is limited after all, haha).

The title, 天幕のジャードゥーガル Tenmaku no Jadougal (this is how it's romanized on anilist), also doesn't have an official translation. It basically translates to Witch of the Marquee. Tenmaku="tent/marquee" in Japanese. ジャードゥーガル comes from جادوگر "jadoogar" meaning "witch" in Farsi. The romanization of the title should actually be Tenmaku no Jadoogar. There is no "L" in Japanese, so it often becomes "R". In Japanese, ジャードゥーガル is "Jādoogaru". Without context, it's often hard to tell if it's supposed to be "L" or "R" so I don't blame them for the mistake. But yeah, that's why I wrote it as Tenmaku no Jadoogar for the title at the top of the post. How do I contact the anilist admins about correcting that? The way my brain is short-circuiting trying to combine Japanese, English, my nonexistent Arabic reading skills since Farsi uses basically the same alphabet, and consulting my Farsi "sources"... my brain can only handle two of the three languages I speak at the same time...

Shout out to Fatimah #2 for putting up with all my questions <3 Farsi has some extra letters that aren't in Arabic and I didn't know about that one...

Story

I’m starting to realize that I really dig historical fiction. Things like Requiem of the Rose King (current read, I'm obsessed), Vinland Saga, Bride’s Story (a priority TBR of mine), and Ertugrul (this one is a Turkish drama, highly recommend!) are so fascinating because we get to take a peek at what life used to be like, especially if the author did their homework. This story reminds me of Ertugrul at times since they both take place in West Asia during the 13th century, and the characters in both had run-ins with the Mongols.

This baddie took out three Mongolian soldiers on her own!!! Well, her horse helped. Horses are great. I'm a horse girl, literally took riding lessons for ~4 years.

I found out while researching for this post that this story is in fact based on a real person in history! Here's the Wikipedia page, more info here by Dr. Jack Weatherford who wrote a book that I'm totally going to read once I can get my hands on it. I think this manga is going in a similar vein as Vinland Saga where the events are real historical events, and some characters were actual people in history, but the author is going to take creative liberties. (Check out Merphy Napier and Philip Chase's Vinland Saga discussions. They're great and Philip has a lot of historical knowledge relevant to that series that's super informative!)

The characters are lovable and interesting. I like Sitara's spunk, Mohamed's thoughtfulness, and Fatima's gentle nature, just to name a few. The relationship Sitara has with Mohamed and Fatima was very sweet. I'm interested to see how the relationship that I mentioned at the end of chapter 5 goes. Also intrigued by the bits of relationship dynamics with the Mongolian characters we have so far.

I got super excited when the theme of "learning/education" came up. Seeing how that looked back in 13th-century Persia which was a hotspot for advances in many fields is so cool! This story led me to do some research and asking around on topics I was familiar with, but not an expert on, and I learned things about my own culture/religion. More on learning and education later. But overall, a strong start and I can't wait to read more!

Art

My twitter reading thread for this series

The art is very stylized, like a chibi-esque style with Persian art influences. I like the contrast between the simplified shapes and the detailed bits. I’m a big fan of inky blacks and white whites. I know all manga is black and white but this one feels like it has more contrast due to the simplified shapes. It's got tons of charm!

The shoujo-esque flowery background, but make it Irani-flavored✨ It looks like the rug we got in Iran!

Some pictures I took at historical sites in Tehran with more examples of flowery imagery. Sorry if the image quality sucks, I didn't have my good camera :(

Culture Time!

As soon as I saw this cover, I felt a sense of familiarity. Particularly, the style of henna on her hands made me go, “Hey! That’s similar to how we do our henna!” While we also do the mehndi style henna (Is that the right term? Help) in Kuwait because of Indian influences due to longtime trade, we have another kind as well. You take the paste and hold it in your hands while curling your fingertips into it.

I had such a hard time finding pics that weren’t the intricate mehndi design ones. I would’ve just put henna on my own hands and taken a pic to show what I’m talking about, but it’s winter and it’s not good to use henna in winter because it has a cooling effect. I put henna on in winter once, and it made me so much colder. But makes you feel nice and cool in the summer! That’s why it’s traditionally applied to the head, hands, and feet, which are places you have a lot of heat dissipate from and it saps the heat away. I remember my mom doing that for me and my brother all the time when we were little during summer.

But! With the help of my mom, she helped me narrow it down. I didn't know the actual name of this style of henna. I just called it Kuwaiti-style henna lol. Apparently, it's حنه قصعة henna gasa'a, and bingo!

It doesn't show super well here, but the tops of the fingertips are also dyed like on the cover of the manga. Love that nazar ring though, so cute! 🧿

This is the mehndi style henna that people are most familiar with.

When I was little, I assumed that henna was made from soil because there are soils that can dye things a reddish color. But it's actually from a plant! The leaves are ground into a powder and then made into a paste when you want to use it.

Health, cleanliness, and hygiene are big deals in Islam. Other than being used for beauty and it’s cooling effect, henna is also used to keep oneself clean and smelling nice. It’s said that the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) utilized henna as well.

I actually didn't know much about Iran's henna culture. When I asked my Irani-American friend whose family is from Tehran (northern Iran), she said she wasn't familiar with any. But like Kuwait, Iran has a lot of ethnic groups. It's also a large region (it used to be a whole empire and all that, too), so there are definitely people who do use it!

Turkmen Iranis, dying their fingertips with henna, exactly like in the manga! My family are Turk, too! (From a book I picked up a few days ago in Iran, "Nomads: Migrating with Swallows". What a pretty title...)

The clothing of the characters also felt very familiar. The cover of volume one reminded me of this picture:

Maku Kurd girl ("Nomads: Migrating with Swallows")

Iran grows tons of fruit, herbs, and flowers, famously roses! Rose water is a staple we pretty much always had at home.

Rose water is used for medicinal purposes and has antibacterial and anti-inflammatory qualities. People often wash up with it since it has a lovely fragrance and makes you smell nice. It's also used in foods and desserts or added to drinking water for flavor and health benefits.

Sitara bringing Fatima rose water. It looks just like this 12th-century rose water container. We still have containers like this nowadays and I actually used one to wash my hands recently.

Faloodeh (Persian Lime and Rose Water Granita With Rice Noodles), Bastani Sonati (Saffron and Rose Water Ice Cream), in Kuwait we say Sharbat Nimil but apparently, it's Tokhm-e Sharbatie in Iran (Rose Water and Basil Seed Drink) Fun fact: Sharbat Nimil means "ant drink" because the seeds look like... ants... and the thought freaked me out as a kid, I never wanted to drink it. I thought my aunt was messing with me but my parents said, "Yeah, no, that's actually what it's called."

Dates! Another staple. Always have some in the house.

These are ripe dates. We call them "tamar". Sweet, delicious, amazing.

These are fresh dates! We call them "khalal". Sweet, crunchy, amazing.

The architecture was also, you guessed it, familiar as well. Particularly the courtyards! It really took me back.

Courtyards! My Irani grandma (also Fatima, I told you it was a popular name...) had a courtyard home in Kuwait too, but less fancy, and she had a huge date tree instead of a fountain. We would play there all the time when we visited. Also reminds me of the houses in some of the Irani movies I've seen.

Let's Talk Religion

I know religion is historically always a fun and totally not divisive topic, but we're all going to be civil and discuss stuff like adults. I'm not trying to convert anyone, I swear. Chasing after people and forcing religion down their throats is actually frowned upon in Islam believe it or not. I’m also not saying it’s a better religion than others or anything of the sort so don’t come for me. It's just relevant to the story and I'm hoping we can interact in good faith, so let's talk.

I am NOT a scholar, this is just what I know and my understanding so please don't quote me. I probably have to gloss over and simplify a lot because there's... too much.

There are various interpretations of Islam. The Quran, to my understanding, is meant to have its interpretations evolve over time to address the issues of people no matter the time or place. Issues faced centuries ago might not be as pressing now, or we might have new issues today that weren't a thing back in the day. Iranians mainly practice Shia Islam, which is also the sect I know most about so that's what we're focusing on.

Islam is the fastest-growing religion. It's also quite misunderstood due to hate/misinformation, AND — I'm gonna just say it — there are Muslims who have skewed interpretations of Islam's teachings. Am I the perfect Muslim and my interpretations are law? I didn't say that, obviously not. But I'm going to call it how I see it. I don't take sides and I'm not going to defend someone just because they identify as Muslim if they're doing stuff that doesn't make sense (that would be un-Islamic and just... dumb imo). But anyway, there are a few points I’d like to touch on so we all have a base understanding.

Many people think that Allah (SWT) is “the Muslim god” but actually, he’s the same god that brought down the Bible and Torah. He's just... God. This is why you’ll see a lot of crossover between these religions. And Christian Arabs, for example, say Allah because that’s just God in Arabic.

Why did God come up with different religions? It’s my understanding each religion was what the people needed at the time. (Also because of the next point.)

Muslims DO believe in the original Bible and Torah, but historically there's evidence that these books have been altered by people over the years. (Again, I'm not saying your religion is wrong if you're Christian or Jewish. You do you.) Then what about the Quran? I’ll actually address that later.

Muslims DO believe in Jesus. We just think he's a prophet instead of the son of God or God.

Cool? Cool.

Now to address some religion-related things that came up in the story.

The part where there is the selling of slaves made me raise an eyebrow since slavery is not allowed in Islam, because, duh.

I did some research and asked around. I was able to talk to my Irani-American friend's aunt when I visited them during my Iran trip last week since she's studied this kind of stuff. She joked that I should save myself the trouble and not touch the slavery topic, especially with Americans since it's... like... a super touchy topic. But this is an important topic and we should talk about important topics instead of shying away from them. Respectfully, of course. And maybe we can all learn something. It was a perspective on slavery that was very different from what I'm used to hearing about in the U.S. She essentially confirmed what I was thinking.

The Quran envisions the ideal society as one in which slavery no longer exists. Since slavery was such a widespread issue around the whole world back in the olden days, (it still is an issue today, but I'm assuming it was worse back then) it was unfortunately unrealistic to try and abolish it in one fell swoop. Again, this isn’t just abolishing in one country or region, but tackling the issue worldwide. So, in Islam, the idea is that there are steps in place to phase it out. For example:

No free people can be enslaved, duh.

People cannot be enslaved due to debt or crime.

You are encouraged to help slaves buy their way to freedom by giving them money to do so or buying them to free them.

If you are in possession of a slave, you should free them.

If you house a slave, you must treat them well.

This last one is just an interesting thing I didn’t know about that I saw in my research and it came up in the story — Slaves get half the punishment for a sin than if the same sin was committed by a free person.

I wondered why then, did Fatima's family not free Sitara and the other slaves? It didn’t look like they had anything stopping them from running away either. Sure, Sitara got scolded by another slave for trying to leave, but she could have tried again and run away. The other slaves in the story seemed like they wanted to/were okay with staying, even though they did wish they could go home and felt homesick. So what’s up?

It's my understanding that back then, it was common for people to take slaves into their families, sometimes even presenting the option of marriage into the family if they were interested, and offering shelter and and education. It was a way to take them off the streets, away from the slave traders, and keep them safe.

Why not just take everyone back to their homes? Various reasons. They might be in danger if they try to go back. They might not have anywhere to go back to. Also, this was the 13th century. It's not like they could just hop on a plane and go home. There's also no law enforcement the way we have today. Hell, even with all the local and international law enforcement of today, slavery is still a major issue.

Sitara wants to go home but has no home to go back to.

Is this ideal? As I mentioned, ideally slavery wouldn't even be a thing. I’m pretty sure we can all agree slavery=bad. I'm not here to argue that. But I also think it's important to try and understand what things were like back then and why people did what they did. A lot of times I see people measure things with their standards that were developed in modern day, with their own life experience. You need to be careful when doing that. I'm sure in the future, people will look back at us like, "Damn, y'all lived like that???"

Perhaps, this was the best the average person could do. Try to protect them and offer them shelter and an education. As long as we don’t live in an ideal world, we need to consider various solutions to issues. So this was an interesting way to try and tackle the issue given the time and circumstances. It’s rather different from what I think most Americans know about this subject.

Did everyone do this? I'm going to say probably not. Terrible people always exist. Plus there are plenty of people who say they practice a religion, but cherry-pick what they want to follow, do the opposite, have distorted understandings of its teachings, or just downright weaponize religion to suit them. That's a whole other discussion though, so I'll leave it there.

I would like to read more about this topic though, so if anyone knows any sources, let me know!

The First Word From God - "Read"

"Slave or not, it is a Muslim's duty to seek knowledge, as stated in the hadiths."

What's a hadith? Here you go. Also, this is the OG Fatima, Lady Fatima (PBUH).

When God first sent the angel Gabriel down to Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), his first word to him was, "read". Education and seeking knowledge are SUPER important in Islam, and should not be kept from anyone regardless of race, gender, social standing, etc. Seeking knowledge will make you a more rational, well-rounded person. Knowledge in this context is broad and all-encompassing. It doesn't only mean religion, math, and science, but philosophy, art, and so on. Literally anything. I hope I don't really need to convince anyone that education is a human right and empowering and all that stuff, so let's keep it moving.

"Isn't that what learning is all about?"

To address this earlier point:

Muslims DO believe in the original Bible and Torah, but historically there's evidence that these books have been altered by people over the years. Then what about the Quran?

Tbh, I hesitated to include this part because people might misinterpret or take offense. To reiterate for the umpteenth time, I'm not saying your religion is wrong if you're Christian or Jewish. You do you. We’re actually told to respect believers of these religions. I swear!

So, yeah. Moving on.

Another reason seeking knowledge is an obligation in Islam is so that you are able to read the Quran for yourself. When loads of people read it, memorize it, and are familiar with it, any changes will not go unnoticed. This is to stop people from weaponizing and distorting the Quran's teachings. And this is why there is only ONE Quran, and not multiple versions (I’m not talking about translated Qurans). Modern-day Qurans match the oldest Qurans. They haven't changed.

In general, having knowledge about things makes you less susceptible to being lied to or misled, regardless of the topic. Unfortunately, I'm in the camp where I believe not enough people do their own research and reading. And again, I don't just mean religion, but everything. That kind of thing takes effort, and effort is hard.

Go read!

You're Still Here?

Like the first-place winner for the Male Category, The Summer Hikaru Died, which I’ve been pushing on anyone who will listen since volume one hit bookstores in Japan, Tenmaku no Jadoogar: A Witch's Life in Mongol deserves to win the Female Category. From what I can see so far, it’s well researched and written with love. I'm looking forward to seeing how this story unfolds and I may add more thoughts as we go.

Volume 2 is due to come out February 16th, so I’ll be tweeting my thoughts on my reading thread. The link to this post is on Twitter here if you want to share it there. EDIT: Volume 2 post is up!

If there's anything else you'd like to see me discuss or expand on, let me know and I'll see what I can do. I'd love to hear what others think!

I await your email publishers, my resume is ready... fatimahhajiasiri@gmail.com

🧿🪬🧿🪬🧿🪬🧿🪬🧿🪬🧿🪬🧿🪬🧿🪬🧿

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If there’s any Japanese-only manga you want me to check out, let me know! No promises, I’ll only read what I’m interested in, but I’ll take suggestions into consideration. Preferably, shorter manga or newer manga with a few volumes out since I like to take breaks from longer series I’m reading :)

[theeasistwayofdoingthings]

Character sheet

(link for notion)

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Read(about the sheet)

My first language isn't English, so if there are any grammatical problems, I'll be glad if you correct me.

If you have any suggestions of things to add in this sheet feel free to tell me, I can make personalized character sheets too(Character sheets with specific themes, ex: strawberry themed sheet), so if you wanna one you can ask :)

Read:

I'm planning on making more sheets not exclusively Character creation sheets, but maybe sheets for, potion creation, musical group sheets, things like that So if you'll have any suggestions feel free to tell me.

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If you prefer to see directly without the link:

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“Character quote”

General information

Name:

Pronunciation:

Meaning:

Middle name:

Pronunciation:

Meaning:

It's an honor to a family member?

Surname:

Pronunciation:

Meaning:

Nicknames:

Titles:

Hometown:

Current city:

Gender identity:

Birthday:

Dominant hand:

Sign:

Mbti:

Symbol (if they have):

Handwriting:

Signature:

Appearance

Height:

Weight:

Specie:

Race:

Blood type:

Skin Color:

Extra member(if they have):

Birthmarks:

— How is It:

— Where is it:

Piercings:

— Name of the piercing:

— Where is it:

— Piercing jewelry:

Scars:

— How it is:

— Where it is:

— How they get it:

Tattoos:

— How is it:

— Where is it:

— Have any personal meaning?

Hair color:

Hair length:

Hair type(if is straight, wavy, curly or coily):

Haircut/hairstyle:

Ear shape(if are human ears,pointy, etc...):

Eye color:

Eye shape:

Eyebrows:

Nose shape:

Teeth:

Nails size:

Nails shape:

Face shape:

Facial hair:

Fur:

Fur length:

Fur color:

Fur pattern:

Tail color:

Tail size:

Tail type:

Tail pattern:

Wings color:

Wings size:

Scent:

Walking style:

Running style:

Health

Diet:

Exercise:

Posture:

Reflexes:

Eating habits:

Sleep habits:

Allergies:

Illnesses:

Disorders:

Syndromes:

Imperfections :

Broken bones:

Abnormalities:

Disability:

Meds:

Psychological

Memory:

Temperament:

Vocabulary:

Mental health:

Emotional stability:

Instincts:

Learning style:

Interpersonal:

Intrapersonal:

How they see the world:

How they see their life:

Linguistics:

logical-mathematical:

Perception

Sight:

Hearing:

Smell:

Touch:

Taste:

Intuition:

Philosophy

Religion:

Devotion:

Superstitions:

Animal spirit:

Morals:

Etiquette:

Attitude:

Mantras:

Taboos:

Character

Main goal:

Secondary goal:

Priorities:

Motivations:

Self-confidence:

Self-control:

Self-esteem:

Hobbies:

Personal hobbies:

Guilty pleasure:

Habits:

Desires:

Manias:

Afflictions :

Traumas:

Concerns :

nervous tics :

soft spots:

Achievements :

Greatest achievement:

failures:

Greatest failures:

Favorite dream:

Worst nightmare:

Latest memory:

Earliest memory:

Happiest memory:

Saddest memory:

Funniest memory:

Vocabulary

Compliments:

Insults:

most used words:

Greetings:

Preferences

Likes:

Dislikes:

Special interests:

Most favorite things/subjects :

Least favorite things/subjects:

Combat Skills

Martial arts:

Resistance:

Strong points:

Weak points:

Specialties:

Special move:

Speed: From 0 to 10=

Dexterity: From 0 to 10=

Agility: From 0 to 10=

Flexibility: From 0 to 10=

Stamina: From 0 to 10=

Home, job, education

Hometown:

Current City:

Home traditions:

Routine:

-------

Employer/boss:

Job:

Rank:

Do they like their job?

Experience:

Community service:

Supervisor:

Job hours:

Work ethics:

Method of transport to work:

Criminal record:

Dream job:

Salary:

Expenses?

Dependents:

Savings:

Debts:

Budget:

-------

Primary school:

Elementary School:

Middle school:

High school:

College:

Extracurricular activities:

Special education?

Average grades:

Study habits:

Graduation year:

Specialties:

PETS

Pet #1

Name:

Specie:

Race:

Sex:

Age:

Is neutered:

Is it a service animal?

Social life

Best friends:

Best friend #1

— Relationship with me:

— Have we known each other for a long time?:

— When we meet each other:

— Where we meet each other:

- Nicknames that they receive:

- Nicknames that they give:

Friends:

Friend #1

— Relationship with me:

— Have we known each other for a long time?:

— When we meet each other:

— Where we meet each other:

- Nicknames that they receive:

- Nicknames that they give:

Allies:

Allie #1

— Relationship with me:

— Have we known each other for a long time?:

— When we meet each other:

— Where we meet each other:

- Nicknames that they receive:

- Nicknames that they give:

Acquaintances:

Acquaintance#1

— Relationship with me:

— Have we known each other for a long time?:

— When we meet each other:

— Where we meet each other:

- Nicknames that they receive:

- Nicknames that they give:

followers:

Follower #1

— Relationship with me:

— Have we known each other for a long time?:

— When we meet each other:

— Where we meet each other:

- Nicknames that they receive:

- Nicknames that they give:

Subordinates:

Subordinate#1

— Relationship with me:

— Have we known each other for a long time?:

— When we meet each other:

— Where we meet each other:

- Nicknames that they receive:

- Nicknames that they give:

Rivals:

Rival #1

— Relationship with me:

— Have we known each other for a long time?:

— When we meet each other:

— Where we meet each other:

— Why we don't get along:

- Nicknames that they receive:

- Nicknames that they give:

Enemies:

Enemy #1

— Relationship with me:

— Have we known each other for a long time?:

— When we meet each other:

— Where we meet each other:

— Why we don't get along:

- Nicknames that they receive:

- Nicknames that they give:

Inspirations:

— Why is it an inspiration?

Heroes:

Mentors:

Communicative:

Cooperative:

Discriminations :

Reputation:

Sociability:

Status:

Social class:

Community:

Family

Mother:

— how is their relationship with her?

Father:

— How is their relationship with him?

Siblings:

Sibling #1

— How is their relationship with them?

Children:

Child #1

— How is their relationship with them?

Relatives:

Distant relatives:

ancestry:

Love life

First love:

Romantic interest:

Marital status:

S/O, Romantic partner:

Sexual orientation:

Romantic orientation:

Love language:

Information about their partner

— who asked to date?

How many years of dating:

When was the dating ask:

Where it was:

How it was:

— Who proposed ?

How many years married:

When was the propose:

Where was the propose:

How it was:

informations for the story

Archetypes:

Enneagram:

Mbti:

Tropes:

Cliches:

Role:

Voice actor:

Symbolizes something:

Inspiration:

One word:

Theme song:

Soundtrack:

Date of creation:

First appearance(Date, local, event):

Latest appearance(Date, local, event):

Last appearance(Date, local, event):

Impressions

First impressions:

How they see themselves:

How the family see them:

How their partner see them:

How their friends see them:

How the authorities see then:

How strangers see them:

How their enemies see them:

Development

Personal:

Social:

Physical:

Mentally:

How they Express

Angry

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Anxiety

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Confusion

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Depression

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Embarrassment

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Enthusiasm

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Fear

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Guilty

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Happiness

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Repentance/Regret

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Nervous

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Offended

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Gratitude

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Sadness

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Stressed

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Thoughtful

Facial expression:

Body language:

Attitudes:

Biography

Infancy (0-3):

Childhood (4-12):

Adolescence (13-19):

Adulthood (20-54):

Seniority (55+):

—What you can put in the biography:

Birth name?

Born with health?

Where they were born?

Way of birth?

First words?

— if they are dead you can put:

Death date?

Where they die?

How they die?

Where was they buried? Was they buried?

Death wish?

Last words?