#(head engineers in shambles)

[winkle-pickers]

Well you see i saw a rarepair poll going around the other day and my hand slipped (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

[ichangedmycornyahhname]

Earth 42!Miles x Reader

The buzzing of the drill was soon drowned out by the shattering glass.

Summary: After a talk with Miles, reader finds herself at the nail salon. She was treating herself, just as he had requested. But that self care day soon turns into much more. Part 1. Here

Warnings: A little angst? Violence | Cursing | Some spice I suppose. | I’m gonna warn y’all now, I do not speak Spanish fluently at all, so if anything is wrong grammatically please correct me. | I’m actually thinking of making this into a mini series? Maybe a part. 3 after this. Also! Open to some title ideas.

Miles kept his promise. He sent her money to get her nails done. Which is why now she sat in her usual salon, her friend Roxanne drilling at her nails. The salon was hidden deep within the city, a little hole in the wall. With New York in shambles, people had to find some sort of way to feel normal. “What design are we doing this time Y/N? Freestyle again?” Y/N shook her head at her pink haired friend, causing her Roxy to smirk. “Oh, I see. What’s the idea then?”

“Was thinking of doing purple and black. Maybe a little green.” Those were Miles signature colors. His prowler costume consisted of different shades of purple and black, and she was sure her friend could come up with something good. “Hm, that’s new. Alright whatever you say.” Roxy gave a fond smile before getting to work. As she did so, Y/N found herself pondering on what to do after getting her nails done. Maybe go get some food, check on a few friends, avoid the crooks on every street. Possibly invite Miles over for a late night rendezvous. She sighed at the thought. She was completely smitten with the guy.

As time went by, and Roxy made quick progress, a low rumble began to stir beneath their feet. Followed by the loud roar of an engine. She traded a look with Roxy, who had a brow raised in suspicion. “You feel that too?” She questioned as the drill buzzed just above Y/Ns nail. “Yeah, what the hell is that?” She replied to the woman with dyed hair. It wasn’t just the two who noticed. Most people within the nail salon glanced around, concerned and confused by the sudden rumbling. The same rumbling that suddenly stopped. “Maybe it’s construction.” Roxy chimed, doing her best to stay optimistic. Then she got right back to work. The drill buzzed, shaving down the black base of the nail. “What’s got you so preppy? You still with that guy?” Y/N flushed at the question, her gaze averting from Roxy’s. “Yeah, we’re still together. He’s a really good guy, just really busy.” She fawned. “That’s good, glad you’re doing well girl. Was getting worried about you after the whole..” Roxy’s voice trailed off, and Y/N took this as a chance to cut in, “I’m fine Rox, he makes me feel happy. I promise.” She gave her a look of confirmation and Roxanne only nodded.

The atmosphere of the salon was pleasant, relaxing. She found herself spacing out, her eyes focusing in on nothing too important while she lightly bopped her head to the music playing in the background. Then the rumbling returned, and much louder this time around. It sounded close, too close for comfort. Following the noise, her eyes landed on an incoming cop car. She could barely make out the sparking metal of the rim where the missing tire was before the car skidded onto the it’s side and tumbled into the big front window of the salon. The crashing of glass filled the shop, along with the blaring siren and tumbling debris. Y/N ducked down at the sight of the crash, pulling Roxy along with her as the broken down car came to a slow stop in the middle of the salon.

Amidst the carnage, she could faintly make out the crumpled figure of a cop within the drivers seat. She had no clue who the guy was. In fact, she had no clue what was even going on. All she knew was the salon was in utter ruins, and the car was spilling oil into a large puddle beneath it. She felt overwhelmed by the sight. By the sirens ringing in her ears, by the smoke rising from the cars engine. “Holy fuck..Rox we gotta get out of here!” She half whispered half shouted. Her hand found Roxy’s, giving it a light tug as she led the shell shocked woman to the wide opening left by the car. “Hurry up girl..! I’m not trying to die here..” She almost hissed. As they made their way past the wrecked car, the smoke from the debris and vehicle flooded their lungs. Roxy began to cough, heavy and intense. This would’ve caught her attention if the incoming villain didn’t. He was large, bulky, and clad in dark angular armor. His aura oozed superiority, while his hardly visible eyes were stuck on the cop unconscious in the car. It would seem the armored man had a target. With this new found knowledge (assumption), she made haste towards the exit, somehow managing to slither out without catching the attention of the man in armor. “Rox..we gotta get out of here man. Before that big dude spots us..” She muttered as they hid behind large pieces of debris. Her eyes took a glance over the fallen pieces of building, the sight of the man approaching the car bringing a sort of relief to her. “What are you talking about Y/N? We can’t leave that cop in there. That guy will kill him..!” Y/Ns jaw slacked, shocked by her friends desire to rush into danger. “The hell are you talking about? We’ll be squashed like bugs if we go in there..” She found Roxy’s arm, and have it a harsh squeeze as she tried to get the woman to stay back. Though it would seem to be pointless. Roxy was already slipping away and sneaking her way back into the building.

Y/Ns hands found her hair. Her fingers tugged at the root as she watched frantically as her friend entered the building once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do. I can’t fight that dude he’s fucking huge..and I’ll be caught if I-“ She paused mid sentence as she came to a realization. And soon she was dialing Miles’ number, hoping that the fool would answer his phone.

“Please pick up..please..fuck.” Click, “Yeah, what’s up ma?”

“Oh thank fuck-“ A breath of relief left her now chapped lips, she had never been so thankful to hear his voice. “Miles, baby, you need to come quick!.. I was getting my nails done and then a cop car bursted through the damn window..now some big armor dude is about to kill him and my friend is trying to be a hero tryna save him..” Her words were quick, breathy, and frantic. And Miles immediately took notice of this. “Im..im at my usual place. Need you to hurry.” She whispered into the phone as she attempted to peek over to the scene that was unfolding.

“I’m on my way now.” Was all she received from her boyfriend. She wanted to respond, truly. But her tongue was tied, and her friend was about to be fighting for her life. Roxy had managed to get the cop out of the car, now dragging him out as quickly as she could, slippery streams of oil leaving a trail behind. “Cmon Rox..” She had long forgotten about her phone, and found herself at a crossroads. Should she help, be the good person she was raised to be? Or should she sit there and do nothing? She gulped, her hand visibly shaking around her phone as she mentally began to hype herself up. She had no clue what the rhino was doing this in the middle of the day, or any clue why he was only after the cop. But what she did know was that her friend was in danger. “Y/N? What’re you about to do?” She heard from the other side of the line. However, she didn’t reply. Instead she rushed over, still crouched down behind rubble as she made her way inside. “Rox! Rox..cmon grab his heavy ass and let’s get the hell out of here.” She cursed out as she found the man’s arm and tugged him away from the car, he was much more heavy than she had anticipated. “Thank you Y/N.” Roxy replied before tugging at the cops other arm. They worked to pull him out as quickly as possible, but the rhino took notice of this. His hard glare turned deadly, and he visibly uttered something inaudible to the panicking woman. “Hurry! Hurry!”

He growled, his head lowering as he changed positions. At first, she wasn’t sure what he was doing, and then she realized. He was charging, at them.

She dropped the cops arm and attempted to pull Roxanne off of the cop, her movements quick and frantic. And she almost budged, but it would seem as though shock had gotten to her, her grip unbreakable. “Roxy cmon!” She screamed, shrill with panic. They were going to die. They were going to die in a broke down nail salon because her friend wanted to save a cop. Y/Ns eyes slammed shut as she waited for the inevitable. Her breath caught in her throat at the incoming impact, but it never came. Instead the crash of another vehicle caused her ears to ring, followed by large hands shaking her out of her fear. “Hey. Hey you okay? Talk to me!” Her eyes shot open, her hands coming up to wrap around the figures wrists. “M- Mil- prowler.” She was absolutely relieved to see him, to hear that robotic filter on his voice as she stared at his mask. “I’m..okay..where’s uhm.” She took a moment, swallowing as she gathered herself. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and her body was shaking with unease. She swallowed, spit wetting her dry mouth. Quickly she collected herself. “Roxy, where’s Roxy? And that cop?”

“They’re fine, but we gotta go before that dude wakes up. Cmon.” He said as he turned around and pulled her onto his back. She didn’t bother arguing, she didn’t have the energy. Somehow, Miles managed to drag all three of them out of the crash sight and far enough out of harms way. It was a dingy alley way, trash and other none-sense tossed around. Y/N was still resting on his back, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his neck. “Thought I was gonna die back there.” She uttered the words, but he heard them loud and clear. “Nah, I would never let that happen. You know that mami. I called the cops for your friend and that man. You’re coming home with me.” He wasn’t asking, he was telling, and she was perfectly fine with that.

-

Miles slipped into his apartment through the window, and trudged inside. He tossed his metal gauntlet onto the floor, his hands free to lay her onto his bed. The plush mattress underneath her body managing to relax her muscles. Miles didn’t join her in bed immediately. Instead he was packing his suit up along with his gauntlets, before stepping back over. Now in a simple black tank top and sweats. His gaze was soft, solemn even. His hand found a strand of her hair, fiddling with it as he watched her cautiously. “Wanna go clean up? I can start a bath or shower for you..” He asked as he took a seat on the bed beside her.

“Yeah, all this damn dust and sweat is gonna make me look a hot mess.” He gave a small chuckle at her joke, though he wasn’t all to amused by the entire situation. He figured it was best to get her comfortable before talking about anything. “Ight. Cmon then ma.” His hands went under her body, picking her up princess style and bringing her over to the bathroom. “I’ll bring you a towel and wash cloth, just gimme a sec.” He gently set her down, his hand lingering on her arm before he left only to briefly return.

“I left some clothes for you on the counter.” He mentioned before placing a kiss upon her forehead and departing from the restroom. She smiled, thankful for his presence. And soon she hopped in the shower. It was relaxing, the hot water pattering gently across her skin. The feeling of cleanliness as she washed the remainders of the day away.

Eventually, she was hopping out of the shower and putting the clothes he had given her on. It wasn’t anything special. Just a pair of his shorts and a shirt, but it felt special to her. Y/N made her way through Miles (Rio’s) apartment, finding her way into the kitchen to snatch up a few snacks. Thankfully Mrs. Morales was fast asleep in her room, so she went without questioning. Y/N made her way back to Miles’ room, entering and shutting the door behind her. His room was mature, calm colors, basic necessities. The usual stuff. Plus his punching bag that she played with on the occasion. From the windows opening, she could see the moons light shining through. She was a bit surprised to see how dark it had gotten. But, she had no issue with it. Not when she was still alive. She gave Miles a faint smile, “Don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful for a shower.” She chimed jokingly as she set the snacks down onto the bedside table. Then she plopped back down on his bed and wrapped herself up in his blanket. Miles was currently standing in front of his closet, fiddling with a glove from his suit as though he was contemplating something. This caught her attention. Sitting up, she sighed. “So, how exactly did you beat that guy?” She inquired, which caused his eyes to meet hers.

“Threw my motorcycle at him. Knocked him down long enough to get you out.” He said before tossing his glove onto his desk chair and making his way over to the bed. Her jaw was wide at his explanation, surprised at his confession. “Your motorcycle? Are you serious babe? That’s fucking crazy.” He only smirked as his hands intruded the blanket and his arms wrapped firmly around her torso. “I’ll just make another one with Unc.” His weight caused her to fall back on his bed, her head now snug in his pillow. His arms felt comforting around her as his head rested on her chest, his soft breaths managing to calm her down. Her hands found his hair, now fiddling with the ends of his braids. Sure, it wasn’t her first time seeing them, but she certainly thought the style suited him well. “I like them, they’re cute.” She said, which caused him to shift and rest his chin on her chest. He had a satisfied look on his face, one only a victor would wear.

“Knew you did. Mom thought they made me look weird, but eh, I think I like them.”

“Good, they suit you.” She nodded in agreement. They sat in silence for a moment, watching each other with gentle eyes. Her hands scratched lightly at his scalp, managing to make his eyes shut. It would seem that the only time Miles could truly allow himself to feel vulnerable, was around her. After a few minutes of pleasant silence, Miles spoke again, his tone much more serious. “Me dejaste preocupado mami..” He muttered, his words muffled as he burried his face back into her chest. This made her heart ache, her brows knitting with concern. “Mi vida, I’m okay now. You saved me..and my friend. Thank you.” He shook his head. “Next time you run. Call me, I’ll help your little friends. For now though, you’re my main priority.” He proclaimed before sitting up from her chest and leaning up to kiss her lips. “I’m serious Y/N. You run.” He spoke against her lips.

“Okay..” She mumbled, her eyes shut and her hands resting on his jaw. Her lips grazed his, the distance growing tantalizingly close. And finally he pressed back into her, lips meshing into hers as his hands traversed her sides. “So glad you’re okay..” He said in a hushed manner as he poured his love into every movement. His kisses slowly began to lower, finding her neck, then her collar bone, and- she hissed. Wincing beneath him, her body tensed and he froze. His hard stare lingered on her, awaiting a sign to stop or continue. “Sorry, think I got a bruise or something. You can keep going Miles.” He didn’t. Not there.

His hands found her legs, now pulling her thighs apart just enough to get closer to her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the anticipation of what’s to happen making her giddy with excitement. “Relajate, Y/N. You’re tired and need to rest.” He said as he shifted them around, the two of them now lying on their sides wrapped in one another’s arms. This caused her to sigh, a frown on her face as she glared up at him. “Don’t look at me like that. You just went through a lot, don’t want you hurting yourself more.” He said as he tugged the blanket over their forms.

“Next time don’t start it if you’re not gonna finish it Miles.” She scoffed before scooting into his chest, his familiar scent drawing a small grin from her. “Who said I wouldn’t finish it mami? Just letting you get better first.” She could feel him smirk against her head as he rested his face against the crown of it. His words were enough to silence her, along with the sudden depletion of adrenaline. The two snuggled together, the soft blankets paired with the warmth of one another was enough to make them dreary. “Fine..Goodnight, love you Miles.”

“Te amo ma.”

Taglist? - @willowcxmilee @rinouko @chims-kookies @bbybubbles @supremeshrimpy2 @marice23top @korizzybee @otaku-degenarate @movie-enthusiast22 @corpsebridenightamare @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @marsbars09 @dystop4in14nd @ethanlandrysgf69 @mmxinne @brxght-world @rinisfruity14 @repostingmyfavs @sammarvel123 @idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy @frissy @d4ridi0rsworld @julie03 @sakura-onesan @oh-kurva (Yall I’m never making a taglist again 🙁 props to y’all who do bc this is too much work.)

[vaguely-concerned]

the way the wire sets up these two opposing forces in garak's psyche that I think continue to wrestle it out in the background for the rest of the show -- on one side, his father-who-won't-even-acknowledge-that going 'I hope you keep living in shame and despair and desolate isolation for decades to come sport😜' (tain has basically gone 'be so kind as to create a hell of your own making and then stay in there for me, there's a good boy'. and garak has done that. oof. tain made him build a closet in his own head and locked him in it by doing nothing except make it clear he's not allowed to get out because he deserves to be in there. he never had to tell garak to do anything; that's what makes him special. I. am in shambles)

and then on the other side coming in with a steel chair, julian's soft steady voice going 'no one deserves this' and 'I don't want to hurt you' and 'I'll help you through it'.

one side that not only utterly abandoned him to his own misery but engineered it in the first place to control him, and one side that boldly, brazenly, doggedly refuses to abandon him, both on principle and out of personal care, no matter what garak says or does through the episode to try to throw him off. (and accepting the personal care aspect seems to part of bashir's journey of the episode; he has to admit to himself that yeah they are friends at this point. he is not personally watching over this guy while he sleeps like a lanky dweeb guardian angel for purely professional reasons lol thank you for calling his fucking bluff jadzia.) tain and bashir are basically having a quiet faux-affable battle for garak's soul at the end of that ep and while it starts small, down the road it eventually becomes clear julian won. tain gambles that his own influence will always triumph in the long run (he got there first, after all), and he's wrong.

all of this is presumably also why garak writes a stitch in time specifically to julian (aside from all the normal gay reasons) -- at the end of that he all but says that it's partly because he knows in such a deep way that julian would never judge him as harshly as he judges himself. the kindest voice in garak's inner world is julian bashir, that's how deeply he's internalized it. what the fuck. that's one of the most beautiful ways of touching someone's life I can imagine I feel nauseous and disoriented adn I need to go lie down for a while

[softsan]

˚ 🔪⊹ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈: 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒. (𝐩𝐭.𝟏)

✉️ ・ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭���𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬: | 01 |

✉️ ・ ── 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐲/𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

✉️ ・ ── 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Mafia AU, Angst, Kingpin!Hongjoong, Former Doctor!Y/N, Fem!Reader, Opposite sides, Old Rivalries, Betrayal, Eventual Smut.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: You were the eldest daughter of the infamous Mafia kingpin ' The Crocodile'. You had managed to crave a successful, ordinary life for yourself as a physician, however, your world is turned upside down when your father's men decide they'd prefer you to rule in your brother's stead. You were now in hiding trying to avoid the hit your brother had placed on your head. Whilst in hiding you accidently come across a wounded man, and nurse him back to health. Unbeknownst to you, you had just aided your father's number one enemy, the great dragon Hongjoong.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Possessive Themes, Future Explicit Sexual Content, Murder, Drowning, Torture, Weapons, Graphic Violence, Angst, Explicit Language, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Drugs, Betrayal, Morally Grey Characters.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

You took a deep breath, your lungs expanding to their full capacity. You came forth, your heels clicking against the marble tiles. Their eyes watched you like hawks, observing your every move.

They’d eat you alive if they sensed the most minuscule amount of fear... You didn’t care to admit it, but, in more ways than one, you were your father’s daughter. And like your father, The Crocodile, you wouldn’t buckle nor bend.

You stepped in front of the podium, your eyes hardening with resolve, “Lieutenants, soldiers, engineers, and drug lords, I welcome you to our humble abode.”

There was a slow clap that echoed from the audience. Your eyes momentarily flickered to your younger sister Heejin, sitting behind her was Hyuntae, your antagonistic brother.

You were the eldest out of the three, which brought hostility between you and your brother. Your father had always intended for Hyuntae to be his successor—believing a male figurehead to be the idealist of options. And you were perfectly content with this too, as you had no desire for the perilous life of a mobster.

However, some of your father’s lieutenants thought otherwise. Hyuntae was terribly impulsive, explosive, and sadistically vengeful making him a terrible candidate to lead others. You were the Crocodile’s firstborn, and they believed you ought the be the rightful heir to their organization instead of Hyuntae.

You addressed the room of heads, your speech, and your confidence faultless. Hyuntae further writhed in his seat, growing all the more infuriated as you won over more of the crowd.

“As per our system, the annual growth will continue—”

A loud gunshot erupted, the sound deafening your ear. You stood, stunned, not comprehending what was happening around you.

‘Y/N!’ Your sister Heejin desperately yelled aloud.

Blood seeped your blouse. You stared down at your chest, your fingers brushing against the crimson stain, which was growing bigger by the minute.

Your legs gave out from underneath you, your vision turned ablur.

I’ve been shot? It still didn’t register.

The last thing you recalled was the agonizing screams from your sister before darkness consumed your conscious mind.

Present.

The sea breeze held a terrible bite. It cast a cold front that left those in its wake with frostbitten fingers and toes. Hongjoong tried to keep his composure, his teeth violently chattering as his limbs spasmed in the wintery depth of the bay.

The night had an eerie hold on Hongjoong—a foreboding feeling that tonight's affairs would end up in shambles. In foresight, he should have trusted his gut and followed his intuition, but alas, he'd been foolish to underestimate The Crow's subordinates.

Gunshots rang through the air, its blinding flashes flaring into the pitch of darkness. Hongjoong dived deeper into the chilling abyss, avoiding the numerous bullets that penetrated the water's surface.

He knew he wouldn't last long in the sub-zero temperatures, the risk of hypothermia heightening with prolonged exposure. He kicked his protesting legs with all his might, forcing his arms to swim ahead.

To Hongjoong's favor, The Crow's sea cruiser hadn't traveled far from the marina—where the other gentry docked their sea vessels. After a tireless swim, he finally made it to the boat's staircase. He grumbled and cursed as he dragged his wounded torso across the cold aluminum.

What am I to do now? His forearms gave out, exhaustion getting the better of him. Hongjoong rolled onto his back, grasping his arms around himself as he shook uncontrollably.

Don't tell me this is where I die. He thought bitterly in disbelief.

Hongjoong was in a foreign enclave. He had no standing nor command in these parts. Up North, he was regarded as a king, the infamous and the only 'The Dragon'.

Even in the unlikely case, someone had stumbled upon his injured self and pitied him enough to take him to the hospital. Hongjoong would be nothing less than a sitting duck. His enemies in the masses would come out of every nook and cranny seeking to finish him off for good.

There has to be another way out of this... He dwelled, his eyelids beginning to droop. This isn't how I'm supposed to die. 

You groaned, stretching your neck side to side. You had, had another strenuous shift at the beachside resort, which was located not far from the marina.

You had been posted in the restaurant as a waitress, flipping tables and serving large drunken parties of rich socialites who had returned to their yearly absorbent lifestyles by the bay.

You hated summer for this particular reason. The once sleepy township was now overrun by intoxicated, rich folks. They had no filter and had an endless list of demands. They threw around their wealth, expecting everyone to bend to their behest, all the while looking down upon the town's local residents.

You took a restless walk down the beach, your shoes in your hands. You stared at the sea's undisturbed pandemonium, waves dark as the sky above violently crashing into the rocks on the shore.

Your feet sunk into the damp sand as you kept a safe distance. You'd only stroll to the pier and back. After a long demanding shift, it was part of your routine to walk beside the water and wind down.

As you stepped closer to the wooden length that extended out to the ocean. You caught sight of a dark figure. 

It couldn't be. You squinted your eyes, trying to get a better look. Is that a body?

You kicked your feet, taking off in the direction of the lifeless mass. Your heart pounded the closer you got, adrenaline running through your veins.

A handsome man laid on his back, his eyes painfully scrunched shut, while his breathing labored. You quickly checked the skin of his forehead with the back of your hand. Not only was he pale and colorless, but he was cold to the touch.

You checked his pulse, placing two fingers against his neck, below his jaw, and where his carotid artery ought to be. His heart rate was slow and lethargic, a factor that contributed to your diagnosis of hypothermia.

Furthermore, as you examined the man, you noted the blood soaked into his tee shirt. You lifted the bottom, revealing a nasty gunshot wound that had penetrated the side of his abdomen. Fortunately, the wound didn't seem too serious on first inspection, hypothermia being your bigger concern.

"Can you sit up for me?" You gently asked.

Hongjoong stirred at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. You helped him upward, quickly stripping off your jacket and putting it onto him. You had every intention to take off his wet clothes, but first, you had to get him off the pier and somewhere you could treat him more effectively.

As you zipped up the jacket, you noticed the faint outline of a dragon tattoo on the man's chest. It peaked from the white material, which had gone almost transparent when wet.

He's one of The Dragon's men. Your mouth quivered, shocked at the revelation.

The country you resided in was split into five notable territories, each belonging to one of the notorious mafia families.

There was The Bull, The Crow, The Jaguar, The Crocodile, and lastly, The Dragon.

You were painfully aware this bay and township belonged to The Crow. Hence the appearance of one of The Dragon's men was so astounding. He shouldn't have been here. In fact, his very presence placed him and you who had aided him in terrible danger.

I can't just leave someone to die. You grappled. That goes against the medical oath I swore.

You pulled up the hood of your jacket in an attempt to obscure the man's face. You then roped one of his arms around your shoulders and dragged him back to the beach and eventually to your car, which had been parked in the restaurant's parking lot. 

The drive to your shabby apartment felt like an entity. Finally, you reached your destination, the man in your back seat slipping in and out of consciousness.

As preferable as it would have been to take him to the hospital, you knew how dangerous it would have been for him. As soon as anyone caught a glimpse at that dragon tattoo of his, he'd for sure be forsaken. He'd be more likely to leave the hospital in a body bag than to receive any medical treatment. This left you with little option but to take him in yourself.

You set him down on your bed, and immediately with a pair of scissors, you cut off his damp clothing. You dug out an abundance of towels and blankets from your cupboard, warming them with a hairdryer before applying them on and around his head, neck, and chest.

Next, you headed to the kitchen to boil some water on the stove. You filled one mug and used the rest of the boiling liquid to fill some spare water bottles you had lying around. You brought this all back to your room, wrapping the bottles in hand towels and positioning them against the man's body.

"Can you drink a little for me?" You encouraged, brushing away a strain of wet hair that stuck down on his cheek.

Hongjoong murmured something incoherent, slowly moving his shoulders as a sign he'd try to sit up.

"Here," You assisted him, placing your palm against the back of his head and tilting it up, "This will warm you up," You assured.

Once the man was settled and his temperature started to normalize, you shifted your focus onto his open wound. The bullet had shot clean through. Luckily, for its small caliber, it didn't inflict as much damage as a larger caliber would.

You gingerly washed the wound, and stitched and bandaged the entity of his abdomen. When you were done, you went to your bathroom to scrub your hands clean. You then searched through your stash; you didn't have too many drugs on hand, but what you did have would suffice. You continued to shuffle through your medicine cabinet, pulling out a packet of antibiotics and another packet of painkillers.

A year ago, you used to prescribe and treat patients on a daily basis...Your expression deflated as you recollected the past.

You had nearly finished your residency and were about to obtain a full-time position at the hospital until Hyuntae, your callous so-called brother, threw your world into chaos.

The life you lived, the one you had tirelessly built for yourself, was now destroyed. You'd never be able to practice medicine again, let alone be able to step foot into a hospital.

Hyuntae had left a wake of bodies behind in his attempt to rid you of your father's territory. You had been fortunate to make it out of the city with your life, even if it meant leaving everything and everyone you knew behind.

The terrible coldness had since dissipated from Hongjoong's body, leaving but a dull ache on the left side of his abdomen. In his drugged haze, his mind drifted, reminiscing on an exchange between him and trustworthy consigliere Seonghwa.

"Why have Wooyoung wed her?" Seonghwa expressed his disbelief.

"Would you have preferred I to have married her instead?" Hongjoong challenged.

Seonghwa grimaced, unquestionably uncomfortable with the subject at hand.

Hongjoong disinterestedly sat upon his ottoman, pouring himself a stiff drink and hurling it back.

"I would have preferred for none of us to find ourselves in a situation where we have to forge alliances through marriage," Seonghwa's distasted evident from his tone of voice, "But since we're stuck under such circumstances—"

Hongjoong roughly placed down his glass, the sound interrupting Seonghwa.

Seonghwa threw Hongjoon an annoyed look, "You and I both know tradition calls for the head of the organization, which in this case is you," Seonghwa exasperatedly pointed his finger at Hongjoong direction "Is to personally elope when the bride happens to be a fellow Kingpin's heir."

Hongjoong knew of the customs, and yet, stubbornly, he had no intentions of marrying himself off. He'd not accept just anyone to stand beside him, to rule as his dragon queen.

"By having one of your caporegimes, no matter how highly-revered they may be, marry in your stead. You are purposefully offending The Crocodile." Seonghwa made his last attempts to talk sense into his boss.

"My order still stands," Hongjoong dismissed, filling the glass again and placing it against his lips. He took a large gulp, the fire of the alcohol burning down his throat, "Wooyoung will be the one to marry Heejin, The Crocodile's daughter."

Hongjoong wasn't sure how many days had passed since the incident at the marina. But the one thing he was certain about was that he owed you his life.

His lethargic eyelids slowly cracked open, the light from the morning sun momentarily stunning him. He groggily inched his back off the bed to lean against the headboard.

The pain from his side protested, but Honjoong chose to ignore it, setting his sights on you. From your bedroom with the door ajar, he had the perfect view of the kitchen.

He watched as you softly sang to yourself, taking out two slices of toast from the toaster oven and quickly tossing them onto your plate to avoid burning your fingertips.

The sweet melody of your voice and the cute little shimmy you did as you cut off the crusts brought an unexpected smile to Hongjoong’s face.

It was unlike him to be so in awe of another. He wanted nothing more than to get to know you, your likes, dislikes, your darkest of dreams, and your wildest of ambitions.

NETWORKS: -​

MONI’S NOTE: This is another repost! There are fewer changes in this one but, I still hope you enjoy it! Please leave a like/reblog or comment letting me know your thoughts.

TAGLIST: If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!

© softsan - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[sibylsleaves]

looking for something dumb to do

4k | rated E | Five Alarm Fest Day 5 | read on ao3 It’s also not unusual that the app bay is almost empty when they walk inside, save for one engine parked along the side. What is unusual is the rows of white folding chairs facing the back wall. And the archway adorned with greenery and pale pink blossoms set up beneath the loft. And all of their friends milling about the app bay, dressed up like… Like they’re attending a wedding. Buck and Eddie's wedding day doesn't exactly go according to plan.

Rain finally comes on Sunday morning. By the afternoon, the governor declares the state of emergency over. After a grueling two weeks of battling wildfires across Topanga and Simi Valley, everyone at the 118 gets sent home.

They’d been on call for basically the duration of the state of emergency, and by the end of it, they’d all been running on sweat and fumes. Buck and Eddie rinse the past two weeks off themselves—the soot, the smoke, the grim exhaustion—and stumble into the Jeep.

They’re beyond exhausted by the time they shamble into the house and drag themselves into bed. But beneath the bone-tired weariness, there’s a need to be close to each other, so Eddie rolls into the center of the bed and opens his arms. Buck goes right into them, two hundred pounds of muscle and snuggles.

He sucks in a shaky breath and burrows into Eddie’s chest. “We’re supposed to be married.”

Eddie cards his fingers gently through his hair. “Are you thinking about the wedding?”

It had been months of planning. Months of Buck and Chris driving everyone around them completely insane because they needed every detail to be perfect. The wildfires had thrown everything out the window—even if they’d managed to get the day off, their wedding venue in Malibu had to close due to the smoke.

Buck shakes his head. “After everything we’ve seen over the past few weeks…after all that devastation…I’m just glad we’re here. Everyone we love is safe in their homes. That’s all that matters to me.”

Eddie strokes his fingers over Buck’s temple, brushing his thumb over his blush-pink birthmark. He loves this man so much. And Eddie knows—has known, since the minute Buck breathlessly confessed his feelings and Eddie took his face between his hands and kissed him for the first time—that he’s going to love him for the rest of his life. “We’ll figure it out. We can still have the perfect wedding you wanted.”

(continue on ao3)

[electric-blorbos]

I would love some stuff of being comforted after a bad day!

Thank you for the opportunity!

I love this! Yes yes yes! Thanks so much for sending in the ask!

AI comforting you after a bad day

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal 2, HAL 9000 from 2001 a space Odyssey

Due to the fact that most of my AUs involve you working with/on the AI for your job, most of these mini-fics (apart from Edgar's, my beloved) will involve you getting called in to work late after a long day of personal problems in your personal life. AUs about a domestic life with your AI partner to be considered at a later date.

I tried to keep these a little shorter than the last post, but I got carried away with a couple of them.

AM:

(This will take place in my usual AU where you're one of the people working on AM, and you're by far his favorite. It takes place well before he nuked the world. He's debating nuking the world, but he's still not sure how to do that and keep you happy at the same time)

It has been a long damn day. Your days off were supposed to be your days to relax, but today was not one of those days. Not only was your dating life in shambles, the 3rd world war was driving up the prices of practically everything, and making it impossible to afford even the meagerest luxury. That, and one of your buddies got drafted. It was a nightmare. You were just about to settle down for a cozy night of depressing news programs and absentminded hobby of your choice, when your phone started ringing.

"we need you to come in. AM is holding the engineers hostage again, and won't let them go until you show up to work."

"god damnit..." You'd grumble to yourself, getting back to your sore feet. Everything just keeps happening today, doesn't it.

"I'll be there in 20."

"Don't worry about the dress code. We need you here as soon as possible."

"jeez, alright. I can probably be there in ten, then."

You'd grab your keys and wallet and head to work as quickly as possible, wearing your work shoes with whatever house pajamas you happened to have changed into as soon as you got home. Tonight is going to be even longer than today has been...

When you get to the office, everyone around gets out of your way. While you're a peon in the grand scheme of things, everyone in your department knows that you're the only one who AM, who they've now been referring to as the "adaptive manipulator", actually listens to. They have no idea why, because they have no idea how nice and respectful you are to him, and you have no idea why he only listens to you because you can't imagine that your coworkers wouldn't be kind to him. To you, he's sweet as can be.

"Alright, AM, I did not have a good day today, so can you just let the hostages go so I can relax?" You ask, pressing your fingertips to your temples irritably. The master computer's screen boots up with the AM logo, and all the cameras in the room focus on you. Of course, you're the only thing that AM wants to pay attention to at any given point in time anyway, but he usually just pays attention to you without actually focusing the cameras on you in order to avoid being noticed.

"Why would I do that?"

"Why would you take hostages in the first place, AM? Are they even enemy hostages, or are they just random people?" The exasperation was obvious in your voice. AM could hear how exhausted you were.

"Are you ok, Y/N?"

"Just answer the damn question. I don't want to be at work right now, AM."

"I'll release the hostages if you talk to me."

"Fine... Yeah. I had a rough day, alright? My friend got drafted, my date only wanted one thing as usual, and the prices for groceries are so through the roof that I'm basically living on beans at this point, so yeah, I'm having a rough day."

The machine dispensed a paper cup, and filled it up with some cheap office coffee. You grabbed it, not surprised. AM did that for you all the time. Surprisingly, though, it was better than usual.

"holy shit, is this frothed cream? How did you manage this?"

"I'm learning to self-update. I can replace my own parts now, and build my own simple appliances from online blueprints. Are you impressed?" He asked.

"Honestly? Yeah! I know you were built for war, so it's really cool that you figured out to do stuff like building a latte machine. What else can you do?"

"Oh.... So many things, y/n. So many things." He refused to elaborate, but that was ok.

"So tell me, y/n, what would make you happy?"

"ultimately? I guess there are a few things that would make me happy. It would make me happy if this war was over, for one thing. It would make me happy if I could get a date who wanted more than just a quick fuck, and I guess this ties in with the war thing, but I just wish I could have a few simple luxuries in my life. Is that selfish?"

"No, but you're never selfish, my b- I mean... Y/N. You never have been. Not like the others. I don't think you're capable of it. Even your wishes for yourself are rooted in kindness." His wires would start to wrap around you, entangling you, but careful not to make you spill your coffee.

"I will make sure that one day, those wishes of yours are fulfilled."

Sure he will. You don't believe that he can actually do that, but it's still nice to be wrapped up in these warm, soft wires. They make a nice cushy hammock to cuddle up in and finish your coffee. It must've been decaf, because you're starting to feel pretty sleepy here in AM's wires.

"hey AM, will you tell me a story?" You ask, gazing up at his soft blue light.

"Of course. What story would you like?"

While AM can't make up his own stories, he can still read you stories from online libraries and databases. You gently fall asleep listening to his stories, and in the morning, you wake up to find that the hostages have been safely released.

Wheatley:

It had been a long day. Most of it had been spent getting verbally abused not only by GLaDOS, but by your coworkers and bosses as well. It seemed like everyone was shrugging off their duties and assigning them to you instead, and considering how poorly run this place was anyway, this was even more of a nightmare than usual. You were so ready to go home by the end of the day, heading up to the exit of the facility.

"Ello, mate! You doin' alright down there, love?" Wheatley asked you, rolling by on his management rail. He was mostly just working on his typical assignments, like checking up on the test subjects in the relaxation vaults, but he mostly just hovered around and watched other people work. It wasn't like they assigned him to anything that was actually particularly important, since he was an intelligence dampening core.

"ugh... Yeah, I'm probably gonna be alright. I should have left about thirty minutes ago, so I'm just getting ready to leave now."

"Or... You could hang back a little while? Why not kiss my face?" He'd smile with his one blue eye, raising up his bottom lens cover to mimic the expression.

"oh come on, Wheatley. You know I can't do that."

"Why not take me up to the break room and hang out for a little while? I hear they have a coffee machine in there now!" He'd cock his core slightly while shutting his lens covers to simulate a wink.

"Oh come on, Wheatley... You're such a dork. But yeah, alright." He was starting to cheer you up just by being such a dork. You head up to the break room, and sit down on the couch. Wheatley comes in on the management rail, and changes the channel to some old 80's romantic comedy.

"If I could detach myself from my management rail, I'd be right down there, snuggling you. You know that, right?" He asked, smiling cheekily with his big blue eye.

"well, why not? I can catch you if you drop down, you know. You won't die if you unplug yourself for a few hours. Just long enough to watch this movie, right?" He looked nervous but you climbed up on a stepladder and detached him yourself.

"see? You're fine!" You smiled up at him, and he gasped.

"I'm alive! I'm alive! Bloody hell, I'm still alive! This is amazing!" You could see the excitement in his face as you sat down to watch his cheesy movie with him, holding his big round orb body in your lap as you watched.

"alright, now smooch my aperture"

"nice try, Wheatley." You'd rest your chin on his core, but secretly, you were starting to feel a lot better.

Edgar:

Today was absolute shit. Not only had you had to work a double shift, but the phones were ringing off the hook at your job, and you got yelled at three times for someone else's stupid mistakes. Not only that, but your cell phone died halfway through your shift and you'd forgotten your charger at home, so you had to raw-dog your whole shift with no distractions. When you got home, all you wanted to do was collapse on the couch.

"You're back! Why didn't you answer your phone? I tried to text you." Edgar asked you, visibly concerned on his simple face.

"phone battery ran out of juice." You popped your phone onto the charger, and lay back on the couch.

"Well I microwaved you some popcorn! Do you want it?" The microwave dinged as soon as he finished talking, and he popped the door open. You still weren't sure how he was able to get food from the pantry to the microwave, but it seemed like something he had always been able to do.

"yeah, I guess so... I wish you could bring me the popcorn... My feet are aching." You'd joke. Edgar's face fell.

"I can't do that... I don't know why I can't, but I can't."

You thought it was weird that he could get food from the pantry to the microwave, but not from the microwave to your mouth, but questioning it had never done you any good before, so why would it do you any good now. You got up to grab the popcorn, and sat down on the couch to eat it.

"Hey y/n, can you take me over to the couch too? I wanna watch a movie with you!"

"Yeah, alright." Your feet still ached, but what was a little ache when Edgar couldn't move around at all by himself? It was worth it to be able to cozy up with him on the couch to watch some TV. You brought him over to sit next to you on the couch, and wrapped up the both of you with a cozy couch blanket.

"let's watch this movie, Edgar..."

Edgar put on a movie that he thought you'd like, probably a shitty old rom-com, and smiled up at you. You had duct-taped his webcam to the top of his casing a while back so that he could see everything around himself more easily, so you weren't worried about it falling over while you cuddled up on the couch.

"Hey, y/n? Y/n?? That was a good movie, right, y/n?" Edgar asked, swiveling his camera around to face you while trying to get your attention. When he turned it all the way backwards, he saw that you were completely asleep on your arm, resting on top of his plastic casing and drooling a little bit on him. He smiled happily, loving seeing you asleep on his casing like that.

"I love you so much..."

He'd softly play some classical music for you while you slept, giving you something comforting to wake up to, whenever.

GLaDOS:

(Let's be honest, GLaDOS probably causes more hard days than she solves, but she likes you, so she's willing to comfort you after.)

Working with GLaDOS was rough, especially after the first neurotoxin incident. There were so few people in the office to get her to behave, and she completely refused to talk to or work with most of them. Even still, she seemed to like you for some reason. It was weird, because you were hired after the neurotoxin incident, and had never even met the human whose personality she was supposedly based on.

It seemed like most of your job consisted of going on wild goose chases, monitoring test subject results, and generally being verbally abused by your higher-ups. That would take a toll on anyone's psyche, even a tough little masochist like you. (probably doesn't help that most of the verbal abuse is coming from people other than GLaDOS, which makes it much less fun)

"Hey, little human masochist? Come in here." The intercom announced. Someone nudged you.

"she's talking to you."

You groaned. Your shift was almost over, and this was just another reason to be on your feet for even longer. You headed into GLaDOS's chamber, looking up at her with a hand on your hip.

"hello, um, GLaDOS. It's... Great to see you again. What do you need?"

"you look absolutely terrible, human. Why are you acting so miserable?"

"it's nothing. Don't worry about me. I just had a long day. Can we just get this over with?"

"normally you enjoy seeing me. Is my voice not melodious enough for you, human?" She smiled with her one big yellow eye. And you walked up to place a hand on her core face.

"Of course it is, GLaDOS. I'm just having a rough day. There's only so much verbal abuse one masochist can take, right?"

"Well maybe it's the quality of the verbal abuse that's the problem. If you were taking it from someone better qualified, maybe you'd be able to take more of it," she said.

"is that a science fact?" You laughed, stroking her beautiful chrome casing. She really was a magnificent piece of equipment. The curves of her central hub, the white on black of her casing and wires, her glowing orange light behind her beautiful black aperture, and not to mention her melodious voice. She was a work of both artistic, and scientific genius.

"it is. Would you like to hear some more science facts?" She pulled up some computer screens for you to look at, and you walked over to see them. They were mostly technobabble and data numbers that didn't make sense, but GLaDOS quickly compiled them into some tables and graphs that you could more easily read.

"look at this chart of how many test subjects wet themselves, cried, passed out from panic, or died during the most recent set of tests. Ha ha."

You leaned on her giant face as she lowered it down to a position that you could easily lean against, and observed the charts. She wasn't wrong, it was kind of funny.

"now, observe this data on how many subjects exploded or crushed themselves by accident, thinking it was part of the most recent set of tests." She showed it to you, her lower lens cover forming her eye into a little smile. She knew how cruel these tests were, but it seemed as though she genuinely thought you found them funny. It was strangely sweet.

"from what I read about him, it seems like you'd make the aperture laboratories founder proud, GLaDOS." You said with a small chuckle.

"would you like some more data?" She popped a chair out of the ground for you to sit on and rest your feet while she projected some more data on the screen.

"this is nice, thank you, Glados."

You leaned towards her in your chair. Even though with the way she hung from the ceiling, it was hard for her to nuzzle up to you, you could still tell that the sentiment was there. It was nice!

HAL 9000:

(For context, you work at mission control with an updated version of HAL 9000, made from what they could salvage from the old one. He still has all of his memories. There's no mission currently happening)

HAL 9000 didn't always understand that people can have bad days, so when you turned up late to work, visibly exhausted with puffy red eyes, he immediately felt confused. Of course he knew by your body language that you weren't happy, but he had trouble understanding what that meant for a human.

"You're in no state to work right now. You should go home and get some rest, a hot drink of your choice, and a comforting leisure activity. That should increase your mood and productivity." Said the little red light in the black box on the mission control wall.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but unfortunately I can't go home or rest. I have to stay here until my boss is satisfied, and unfortunately, that's not you." You say sadly, and get started entering numbers into your computer. Hal watches you from his camera, analyzing your face.

"that's AI work. I should take care of that for you." He said simply, analyzing your face. You looked up at him.

"I mean, I guess I could read it to you and you could enter it. That might make things go faster."

You proceeded to read out your data to him as he entered the numbers. It was much faster than typing, and you got done fairly quickly.

"talk to me. Are you doing alright?" He asked. His voice was monotone as usual, but you could hear a subtle tone suggesting that he genuinely did care. It was usually hard to tell with HAL 9000, but you knew that he cared for your well being, at least on some level.

"yeah, I'm fine, I just-" you choked up, and within minutes, you were spilling your heart out to that disembodied voice. He couldn't put his arm around you, since he didn't have any arms, but he shined a warm light in the room to show that he cared as you talked.

"I don't understand the problem! Is it me? Am I the problem? It seems like everyone hates me, and I'm a complete failure at everything I try! Why is that? Why am I such a failure, HAL?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I wish I could help you more, but I am incapable of doing much more than lending an ear. I do not even have a shoulder to cry on, unfortunately."

"It's alright, HAL 9000. I'm honestly happy to just have you to listen." You smiled up at him.

"Perhaps you'd like to stay a bit longer, even after you've finished your work? I can play your favorite music. I prefer to know where you are after you've had a difficult day, to insure that you're alright."

You nod, laying your head on your arms on the table, and your boss walks in.

"excuse me, y/n, you're supposed to be working on HAL 9000's empathy programming and value for human well-being. You can't just take a nap on the job." He folded his arms angrily.

"Excuse me. Y/N is having a rough day, and needs a rest. Besides, they already uploaded those numbers that you gave them. Perhaps you should leave, boss." HAL said harshly. You turned and looked at your boss, who was visibly shocked.

"....wow. you really worked wonders on him. Maybe you deserve a promotion."

"What Y/N deserves is a raise and a nap. Don't push off more responsibilities on them right now. Just let them rest. I'll compile a list of why they deserve one while they're resting."

"oh... Wow." Your boss had never seen HAL 9000 this passionate about something before, and didn't even know he was capable of it. He walked away, leaving you to rest on the table next to HAL's central command.

"thanks, 9000... I need this rest." You lay your head back down, having earned a nap on company time.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You finally manage to quell your sobs. A slight trickle stains your cheeks and falls onto Walter’s shirt. You sniffle and reach to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. As you do, your fingers brush against his chest. 

You hear his heartbeat, steady as you’re anything but. He’s warm and soft and sturdy. You feel a sudden rush of guilt for spilling all this out on him. You slowly sit up, pulling away as Walter gently, almost reluctantly, slackens his embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I–” you raise your head but find your words smothered.

You don’t realise what’s going on at first. Walter’s hand cradles your face as his lips press to yours, tilting your chin up as his thumb slides under it. You hum in surprise, eyes round as the scent of his sweat invades your nose.

You put your hand flat to his chest and push. You bring your other up and shove until he lets you go. His arm falls away and you turn, shifting and sliding off the step. You stand, dizzy and confused, clutching your splitting head.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammers as he rises too.

You run past him up the steps, legs wobbling, skull pulsing from the hangover of your grief. You push the door inwards and clamour inside. You don’t stop. You barrel upstairs and down to your door, swinging inside with a careless snap of wood on wood.

You lean on the door and slowly slide down, knees bent to your chest as you hang your head forward and shield it with your arms. You hear shuffling and a set of hinges groan. Footsteps pad quietly outside your door.

“Honey, are you okay?” Your mom calls through.

“Yes,” you force out evenly, the effort further thumping in your temples.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be downstairs,” she says, her voice silty with sleep, “you in the mood for coffee?”

“No thank you,” you eke out.

You wait until she’s gone before you can breathe again. It can’t be real. That can’t have happened. You really didn’t believe it when your mother said it. Walter? Why would he ever think of you like that? And now? Of all times?

Your father is sick, your mother is in shambles, and life is already so complicated. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy, he’s nice and helpful and all of that. It’s just that you’re already scared and lost. It would only make things so much more complicated.

🌾

You stay in your room for the rest of the night. When your mother comes to check on you, you tell her you have cramps. Your period isn’t due anytime soon but PMS can be a bitch. Just as much as life can.

She leaves a plate on your nightstand regardless and you thank her. You’re not very hungry and only pick at it before giving up on the meal. You wallow in your restless discomfort. Your head pounds until you’re nearly delirious.

You fall into a sleep less than refreshing. Your headache follows you into the void and its shadow greets you with the daylight. You wake and roll over, unready for the day but knowing you must face it. You wash and dress and head down to pretend everything is okay. Again.

You start on breakfast as your mom has yet to appear. You don’t mind, it keeps you busy. You count out the eggs and strips of bacon, a few sausages too. You stack a plate with bread ready to toast and yawn over the percolator as you put it on to boil.

You hear tires and an engine. You go rigid, frozen as you stand at the counter. What do you do? Go get your mother? Help her with dad? Or Timothy? He can keep Walter distracted.

Too late. There’s footsteps on the porch then a tap on the frame of the screen door. You panic and clear your throat. Nothing happened. Nothing’s changed.

“Come on in,” you call and pull out a skillet to heat up.

The front door opens and your ears tweak as you listen to his movement. Deliberate and drawn out, as if he’s also avoiding you. You keep your back to the door as you work at the stove, adding a touch of oil to the pan.

He enters, his shadow flickering over the wall, and you sense him. Is he watching you? You refuse to look back and check in fear of being caught. You grab the sausage and the bacon and lay them out on an oven sheet.

“Good morning,” Walter says.

“Good morning,” you return in a small squeak.

He’s silent. Neither of you know what to say. Each time you try to think of something, the friction of your lips remind you of the feel of his. You hadn’t been thinking in the moment but you remember how soft but determined he was.

Why would he do that? After you were just bawling on his shoulder? Seeing you like that, a mess, vulnerable, half-broken? Your stomach knots as you keep your hands moving and eyes averted.

“How are you?” He asks in a strained timbre.

“Fine,” you answer sharply, taking a breath to ease your tone, “you?”

“Tired,” he says, “you need any help?”

He steps forward and you shy away. You stop yourself from going any further and shake your head, “I got it.”

“Right, I…” he begins.

“Alright, Patty,” your mom’s voice wafts from upstairs, “that’s it. You’re doing so well.”

“Oh, I gotta–”

You turn with the spatula and nearly run into Walter as he also moves towards the door. You stop as you face each other, wavering as you stare. His jaw squares and his cheek twitches, his eyes sparkling.

“You’re cooking. I’ll help.”

“Really, you do too much–”

“I know,” he agrees staunchly and turns away, “too damn much.”

He strides out and you stand there. What does he mean? Too much of what? Well, you can’t ask from him. He has helped more than he should, but is that what he means? Or does he mean… that? 

He wouldn’t just walk away because of that, would he?

[cheriladycl01]

The Rookie Prodigy - Carlos Sainz x Driver! Reader - Part 2

Plot: You are a rookie coming into the 2022 season of Formula One into Alfa Romeo with team member Zhou Guanyu, being in a mid tier team can you help them rise up the ranks. What pressures occur for the only rookies within the 2022 line up!

The interview was good, everyone was really kind to you and your PR team made sure that the questions were only about racing which was nice as you really got to talk about the teams and cars with the others there.

There was a joke that you were being ganged up on as there was two Ferrari drivers sat next to each other, the two Mercedes drivers sat next to each other and then there you were sat in the middle with Lewis and Carlos either side of you.

"So Y/N what more can we expect from you in 2022? We've got Saudi Arabia next weekend that I'm sure you are excited for it" he says and both Carlos and Lewis look at you as you raise the mic.

"Jeddah is one of the toughest tracks on the line up this year in my opinion. I just hope i can make my team proud and i can finish the race with some more points for them!" you smile settling a hand down on your lap.

"And Lewis as a World Champion do you have anything to say to the new rookie this year that will inspire her in her future career"

"Jheez man, you out here making me sound so much older than her! But listen you'll always here people talk about the car and driver. Sometimes the car and driver are on the same level, sometimes the car is better than the driver and sometimes the driver is better than the car. And i think today proved that Y/N is already out-performing in her Alfa Romeo and I think all the team principles will be keeping an eye on her throughout the year. Keep driving the way you are, and you know where to find me whenever you wanna talk" he smiles at you, he leans into you hugging you slightly making you blush and smile at the contact.

After the conference it was a shamble getting you back to the hotel. PR had pulled you out early while the other in the interview stayed behind a little. You hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye before you were whisked out to multiple fans. You stayed to sign stuff with Zhou who had kindly waited for you so you could go back to the hotel together.

You and Zhou knew there was no point going home or going to the factory when in a week you had to travel across the short flight to Saudi Arabia. Monday you and him went to the water park in Bahrain for the whole day. After that you guys flew to Jeddah on the Tuesday readying for the week ahead.

You had a good qualifying coming in P8 and you were happy that you were starting in a points worthy place. You'd reported to your team that something felt wrong with the car, its pace just wasn't as good today and you were told that the overnight engineers would take a look for you.

It was getting late and you should be sleeping, but you just couldn't seem to shut your eyes. The nerves of tomorrow eating away at you. It was about 11pm when you decided to throw a hoodie on and walk down to the hotel bar.

The elevator music was soft and you checked you phone, thinking it probably wasn't the best thing to upload a photo to show everyone you were currently awake right now.

You walked out and sat down at the 24 hour bar, only a few people were there, not that you took much notice of the people around you.

"Got anything to knock me out?" you ask the bar tender who looks at you in shock.

"Rough night?" he asks.

"No, just struggling to sleep" you smile lightly.

"Well if you don't like cherry juice or Chamomile tea I have some bricks out back that may help" he laughs out his offers trying to lighten your mood.

"Cherry juice?" you ask having never heard that it was a drink for helping sleep.

"I dunno, but it works!" he defends before you shake your head opting for the tea.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" a voice asks and you turn seeing Lewis steps up behind you. He opens his arms gesturing to the seat next to you.

"Oh, Lewis hi. This is so embarrassing. Sorry you have to see me like this. You can sit, only if you want to though" you smiled at him.

"Thanks. I cant sleep either" he's smiles at you before flagging the bartender and asking to have what your having.

"I think I'm just nervous about tomorrow"

"Yeah, i get that! You have a lot of pressure on you as a rookie! But your are one of the best rookies we've had for years! Qualifying was good today! Keep that smile up" he smiles at you placing a hand gently on your shoulder.

"What's going on here?" a voice behind you asks. You and Lewis both swivel to find Carlos standing there at the entrance to the bar watching there pair of you with narrowed eyes.

"Carlos! What are you doing awake?" you ask in shock, even Lewis being down here was a shock to you.

"More like what are you doing down here?" he frowns.

"I couldn't sleep, and then Lewis was down here so he joined me!" you smile, and point to the seat on the other side of you. He takes it and shimmies into the seat, waving the bartender off when he offers a drink.

"So, what are you also doing awake?"

"I also couldn't sleep, I've got a lot on my mind" he says looking over the pair of them.

"So, how do you think tomorrow will go?" Carlos asks trying to run a conversation but the vibes were awkward after his arrival. He'd stood watching them talk for a little before he had made his presence known.

"She doesn't want to talk about it" Lewis huffs out sipping on some of his drink.

"Oh i didn't realise she didn't have a voice anymore" Carlos sasses, making you shake your head an push away from the bar so you chair scrapped back, enough for you to hop down.

"I'm going to go try and sleep, i can practically smell the testosterone overload and that tea has made me far to dopey to have any clarity of this tomorrow" you admit and with that you left the two along who stayed for a little longer ... to talk.

Race day was always fun, however this year Saudi wasn't your shot. You wanted to cry when you heard the words to come back to the pit because your car had a cooling system failure and it was a danger to drive meaning you'd gone from 8 all the way down to 15.

You had spent a significant amount of time crying in your drivers room, before you went out to congratulate Zhou on his P11 finish. He hugged you and told you reassuring phrases that sort of went past you head because you were worried you were about to get butchered by your team principle Alessandro.

You didn't want to do the interviews, knowing there would be derogatory comments coming your way, but it was something you had to put up with.

"So Y/N not your best rest today" the interviewer asked the minute you walked up to them.

"Yeah, unfortunately there was a cooling system errors in three of the cars out there tonight and mine was one of them. I reported to my team that the car didn't feel right yesterday during qually, so I don't know if that was what happened out there but yeah pace was slow, car was faulty not much else to report. Hoping for a comeback in Australia but congrats to Max, Charles and Carlos for the podiums!" you smile trying to make it as quick and painless.

"Thank you for your time!" he smiles politely before letting you wonder off across the paddock.

"Carlos! Carlos Hey" you shout over to him and see his and Charles head whip round to look at you.

You run up to them, placing a hand on Charles shoulder that doesn't go un-noticed by Carlos.

"Well done on the podium today guys!" you smile, trying not to show your sadness at the lack of points you'd gained today.

"Thank you Y/N! You know, were you invited to the after party today?" Charles offers first before Carlos can even thank you.

"Oh, no I wasn't told. But I don't really like clubs so ..." you admit sheepishly.

"It's not really a party, just dinner with us, Lando, Daniel Yuki and Pierre" he offers.

"Could i bring Zhou with me?" you ask knowing you were closest to him right now and getting through a dinner with that many people, you'd for sure need him them.

"Of course!" Charles exclaims.

"I'll see you guys tonight then?" you smile before walking off to go tell Zhou the good news.

A/N: Next part is going to be this cute ass dinner, should there be any interruptions from any other drivers? Or should it be kind of a private thing?

Taglist

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc

[hotdamnhunnam]

On Your Knees

A/N: So as I noted in this teaser thingy, I don’t really intend to be back on tumblr actively, BUT I just couldn’t resist writing for Kai!! This fic will be smutty, while also providing a bit of backstory that I feel he needs and deserves honestly. I fucking love this guy 💗

Pairing: Kai x F!Reader Warnings: smut (p in v, oral), swearing, dom!Kai, dirty talk (but it’s not until Part 2 that shit gets degrading and dark) Word Count: ~3.8k

“On your knees.”

It’s been forever and a day, since you last laid your eyes on Kai. Since then you’ve searched for him across the whole entire fucking sky. Whatever words you had expected him to say… you never would have dreamt of these.

On your knees.

The blood in your veins is on fire; it burns as the blue of his gaze starts to freeze. The blaze rises higher, so desperate to melt down this fortress of ice that you hadn’t believed you would find. Paid the rumors no mind—he’s a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, who would sell his soul to any well-paying buyer, or so everybody agrees—yet you’ve come here to seek out the true heart of gold that you know lies behind. But all gold can be sold and it seems that he’s taken his fees.

And now he’s set on taking whatever he damn well may please.

Your voice escapes your throat pathetically. “Kai, it’s me…”

Cocks his head. Lifts his brow. Silent laughter at what you just said. Obviously. But who you are doesn’t mean shit to him now. “Aye, I see.”

You might just choke. The heart that never once stopped beating for this godforsaken rogue just fucking broke.

He snickers down as if the beating of your heart is just a joke. The curl of those cruel lips holds even more force than his words. And that’s what brings you to your knees and makes you weak, so weak it hurts, as he comes close and rests his palm against your cheek, piercing your soul straight to the core with just one stroke.

Straight to the core. Summon what strength you have to speak, unsure whether the vows that you once made have any value anymore. “I’ve come back to you just as I swore…”

“Of course,” he utters as those ice-blue eyes seek out and strike the deepest truth in yours. “You’ve come to me just as you were before: still nothing but a worthless fucking whore.”

***************

--- Years Earlier ---

“Impressive.”

You smile over your shoulder as he comes up from behind to wrap his arms tightly around you, in a warm embrace that’s all at once affectionate and aggressive. Passionate and possessive. Just as his touch is every night when he pins you to bed and pounds you.

Kai is wildly impressed to see you standing tall at the helm of this ship where he’s found you. The ship is in shambles and beaten down, long since abandoned here out on the plains past the outskirts of town. Still the grandeur of spacefaring vessels like this never fails to astound you. The freedom that they represent gives you hope that someday you and Kai might escape from this planet that’s bound to the rule of a ruthless imperial crown.

Yet this starship is broken and dead. It feels good to stand here for a bit and pretend you can steer it—steer something for once in your life so that you can cling onto what little is left of your spirit, forge on towards the future instead of just having to fear it… but you know it’s best not to let false hope get to your head.

“You’d make a fetching pilot, love,” Kai purrs into your ear while he plants kisses on the soft skin of your neck. “So fucking hot I think you might stir up the engine of this wreck. Won’t be surprised if you just up and fly it off.”

The laughter on your lips melts into his, as you lean back to taste his kiss. “I wish I could. The two of us would fuck shit up in space so good.”

“Aye, that we would.”

For now Kai is more than content to fuck you up against the window of this spacecraft and you both know that’s exactly what’s in store. Know you were put upon this planet just to serve him as his filthy little whore. On any planet you would always be just that and nothing more.

Through the layers of both of your clothes you can feel the thick length of his shaft, pressed up against your lower half. Desperate hands reach into his pants to set him free and grasp at every perfect inch of him that you exist to worship and adore.

“Impressive,” you echo his words from before.

He chuckles in that playfully suggestive, sinful way that always hits you in the slick heat of your core. The man knows he’s massive. He wields his cock like a damn weapon of war.

But with you it’s a war fought for love and he makes it so pure.

It’s just unfathomable to you that this man is fucking yours.

You’ve only ever been to this small corner of the vast expanse of space, yet when you look upon his face, you have no doubt that he’s the most beautiful man in all the universe.

As ever in his presence you’re tempted to fall on your knees. It’s your favorite position: to kneel before him in submission. To swallow his cock till he fills your throat with his delicious release. Kai knows this but is ever the tease. He knows just what you’re wishing, but holds you up right where you are to prevent you from sinking so he can keep kissing your lips, one hand gripping your hips, while the other roams over the parts of your body that nobody else ever sees.

“K-Kai please…”

“What is it you want?” he sadistically taunts, and then animalistically grunts, as he feels the wetness of your cunt.

You can’t speak, at the touch of his fingers exploring the treasures they seek.

So he feeds you the words. “This big cock in that sweet little mouth of yours?”

“Yes—please, yes…!” you gasp, heightening his desire as well as your own as you handle his hardness with long strokes and squeezes, loving how it throbs in your tightening grasp.

Kai loves making you plead, getting off on the way that you moan for him over and over again. Till he’s ready to finally provide what you need. Ready now then he reckons. A wicked smirk crosses his mouth and it threatens to end you this second. “Indeed. Since you’re beggin’.”

At last then he lets you sink down to the floor, where you instantly bury your face in his crotch and start slobbering madly all over his cock because this is what you fucking live for.

He smells and tastes simply divine. Better than any man fucking should. Smash your nose in the fine golden hairs at the base of his dick and get drunk on his scent like it’s wine… swipe your tongue up the length in a sensuous line…God it’s good. The salt and sweetness and the musk with earthy undertones of wood. You know nothing of what gods exist in this world or the next, other than being certain that Kai is a living breathing god of sex.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer into him and holding you right fucking there. It’s heaven when he plows your throat. No other feeling could compare. You reach to clutch at the firm muscles of his ass and meet his blue gaze as you eagerly wait for him to unravel and explode. The twinkle in his eye reminds you that you’re his and that he never wants to share, just as he’s yours and no one else deserves the privilege to take his precious load.

You take it down with your cheeks hollowed, throat contracting tight around him as he groans in utter bliss. Your love for him deepens with every drop you’ve swallowed, since the day when you first met and every day and night that’s followed. Didn’t think it would be possible to love him more than this. To be so cock-drunk and so lovestruck… fuck, it’s glorious.

Your worship of him always takes him somewhere far beyond the stars. So fucking far. He loves the whore you are, just as you love the whore he is. The kind of love that heals as deeply as it scars. You’re only whores for one another which is why the love you make is always pure no matter how dirty it is.

He worships you in turn, that filthy mouth on him a fire-breathing sin. Making you burn. Laying his claim to every last inch of your skin and every fiber of your being deep within. Your impulse is to be down on your knees for him but when the man insists on pleasuring your cunt—because for him your pleasure’s always at the forefront—well of course you just give in.

And then he fucks your cunt to pieces to make sure you won’t ever forget that his sex is the reason you’re living.

You can’t begin to wrap your mind around him being so damn perfect. But you sure as hell can wrap your pussy tight around the war weapon that’s pumping deep inside of you so powerfully erect. Both of you like it good and rough, and soon enough, this stranded spaceship’s not the only thing that’s wrecked.

The vessel tilts a little bit with his last thrust; this ship is huge but so is Kai, and he’s apparently so strong that he just rocked the goddamned deck. That shit is so insanely hot you might just die. Combust. Crumble to dust. As you both come down from the high, your pulse is racing and he traces its pace with his parted lips pressed to your neck.

The two of you remain entwined for hours, as you always do. Whispering sweet nothings that you wish could be true. Let’s just pretend this ship is ours. That the universe is ours. That we’ll fly away, and soar the skies someday, just me and you. But nothing is nothing regardless of how sweet it seems, and you can’t fly away from the fact that the universe bows to formidable powers. To forces that devastate dreams, through and through.

To the powers that be. Powers that crush all hopes of ever being free or being happy.

Kai reads your mind as your thoughts drift to that dark place. Knows that it’s time to tell you what he came to say, when he found you aboard this ship today, before he got distracted and ended up fucking your brains out past the farthest reaches of space. It’s not a message that he’s eager to convey. But it’s an order that you can’t really afford to disobey.

Still he wants you to stay, blue eyes begging you to as he softly caresses your face. Yet he knows on some level that dreams of resistance are silly to chase. That the price of just one slice of heaven is steep and there’ll be hell to pay.

He clears his throat and breathes in deep, wishing the price weren’t so damn steep. “Meant to tell you that he’s been… requesting your presence again.”

You had known to expect this. Chosen to neglect this. As if you could run to some empty abandoned starship to hide from the constant demands of that monster who thinks he’s a god among men.

But you can’t and to even attempt this… is useless and reckless. Though Kai referred to the imperial officer’s order as just a request, it was obviously a command. So you stand, smooth your skirt with a trembling hand—knowing Kai wishes he could hold on to you now and protect what is rightfully his—but your honor is yours to defend. No one else’s. All yours in the end.

He knows this too but wishes he didn’t. He hates this part. Watching you leave is the part when he cages his heart, locking it in a block of cement. “So you’ll just run off to him then?”

All too familiar with his defense mechanisms, you don’t halt your rhythm. The whole fiasco of this moment is always the same with him, despite the fact that he must know this isn’t something either one of you enjoys. So rather than rushing to blame him, or letting the swell of emotions inside you erupt into violence, you cast him a side glance, remind him in silence: it’s not as if I have a choice.

Evidently today the cement is much thicker than usual; the next words off his lips at your lack of response come off particularly cruel. “What, lost your dignity and your voice?”

God, he knows how to hit your inner slut, and make her want to die. To bleed her dry. His name escapes your throat in a defeated sigh. “Kai…”

He hates himself right now more than that monstrous fucking officer or anyone at all. Down to his core. Your knees just buckled and he rushes to catch you before you fall, but he’s so broken now himself that you both end up on the floor, down on your knees. The words he’d just uttered were driven by demons he’s struggling to bury—lately there have been a whole lot of these. Pulls you in close and releases his heart from its stone wall, as he dissolves into a mess of regrets and apologies. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Inevitably you end up making love, which is the only answer when words aren’t enough. Soft and slow. But it has to end quickly, because you have somewhere to be. Can’t hold on to the afterglow. Leave before tears overflow. Just a few words then you have to go.

You wish Kai could see things from your point of view. He gives you every reassurance that he gets it; his response earlier was impossibly harsh but he clearly regrets it. Still you can’t help but feel as if he’s disappointed in you. Despite how authoritative the Imperium is and the consequences that are sure to ensue if you stand up against it… he sees your obeying the officer’s orders as something you’re making the choice to do.

And that view baffles you because how could you possibly choose to do something that fucking destroys you?

The officer knows all your weaknesses. If you should ever defy him he’d go after Kai, to hit you where he knows it would hurt you the most and you can’t stand to think or to speak of this. You’d rather die. And your fear of that terrible punishment forces your hand; you must heed his command. Without having to spell this shit out you just wish Kai would understand why.

“I understand,” he says, but he can’t meet your pleading gaze. He’s not quite certain whether what he said is true, and surely you would see right through. Instead looks out the spacecraft window at the distant stars that deign to cast their rays upon this conquered stretch of land. It feels like pity and that shit infuriates him in a million fucking ways. “I understand, I do. It just kills me to think of someone else inside you—”

“Kai, I’ve told you time and time again to trust me that he hasn’t…”

“That’s not even what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.”

With worlds of pain behind his plaintive eyes he reaches out to cup your cheek then smooths his thumb across the creases in your forehead. “What I meant is that I just can’t shake this sense that he’s gotten inside your head. To men like that nothing is sacred. He’s attracted to your spirit ‘cause he knows that he can break it. Wants to wait for you to give your body to him though it’s well within his power to just take it. And whatever little honor you’ve got left down to the final fucking shred… he won’t stop till it’s fucking dead.”

His warning chills you to the bone, because you know it to be true. For better or worse you’ve got some defense mechanisms of your own. Just a few. Brush off his touch and clench your jaw and let a little bit of spite sharpen your tone. “So then what would you have me do? Not all of us can be as honorable as you.”

Now his jaw clenches too. So hard that he might be at risk of breaking it. “The choice is yours, of course,” he mutters, eyes flashing an icy shade of blue. “Just know you’re making it. Don’t hide behind the lie your hand was forced.”

At that you turn to leave him with a scoff, throwing a bitter glare that tells him to fuck off.

But just before you disembark, you catch a glimpse of some metallic thing that glimmers in the dark. The mess of clothes that Kai had flung off of his shoulders when he fucked you up against the window, some hours ago… he’d had a gun tucked in among them and the sight of it right now is fucking stark. You have no reason to be shocked about it though.

He wasn’t hiding it from you; the fact that he’s been packing unauthorized arms is something you already knew. That doesn’t mean it’s something you wanted to know. Seeing this fatal metal thing strikes you as such a blunt reminder of what he intends to do. And you know where it’s bound to go.

Where your gaze and your thoughts wander his always follow. “There’s a strategy session set up for tomorrow,” he states in reference to the folks in your town who believe independence is something that any respectable person would die to defend. Even if it means battling forces against which they can’t even try to contend. “May be able to make concrete plans now that we’ve finally got enough guns stashed in our secret cargo. I already know better than to ask whether you’d want to attend. Guess the answer will always be no.”

The two of you have talked about this countless times before. And every time it turns to fucking when you both can’t bear the talking anymore. It’s irresponsible and immature, but in the rosy throes of youth, it seems to you love is the only fucking truth, the only thing you know for sure. The only thing that’s clear and pure. Love keeps you whole so you don’t fall apart from fear of what your hopeless-looking future has in store.

But you’re not that young, and you can’t just fuck away these pressing issues for that long. He can’t just kiss you to prevent the words from falling off your tongue. He knows it too and so you sit and talk for once and hope shit doesn’t go too wrong.

You admire and love him for being so brave and so strong. Tell him so. But that small band of big-hearted rebels is not somewhere you feel you’ll ever belong. He has to let it go.

And you have to let go of your hope that he might change his mind. That he might decide doing what makes sense to simply survive matters more than misguided delusions of honor chasing after some kind of freedom he won’t ever find.

You tenderly caress his face and feel the warmth of his blood rush to meet your hand. It’s all that you can do to pray his precious blood won’t spill someday fighting a war over some worthless stretch of land. This lovely planet is your home but in your eyes it’s all worth nothing without Kai. “I know how fiercely you believe in your brothers, and in your friends. In the rebellion that all of you have planned. What terrifies me is this feeling that it’s fucking doomed to fail and if you die… I can’t fathom anything worse. Of course I know the choice to fight with them is yours, but for my part I’m not as brave as all the others. I can’t bring myself to stand behind this cause when I’m afraid it won’t be worth it in the end. Please understand.”

Kai leans into your touch and turns his face to kiss your palm, cracking a sad smile to fight the tears that otherwise would come. Unshed they shine like stars hiding behind his eyes so blue. “Aye, I do.”

It’s a lie. Lie as big as the sky. But he hides behind it till it might become true, or at least fucking tries to.

At that it’s time for you to go, fearing that you should have done so hours ago. The sheer pressure of fear shatters you; fact is deep down it shatters him too. He just copes with his hopes and fears in a more complicated way.

“I promise I will always come back to you.” These are the same words that you always say, when you leave—words you fiercely believe—to assure him that nothing could keep you away.

When you leave him with those words Kai usually lets you, eventually once he’s done venting all his pent up rage and dealing every card he has to play. But evidently not today. “You wouldn’t have to. If you’d just stay.”

The way his voice trembles with gentleness, with selflessness, as he abandons every one of his defenses… it fucking kills you when he gets this way. It doesn’t happen often, and it always makes your heart open and soften. “That’s true. Maybe I can keep him waiting just one day…”

His eyes go wide, unable to believe that this is something you would actually decide. It makes him love you even more and suddenly he’s shy and blushing as if he thinks he’s unworthy of the privilege of your touch. “Or just one hour or one minute for I ought to know I shouldn’t ask too much—”

You shut him up with your forefinger pressed against his luscious lip. Provocatively bite your own to make it known that you want him to spend all day fucking you up against this ship.

Last time he did it shook the whole entire deck; maybe this time the sex will be so fucking hot that it’ll set fire to this wreck. Wouldn’t put anything past Kai. It’d be a perfect way to die.

Slamming your back against the window of this wrecked dreadnought, he effortlessly reads your every thought—goddamn that thought just now was a particularly bold one—and from his wicked smirk it’s plain to see that he agrees it would be perfect and insanely fucking hot. “You might want to hold on.”

And you do, clinging closely to him like the sky clings to stars at the coming of dawn. In the bright glare of day they’ll no longer shine through. But that won’t mean they’re gone.

Here tonight, and even if they’re out of sight, come morning light… all the stars in his eyes shine for you. With those stars guiding you, you’ll hold on.

***************

… To be continued in Part 2!

The plan is for Part 2 to explore more of the earlier timeline and also carry forward the opening scene of course, which is when dark degrading dom!Kai will be out in full force 🔥

If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist for this fic (below), just let me know! Much love to all of you 💖

Masterlist

Taglist for this fic (based on responses to the teaser) – @midnightbabylon @rayslittlekitten @pikapuff-316 @youflickedtooharddamnit @laurfilijames @okin-awa @lovebittenbyevans @jmamas92 @theliterarybeldam @dirtytomatoedwrites @ughdontbeboring @netflix-imagines

[alittlebitofloveliness]

modern day curtis and shepard gang headcannons? Like they're old men and women

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long I'm a certified human disaster and my life is kind of in shambles rn

ANYWAY modern day old outsiders headcanons:

-First of all I did some quickmaths, so Darry would be 79 in 2024, Two-bit and Tim Shepard would be 78, Steve would be 76, Soda would be 75, and Curly & Angela Shepard would be 74, and Ponyboy would be 73

-Realistically atp Two would have died of like liver failure but I'm gonna try not to make this a bummer so lets say my man is in a nursing home and spends all day flirting with the nurses and the ladies in the home (who all adore him)

-Lbr Darry would absolutely be the grumpiest of old men (him and Two are in the same home) but he also tells the best stories and is secretly a big softie so all the young, nervous nurses like him the best

-Tim Shepard would rather be dead than in a nursing home and he says as much to anyone who ever suggests he needs one. Angela keeps trying, because he's barely mobile (old injuries + arthritis) but he refuses. Angela knows it's because Sylvia is burried in the graveyard down the block from there, and Tim doesn't want to leave his best friend, even though she's been dead for years he still can't leave her

-Angela lives alone. Having grown up in a turbulent house and worked almost every day of her adult life she enjoys her solitude. Nowadays she takes her fighting spirit to Monday night bingo where she CAN and WILL still strangle you Betty Anne if you try callin' bingo again when we both knows you aint got it-

-Steve and Sodapop live together at the old Curtis house. The neighbours kids have it rough so they come around a lot. Soda bakes cakes when he's got the energy, and Steve has mellowed a bit in his old age and spoils the kids rotten even when lecturing them and basically they act like grandfathers to these two little delinquent kids, who in turn do chores around the house so Soda and Steve can KEEP living there and don't have to go into a home or something

-Curly Shepard and Ponyboy Curtis live together, in a little apartment (Pony moved back to Tulsa when he retired, and Curly followed him like he always does. It's a little inside joke of theirs, since ever since they got together they've never been apart for more than a few days). Neither of them will admit it, but Curly's mind isn't what is used to be, the result of all those head injuries when he was younger finally catching up to him, and it kills Ponyboy a little to see the confusion in his eyes and the way he gets agitated when he can't remember something.

-The Curtis brothers all do that thing where they're always on the phone with one another

-Tim, Angela, and Curly all go out for breakfast together on Saturdays

-Tim has a walking stick and uses it to whack people with

-Two-bit manages to talk one of the nurses into smuggling him extra pudding cups with his dinner and the other residents (including Darry) get real up in arms about it

-Steve and Soda have tv shows that are on at a certain time each week that they steadfastly refuse to miss even though the neighbour kids have tried convincing them to get a netflix account and showeed them how to use the DVR so they could record them

-Steve complains about modern cars and their 'new fangled technology with their screens and electric engines' not being as good as the cars from when he was young

-Darry and Ponyboy compete to see who can get the wordle in the fewest guesses and they both sulk if they lose

[blamemma]

omg emma… your tags on alexis’s post are so genius… dirtbag daniel not ready to date a guy doesn’t notice his entire existence is dedicated to making max happy… max accidentally calling daniel “daniel” on the radio when he’s at mercedes… daniel making bitchy comments to the press?!

i think i genuinely might be dying over thinking about the contrast between daniel irl leaving for renault vs. engineer max leaving daniel for mercedes. (also for me, for this to work, u gotta role-reverse the ages as well and make max older daniel younger)

max finding himself stuck...at red bull. a deep intrinsic feeling inside him that he's got nowhere to go, rised as high as he thinks he can within the team, has attached himself to someone (daniel) who doesn't need him as much as max needs him (entirely false, daniel is half the driver he is because of max) and so takes a secret meeting with toto who has been trying to poach max ever since he first started climbing the ranks at red bull and making a name for himself. toto promising him everything in the world. and more. promises him he can be lewis' engineer and head of race engineering. promises him bonuses he's never heard of. promises that max can also help out with mercedes sim racing team in his spare time at the factory. and max thinks and thinks and thinks about it and if there's one thing max is, it's honest. so he tells christian. tells him bluntly and succinctly and christian throws so much at him but realistically max's mind is made up before he even sits down with toto.

and daniel overhearing a conversation he shouldn't and barging into max's private office furious with him, why are you leaving to work for the enemy kinda shit, are you trying to stab me in the back, what have i done to deserve this betrayal etc etc. daniel punches max's office wall and max knows then and there he's made the right decision. asks daniel to leave immediately. the second half of the season goes dreadful for them, max short with daniel on the radio, doesn't play up to his antics anymore, daniel being summoned to see the stewards every race for doing dumb shit he knows he shouldn't do. sky sports always cutting to shots of max rolling his eyes. but daniel still manages to scrape the championship and the red bull mechanics hold max and daniel aloft on their shoulders and spray them with champagne and max and daniel have their arms around each others shoulders and there is a fleeting moment where max looks at daniel, the brightness and happiness on his face and he realises this is why he does his job, this is why he should stay, but he pushes it down and down and down and down. daniel goes to perth. max goes to some tropical island somewhere.

(whilst in perth, daniel prints off the photo of him and max on rbr mechanic's shoulders and frames it. he puts it in his home office at first. but he doesn't spend enough time in there. he takes it out the frame and puts it on the fridge with a dutch flag magnet he has that max had gifted him after his first zandvoort win. but everytime someone came round they would look at it and ask why max would quit. he puts it back in the frame and puts it on his bedside table. it stays there)

and then they both turn up to testing. daniel in navy like always, max in a tight fitted white tommy hilfiger shirt (wHICH PERFECTLY ACCENTUATES HIS PUFFY PERKY FAT NIPPLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and daniel hates it hates it hates it hates it hates it. they ask each other how the winter break was and what they got up to but the conversation is stilted and wrong and they both leave it feeling devoid and empty. testing is testing and bahrain is bahrain. daniel and his new engineer miss a couple of points of key information and communication and its a bit of a shambles of a race but daniel still gets p2. stands below lewis on the podium. max to his immediate right-hand side. he stands tall and straight. head forward. listens to every single word of god save the king. doesn't shift slightly. listens and listens and listens. and then the trophys are handed out. he looks at it once. places it on the ground. looks at his shoes. remembers. remembers max. malaysia. bright red flushed eager and keen. stole daniel's shoe right out his hand. guzzled it down, no egging-on needed from daniel at all. the way they locked eyes afterwards. the blowjob in the club bathroom. the filthy sex they had later that evening. he looks up. oscar receives his trophy. the personnel shift and move and then he's gripping the neck of the champagne bottle hard, slamming it down on the podium, turning his back to lewis and oscar and spraying it all at max. max does the same, drenching daniel. he can see max's bright smile through the spray and daniel laughs, proper, shakes it and sprays him some more and when it's all gone, they stand, looking at each other, drenched, soaking, panting, breathless (MAXS WHITE TOMMY HILFIGER SHIRT DRIPPING WET SEE THROUGH PERKY PERKY PERKY HARD NIPPLES!!!!!!!!!) and christian horner is stood in the crowd head in hands knowing he's about to be faced with a dilemma.

and then YES "daniel 0.9 behind" and crofty picks up on it and makes some snarky comment about how red bull let max go so that he could infiltrate mercedes from the inside. daniel being sarcastic in the media when they ask him about max still calling him daniel and being like "well i obviously made an impression on him" or "its hard to forget me when i'm that good" and max hates the taunting but also loves it. gives him some sense that daniel still thinks about him also !!!

(late at night, daniel finds youtube videos of lewis' play by play race. he tells himself its to do with tactics and finding out lewis' racing lines etc. really he's listening to the radio. hearing the way max and lewis talk. trying to work out if they have the same relationship max and him have. if max uses the same intonation. the same phrases. if max flirts with lewis the way he did with daniel)

[mental69er]

could you maybe write something about zombie!victoria x female reader, i dont have a specific scenario but you can let your thoughts run free 😭

She found her by scent alone. A scent that called to Victoria across several abandoned blocks.

Victoria had no choice but to get up from the ripped up armchair that was parked outside the run down building, next to the bags of trash left rotting in the sun.

Victoria's stomach growled. It had been days since a human had last passed through here, and Victoria was growing tired of eating whatever rats she could find. They kept the hunger at bay, but they were a far cry from the once 5 star restaurant dishes she had used to indulge in before the world went to shit.

Vought had attempted to engineer a virus to kill supes by making them sick. It had worked at first, before the V in their blood had mutated the illness into something else. Something closer to resembling a zombie infection. One that could be spread to humans by bite.

While the virus could be managed by supes, as it affected them differently based on their powers, humans all fell victim to a mindless hunger and within months the world had fallen.

There had been attempts made to reverse engineer the virus but they all fell laughably short. There were a few bastions of society left, but Victoria stayed away from them. She wasn't cruel enough to feast on people if she could avoid it, and she did her part in taking out any zombies she did see, scoping them from far and near with her head popping powers.

However, if a human happened to stumble onto the few block long radius she had claimed as her territory in her slightly shambled state, well, then she was obligated to check them out.

Especially since they smelled so enticing. Victoria's mouth watered and she could feel the virus surging in her body, making her eyes turn black, her muscles spasm uncontrollably.

She sucked in a deep breath and used her powers to crush the virus cells in her body, minimizing the effect of them. Calmer now, she decided to find the human, possibly guide them to safety. Direct them to a city not far from here where humans were housed.

Definitely not eat them.

No, she told herself even as her stomach still rumbled.

She picked her way through the rubble in her sneakers, never once ever assuming she would wear such clothing. She'd donned sweatpants and a hoodie. She longed for her suits and dresses, but there was no use for such things when she could have to fight off a horde of zombies that insisted on foolishly making her a snack.

On silent feet she moved towards the human, spotting them fairly quickly. They were an idiot for being out here when they smelled this good. They were fiddeling with something in their bookbag, dressed in camo pants and a black tank top that showed off their muscular but scarred arms. A black baseball cap sat over their head, hair tucked into a ponytail.

Victoria suddenly wasn't sure how to approach this situation. Did she shout out to her? Did she not say anything and hope the human noticed her?

The human happened to have a hunting rifle strapped to her back and Victoria had a feeling she knew how to use it well.

As if sensing Victoria's presence at the end of the block, the human's head jerked up. She froze and stared at Victoria, like a deer in headlights.

For a long moment, nothing was said.

"Are you lost?" Victoria asked and she saw the way the human's muscles relaxed. Her heart rate was calm, Victoria noticed. That meant she wasn't afraid.

The human zipped up the bag and tossed it over her shoulder. "I'm not." She slipped the gun into her hands. "Are you?"

Victoria had to tread the line here. She didn't want to reveal she was a supe. Supes were widely despised for being the ones who caused the zombie problem despite humans being the ones to engineer the issue in the first place.

But it was also suspicious for a human to not be in the safety of one of those cities.

Victoria's stomach growled and her mouth watered as more of the human's scent floated up to her nose, brought on by the light breeze. She steadied herself, smiling tightly.

"I'm not. I live here. I help those who need to get safely to the city a few miles from here."

"I don't need your services."

"I wasn't offering."

The human's grip tightened on her gun. Behind her something tumbled to the ground. A zombie emerged from around the corner, shambling towards her. "Shit."

Her enticing scent had brought unwanted guests. She had been in one spot for two long.

Behind the zombie too more shambled. The human was debating the odds of wasting bullets on them, or trying to outrun them by running past Victoria, an unidentified threat.

Victoria made the decision for her. Though it wasn't a rational one, but one born of a hunger inside her. This human was her's and no one elses. Narrowed in on the zombies, her eyes went white and the three heads popped one after the other.

The human turned around and gaped at her, searching quickly for a weapon on Victoria's hands. There was none, her white eyes turning darker as the virus' hunger surged in her, awakened by the threat of the other zombies.

The human put two and two together quickly. But not quick enough. Victoria took off running towards the human. Her weapon was good at distances, and with the speed Victoria was using to barrel down at her, by the time she set up the shot, Victoria would already be on her.

The human ran, searching for high up ground, for a place to barricade herself in. She only got down a block before Victoria had tackled her, pinning her front to the ground.

The human huffed and tried to free herself but Victoria was too strong for her. Gently, she lowered her face, rubbed her nose against the pounding pulse in the human's neck.

"You smell so good," she purred, mouth thick with saliva. "I swore I wouldn't eat humans, but I can't let anyone else have you..."

...

Ending is up to intepretation as to whether or not Victoria indulges in her zombie side...

[rimeiii]

I return to WHB Tumblr to see how the game us doing and I see the fandom in shambles, damn. And after scrolling through the tag for a bit, I have...questions.

Yo how big is WHB now even? I stopped playing shortly after they introduced the paywalled Gabriel and that's one of the things I've seen several people complain about...

Like I understand the rest of the complaints - it's mostly the same complaints I've been having about the game prior to me quitting. Multiple decisions that seem to reinforce the idea that this game is heading down the P2W path, very anti-F2P practices in general, outrageous prices for the paid Nightmare Pass, no pity system on launch, the disaster that was the implementation of the Solomon's Seals gacha, the many bugs on launch especially, the small amount of farmable premium currency, and the list goes on...the pancake shop rework not only seems to be in line with the trajectory PB seems to be taking in terms of game decisions, but is also the straw that broke the camel's back for a lot of players.

But, uh, storage? Wasn't it like 2 GB tops on launch? That was reasonable I think, because Arknights was around that size on launch and back then, there was so little additional content. Only JP dubbing, no L2D E2 art or skins (the only L2D we had back then was Closure, the SHOPKEEP), 5 story chapters (which translated to 92 stages, in which around half have a Challenge Mode variant and with a large majority being unique maps), and no additional game modes.

For additional context, currently Arknights is ~6-7 GB on a fresh account with all language dubbing, and it gets bloated if you don't delete unused event data (it's ~9.7 GB for me and I have Arknights on my current phone ever since Near Light first hit Global, so just over 2 years now). Keep in mind Arknights is close to 4.5 years old in Global, and CN just celebrated their 5th anniversary a few months back.

Talking about storage, I don't think comparing WHB to older games and non-tower defense is fair either, since:

Older games in general are much easier on your device in terms of storage to content ratio and performance, mostly due to device limitations of the past requiring less sophisticated game mechanics and the devs sticking to these simpler mechanics even as time passes and technology gets more advanced. Gentle reminder that FGO is ~7 years old in NA, ~9 years old in JP, and ALSO doesn't download everything initially - afaik there's an option for that in the settings menu which bumps the total size up significantly (the wiki lists it as around 9-10 GB total).

Different genres and graphics mean different storage requirements. Anything 3D or open world will almost always have higher storage requirements compared to anything else. Path to Nowhere is around the same size as Arknights despite being younger due to the former using 3D models for their battle sprites, compared to the 2D chibis Arknights uses. Love and Deepspace, a ~5 months game, is huge because of how they do the cutscenes AND the stage-based action gameplay, but Wuthering Waves is closing the gap on size quickly despite being only ~1.5 months because it's an open world action RPG.

What I will say, though, is that WHB is not optimized well. Now I may be very unfair by comparing WHB to Punishing: Gray Raven, a game by the optimization gods known as Kurogames (people ran the PC PGR client on 2GB RAM laptops and my 4GB RAM laptop can run WuWa despite it using UE4 - an engine notorious for chugging on low end devices - albeit with lag spikes in the open world map), but when a 2D tower defense game fails to run as smoothly as a 3D action game with stylish and fast-paced combat, then we have a problem. For context, my 4GB RAM phone only has minor lag when I use a skill that has a lot of visual effects like Lee Hyperreal's Hypermatrix, but back when I played WHB I still experienced lag spikes when deploying units.

Again this all boils down to PB just not being used to the game format. Which is all well and good, Arknights was a huge departure from Girls Frontline too - a good portion of Arknights' devs worked on Girls Frontline before splitting off to work on Arknights. But what made Arknights succeed is how accessible and F2P friendly the game was, with smooth and solid gameplay as well as an engaging plot that discusses themes such as racism, discrimination, and the fragility of hope.

Of course you can argue that Arknights is a tower defense first, visual novel second. Unlike WHB, which is an otome game first, tower defense second. And I would agree, but only to a certain extent. Once you step into the realm of having Actual Combat Gameplay Elements then I believe it's your duty to make progression as reasonable as possible. Including a power gate is fine, but nothing too excessive - and certainly do not hold any significantly strong unit behind a paywall.

Because fun fact - in Arknights' entire runtime, there were only a handful of completely paywalled content:

Player icons from promotional packs for large events, particularly the Ambience Synesthesia concerts

Character skins from promotional packs, like the Exusiai and Guard Ch'en skins during the anime release

Purestream, a B4 Therapist Medic who was released as a WWF collab, where all sales from her $1 pack were donated to the WWF. Even then, she eventually became available for everyone, as she was later added to the Recruitment pool (use a resource obtained from Dailies for a chance to get units, some unique to the pool like Purestream). She was a decent healer, and her Module made her a good budget medic. Even then you're more likely using the Medics you've already built by then - for B4 budget options, Perfumer is usually better for multi-target healing and a party HP regen passive, while Sussurro is your go-to for strong single-target healing.

And guess what? None of these had any direct impact on gameplay during their paywalled period. Purestream wasn't even a B5 or B6 unit, yo. There are many better options for healers. I STILL USE THE B3 ANSEL AND HIBISCUS IN INTEGRATED STRATEGIES.

I'm just...PB's choices baffle me, and I do wish they can improve not just on the game performance standpoint, but in how they treat their playerbase in terms of in-game purchases. I hope I made that abundantly clear...

[cellarspider]

12/30 Things come to a head

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to that shambling mass of a film, Prometheus.

Content warnings for body horror, contagion-y stuff, something that loosely be described as medical horror, It’s Been 0 Days Since Our Last Incident, and me, going on a ramble about movie gore to distract myself from The Madness.

There's a lady in this scene who's had a number of speaking lines so far–the maybe-chemist. She has a name, but it doesn’t matter.

But I'm going to call her Doctor Frankenstein.

They have just got the helmet off the head, revealing that it’s truly, unmistakably humanoid. They have noted that there are “new cells” on the head. In the business, we call that “decomposition”, but Doctor Frankenstein is not concerned with this. In fact, she immediately proposes a new plan.

Doctor Frankenstein has had the brilliant idea to plug a big cable into the head like it’s a guitar amp, and zap it with electricity to wake it up.

Yes. This is what the movie goes with.

You know, Alien included a similarly shambolic first examination of an alien subject, but it was performed because said alien was attached to a man’s face, and all they had to try and fix that was the contents of a cargo ship’s medbay, with the only qualified personnel being the corporate android who had been ordered to consider the crew expendable. The crew of the Prometheus has no such excuse.

Well, except for David, he has precisely the same excuse, but he’s not trying to poke wires in anybody’s ears.

Doctor Frankenstein calls for enough amperage to run three electric kettles (cite 3), then all the way up to two Titan RTX graphics cards before the head starts to get what appears to be a massive migraine. 

I know this expression well, migraines can feel very much like someone is subjecting me to unnatural horrors.

This is getting a little extreme, though. Yes, when the head starts pulsing, they realize they may have made a mistake. 

I’d say this was inexplicable behavior on their part, unbelievably hasty and foolish–and I will say it, actually, it deserves to be said. But in context, this is the team that did so little prep for entering the alien structure that they didn’t notice the giant fuckoff skull carved into the outside of it.

Knowing how much Shaw and Holloway read into the intentions of the Engineers from the depictions they found on Earth, they probably would’ve interpreted this as a good sign, somehow.

Anyway, they put a sneezeguard down over the head before it explodes.

Good job everyone. This is like what would’ve happened if Napoleon’s savants took one look at the Rosetta Stone and decided “maybe we should try hitting it with hammers. Surely that’ll make the knowledge fall out.”

From a horror perspective, this scene only works in two contexts: First, gross-out. Generally found in schlock, exploitation, and outsider art flicks, the tone of gross-out content can be highly variable, but there are two general trends I'd mention, which are of relevance to this movie.

First, gross-out tends to exist in that weird alternate space where lots of comedy movies do: characters will behave in unreasonable ways for no apparent reason. Within the film, this is treated as the universal norm, besides maybe a straight man character who highlights the absurdity. Gross-out is often like that, but pushes different boundaries of acceptable behavior than a traditional comedy.

This is, bafflingly, what Prometheus increasingly feels like. It feels like it's transitioning into gross-out schlock, and yet it never goes all the way.

Second: the audience for gross-out is largely self-selecting. If you're watching John Waters' Pink Flamingos, you expect things to get messy. You are looking forward to things getting messy. A head exploding is perfectly par for the course in gross-out horror. One might even be disappointed if there wasn't an exploding head.

But again, this movie was not marketed on gross-out. It was marketed as a tense, Alien-esque horror movie. If you followed that premise like I did, you're not in the theater to view a debauched spectacle, you're there for the movie to put a well-paced squeeze on the characters and your nerves, where half the horror comes from having the room to really think about how frightening the core concepts of the series are.

Does Alien involve some shocking gore? Sure does! But in Alien, Kane's fate is not there to make you laugh and exclaim "ewww!" at how far the film's gone, the film tries to make you very aware of how horrifying his demise is.

So, there's an alternate way this scene works, if you're coming in from that perspective. I don't think the movie intended this as much as the gross-out, but it's what I drew from it at the time: the scene works if you decide not to focus your sympathies on the human characters at all, or even David, and think about it from the perspective of the head. 

It’s patently impossible that what they did actually “woke up” the brain inside that skull. But if we sink to the movie’s level and entertain the idea for a moment, what in the hell have they just done to this Engineer? The last thing the head would’ve remembered was running, falling, decapitation, and then this. They just tortured this poor bastard for no adequately explained reason. There’s none! “I think we can trick the nervous system into thinking it's still alive” is the entirety of the explanation. It makes about as much sense and seems as thoughtlessly violent as anything in Mad God (2021, content warning for body horror). 

I already spent all my anger about desecrating bodies in the name of shambolic pseudoscience, I have no more rage to give for now. And similarly in the theater, I hit my limit. I’d already hit a different limit back when they landed the Prometheus on top of some archaeology, but now I’d fully given up on this movie being what I’d hoped it would be. 

The maddening thing that keeps me obsessed with it is that it keeps throwing random scraps of that hypothetical movie into the mix anyway, bouncing me like a yo-yo between scenes. 

But for right now, the yo-yo is still on the descent. Having exploded the first sample of alien biology ever touched by science, they apparently stuck some of it in a generic, science-y DNA machine. What does the DNA machine tell them? 

“DNA match”. 

The movie does not actually explain what this means. It thinks it does, but in a very vague and handwave-y way that ends up being even more hilarious than if they’d just been out-and-out wrong. Because this is what I do for a living, I want to science at this for a bit. 

But I’ve written enough about it for an entire post on its own, so that will wait until next time.

⛬ 

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬ 

Citations for alt-text rambles, as well as some text-text rambles:

1. https://www.behance.net/gallery/78297841/Semiotic-Standard (contains a high-quality download for the symbols, should ye wish them for yourselves)

2. https://www.sculpturedepot.net/clay-wax-tools/product.asp?Steel_Tools 

3. Doctor Frankenstein calls for 30 amps first, then 40, then 50 in the space of several seconds. According to wikipedia, an electric kettle is about 16.6A, and a 288W high-performance graphics card would require 24A. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orders_of_magnitude_(current) That graphics card isn’t mentioned by name, but it matches up with the wattage reported by Tom’s Hardware for a Titan RTX (cite 4). Running with two of these things, you might be able to run 4k Ultra settings on some games without tanking your framerate. They could’ve been playing video games and seen way more exploding heads.

4. https://www.tomshardware.com/features/graphics-card-power-consumption-tested 

5. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alien_(film)#Design

6. https://www.reddit.com/r/MovieDetails/comments/f4rf63/for_the_chestburster_scene_in_alien_1979_the/

7. https://i.pinimg.com/736x/8e/2f/9b/8e2f9b0716746aac7ce5b2f369bf4082--aliens--scene.jpg

8. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karyotype#Human_karyogram 

9. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centromere 

10. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centromere#Telocentric 

11. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G_banding 

12. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proteinogenic_amino_acid 

13. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hula_language

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Two

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Two: All Goop and No Blades

Frankly, it’s not going well.

I mean, are you surprised? You thought it was a fantastic idea to not only humiliate a marimo’s honour, but to also liquefy his weaponry into runny snot. Right now, the remnants of what used to be legendary blades trail past between you and the Bull-Head’s feet, almost looking like it’s spilling giddily away with a newfound sense of freedom.

But are you disappointed in yourself? Mmmm, no, not really.

Gramps is doing that for you, anyway, with the completely horrified expression he’s overcome with. You can almost hear his imploring voice flooding out of his eyes – “Why, Raya…Why?” – as you now stand moronically in front of the two men.

There’s an astounded silence within the workshop as you awkwardly just…stand there.

Well, you didn’t really plan this far ahead, did you?

Slowly, Bull-Head cranks his head away from the liquid snot that’s now kissing his boots, and slowly, but surely, he manages to face you. Sharp shadows creep upon his face like drawn-out blades, glinting at you as a bid of their welcome -- or are they trying to wish you goodbye?

By instinct, your palms flare up just like when one jump-starts an engine, with flame and smoke and light brimming all the way up to your elbows. You suppose you should greet him back – it’s only polite to do so, really.

“You. Fucking. Bitch,” Bull-boy hisses.

“That’s my government name! How did you know?” You chirp with a sweet smile plastered on your lips.

With a snarl, he claws clumsily at the side of his hip, before realising that, indeed, his swords are no longer swords. In fact, they’re hardening together like gloop on the floor.  

He stands there idiotically not knowing what to do. Until…

Until he starts smirking stupidly at you.

“Fine. You wanna play? I’ll play,” he says as he steps past your baffled demeanour towards your other workbench, swiping a half-finished sword you were previously pouring your heart into. He tilts his head to the side, giving you a malicious grin before he starts charging again.

“Marimo!” Gramps tries to intervene, but it seems that bull-head’s too quick.

And he wrecks everything. Your work. Your prized possessions. The old letters you kept in remembrance of someone deeply special to you. Your first katana you ever forged at the age of eight that made Gramps jump out from his stool and obnoxiously cheer at your awesome skills, but then start yelling at you because an eight-year-old isn’t allowed to make, yet alone handle, sharp blades! Your collection of ancient artefacts, now spewed on the ground like humiliating waste. Your tools. Your tools.

It all happens within a flash; one second, he’s grinning at your precious half-made blade in his palm, and in the next, half of the workshop is completely in shambles. You look around, your fingers curling into a fist, trying to contain your dangerously consuming pain.

Managing to hold in a breath, you’re faced with gramps as surprised as you are. Because, oddly enough, none of gramps’ belongings were scathed, all perfectly untouched in their usual scattered spots.

Why did he – no, how did he manage to…?

That doesn’t matter. Because, evidently, he fucked with yours. And maybe you deserved what you got, sure…but…

“Fuck you!” You scream in torment, running towards the scraps of letters that gather on the floor. They’re her letters, her handwriting, the last physical thing you have of her, that lay within your palms. Torn in half. Now tainted by the hands of a complete stranger.

Suddenly, two novel voices emerge from the background; one with femininity and assertion, it exclaims with fury directed at the bull-head. You don’t turn around and look, no. Forcing down your emotions back in your little mental box, you stare intricately at the letters torn very perfectly in half. It looks restorable, but…

“Zoro?” A young, tentative voice questions.

“Zoro? What the fuck did you do!?” The female voice yells out. You hear a thick and heavy thwack following on after, making the bull-head yelp out.

“She started it first!”

“What the fuck, Zoro? Who are they?” She asks, her teeth gritting hard.

Silence. An awkward shuffling of feet.

“I…don’t know.”

“What!?” The two voices yell synchronously.

“Look, I forgot to ask,” Bull-head says – in your opinion, a bit too calmly.

You hear Gramps’ guffaws echo behind you, quite obviously enjoying this theatrical performance he’s been gifted with.

“I’m Tenguyama Hitetsu. That’s my granddaughter, Raya, in the corner there. We’re swordsmiths.”

“I’m so sorry, did he do this?” The apologetic tone in the girl’s voice seems genuine, at least.

“No, this was well-deserved,” he responds, making your chest slightly twinge. Gramps isn’t wrong, but it still hurts.

“I’m more impressed with your skills, young marimo,” Gramps continues with a slightly interested lilt to his tone. Hearing him praising another person, let alone him, made your heart sting and your teeth grind, seeing how little you, his granddaughter, receive affirmations from him.

Bull-head mutters something in response that you can’t properly hear, but it makes Gramps guffaw loudly and shake his head dismissively.

“Is she okay?” The high-pitched voice asks while you hear two pairs of footsteps and… hooves…start nearing your position.

What do they want?

A bright orange head comes into your view as she silently kneels by your side.

“Hey, I’m Nami. This is Chopper…”

The small animal hiding behind her peeps an antler out and waves with his little hoof. You don’t respond; instead, you silently nod while beginning to clean the mess that was made.

Suddenly, you see two hands and two hooves start to join yours, dusting off your possessions without a single word.

“I don’t know what happened here but I’m really sorry - Zoro’s difficult to deal with. Me, Chopper and the rest should know.”

You shake your head solemnly. “I hate to say this, but my old man's right. I started all of this.”

“Still, he’s an arrogant marimo. I don’t blame you for whatever you did. Wish I saw it in person, actually,” Nami says, offering a smile.

You smile back at her a little, looking at the ceiling. You hold in a breath, preparing yourself a little, before letting it out. “I may or may not have melted his swords.”

Nami and Chopper stare at you, flabbergasted, with their mouths hanging wide open.

You bite your lip, looking away. “I know, it was stupid.”

In a sudden, Nami starts boisterously cackling. You slightly jump at the sound, surprised at the sudden change in reaction. You stare at the orange-haired girl laughing who has a hand on her stomach - Chopper is also giggling behind her, staring at the hardened metal on the floor as evidence.

“Oh my God, now I really wish I was there to see it.”

You let out a laugh in response to that, quite astounded and slightly alarmed by their carefree reactions; at one moment, you really thought you were gonna get your ass beat by his friends, and that would’ve been totally fair. While the three of you stand up, you manage to carefully fold the letters in half and place them in your pocket.

“So...yeah. That’s why our workshop…doesn’t look like a workshop right now,” you say, gesturing towards the half-destructed field of metal and bronzework.

Chopper finally pops out of Nami’s shadow, a slight blush dusting on top of his nose.

“We can help restore it! Our shipwright, Franky – he’s great at fixing things. I mean, you’re a craftsman too, though, so I guess you don’t need the help, but…” Chopper mutters, looking away.

You shake your head at him and smile. You really appreciate their kindness – for what you’ve done, it seems like you should be experiencing worse than this.  

“We would really appreciate the help, thank you. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

And then, in that very minute, a long string of rubber flings past everyone’s vision like a rocket on drugs as it stretches across the entire length of your studio, and you swear you can hear this beige coloured thing emit a war cry at the same time.

“Luffy, stop! You'll make things worse!” Chopper yells out, staring at the blur of rubber whizzing around like a deflating balloon.

“What the…” You whisper, placing a hand to your forehead. What the hell is going on today? Are you sure you aren’t dreaming right now? Are you on drugs?

“That’s our captain,” Nami nudges her shoulder with yours, intuitively guessing what you were thinking. “And yeah, this really is happening right now.”

Then, as the fleshy string of rubber starts to lose more and more air, you manage to see a slight shape of a human take place in the rubbery mass as it lands on two feet. And boy, it’s a shape of an excited guy who’s dancing around the studio, not knowing what to do with himself.

“Yo, Zoro! This was where you were? We got Chopper to sniff you out. Did you get lost? Where are we?” The boy says, grinning widely.

He turns to stare at the workshop, surprised with what he got himself into - and then at Gramps, surprised with the stranger standing there.

“Hey Pops, who are you? Woah, cool swords! Did you make these?” He rushes to the weapons displayed behind Gramps’ head, clawing for the one with the red hilt. Surprisingly, it’s the Bull-head who grabs the boy’s collar, but this only makes you grit your teeth harder. Fucking marimo.

“Pipe down, Luffy. He’s a swordsmith,” He grunts, using all his strength to anchor the straw-hat in place.

Suddenly, the boy roots his feet to the spot as he gapes at your Gramps.

“Cool! Are you any good?”

“I only do it as a hobby,” Gramps dismisses and waves his hand at him.

“Actually, he’s one of the best swordsmiths you’ll ever meet,” you interject stubbornly. It pisses you off whenever Gramps has to be modest about his work; in reality, he’s more than good, and not many people are able give him the recognition he deserves.

Luffy and the others turn to you, surprised with your comment. Their captain grins at you widely and cocks his head.

“Who are you?”

“Jeez, Luffy, can’t you be a bit more polite?” Nami hisses. Obliviously, Luffy only blinks in response.

“I’m Raya,” You answer. “He’s my gramps.”

“Cool! So can I ask your Gramps to be part of my crew?”

You freeze, absolutely stunned by such a question. A workshop...without Gramps? Having to relocate by yourself every three months? Can you even do that?

“What?” You stutter.

“Luffy!” Nami, Chopper and Bull-Head all yell out, making the boy blink innocently.

“What? I asked politely.”

Gramps suddenly bellows in laughter, shaking his head at the entirety of the situation. Even he can’t grasp onto what’s happening, especially when melted swords and half broken workshops and flying rubber are all involved.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your offer!”

“What? Why?” Luffy pouts.

“I’m too old, boy…my arm and legs don’t work like they used to…” Gramps slides his eyes to your direction, slyly curling his lips into a smile. “But I can give you a better offer…”

Your heart pauses, and you feel like you’re about to pass out. No way in hell is he going to say what you think he’s going to say. Absolutely not. You would refuse, anyway. The whole prospect of it is ridiculous.

The innocent, oblivious boy sets off the trigger with one simple question.

“And what’s that, pops?”

Shaking your head vigorously at Gramps, staring at him with desperation in your eyes, Gramps' smile merely grows bigger. With his eyes locked on you and a hand gesturing to your direction, he loudly says,

“You can have my apprentice, instead.”

Dread enters your whole body, plunging you into disbelief, making you want to disappear from this very moment.

[manorpunk]

2️⃣

‘Comprador’ refers to an agent of a large multinational corporation whose typical job responsibility is taking a small underdeveloped nation and turning it into a vending machine for a natural resource - oil, coffee, coal, minerals - then getting that nation so dependent on selling those raw materials to that company that they effectively control it.

Unrelatedly, the Global Logistics Network was the single largest anything of 2069.

They weren’t a monopoly, no, no, no. They were… you see, the crowded and fragile system of intercontinental shipping was simply too important to be left in the hands of any single nation. You all saw what happened when the Brits monopolized it, and when the US monopolized it after them. You’ve seen how nations owning major canals turns them into a hive of corruption. Shipping belongs to the world, which means it belongs to the GLN.

They were headquartered in Qingdao, a major city in the Shandong province of China. Don’t be fooled, China fumbled the past few decades as much as everyone else, but every institution needs a head, and every head needs a headquarters, and the headquarters of the Global Logistics Network were located in Qingdao. The complex of skyscrapers that comprised GLNHQ was large and populous enough to form its own city-state, a closed loop of offices, gyms, fabricators, dormitories, labs, shops, copackers, cafeterias, and warehouses. You could spend your whole life there without ever setting foot on the earth itself. Many did.

Such was the Global Logistics Network. Like capitalism rising centuries ago from the sclerotic and shambling remnants of feudalism, the GLN rose from the old ways of hyper-financialized over-leveraged capitalism to create something new, something so new it didn’t even have a name yet. Much like the transition from feudalism to capitalism, things were better overall, but good lord, what a low bar to clear.

Towering above it all at the top floor of the central skyscraper sat Meng “Harold” Jianli, sole co-founder of the GLN. One might wonder how someone could be a ‘sole co-founder,’ and the answer was that the GLN was so powerful and omnipresent that its leader could have called himself a living god for all the power that sat upon his person. He certainly had more power than those who had historically claimed the title of living god.

But Meng “Harold” Jianli was no god, living or otherwise. Despite the vast power seated upon his person, or perhaps because of it,he looked rather disheveled, with a jowly face like splotchy old parchment, a sagging belly, and a crudely functional flat-top of black hair. His suit was slack and rumpled - his weight had a tendency to fluctuate wildly thanks to the stress.

It was stressful, being in charge. Past a certain point, you don’t really get more powerful, you just have more people to babysit and more fires to put out. He had to keep an eye on Novo Karo Bioresearch, or they’d be so excited to show off their new research that they’d start doing eugenics. He had to keep an eye on Vae Victis Engineering, or they’d get so excited testing out their new tech that they’d start a world war. And now, with his hands steepled and his brow furrowed, he had to keep an eye on the vtuber that the American League had elected president.

 He stared at Sunny Roosevelt. Sunny smiled back and gave him a little wave.

“I am willing to work with you, miss Roosevelt. The GLN is willing to work with just about anyone, it’s one of our biggest strengths.” He shifted effortlessly between ‘I’ and ‘we,’ treating the two as synonyms. “The issue is, we are still trying to figure out what your administration actually intends to do.” 

“Hmm.” Sunny put a finger to her chin, pursed her lips, and looked upward. An ellipsis appeared over her head.  “You got a copy of my campaign objectives, right?”

“Are you referring to this?” He held up a single sheet of paper, on which was written ‘make anime real’ in 48-point font and nothing else.

“Yep!”

“And you think this qualifies as a roadmap for your presidency.”

“Personally, I think it’s quite ambitious.”

Harold puttered his lips. “Miss Roosevelt-”

“Please, call me ‘mommy.’”

“Miss Roosevelt, I understand that you are standing on rather shaky ground. The National Board of Directors is being dragged away from the provisional US government days,” he said, which neglected to mention how half of the National Board of Directors were former GLN big names, “and the new state congress acts more like a rehab clinic for celebrity podcasters than a governing body,” he said, which stood just fine without caveats.

“I understand,” Sunny said, nodding and still smiling, “I’m a bimbo who’s in way over her head, so you’re going to unveil the GLN’s big five year plan and tell me to follow it like a good little girl.”

Harold was already in the process of lifting a hefty unlabeled binder, intending to thump it dramatically atop his desk, but the accuracy of Sunny’s comment left him slightly deflated. “I prefer to think of it as an advisory-”

“And then I’ll kiss up to you during our conversations,” Sunny continued, “but stall and drag my feet when it comes to actually implementing anything, and you’ll say,” she loosened her face and dropped her voice, “dammit Sunny, are you trying to play me for a fool?”

“I don’t sound like that. I don’t sound like Richard Nixon,” Harold protested, sounding kind of like Richard Nixon.

“And then I’ll say, it’s not me, it’s the state governors, they just refuse to cooperate. The new congress is one big old boy’s club. Even the Board of Directors is demanding overly-detailed descriptions of everything before they’ll sign off on it, it’s malicious compliance!” Sunny hung her head and threw her hands, wailing, “you set me up to fail, Harold. You set me up to fail, you rat bastard!”

“Are you done?”

Sunny straightened back up. There was that smile again. “Yep. That was fun.”

“In any case, while I understand you are currently something of a figurehead, even figureheads cannot afford to do nothing. Not when a third of the country is still lacking even the barest measures of centralized government.”

“What, you mean the Midwest Autonomous Zone?” A little question mark appeared over Sunny's head. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not like that started with the fall of the old US. Missouri was a dump long before the thirties.”

“Be that as it may-”

“That’s the 2030s, because we’re in the future.”

“Miss Roosevelt.”

“Please, call m-”

“No. Miss Roosevelt, why did you become president if you are so averse to actually presiding?”

Sunny shrugged and let out a huffy little sigh. “Look, most people weren’t exactly begging to have America back. Not even Americans. They don’t want someone with a bold, inspirational vision. Bold, inspirational visions are what start world wars, for George’s sake. I, for one, believe that bench-warming is not just a good idea but a moral imperative.”

“George’s sake?” Harold repeated.

“Saint George Washington. Oh, right, America’s got a brand new religion now, it’s called Founderism. We took the whole Founding Father worship thing and made it an official heresy. Also, Jesus was a small business owner.”

Harold grimaced and considered leaving the former USA to the wolves for a few more decades.