#DID NOT CRY DURING DEFIANCE

[taonpest]

Shout out to that time I mourned Umah's death for three days

[lovetwist]

Veil of Deception (II)

SYNOPSIS: Forced into marriage with Feyd-Rautha, you must now consummate the union. A night of unsparing obscenity. His grip on you is deadly, perhaps worsening when you seek to escape him.

WARNINGS (R18+): dub-con, first time, biting, marking, sexual content, breeding, mentions of choking, power play, violence, weapons, cannibalism

Word count: 2.6k

PART 1

The night seemed excruciatingly long, your body overwhelmed by the sensations ruptured by your husband: pain, pleasure, pure agony.

Feyd-Rautha was transfixed on the way your hair sprawled out on the bedsheets, creating a halo around your body. You had found it to be a strange request when you were informed to keep your hair long for the wedding. Now you knew exactly who had made the order each time your husband pulled, scrunched, and ran his calloused hands through your locks.

“Please – ah – slower!” you gasped underneath him.

What a mistake to beg or plead. His pace seemed to only quicken with every whimper you released. It had been hours, he was entirely relentless in his pursuit of unraveling you. Every time you felt as though you’d die, he’d slow and make you wet once more.

You hated the way you would arch for him, your physical body betraying your moral dignity. You hated how he would smirk every time, calling you ‘pet’. Most profoundly, you hated the mirror above his bed exposing the shamefulness of every position he took you in and the wanton expression you wore during them.

Feyd-Rautha was a skilled lover, but he was greedy in chasing his own release – which seemed to never end.

Your mother couldn’t prepare you for this, the Bene Gesserit had very little information on the na-Baron’s likes and weaknesses aside from rumors. He had killed the previous Sister sent to seduce him and broken the neck of another Sister who attempted to plant a trigger word in his mind.

Perhaps it would be a miracle if you survived your wedding night.

It was almost animalistic the way he pounded into you with limitless stamina. His seed was still dripping down your legs as he flipped you over like a hound. Your cheeks flushed at this positioning, he was treating you like a beast in heat.

“Cry for me, pet,” he’d sneer every time tears stung your eyes.

“I-I’m not your pet,” you’d pant trying to adjust to his speed. Your defiance and spirit would only set him off further into lunacy.

You’d never forget the raptorial look in his eyes when you first bled. He had prepared you well with his fingers and tongue, but his extraordinary size still pierced your hymen painfully. Feyd-Rautha arrogantly reveled in the fact that he was the first man to claim your maidenhood – and subsequently subjected you to every single one of his primal desires.

His bites on your body ached initially, followed by thorough licks of every reddened wound with his hot tongue. During the brief intermissions, he traced the bruises marked on your hips and thighs smugly. Your husband was a paradox, torment and pleasure wrapped into one.

The experiences he gave you differed wildly from anything you had read upon the marital bed. Though you were disappointed in the lack of romance, you did enjoy his physicality. His allure was striking with chiseled facial features, piercing eyes, and a toned body.

You didn’t fail to notice the flex of his muscles with every thrust into you or how his voice would drop several octaves when he was close to release.

His hands were rough, but his fingers were beautiful – the masterful way they would tease your breasts and sadistically wrap around your throat. You’d shiver when he licked your ears and nipped at your swollen lips.

Feyd-Rautha didn’t kiss you often, but when he did it could only be described as an unearthly procession of dominance. He was aggressive and vicious in the way he forced his tongue down your throat, exploring every inch of your mouth while his large hand locked your face in place. You couldn’t deny that your body was in complete submission of his depravity.

He smirked each time you moaned and mewled into his kiss, flattering his ego. The way he overpowered you so easily made your head spin.

“No more…” you groaned as you gripped the sheets beneath you, already wet with sweat and cum.

He’d sneer and scoff as he denied you, further burrowing himself into your hair and savoring your scent. You couldn’t oppose this predatory creature on top of you, not when he held your entire being in the palm of his hand.

“You belong to me, we stop when I say so,” he growled every time you tried to turn away. He held your wrists down with both arms, caging you beneath him like prey.

The last thing you remember from your wedding night were the rays of sunlight pouring through the curtains when you finally lost consciousness.

-------------------------------------------------------

The morning light filtered through gaps in the velvet curtains, casting a gentle glow over the chamber. You stirred, slowly emerging from the depths of sleep, your body still tingling from the intensity of the night before. Memories flooded back, mingling with sensations of arousal and embarrassment.

The bed was cold. Instead of your husband, you found a silver tray placed next to the nightstand with delectable plates of food.

‘Eat.’ was elegantly scripted on an adjacent card. You rolled your eyes at his overbearing personality but couldn’t deny the pangs of hunger.

After breakfast, you decided to take a bath. As you placed both feet on the ground to walk, your legs wobbled terribly. Sitting back down on the bed with a long sigh, you decided to wait for servants to eventually come fetch you.

Hours passed and no one came. When the sun rose high enough to be early noon, the doors burst open.

Your husband strode in, his presence commanding the entire room. His eyes, still burning with yesterday’s fire, swept over you. He took in your disheveled appearance with a hint of amusement.

"Good, you’re alive," he remarked, his voice laced with self-satisfaction.

"Apologies for the disappointment, but I don’t die so easily,” you retorted, unable to keep the edge out of your voice.

He ignored your comment, crossing the room in long strides until he stood before you, his imposing figure casting a shadow over you. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers trailing along the marks on your chest in a gesture that was both possessive and intimate.

"You fainted,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I hope you’ve regained your strength.”

"Don’t touch me,” you shot back, unable to suppress the surge of defiance.

He grabbed your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You are my possession. Mine to use, mine to break if necessary,” he reminded you, his voice a low growl. "And you will open your legs for me. If not, then I’ll have to use your pretty little mouth."

You bristled at his words, but beneath the anger, there was a flicker of something else— fear, perhaps, or maybe something more primal, a recognition of the power he held over you and a heat forming in your lower core.

For a moment, you were tempted to push him away, to fight or defy him once more. Not all battles were won in a day, you thought to yourself.

Thus you didn’t protest when he ripped the sheet exposing your naked form, and you stubbornly ignored the fact that you came three times underneath him that afternoon.

-------------------------------------------------------

On the fourth day of your marriage, you become suspicious of why you never see servants. Every day you awake, and everything is remarkably already prepared.

“Why do I not have any servants to attend me,” you questioned.

“You do. Only, no one is allowed to enter my chambers without prior permission,” he replied flatly.

“Well then, I’d like to leave for my own chambers.” You weren’t confident if you even had chambers, but you guessed they must be storing your clothes and belongings somewhere.

“You will leave when I no longer require you here,” his voice boomed. “Aren’t you enjoying our honeymoon, pet?” he mocked.

“Do not call me pet, Feyd-Rautha. I am your wife, not an animal you can cage and entertain on a whim.”

“Right,” he drawled. “If you had been an animal, I would’ve already broken you a thousand times over,” his eyes glinted with interest. “Especially one that doesn’t know when to shut its barking, wife.”

As Feyd-Rautha's words hung heavy in the air, a tense silence enveloped the room. You could feel the weight of his brutal nature pressing down on you, suffocating any resistance that simmered to rise within you. With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders, refusing to cower before him.

"I demand to know why I'm being kept prisoner in this room," you declared, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.

Feyd-Rautha's eyes narrowed, his gaze darkening with anger. "Prisoner?" he scoffed.

"You are performing your marital duties, na-Baroness. Do not sour my mood. Lest you’ve forgotten the purpose of this union, I need to fuck you until your womb swells with my seed,” he gritted his teeth, “It’s been pleasurable so far, hasn’t it? You moan like a whore under me each night."

Speechless, your mouth gaped at his profanity.

"It would be a mistake to disobey me."

A surge of frustration bubbled up inside you, threatening to spill over. "And if I refuse?" you challenged, daring to meet his gaze head-on.

His lips curled into a cruel smirk, a glint of malice dancing in his eyes. "Then you will suffer the consequences – which you would not be able to bear, little one" he replied, his voice dripping with menace. “Do you want me to show you?”

Before you could respond, he clapped his hands twice. The doors to the chamber burst open, entering a group of armed guards standing at attention. Feyd-Rautha's expression turned into a dark leer.

"Escort my wife to her personal chambers," he commanded, his tone deceptively calm. "And make sure she doesn’t go anywhere without a guard. From now on, she is not to enter nor stay in my rooms."

As the Harkonnens moved to seize you, you realized with a sinking feeling that you were truly trapped in this gilded cage, at the mercy of a man whose cruelty you had yet to understand.

-------------------------------------------------------

Deep within you, a flicker of rebellion still burned bright, a willful resolve to reclaim your freedom and dignity, no matter the cost.

Your room, surprisingly luxurious, boasted a large balcony that offered an overhead view of the training grounds. It seemed purposeful, chosen to serve as a stark reminder of the life you had been thrust into: perpetual violence.

You weren’t alone in your room; servants flitted about, attending to your needs with a silent efficiency that bordered on eerie. They all looked the same, simple white garbs and shaven heads. Attendants moved like shadows, their presence barely felt and never acknowledged. It was as if they were part of the furniture, existing solely to serve.

As na-Baroness, you only had a few measly duties assigned to you: organize balls and events of state. This was laughable as events on Giedi Prime occurred only a few times per year, mostly none with consequence or importance.

There were two ways you could see your husband: on the training grounds or when he came to fuck you.

Feyd-Rautha was a formidable warrior with carefully honed skills and keen senses. However, he often flaunted his prowess to the point of showmanship. Having nothing else to do, you watched his sparring sessions sometimes.

Under the black sun of Giedi Prime, it all seemed like a colorless nightmare that you’d hallucinated. Blood, violence, and the never-ending screams haunted you even as you closed the balcony doors. This was no nightmare, it was reality.

Your husband was a disciplined man who adhered to a tight routine; training early each morning, proceeded by visits your room.

After your confrontation, he hardened towards you. There would be no conversation, Feyd-Rautha had the mind to only satisfy himself and left quickly afterwards. He always slept in his own his chambers.

His anger did not ever seem to dissipate, only replaced with lust temporarily.

The monotonous days left you feeling isolated and adrift in a sea of strangers. The only reprieve came in the form of letters you sent to your family. They’d ask you how you were faring and you’d carefully craft missives that painted a picture of marital contentment while concealing the ugly truth. Of course you couldn’t tell them, not when everything hinged upon the success of this union and the delivery of an heir.

On some lonely nights, as you lay by yourself in the large bed, you regretted asking to leave his side. After all, your golden cage hadn’t expanded and you still exercised no authority.

Four weeks later, you felt relieved that your blood came. True it was your purpose to bear a child, but there was a part of you that feared your husband would simply leave you alone for good once he confirmed a pregnancy.

That afternoon, you gently denied him access to your body. “My courses have come,” you explained, crawling off his lap.

He was shocked for a moment, but then slowly released his grasp on you. He left the room without a word.

Later in the evening, feeling brave or perhaps missing his touch – which you’d never outwardly admit – you decided to break one of the rules by visiting his chamber.

You thought of things to say to him.

I’d like to spend more time together as husband and wife.

I think it would help our marriage to get to know one another.

I want to explore the estate and Giedi Prime.

Your musings were interrupted by the synchrony of female voices and laughter coming out of your husband’s room.

In a momentary fit of shock and fury, you ignored the guards and pushed open the doors.

He was polishing his dagger leisurely with three naked Harkonnen women laying across his bed.

“How dare you enter my chambers without permission,” he hissed. You didn’t miss the way he angled the tip of the dagger towards you.

“Who are they?” you demanded, voice unable to conceal your disturbance and a hint of jealousy.

“My pets, they require special attention,” he replied coolly, at which the harpies giggled in unison.

You understood that they were pleasure slaves. It was common for noblemen to have concubines; you just hadn’t expected your husband would as well. Did he spend the night with them? Is that what he did after leaving your bedroom every day?

You stood frozen in place, humiliated at your naivete. You meant nothing to him, another whore but adorned with an empty title. A guard swiftly followed you inside the chamber, roughly grabbing your arm and beginning to drag you out.

“Na-Baroness, you do not have permission to be in here–”, the rest of his sentence could not be heard as Feyd-Rautha slit his throat and sliced his arm. The man fell where he stood.

“Perfect timing,” he growled. “My darling pets were getting hungry,” he squinted his eyes at the dead guard as though he was lowlier than filth.

None of the other guards dared to touch you after that display.

Monster. Traitor. Killer. 

When the three women ran down to divvy up the bits of his body, you had to fight the urge to puke. You stare at their markings, soulless ebony eyes, and sharp black teeth as they devour the man’s limbs, you’ve never felt more disgust or fear in your life.

Harkonnen. Monster. Traitor. Killer. 

Feyd-Rautha approaches you, expressionless and without any hint of remorse. “Go,” he commands. “Get out unless you want to become fodder for them as well.”

As you turned to walk away, tears fell like raindrops, marking the path of your departure with silent rage and hatred.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

My thoughts about the Trump assassination attempt

After having a few hours to process this whole thing and see reactions from across the political spectrum, I'm having some thoughts and some feelings.

First off, as I said earlier, Trump is a fucking boss. Take anyone who ran for president in the last 20 years, put them in that exact situation, and I don't think a single one responds by raising his fist and snarling in defiance and righteous anger. They run. They cry. They keep their heads down and the first statement you h ear from them is hours later filtered through 20 different speech writers. Today proved to me that, whatever else he may be, Trump is a genuine bad ass. He's exactly the person I want at the end of a sword pointed the United States. Because he's going to have a sword of his own pointed right back, and he's not going to run and hide when it comes time to use it.

Second, the modern left is full of monsters. The amount of people screaming and crying because this assassination attempt failed actually sickens me. It's one thing to have fantasies about easy solutions to the things that scare you. Hell, I'm not innocent. I've thought about how much better things might be if this politician was no longer around or this activist group got axed. But one of the things I did today was think about how I would feel if the assassin succeeded. And then I thought about how I'd feel if someone took a shot at Biden and he didn't survive. Neither thought gave me any good feelings. Obviously I'd be more upset if Trump died, but today showed me that I don't want us to start down the path of shooting political leaders. But too many people on the left, people who should know better, at least enough to hide their true feelings, have no problem publicly wishing Trump was dead right now. That assassinating presidential candidates was a legitimate tactic--but only against the politicians they don't like, of course.

Fuck that.

Fuck them.

America is better than that. Americans are better than that. We're not some third world shithole like Mexico. We're the greatest country in the world. We're the last bastion of representative government. The last place in the world where freedom exists. And it's time we started acting like it.

Third, I ain't got no time for conspiracy theories. Sorry guys, but this wasn't staged and this wasn't a CIA hitman. Unless real, hard evidence comes out otherwise, you won't ever get me to believe any of the nonsense I've seen floated around. Don't be so lost in the true things the media has dismissed as "conspiracy theories" that you immediately jump to the most conspiratorial explanations first for everything that happens. It's lame and cringe and a lot of people I've seen seriously putting these theories forward should know better. I know we're in our emotions right now, but keep your heads.

Fourth, my heart breaks for the families of the people who were hit with the bullets meant for President Trump. But that's the kind of evil we're facing. Whoever did this decided that the idea of a Trump presidency was so awful that they were okay with shooting innocent people just to stop him. And this is after he was already president and none of the things the media is fear mongering about happened during his first term. Those people just wanted to see a man speak. To have some hope for the future. And some piece of shit shot them because he didn't like a presidential candidate. Or worse, because the TV made him scared.

Fifth, fuck the media. You think you hate them enough, but you don't. The media is the driving force behind our enemies, and there's no such thing as a good journopig. They're all lying propagandists. We just like some of them because their propaganda occasionally hits on the truth.

And that's all I got. None of this is organized, none of this is proofread. These are just the thoughts I've been wrestling with for the past few hours. This is the only place I can get them all down without being interrupted or feeling like I need to censor myself. Do with them what you will.

[buckyalpine]

To be deleted, Just venting. I'm sick of behavioral issues in schools. I'm sick of kids throwing shit around, screaming, showing defiance towards basic expectations and then complaining about it afterwards when there are consequences. Genuinely, why the fuck are they like this. Idk if this is the result of ipad kids or the new generation of parents but I'm so fed up. I'm so fucking exhausted dealing with kids who know how to make the biggest mess imaginable crying and whining about having to clean it up after. What in the absolute flying FUCK did you think was going to happen. The attitude that follows and the refusal to follow instructions?

Let's not even start on the apathy kids have towards learning. They can recite shit from tiktok word for word, God forbid you ask them to spell something, that's too much and hurts them emotionally. "UhM, wE'rE jUsT kIdS, wE sHoUlD bE aLloWeD tO tAlK" These words were actually said to me while the kid was complaining about another teacher. Who just asked them not to talk during lessons. And this was the response. That they're just kids, obviously they don't know better so they should be allowed to talk. NOT WHEN THE TEACHER IS TEACHING YOU DUMB FUCK.

Sorry.

Last week I had another kid try to stab multiple people for fun with the Remembrance day poppies. Then that thing spat soda everywhere. Slapped a few kids. Stole their hats. Their persuasive essay topic was why school should be shorter. Because they need time to rest and play and complete their homework. This is from the child who never does it. Their parent believes their sports games are more important anyway so this kid gives 0 fucks about school.

I actually can't tell if I want to quit yet or not. Teaching has changed so much over the last few years and I don't think I can do it when this is the direction it's going in. IDK what else I can do with my degree but I'm about to start researching because I cannot take it.

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) Nezha Reborn in "Lady Fox"

Long Ago After the Battles Against heavens and Journey to the west, Sun wukong and saphira are happily Together Once more after Sun wukong Woke her from her Deathly Sleep curse.. But when they comes out Nezha Challenge him for a battle..but During the battle, She Begged Nezha because She doesn't want to lose him again so nezha spared him but then the Dragon king of the eastern sea was Having none of it and Sent his Son Name "Ao Bing" to Kill sun wukong, but he was Killed by Nezha who is protecting Sun Wukong and Saphira By ripping Ao Bings spine out. Two Lovers Head out to Safety at Sakutopia but Sun wukong Knows That Saphira will be in grave Danger again and the Dragon king will put her a terrible curse again, So he told her that He must go and Fight to protect Her but Saphira begged him not to go and then He Said that he Promise to sent her gifts every day to let her know that He's alright. After he Left, Saphira was Devastated and heartbroken While the Dragon king Had Saw it and Made a Devious plan to keep Sun wukong and Saphira Separate By Making a Letter of Sun wukongs death and immortality been taken away.. Then one day, Saphira receive That letter and her heart is broken after she read that her beloved Monkey king was dead, She collapsed on the ground and crying Out of her broken heart but every day she receive gifts every day and she thought his ghost brought it.. As 30 years has passed in the celestial world and Saphira was Sent by her Father to the City called "Donghai" where She lives in Luxury and perform beautifully at the Palace of Happiness.. That night, when she sings She sees the strange person with a mask watching her out from the window. After the Performance, She was Invited to Meet with Au Guang the Dragon king of east sea, She founded it out that sun Wukong is alive.. Then That Morning, She meet with Au guang and his Son and she said,

Saphira: "You've got some nerve Invited me here after everything you put me Through, and I was Wondering. What brings me here to your Lovely Kingdom?"

Au Guang: "Ah Princess Saphira, I am aware of what I did to you and your Beloved one. So as For that Question, I have a Proposal for you to marry my son.. I was thinking that You've been Mourn your beloved Monkey King For too Long so I was thinking that It's time to be married someone else, Right Son?"

Ao Bing comes to her and looking at her up and down while Saphira made a disgust look and she said,

Saphira: "What Made you think that I will Marry Your Son After YOU sent him to kill my Love before His ass was Killed by Nezha?"

Au Guang: went stern, expression harden "My dear That was a Long time ago, Time has changed and all heh.. My dear Your Grief needs to let go I-"

Saphira began to cut off

Saphira: "Then Why did you Lie to me about Sun Wukongs death?!"

Au Gaung, Ao bing and His Minion froze as Saphira realized That Au Guang DID Lie to her about Sun wukongs Death and She knew it.

Saphira: "If Sun Wukong was dead as you Claim, then Why did I receive Gifts Every day For 30,000 years, 30 years in my Celestial realm! YOU KNEW HE'S ALIVE, WHERE IS HE!? Where's Sun wukong!?"

Saphira Shouted in Defiance..as She heard the Sound of Cane Slammed by Au Guang and She Froze, her breathing is Steady and then Au Guang Use the Enchanted red ribbon and Holds her down as she screams, Struggling to break free but then Au guang use his mechanical hand began to place saphira a Curse and he told her that This time Only he will be dead and No true loves kiss can break this time and he said that Saphira Will become a little White Fox by day and a beautiful Woman By Night..Then The black smoke went around her and Change her into a beautiful Little White Fox as His Minions laugh about it And before Au Guang Say anything, Saphira made a Hasty Escape and runs out of the Building as Au guang told his Boys to after that White Fox but Saphira was So swift as She runs to the Poverty Area where She sees alot of poor people and all, She felt heart broken and all they needed was water and all.. When she made it to the warehouse area, She accidentally Bumped into A young Motor Biker name "Li Yunxiang", in her eyes she saw Nezha in him But then one of His Buddies picked Her up by the scruff and said…

[etheries1015]

Thinking about... (Minor chapter 7 spoilers, probably inaccurate tho, just warning you. I've made a point not to spoil...TOO much for myself.)

Defending Lilia. In front of the people who put him down, belittled him, and shunned him, making him believe he is completely incapable of receiving love. You knew some of this from being his lover for some time during your stay on Twisted Wonderland, but something about this dream twisted a sword into your heart and etched burning words of hatred into your heart. The second the senate began to speak Ill of your lover, despite his stance of taking it in with grace, you refused to allow them to spit such, for lackthore of better terms, bullshit.

So when Lilia could not cry, you did. You cried and screamed for it to stop, you couldn't take hearing such malice about the people you loved. You screamed at them for their incompetence, their closed-mindedness, their tyranny. Sebek, Silver and Grim grabbed your arm and tugged on it to urge you to stop. You fully expected Lilia to interrupt your angry screams of defiance, however he.... didn't, for some reason unknown to him.

"Lilia Vanrouge is the kindest, most down-to-earth and open-hearted person I have ever had the pleasure of falling in love with!" You yelled, "Who are you to decide who is worth something in this world? Who are you to decide the definition of right and wrong? To me, you're nothing but...but a bunch of... "

You spun a slue of... Wordy and inappropriate insults I dare not share out loud. It truly disgusted you. Lilia had the short of the stick for most of his life, orphaned and dejected as an incompetent bat fae, a worthless knight and general, and you knew just how far from the truth they were. By the end of your mental breakdown, you didn't wait for the responses of anyone around you. Turning around and rushing away in tears is all you could do...

You were looking forward to holding your significant other in your arms, and for this terrible nightmare to finally be over.

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: sex workers reader and toji, wrestling, he puts you in a headlock, ass slapping

as a sex worker under an agency, you sometimes get the opportunity to perform certain tropes that you wouldn't think too much about doing on your own. there have been quite a few that your manager has thrown your way; medical play, light BDSM scenes, and now, mixed wrestling. you've done your fair share of oiled up fighting with other women in your career, but you've never wrestled a man before.

its all staged, much like real wrestling except—except you're not too sure why or how you were paired up with infamous actor Toji Fushigurou. technically speaking, you two aren't anywhere near the same weight class, but you're not sure if technicalities even count for a job like this.

there are a few rules: no actual striking of each other, take the others underwear off during the fight, no biting. as the ref lists off all the other little things you two need to remember, you both take each other in. Toji is, for lack of better words, fucking huge. he's got at least six inches on you, packed with muscle and a nonchalant kind of finesse that makes you just the slightest bit nervous under his stare. he stands only in a tight pair of black boxer briefs, and you can make out the outline of his soft cock, despite the fact that it still rests low on his thigh.

he grins at you when he notices your ogling, winking once when you frown at him. he's been in the industry for so long, he's more than used to being objectified, but something about your little defiance that shines in your eyes makes him want to tear into you, piece by piece.

"Go!" the ref announces once she's finished listing her instructions. Toji doesn't immediately attack you, instead grins at you, hands on his waist as he cocks an inquisitive eyebrow in your direction. with a, albeit weak, battle cry, do you lunge at him—

and quickly find yourself pinned. you don't know how he does it so quickly, maneuver you as if you only weighed a pound, but he does it. catches you in his arms and swings you around until your back meets the floor with a grunt, the wind suddenly knocked out of you. he's gentle though, where he pins you with his knees on either side of you.

"At least try to put up a fight," he teases you, pulling at the straps of your bikini. but you fight him off as much as you can, grunting and cursing at him, taking this entirely too seriously for what will ultimately end with you being fucked into oblivion by the man. doesn't mean you have to go out without a fight, though.

although, your fight doesn't mean much to Toji. by the third and final round, you're fully naked and he's still got his underwear on. your ass is slapped raw by how many times his too big hands have groped you, nipples pinched to sensitivity. you're not surprised when the ref announces your lost, tells Toji to claim his prize.

and he does just that. pins you on the floor, finally releasing the thickness of his cock. he's cocky the entire time, teasing, with how he pins you on your stomach, holding you in a headlock as he fucks his cock too deep inside of you to put up much of a fight anymore.

"Did you even try?" he asks, breathy, a smirk plastered on his face as he looms over your shoulder. "Or did you want to end up like this? With my dick in your stomach? The fight worked you up that much, huh?"

he taps your clit with too thick, mean fingers with his other hand, tightening his bicep around your throat when you try to get smart with him. he knows its all bark and no bite, if judging by the way your cunt sucks him in is anything to go by. you can only gurgle out a curse to him, eyes rolling back in your head when his wicked laugh only pushes you over the edge to climax.

(after the scene ends, he kisses your temples and squeezes your waist, telling you that you guys should do more scenes together. you only stick out your tongue at him, promising to get stronger so you can take him down next time. he laughs at you, more than happy to entertain your thoughts that will, truthfully, never come true.)

[whumpril]

Whumpril 2023 approaches!

Rules:

Anyone can participate.

Any media form is allowed (art, fic, gifs, music, whatever).

You can participate however much or as little as you want, no pressure to complete every single day.

You can post your work anywhere on the internet, Tumblr, Ao3, etc.

Tag potential triggers and NSFW accordingly.

If you want to be counted as an official participant and have the chance to be featured on the blog, post your content during the month of April. You can still use the prompt list after April ends.

I can’t guarantee that every single work will be featured but I’ll try to reblog as many as I can.

To increase your chances of being featured here, tag your post with the event name and the prompt of the day that you used (For example: #whumpril2023, #whumprilday1, #red alert) 

You can also @ the blog, @whumpril.

Full write-up of the prompts can be found under the cut!

Whumpril 2023 Prompts:

1. Red Alert | Distress Call | Panic Attack

2. Stress | Insomnia | “Get some rest.”

3. Rope Burns | Knife to Throat | “Hold still.”

4. Ache | Massage | Needle

5. Defiance | Dragged | Stifled Scream

6. Salve | Painkillers | Bad Coping Mechanisms

7. Numbness | Unsteady | “You look pale.”

8. Nausea | Comfort Food | Dehydration

9. Pinned Down | Bruises | “Who did this to you?”

10. Shiver | Breathless | “I’m scared.”

11. Nightmares | Bedside Vigil | “I’m right here.”

12. Friendly Fire | Toxic | “Get away from me!”

13. Blurry Vision | Support | “I think I need to sit down.”

14. False Smile | Holding Back Tears | “I said I’m fine.”

15. Isolation | Flinching | “Do you trust me?”

16. Guilt | Shock | “I’m so sorry.”

17. Cry For Help | Self-Treatment | “I can’t do this.”

18. Abandoned | Escape Attempt | “Take me instead!”

19. Choking | Muffled Sobs | “I’m worried about you.”

20. Disoriented | Sensory Deprivation | “Where am I?”

21. Scars | Fracture | “It’s just a scratch.”

22. Sponge Bath | Infection | “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

23. Smoke | Bloodstains | Sharing Clothes

24. Secrets | Under Duress | “What have you done?”

25. Heart Racing | On the Run | “We’re being watched.”

26. Explosion | Short on Time | “I won’t leave you!”

27. Forced To Kneel | Grabbed by Collar | Stepped On

28. Bedridden | Semiconscious | Light Sensitivity

29. Surrender | Punishment | “Final warning.”

30. Holding Hands | Human Shield | “Don’t let go.”

Alternative Prompts:

If there’s a prompt above you don’t feel inspired or comfortable doing, you can switch it out with one of these alternatives!

1. Ice Pack

2. Ransom

3. Gaslighting

4. On the Edge

4. Waiting Room

5. Un/Forgiveness

6. Food Poisoning

7. Heat Exhaustion

8. Forced To Crawl

9. Mandatory Leave

10. Search and Rescue

11. “Don’t push me away.”

12. Words That Can’t Be Taken Back

13. “Let me know if you need anything.”

[fellthemarvelous]

Without hope, we have nothing.

(Spoilers and speculation included a bit further down)

This is actually a post about the Bad Batch and not Star Wars Rebels, but this bit is important so...

Try not to cry when you remember that Tech is the one who taught Hera Syndulla how to mask her ship's signature, a move that made her a massive threat to the Empire and a move that she often used to her advantage. She was such a threat to the Empire that they wanted to capture her alive so they could make an example of her for her years of defiance.

And then also try not to cry when you remember that when Hera was taken prisoner by the Empire, Kanan Jarrus sacrificed his life to free her and save the future of the Rebellion. Try not to cry when you think about the fact that Kanan Jarrus aka Caleb Dume was the Jedi padawan the Bad Batch protected (except for Crosshair) from the Empire during Order 66 by claiming Hunter killed him.

Hunter, Tech, Wrecker and Echo lied to the Empire to protect a Jedi.

And Tech taught Hera how to evade the Empire when the Bad Batch helped her family (Chopper included) escape Ryloth after being accused of treason.

Clone Force 99's actions had a direct outcome on the success of the Rebellion. They refused to commit treason against the Republic and all they did was commit treason against the Empire. They were strong enough to resist the effects of the inhibitor chip (Crosshair and Wrecker for awhile), outright ignored Order 66 (Hunter and Tech), or were tortured and turned partially into a machine against his will by the Techno Union and used as a weapon against the Republic who, upon rescue, immediately jumped back into Separatist territory and fucked their asses up (Echo). Luckily, with the help of Rex, they got their chips removed after Wrecker tried to kill all of them.

Everything under the cut is pure speculation. I'm having a galaxy brain moment, I just have no idea if it's pointing me in the right direction or not lol.

If you disagree with me, I don't need you to rudely tell me why.

After his time on Tantiss, Crosshair can now identify with Echo more than anyone else in the Bad Batch (and Tech if CX-2 is Tech).

When they went to rescue Echo, Crosshair is the one who snidely told Captain Rex that he would have left Echo behind too.

Which is exactly what happened to Crosshair when the Empire turned him into a weapon against his own brothers. He had no choice because the Empire attached him to a machine and amped up the effect of his inhibitor chip so he could not disobey orders.

Rex told Cody "I think Echo is still alive" and Cody told him that was impossible. Anakin accompanied him on this rescue mission with The Bad Batch (we know Cody would have too if he hadn't been injured).

I think that if Tech is CX-2, Crosshair already knows or highly suspects it. He's terrified of Tantiss. I think we're going to have a parallel moment of Crosshair possibly saying the same thing, knowing that he could never leave a brother behind again after what he went through, especially if CX-2 is Tech. (I also wouldn't be surprised if Omega suspected something after her trip back to Tantiss with CX-2.)

We never saw Echo's body after the explosion. Instead we got this image. An empty helmet and a droid arm.

Crosshair defected from the Empire when he witnessed the Empire tell him that Mayday was only a clone and not worth giving medical attention to. Those actions resulted in the death of Mayday and that's when Crosshair chose to shoot an Imperial officer between the eyes (similar to Dogma's execution of General Krell in many ways).

If Tech is CX-2, that is the second Bad Batcher the Empire has turned into an enemy against his brothers.

This is the last we saw of Tech.

Hemlock was fucking lying when he said that Tech's glasses were all they recovered. Why the hell would he have found Tech's glasses and not Tech? All we see below him are clouds. And this is the last bit of Tech we see. That gun is in the shot with his glasses for a reason.

I feel like this is going to parallel Echo's rescue from Skako Minor. Tech and Echo are both highly intelligent huge ass nerds (remember that the battle plans being used against the Republic were written by both Rex and Echo, and Cody acknowledged that Rex was one of their best strategists in the GAR) who always ended up working best together.

Part of me wonders if we are heading into a show centered on the clone troopers in a post Order 66 world going up against the Empire as they try to rescue more of their brothers. Enough to become a problem for the Empire.

Part of me also wonders if the inclusion of Force sensitive children in the Bad Batch means Rex will need to call Ahsoka into the fray. Wolffe has only appeared once so he hasn't even switched sides, let alone even started blocking Ahsoka's messages to Rex yet. During the Clone Wars she had to save Force sensitive children from Darth Sidious. During the Rebellion, the saved more Force sensitive children from Darth Sidious. It makes me wonder if she is also going to save Force sensitive children from this too? I might be reaching a bit too much here, but it could be a possibility! She seems to always show up when Force sensitive children need to be rescued from Darth Sidious.

No matter what ending we get for the Bad Batch, I know it's going to leave us with hope for the future because the message in Star Wars has always shown us that hope will always be stronger than fear.

A simple act of kindness can fill a galaxy with hope.

Without hope, we have nothing.

These episodes are all relevant to Echo's journey. The Domino Squad was referred to as a bad batch and Echo was the one who seemed to struggle the most with orders that conflicted with doing what needed to be done. He is the one who memorized the regulations manual after all. And now the Bad Batch are on a similar journey because they have never trusted regs before, but now it seems they might have to trust the regs to come to help them the way they helped Rex and Echo before the war ended. The way they helped Gregor after the war ended.

If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but that's a fanfic I can always write!! I don't want to get into who I think is going to die or survive, but I have my suspicions there too and I'm already in too much pain to keep going.

[sanakimohara]

“Pretty When You Cry” B.C.

“Although she is alone…she knows the truth.” + “If you think I’m pretty lay your hands on me…”

Summary: Chan as a yandere. Borderline stalking type of yandere to be exact.

WARNING: MDNI, cursing, smut obviously, mentions of kidnapping, and cnc…among other things.

A/N: this was a request and it caught my interest so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did while thinking/writing about it.

—————————————————————

A knife could slice right through the thick tension between you and Chan right now.

Not because his eyes were glaring daggers straight into your Bambi like stare or that you were purposely keeping your distance from him by sticking close to the nearest exit. No, the reason was much more complicated.

You. More specifically, you assuming Chan wouldn’t be jealous or possessive of you.

Now, he had you all alone to ‘talk’ but you knew that just meant your night was about to riddled with consequences from him. So, planted yourself near the door -a useless precaution you took to feel safer.

Little did you know, he’d locked it the moment you wandered into his room. You came to him under the impression he just wanted to show you something he’d been working on and was only slightly aware of his true intentions.

Now, you wished more than ever that you’d paid more attention to your small suspicions, but it was too late for you to leave without having to go through him. Chan made sure of that by pocketing his hotel room key card.

“Chan, please..” you started to reason with him, voice trembling slightly as you spoke, and your body involuntarily pressing against the locked door as he stood up abruptly. His face was unnervingly expressionless but his eyes were piercing, swirling with all the intensity of emotions you’d become familiar with.

Jealousy, lust, and possessiveness. Anger was present too -steadily growing the longer he replayed the image of you flirting with some random staff member during their concert.

“Let me ask you something,” Chan was now inches from you, his entire body dwarfing yours in comparison, and his voice shallow with simmering rage. He really was terrifying when upset and with envy added into the mix he was downright evil sometimes.

Shamefully, it turned you on more than anything else. Being afraid of him, what he might do you, and how he’d take his anger out on you. It was so wrong for you to be wet already, merely in Chan’s presence, and forced to stay there until he decided to let you go.

Which was never, in his opinion.

“Do you like pissing me off?,” he nearly growls the question and your tummy does several slips hearing the rasp carry through to his accent. “N-no, I don’t Chan-“ you answer him carefully, face heating up as your fear amps up to new heights when he grabs your jaw with one hand and places the other above your head to lean forward on. “Yes, you fucking do. Why else would you go around whoring yourself out to other men then?” Chan taunts you with a faux smile, raising his brows slightly to add to his condescending tone, and you huff softly in return.

“Channie, I promise we were just-“ you’re cut off again as his hand on your face falls to your throat, gripping it tight until you have to hiss in a breath, and cling to his wrist with both of your small hands. Chan holds you there, counting the seconds until he sees tears prick your lidded eyes, and only then does he loosen his hold on you.

“I don’t care what you were doing, little one. This is the last time you’ll ever try me, understood?” You could barely hear him over your heart drumming your ears from being choked so ruthlessly seconds ago, and when you don’t answer him immediately Chan takes that as a sign of defiance on your end.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, dark eyes filling with a new emotion as he watched you struggle to breathe with his hand still putting pressure on your throat. You already looked so broken in for him, probably bound to drop to your knees if he let you go, and your pathetic attempts to wriggle out of his grasp never failed to amuse him.

Chan would never let you go, you knew that, but still tried with all your might to fight him off -even if you’d been craving his affection the whole time.

It was part of your dynamic. Chan could drag you through hell and back, you’d insist on running away, but ultimately fail and let him do whatever he wanted to you.

“I think you need a little reminder of who you belong to,” Chan hums lowly, passing his thumb over the fullness of your bottom lip before slowly pushing it into your warm mouth. “Suck,” he commands, pressing down on your tongue slightly as you start to do exactly that. Quiet whimpers vibrate through your throat as you lick and suck on his thumb, doe eyes sparkling with need as he watched you obey his every word.

You could feel his hardened cock through his jeans, the length of it pressed right against your pelvis and lower stomach, and you were tempted to reach down and palm him just for the hell of it. Unfortunately, he’d quickly pull your hand away, reminding you that “you’re not allowed to touch daddy until I say you can…”

You hated that rule but knew the consequences for breaking it would only leave you edged to the brink of delirium and his cum plowed deep into your sore womb.

Chan was certainly not the man to tease -unless you were prepared to endure the corresponding punishment.

So, you took pleasure in sucking on his fingers, imagining it was cock instead, and continuously drooling on his digits until he removed them. You coughed softly as he did, chest heaving, and eyes still watering as they refocused on his face.

Chan couldn’t help but chuckle at your disoriented expression, always so neat and sweet in public, but behind closed doors and in his view you just looked like a love sick pup waiting to be used.

You half expected him to push you down to your knees, already accepting your fate of him using your throat as his personal cock sleeve, but Chan had other ideas.

He closed the distance between you two, ducking his head to capture your spit slick lips with his plump ones. You moaned as he pushed his tongue past yours, taking his time to explore your mouth, and swallowing the short and desperate noises you let out in between each kiss.

Your hold on his veiny wrist and arm traced up to his neck, gently massaging the muscle there before your fingers tangled through the hair at the back of his head. Chan grunted into your mouth when lightly pulled on his dark hair, “I should’ve fucked you in front of him,” he mumbles harshly against your lips, hands gripping your hips to turn you around in one quick motion.

A small yelp flies from your chest as your frontside meets the cold surface, Chan’s body weighing down on yours as his hands slid from your waist to the closure of your black high waisted shorts. He started to undo the tedious buttons and zipper while tracing his lips down the right side your neck. You whined as he littered mark after mark on your unblemished skin, his hands now hooked on the sides of your shorts to pull them off, and his heavy breaths causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“You would’ve liked that, yeah? Daddy fucking you in front of everyone so they’ll never forget who you belong to?” His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke, tone bordering on desperation as you whined and reached a hand up to caress one side of his face. “Yes,” you moan loudly, finally shedding your usual timid nature to fully enjoy the moment, and Chan smirked against skin hearing your delicate voice reach a new octave.

“You’re such a slut, and you’re all mine too,” he muses, slipping one hand right between your shaking thighs, and delving past the fabric of your underwear to cup your mound. “Ahm…stop! No..!” You half moan and half whimper as he takes in the soaking expanse of your cunt.

It was embarrassing. You were definitely more than eager to have him touch you and now he knew it.

Chan laughed dryly at your pathetic attempt to refuse him, fingers sliding up and down your folds to collect as much of your cum as possible before swirling those same fingers around your clit. “You want me to stop? That’s not what your body wants, now is it, baby?” He didn’t need you to answer, your broken cries were enough for him, and the dazed look in your eyes only intensified as he played with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“…s-stop p-please….ill be good…just-just let me go…” you try again to win your freedom, voice cracking as a few tears began to trickle down your flushed cheeks. His attention to your clit had migrated to your entrance, prodding it open with two thick fingers before he shoved them into you as deep as possible. “Fuck ..,” Chan inhaled sharply from how tight your cunt was, already clenching around his fingers like you’d break if he put anymore in.

He might’ve came right then and there if he hadn’t already built his stamina up but his cock still twitched just from the constant pulsing of your wet core.

“Daddy, s’ too much....” you weakly called for his attention, panting as he curled, pumped, and twirled his fingers inside you. He reached every spot that made you see stars and even had you circling your hips to the pace of his hand. “I don’t care,” Chan responded gruffly, back to marking your neck and shoulder as he sped the pace of his fingers up.

You choked on a string of moans, face contrasting into a mindless picture of pleasure as he abused your cunt. “Nooo.. ah!” You tried your best to keep protesting, yet he only added to your torture by slowly circling his thumb on your clit . Now, you were at a loss for words, head emptying of any thoughts besides cumming on his hand.

You were incredibly close to the edge and Chan noticed from just one look at your beautifully lost and delirious stare. Your head lulled back onto his shoulder, eyes rolling slightly as he brought you to your climax with precise pumps into your dripping cunt. “Cumming…” you whimper into the crook of his neck, letting the smell of his cologne fill your head as the knot in your tummy snapped. He groaned as you gushed on his hand, making a mess in your lacey underwear as well, and watched you rock your hips to ride your high out.

Chan smiled at the sight, in love with how messy and careless you could be when he touched you. “You’re gonna cum like this on my cock next, princess…” he announced it like a command and all you could muster was a shaky exhale followed with a lazy smile as you felt him drag his fingers out of your sticky entrance.

“You’ll never forget what it means to be owned by me again, baby girl..”

—————————————————————

Should I make a PT2? I kind of already did hehehe….we will see how PT1 goes first, yeah? 🖤

BONUS CONTENT +

(Sorry not sorry for this…🖤)

[taking-a-cupcake]

Albedo x gn!reader smut

warnings: enemies or rivals, hate sex, unrequited feelings??? mb, rough & soft sex, degrading yet praise idk, lmk if i misses anything

You hated Albedo, you really did. The cheeky smile of his. His smirk. The art he creates. The alchemy he’s skilled in. Every encounter between the two of you always ended with hostility or annoyance. Your dislike for each other was evident to everyone around you.

Although, you couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him. Your mind would often wander to thoughts of him, imagining what it would be like to have his hands all over your body, to feel his lips on your skin. But you knew it could never happen, not with the way he treated you.

Albedo, on the other hand, seemed to have no interest in you. He saw you as nothing more than a nuisance. Your existence seemed to infuriate him, and though he seemed like a kind person, he took every opportunity to degrade and humiliate you. And yet, there was a small part of you that couldn't help but crave his attention, even if it came in the form of insults and condescending remarks.

It was during one of your heated arguments that things finally escalated. The tension between the two of you was thick in the air as Albedo grabbed you roughly by the arms, pinning you against the wall.

'You're nothing but a pathetic excuse for an artist,' he sneered, his words dripping with venom. (LMAOO)

But instead of feeling intimidated, you couldn't help but feel a thread of slick run down your thigh. You looked up at him with a mix of defiance and desire, and in that moment, he seemed to sense your true intentions.

A wicked grin spread across his face as he leaned in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours. 'Oh, would you look at that’

Before you could even respond, his lips crashed down on yours in a fierce kiss, filled with all the pent-up frustration and longing. Albedo soon pulled away with a smirk.

'Be careful what you wish for,' he warned, his hands roaming over your body, his fingers tracing over your curves.

You moaned as his touch sent shivers down your spine, your hands gripping onto his shoulders for support. He continued to kiss and nip at your neck, leaving a trail of marks that would surely last for days.

'Look at you, so desperate for my touch,' he taunted, his voice filled with amusement. 'And all this time, you've been pretending to hate me.'

You could only whimper and roll your eyes (in annoyance) in response as he pushed you down onto a nearby desk, his lips moving lower and lower. He tore off your clothes, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his hungry gaze.

He took his time exploring every inch of your body, leaving no spot untouched. And just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he reached between your legs, his fingers teasing you.

You couldn't hold back your moans as he brought you to the brink of pleasure, only to stop just before you could reach your release. This continued for what felt like hours, his touch driving you to the brink of insanity.

But just as you were about to beg for him to give you what you so desperately craved, he abruptly pulled away. You whimpered in protest, but before you could even say anything, he pushed himself inside you in one swift motion.

You cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he moved inside you, the rough and aggressive thrusts only intensifying your pleasure.


As his pace quickens, your nails dig into his back, he continues to thrust into you, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate. Tears start to stream down your face as you cry out, overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure and the intensity of your emotions.

Albedo's lips find yours, his tongue dancing with yours as he devours your mouth. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he pulls away, denying you your release. Your body writhes beneath him, begging for release, but he denies you once again.

But then, he starts to move again. This time, faster and harder. Your pleasure builds, but you know that he won't allow you to reach your peak just yet. You try to hold back your cries of frustration, but they still escape your lips, only fueling Albedo's desire.

He begins to play with you, teasing and edging you closer to the brink before pulling back once again. The pleasure and frustration become almost unbearable. Finally, after denying you twice, Albedo gives you what you've been waiting for – your release. The waves of pleasure crash over you, and you cry out his name as your body convulses beneath him.

But just when you think it's over, Albedo's hands are back on your body, touching and teasing you in all the right places. Your body is hypersensitive from the denial, making every touch and sensation feel even more intense. And before you know it, you're once again on the edge of orgasm.

Albedo's thrusts become erratic, and you can tell he's close to his own release. With one final thrust, he lets out a loud groan, his body shuddering and trembling with pleasure. And as you both ride out your orgasms together, you can't help but feel grateful for this.

As you both lay there, sweaty and spent, Albedo pulls you close to him, cuddling you.

But it was short-lived as Albedo pulled out and left the room without a single word, leaving you feeling useless. You wanted to hate him for how he treated you, but the truth was, deep down, you knew you would always crave more of him.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow and the slight throbbing sensation between your legs, you couldn't help but admit the truth to yourself. You were hopelessly in love with someone you ‘hated, and he would never return your feelings.

—————————

(guys he actually came back after and did a full treatment and made a bath, trust😅😅)

[manicrouge]

(DESERTION) || CHAPTER ONE: DROWSINESS

[SIMON RILEY X F!READER] || MASTERLIST || (DESERTION) MASTERLIST || PLAYLIST

'Even a man as brooding as he can be just as mellow as dawn.'

cw: brief religious discussion (hints of religious trauma), allusion to abuse.

[Word Count]: 3.5k

In the wilderness you find peace. 

Granted, right now you can’t really see anything; the sun had disappeared a few hours ago and you were left in the darkness. Despite the grimness of the night, you find your eyes making out the trees surrounding the pair of you. Raising from out of the ground like hands, the branches being but crooked fingers.

While the wilderness brings you peace, you find yourself restless at the appearance of the moon, your head throbbing at the thought of the trees. The thought of such was one that your father graciously put in your head during your youth, a foolish thought at that as now, every time you step into a wooded area, you find you can’t escape the humanness of nature and her ways. Nature and her ways, sometimes, makes your skin crawl. 

The memory of your father and his words always entails another one – specifically a distant one of the night you had been lying in bed with Simon. You never dreamt of something having such an impact on you, and yet, it was oddly significant as it was your first confession to him.

Not one of love, not one of lust, rather, one of childish terror. 

‘You always seem on edge whenever we’re in the woods,’ he remarked, looking down at you as you laid your head on his chest, the scent of tobacco filling your senses as the cigarette in his hand steadily burned. ‘What’s that about?’ 

Your hands grazed his chest as you busy yourself with pulling at his hair, your mouth filling with air as you glanced upwards at him. You move your leg further across his as you exhale. ‘Promise me you won’t laugh?’ 

‘Depends on what you’re gonna tell me, sweetheart.’ 

You rolled your eyes. ‘Prick.’ 

‘Tell me,’ he huffed, squeezing your waist while bringing the ciggy back to his mouth. You stayed silent, such defiance earning a scoff from him. ‘Okay,’ he relented, ‘I won’t laugh. I promise you my lips are sealed. Tell me.’ 

You took a deep breath, glancing at him before beginning. ‘When I was little, I went camping with my dad,’ you said, ‘we were sitting outside at night and he told me that trees were actually the hands of all the people who went missing in the woods stickin’ up out of the ground trying to get the attention of people after their bodies became worm food.’ 

‘How old were you?’ 

‘Eight.’ 

‘He said that to an eight year old?’ Simon asked.

‘Yup,’ you laughed dryly, ‘I know it’s bullshit, but I can’t get the image out of my head.’ 

‘You’ve seen plenty of dead people by now,’ he said, exhaling a mouthful of grey smoke, ‘it should be somethin’ you’re used to.’  

‘Doesn’t mean a thing,’ you confessed, ‘there’s just something about it that gives me the chills. Dyin’ somewhere like that, stuck bein’ a fucking tree for the rest of eternity.’ 

‘You rather die in a care home?’ 

‘Anywhere,’ you said simply, ‘just not somewhere like that.’

He was silent after that. 

Pressing your hand against his chest, you pushed yourself up in order to get a proper look of his face. ‘You think it’s stupid.’ 

He took another drag from his cigarette. 

‘You’re dying to laugh.’ 

‘It’s cute,’ he said, a small smile beckoning his mouth as he looked at you, squeezing your side. ‘Out of all the thing you could be scared of, that’s the fuckin’ thing that has you pissing yourself.’ 

You scoffed at his conclusion and settled back on his chest. ‘You still think it’s funny.’ 

‘Of course I do, sweetheart,’ he confessed, ‘if it makes you feel any better, when I was a kid, I used to be fuckin’ terrified of the rain.’ 

‘The rain?’ 

‘Tommy told me that it was a sign that I did somethin’ to make the big man in the sky mad at me. I used to cry an’ cry until it stopped raining. Of course, I realised it was a load of shit after a couple months.’ 

You didn’t laugh at his honesty, instead, you frowned. 

‘What made you so scared?’ 

‘My dad was a strict Catholic,’ he said, ‘drilled it into us at a young age – thought he himself was God on Earth,’ he scoffed, taking another drag from his cigarette, ‘he was just a narcissist with nothin’ else in his life. He left and my fear of rain left with him… started to enjoy it actually.’ 

That thought lives in your head, and it’s a difficult thought to shake. So much of yourself was in that sentiment because, before that, you never really did speak much about your childhood. There was the occasional comment here and there, but they all just came off as ideas, nothing ever seeming to be concrete. You couldn’t have held the shattered piece in your hands, so you settled for grinding them in between your teeth and spitting out the remnants during conversations with your Task Force. 

The ground you’ve been treading has your bones aching – you feel as though you’ve been through hell and back and you can’t quite seem to find any form of escape. Your shoulders are burning, ears ringing as you look at the back of the man marching in front of you.

Ironically, you feel as though you’re carrying the brunt of the labour when, in reality, he snatched your backpack off of you a few miles south and you’ve been walking like a stroppy child with your hands pressed against your side, following after him. You know both of you are exhausted; you see such in his eyes whenever you get the chance to look at his face. 

‘Simon,’ you call, your voice raspy and your tongue heavy in your mouth. ‘I can carry my own bag, it’s fine. Give it back to me.’ 

‘No,’ he plainly answers, seeming to pick up his pace. ‘I know your shoulders are hurtin’, makes no difference to me. Had to carry heavier things than this for longer.’ 

‘Like what?’ 

‘Your bag on date night.’ 

You laugh, nearly tripping over your feet. ‘What happened to the discipline you used to show me in the old days, ay?’ He stops in his tracks and you hit his back with a huff. ‘Prick.’ 

‘The difference is you’re not just an annoying rookie to me anymore,’ he says, turning to face you, ‘so, if your bags hurtin’ you, I’ll carry it.’ 

‘If Price saw you doin’ this, he’d fume.’ 

Despite the darkness, you catch him rolling his eyes. ‘Well, Price isn’t here, is he, sweetheart?’ he asks, leaning down in front of you, his gloved hand raising to hold your face, ‘I’m sure he’d have my head for a lot of things, but what he can’t see won’t hurt him.’ 

‘What he might hear could, though.’

‘Won’t be hearin’ nothin’ from us,’ he says, letting go of your face with a sigh. ‘Not anytime soon, at least.’

‘That’s all you’ve been sayin’ since we lost signal,’ you say, furrowing your brow. Whilst he’s typically a pessimist, his persistence concerning the matter is beginning to cause your stomach to churn. So, whilst he bears the burden of your bag, you bear the burden of his baggage.  ‘We’ll find somewhere with signal soon. This isn’t gonna be like the last time this happened.’ 

The moonlight sits well in his eyes. ‘Doubt it,’ he says, looking around, ‘they can’t reach us where we are.’ 

You stare, holding your breath. ‘How? We’ve been walking for hours.’ 

‘Still too far out,’ he says, holding his hand out to you. ‘C’mon, he’s not ere, is he? He’s not gonna care. No one is.’ 

You place your hand in his, taking the position of walking beside him as the pair of you continue on your venture. Really, the feeling of his gloved hand in your own is a peculiar comfort, although you’ve known that his touch can solve any wrong for quite a while by now.

With his hand in yours you find that the ‘hands’ of the undead poking through the ground don’t seem all that terrifying. He squeezes your hand as you walk, an occasional rhythm sinking into your palm as you keep your eyes trained on the trees in front of you. 

‘Do you think we’re ever gonna catch Cain?’ 

His name tastes terrible in your mouth. And what a truly despicable man he is. You've met many criminals in your time on the job, tyrants, wannabe dictators, and somehow, this man is the one who leaves you the most uneasy.

There's nothing explicitly off about him and, had he maintained his business orientated persona, you're more than convinced that the CIA wouldn't have pieced together his part in a deal. It was a blip – a mistake that had brought him to the attention of Kate and the Task Force. Confidence typically brings sloppiness: unfortunate for him, yet fortunate for you and the rest of your team. 

‘Only a matter of time,’ Simon says, ‘only so much of this area you can tread before coming to the edge of a cliff or lake. He’s got no one to help him as far as we know,’ he continues, ‘and with Johnny and Gaz coverin’ ground, he isn’t gonna get far.’  

You nod your head as he speaks, although, there’s something aching the forefront of your head, pushing its hands up against your skull as you continue to walk with him. Your legs are burning, your eyes are stinging: everything hurts.

It’s unlike any pain you’ve ever known, the worst you have ever known, and you can’t help but question why exactly you’re here, doing all this when the pair of you could have been home, in your bed. Still, the discipline that has been woven into your DNA pulls your sluggish posture up and forces you to press onwards, in spite of your doubts. But even that is escaping you it seems.

‘Okay,’ you say dully. 

A stick snaps beneath your foot, you feel it bend. Still, tense, squeezing his hand. You hear a small chuckle escape from his mouth, slightly masked by the balaclava covering his face. Neither of you speak, however, opting to remain silent. It’s better this way because sound only really covers up the sounds of enemies, and whilst you’re sure Cain is far from the sort to be able to do any real damage, you’re more than sure that, if he does have a weapon, you’ll surely be dead: all because of your conversation.

Yet, something compels you to keep talking. You feel as though, if you stop, you’ll never speak to him ever again. It’s irresponsible at best, foolish at worst. 

‘I miss home,’ you say to him, feeling the back of your throat burning. ‘Especially the café at the bottom of our street.’ 

‘Bunny Brews?’ he answers. The name of the café leaving his mouth sounds strange. 

‘They make the best pastries ever. I’d do anything for one of their pastries cause if I have to eat one more MRE, I’m going to lose it.’ 

‘I miss the brews,’ he says, ‘I’d do anything for one of those.’ 

There’s a sound of sadness in his voice as he speaks. Anyone else would miss it because you know you have a tendency to find the details in the oddest of things, him being one of them. Only, with such a soul with yours, you can’t help but notice every little thing about him.

The way in which he walks changes when he’s in the house, but in your home. Anywhere else, his fists are clenched and you’ve noted how his eyes are forever programmed to survey the area as though threat is imminent. 

His professionalism is in his blood, if not him as a whole – and you would believe that fact if you hadn’t seen how he is at home. He’s forever destined to be associated with the night in your mind: dark, unknown, leaving you forever anticipating what his next move is. And yet, despite the fact that you’re confident he’s nature's nighttime creation, his anticipation trails onwards, not ending when the moon disappears, instead, being replaced by the sun as morning rolls around. 

Even a man as brooding as he can be just as mellow as dawn. 

Quiet, washed out, all the while being something you admire from afar. At home, he’s another person, and you were convinced of that for a while until eventually the dawn seeped into his complexion and his professionalism began to waver all for the sake of holding you close to him, or cracking the occasional joke. 

‘Two goldfish are in a tank.’

‘You’ve already told me that one, Si.’ 

He was silent for a moment. 

‘Three goldfish are in a tank.’ 

Granted, you know comedy isn’t exactly his forté. Although his emphasis could not have been considered anything other than a joke within itself – a mixture of his nighttime mentality and his dawn persona. 

You’re retrieved from your train of thought when you tread something a lot softer than the stick. It nearly melts beneath your boot and you stop in your tracks, your hand slipping out of Simon’s as you crouch down, taking a stuffed Grizzly bear into your hands.

‘Has he got a name?’ your mother asked over dinner. 

He sat beside you, his front paws doing little to assist in his balance. ‘Bearie,’ you announced before taking another bite out of your pizza. 

Bearie.

Immediately, your brows furrow as you take the plushie in both hands, holding it out in front of you in an attempt to observe it. The shape of the toy is the only thing prominent to you and it sits in your hand, appearing as an ink mass.

Grabbing your flashlight from your belt, you turn it on and point it down at the toy. Everything, from the shape, from the firmness of his stuffing, all the way down to the missing eye – it’s him. You turn to Simon who was a few steps away from you, holding the bear up for him to see. Your childhood is staring you in the eyes. 

Suddenly, the trees are back to being the waving hands of the dead. 

‘This looks exactly like Bearie,’ you say, ‘it’s even missing the same eyes as he is.’ 

And how peculiar it is to see the one thing that has followed you throughout the course of the entirety of your life on the ground in the middle of nowhere.

There's a sickness in the back of your throat, pondering where exactly this thing has come from – is it a replica or is it him? You don’t have the answer for that question and, really, you don’t want to know the truth behind it. You swallow hard, looking at Simon, your eyes stinging. You feel the urge to cry as you look at him. Your grasp on the bear only grows tighter on him as your face grows warm in spite of the autumn breeze. 

There’s this look in Simon’s eyes as you look over at him. The same sort of look he offers you whenever he’s bought you something from the shop, yet tells you that there is nothing other than the necessities.

‘How does he know about this? I- It can’t be a coincidence.’ 

Holding the bear out to him, you feel the urge to drop it to the ground, to forget about its existence entirely. However, it’s too late, you know it is. No amount of distraction in the distant future could keep you from the feeling of the goosebumps on your skin at this very moment. You raise your hand to your forehead, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself; the way you’re acting is not the way of a soldier, rather one of a coward. You’ve seen a lot – too much, really, and yet, you’re rendered speechless by the sight of a stuffed bear. 

Your bear, but still a toy nonetheless. 

Of course, it was a common design; you remember how plentiful the stock of them was when you went to the Build-A-Bear shop as a child, and still to this day they exist. You only know that because Simon offered to get you a replacement because Bearie has been looking a little worse for wear these days. 

‘He’s a tatty thing now, you should get a new one – I’ll get you him as a little present.’ 

You held the bear in your arms as though he was your infant son, acting as though Simon (the father) was proposing you give him up for adoption. ‘Don’t look so upset. Am tryin’ to be nice,’ he said with a grin. 

You sighed and settled beside him, resting your head against his shoulder as you held him out to look at him. Yes, he was right. His left eye was gone all because of your childhood dog, his fur was nowhere near as glossy and soft as it had been at one, rather a clump of mats. Not to mention his battle scars he received from a jealous squad mate back in your old dorms before you were moved to Task Force 141. However, any other version of him seemed to weather in comparison to the one who looked the worse. 

‘I don’t want a new one,’ you said, placing the teddy bear down onto your lap, ‘when a human’s a little worse for wear, you don’t replace them, do you?’ you asked, ‘you nurse em back to health – appreciate their scars cause it’s what makes them unique.’ 

He chuckled. ‘You trying to hint at something here?’ 

‘I had a scar on my stomach an’ you don’t wanna throw me away,’ you said simply, ‘and he has a scar on his arm because of fuckin’ Chevvy.’ 

‘I could’ve beat him black an’ blue.’ 

‘I did it for you,’ you answered with a grin, picking Bearie back up. ‘He’s lived a life himself, in his own little way. He can’t talk for himself, but his marks do all the talking,’ you said, ‘and if someone doesn’t know what happened, I like to think he’s lived a million different lives just cause someone else comes to a different conclusion, y’know?’ 

‘I understand,’ Simon said with a nod, ‘although, at the end of the day, you do also ave to realise that it’s just a teddy.’ 

You just stared at him. ‘He’s your son.’

‘And am a proud dad for sure,’ he answered gruffly, earning a laugh from you. 

You blink. 

There’s a cracking to the right of you, morphing into a crunch before you have much time to contemplate what exactly it was. One second you’re standing, and the next you’re shoved to the ground, your head shielded by the secure hand of your lover as the pair of you hit the ground with a huff. The grass and ground, fortunately, are much softer than concrete, keeping you from any risk of serious injury, and his touch on you feels so familiar it leaves your head spinning. 

You’ve been drowsy for a while now, perhaps you're just exhausted. 

Despite the harshness of the crack, the rest of the journey to the ground for the tree was quaint and quiet. Once again, all is quiet aside from the heavy breathing from the man lying beside you on the ground. 

You search for the bear that had just been in your hands. 'Where–'

‘You’ve gotta be more careful,’ he states firmly, his hand on your back pressing you closer into him. It’s as though he’s anticipating you disappearing at any moment. ‘Be embarrassed if a trees the thing that takes you out… don’t think I could keep a straight face at the wake if that happened.’ 

His seriousness is gone just like that, and your thumping heart slows. 

‘Really, that’s your only concern?’ you ask, pushing yourself up so that you’re sitting on your knees whilst he remains on the ground. Your head hurts. ‘Out of everything?’ 

He chuckles. ‘Suppose I’d struggle to come to terms with livin’ without you too,’ he says, although (not really) his previous statement remains prominent on your face in the form of furrowed brows. He squeezes your waist as he pulls you closer to him, his professionalism wavering despite the darkness of the night sky. 

‘So, did you save me cause you’d be embarrassed if I was squashed by a tree, or did you save me cause you couldn��t live without me?’ 

‘Mixture of both, I suppose,’ he says through a sigh, ‘you go, am goin’ too. That’s how it works, ain’t it?’

You smile in spite of the aching in your chest. ‘Yeah, it is.’ 

There’s a sound of static after his words, the pair of you falling from the comfort of your embrace as his hand leaves your side to grab the radio on the side of his belt.

‘Price, this is Ghost, do you copy?’

The goosebumps on your skin begin to melt all for the static from the radio to persist. 

‘Price, do you copy?’ he repeats. 

‘Dismissed,’ says the voice on the end of the radio. 

You and Simon share a look. 

‘Dismissed, you are dismissed,’ Price says, his voice fizzling out, although, you are able to make out one final word before the static dissipates, leaving you in silence once more. ‘Rest.’

[triptychgrip]

Post-canon, Akito-centric fic recs

I'm back with 2 more Akito-centric fic recs because over the weekend, I had an incredibly vivid dream about her and immediately had to hunt down some fanfic, lol.

These two one-shots are the kinds of stories that are so beautifully written, it almost hurts. The prose and imagery used in each is so evocative and moving, and I was in tears by the end of them both.

The first is the hope i want to share with you by ao3 user warsfeil (I tried looking them up on Tumblr and couldn't find a blog, but if you know them under a different username, please let me know, as I would obviously love to tag them for credit!).

It's a 13K story told through vignettes, and MY GOD. It's actually a bit difficult for me to convey how reading it made me feel, but I've included an excerpt below that I really loved. For context, this takes place after Akito has a dream in which she and Shigure are getting married, and Ren is present at the wedding, taunting her:

Akito can’t speak, for a moment: she grips onto Shigure so tightly he hisses, her nails leaving crescent moons of red welling in their wake, and she buries her face into his chest and squeezes her eyes shut like it will help subside the fear that permeates her entire body.

“I’m here,” Shigure says, which is the exact right thing to say but also the wrong thing entirely because it makes that fear bubble back up into Akito’s chest until she can’t help but cry. “What were you dreaming about?”

Akito can’t manage the words, at first, so she just stays there. It’s familiar, to cry against Shigure, to let him wrap his arms around her and stroke her hair until she sleeps -- but she doesn’t think she’ll be going back to sleep, this time.

“I don’t want a wedding,” Akito says, and she feels Shigure pause. “I don’t mean I don’t want to get married. I don’t -- I don’t want a wedding. I don’t want anything to go wrong”

“Then we won’t have one,” Shigure says, “but even if we did, I wouldn’t let her touch it.”

Akito knows, she knows the kind of things Shigure thinks about -- he talks about revenge with his fingers trailing around his sake cup, he reads records and papers and forms plans and ideas that Akito can barely follow, much less follow through on -- but something in her heart still aches at the idea of it all. Relief that he’d fight for her; sadness that he has to; guilt that she could ever think of allowing anyone to get revenge on her behalf when she’s left so many broken on her own.

----

The second is worthy, by @renywrites (Renegade_Reaper on ao3). I think I'd read anything you write, Reny!!

Just like their story 'I can barely breathe', worthy is so, so gorgeously written, and is a 6K fic exploring Akito's mental state after the curse break. Have you ever read prose so beautiful it's like a wallop to the face? Lol, that's how it felt reading this, in a good way!!

I've included an excerpt from it as well, and for context, this scene takes place in a Catholic church, during a trip that Shigure and Akito take to San Francisco. Note that Akito uses they/them pronouns:

Shigure leads them into the large building, into a huge room with stained glass windows depicting men and women and children. Akito was sure they meant something, but to them, it was just pretty imagery.

They’re left by the altar as Shigure goes to track someone down, likely to interrogate for his book. They watch him go, left to take in their surroundings and hope that nobody tried to speak to them. Akito looks up at the wall above the altar, and wonders if this religion had any truth to it, too.

They had been a god, once. They had been revered, feared, respected, obeyed. They had been worshipped, too. But being a god had been such a horribly lonely existence. Everything had been so dark, so crushing, so significant. The slightest act of defiance had sent them into a rage, and in their attempts to draw everyone closer, they had only succeeded in driving them away.

Akito lowers their dark gaze to the altar, and wonders if sacrifice had ever been necessary in this religion. They wonder if it would matter if they had sacrificed themself, bled out on a stone cold slab for their own glory.

----

The Fruits Basket fandom is full of such talent, I'm so grateful for incredible writers sharing their work!! If anyone wants to reblog with their own Akito fic recs (post-canon or otherwise, including ones they've written themselves), it would make my day!!

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: In Your Orbit Gen 1 pt.74

Back home the Gratz kids were none the wiser to the chaos unfolding around them. The adults in their lives were doing their best to hide the tense atmosphere that had descended on their usually carefree lives.

Spirit was in the yard with Zohreh, Ishtar, and Aphrodite. Ishtar had insisted his grandmother teach him how to replant the dragon fruit plant that had been destroyed earlier that morning. Dite opted out of gardening lessons preferring to keep her fingernails clean but sat outside on a blanket and played with Zohreh.

Spirit: A little more soil, make sure you pack it in tight.

She instrusted expertly.

Ishtar: Like this?

He asked, running his fingers through the cool, rich soil.

Zohreh: Dite Dinasaw! Rrawr!

Aphordite: What color is it Zoh?

Zohreh: Gween!

In the front of the house, Kason was spending a little one-on-one time with heir, Venus. Venus was using the time to get Kason caught up on her new favorite pastime.

Venus: Hey Dad, how big do you think a Dicoatl is?

Kason: Hmm. Not sure kiddo. Bigger than a T-Rex?

Venus: That's what Ish said too.

She pushed her heels into the dirt pressing down all her weight. Kason struggled a little under the pressure.

Kason: Well then it must be true. Ishtar is the expert when it comes to dinosaurs. You're getting stong.

Venus: Well I'm the queen of voidcritter and I say you're both wrong. When do you think Mom's coming back?

Kason: No clue V. You miss your mom huh?

Venus: Yeah.

Kason: Me too kid.

Venus: Can I have her pie?

He laughed lightheartedly.

Kason: No. Your mother would have my head. Is that why you want her home.

Finally, she toppled him over onto all fours.

Venus: Maybe! What are you gonna do about it?

She baited him playfully. He bent low pretending to stalk her like prey.

Kason: Come here, you little troublemaker!

Venus squealed and ran away.

Kason: Come back here you!

He jumped to his feet giving chase. He caught up to her quickly and grabbed her.

Kason: Gotcha!

Venus: Nooo! Dad stop!

He howled with laughter as he tickled her before lifting her in the air and putting her on his shoulders. Her giggles could be heard clear across the square. Once she was seated comfortably she asked more seriously.

Venus: Can we call Mom?

Kason: She went to meet with Takara, we should probably wait for her to come home. I doubt she'll be much longer. And she wants her pie.

He added for good measure.

Venus: I think we should call her. Takara will understand.

Kason smirked at her defiance. She was stubborn, but he had experience.

Kason: How will you call if you can't get down to get the phone?

She wiggled and shook struggling against his grip. Eventually, she gave up and released her grip completely, falling backward.

Kason: Nice try V, but I saw that coming.

Venus: Look it's Mom!

The father-daughter duo hadn't noticed M's approach.

M: What are you two doing?

The smile was evident in her voice.

Venus: Dad was crying because he missed you so much and tried to wipe his nose on me!

Grinning, he helped her down.

Venus: Dad said I could have your pie.

Kason: What?! I did not.

Before he could grab hold of her again she took off.

M: No more pie! Get cleaned up for dinner!

She called after her as Kason bent over to catch his breath. He stood and wiped a hand across his forehead having worked up a sweat.

M: You okay?

Kason: She's not a baby anymore is she?

M: None of them are.

They stared at one another. A million messages passed between them. Kason was the first to break the silence.

Kason: It's cold out here. Let's go inside, there's still pie for us.

M: I thought you ate pie earlier with the kids?

Kason: I would never eat blueberry pie without you.

She hadn't cried once during the whole ordeal but this small gesture broke her resolve. He was still putting her first. After she's basically called him a liar. When she had a moment of doubt he had remained sure of his love for her. Tears flowed over her flushed cheeks. Kason gathered her in his arms and kissed her passionately.

He pulled away and tried to lead her inside.

Kason: Come on. I'll heat up your pie and make you a cup of coffee.

She shook her head no, turning and walking to the edge of their property stopping at the fence.

She couldn't let him just forgive her. After the way she walked out on him the other night, she knew he was owed more than just an "I'm sorry."

M: I can't let you pretend nothing happened. You don't deserve to have this swept under the rug.

Kason: M you don't have to-

M: No! I do. Damnit Kason. I do.

She was doing her best to hold back the tears that stung the backs of her eyes.

M: Takara told me that Paris was the one that posted the pictures.

Kason: I kind of figured as much.

M: She also told me about Madison. I know you lied about your work meeting.

She hadn't meant it as an accusation she was just stating a fact. Kason made his way around the fence to stand face-to-face with her.

Kason: I'm sorry I lied about the meeting. I couldn't tell you I was meeting with Takara.

Remorse bled into his words. M could feel him begging to be forgiven but he didn't need to beg she had forgiven him for the little white lie. It was she who was in need of retribution.

M: Trust me, I probably would have lied too if Takara had told me to.

Sighing and dropping her head into her hand, she chuckled dryly. Kason came back around, he stood close rubbing small circles across her back.

M: When I was a kid I friend named Becca. We did everything together. When we got to high school she started hanging with some popular girls. Before I knew it we weren't friends anymore. I was so mad and confused, I felt abandoned. I came home one day after confronting her and I went straight out into the yard with my telescope to stargaze, it was after writing club.

M: My dad came out and asked me what was wrong. When I told him he sat down and told me something I never should have forgotten.

She took a deep breath saddened by the memory of her beloved father. She could hear his voice as clearly as if he were standing beside her.

Jorden: There are a few things in your life you can trust to always be around for you. The moon, the stars, and us.

M: Dad the moon changes phases till it's completely gone and stars eventually die. Just like friendships and just like us.

Jorden: That may be true, but even if you don't see the moon it's still there in the sky and when the stars die they leave behind particles that create new stars. Like your mother and I did with you and your brother. Like generations of star families lighting our way night after night. None of us are truly gone because we've left something of ourselves in the world for those we love. Sometimes the important thing we've left for the world is our loved ones.

M: Seemed like a lot of mumbo jumbo at the time, but now I think I understand. I simply should have trusted my moon.

Before her stood a loyal husband, a loving father, and a reliable friend. She looked into his pale green eyes, in them was forgiveness and unconditional love.

M: I should have trusted the moon that lit up so many dark nights. The moon that changed the tides of my existence. The man that was always in my sky watching over me even when I couldn't see him...Takara told me about the event...She told me everything. I'm sor-

Kason brushed his fingers across her cheek, his touch light as a feather.

Kason: Please don't say you're sorry M. You have nothing to be sorry for. I should have told you everything from the start. I should have told you the whole truth yesterday. I got so wrapped up in wanting to give you something special that I forgot to think about what you wanted or needed. I was selfish.

M: You selfish? I don't think that's possible.

He tugged her forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He sighed and buried his face against her neck. She needed no extra invitation to be wrapped up in him. She settled into his embrace caressing his soft blond curls with her long slender fingers.

Kason: It shook my confidence to see the hurt and fear behind your eyes. Not my confidence in us but in myself. I’d been so sure I did everything I could to ensure you knew I was yours forever that I got careless. I got lack and it came back to bite me. It looks like I still have work to do.

M: No Kason, your work is done. This was all on me, I let my own insecurities blind me and you paid the price. I was so worried about being outshined by a random star. You're an incredible man and I thought maybe you'd found someone worthy of all you have to give.

Kason was astounded. Mercury was one of the most confident people he knew. Sure she faced the occasional hardship but even then she'd always seemed so sure of herself. He hadn't realized that even she needed his reassurance every now and again.

Kason: There are a billion stars in this universe and not even the sun could pull be out of your orbit Mercury. From where I’m standing you're the brightest light in my night sky. I love you M.

M: I love you Kason.

Previous Next

Beginning

Poses: rebouks floor bumper poses

@starrysimsie something between us

@sciophobis Little Troublemaker

@libetsims Teaching Gardening

@elen-shine Conversation at the fence

[alearicci]

"just a little scratch...” – DR3

pairings: daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!reader; daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!you

summary: you, your Daniel Ricciardo and the second practice.

note: I cry like hell. god, why him...

I think you will not like it very much, because I wrote this little one shot on terrible emotions. sorry for the mistakes and OMG, I HAVE 56 READERS TYSM.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ♡⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The second practice in Zandvoort.

In the first practice, Dan was the 13th, there is something to strive for and what to fix. In any case, this is not a qualification or even a race, but only a training race where they will be able to practice on the track, assess their capabilities, finalize some points and be fully ready to step into the weekend of the Dutch Grand Prix. He kept smiling no matter what.

He is obliged to show himself well in AlphaTauri in order to return to the RBR.

He dreams about it every time before going to bed and wakes up with the same thought.

He dreams of becoming a world champion. And the Red Bull car is considered the strongest among all those who are on the starting grid. Daniel is not a weakling either.

But it's hard to even think about it when you're on the starting grid with Max Verstappen. Daniel had a good and friendly relationship with Max. But how the Australian wanted to wipe his nose and get around him.

You were standing in the paddock and before the practice started, you decided to approach your boyfriend to wish him good practice and kiss him for good luck. But they stopped you and told you that Dan was ready to leave. You blew him a kiss.

Daniel saw it and did the same. But there was one problem. He was already in his helmet and his visor was closed, which is why he kissed you back, but you didn't notice it.

When the sun broke through the clouds a little, illuminating the picturesque race track, Daniel Ricciardo was determined to succeed. The second training session was about to begin - this is a chance for an Australian racer to hone his skills and get an adrenaline rush, which always occurs when his car was working at the limit of its capabilities. However, he didn't know that this day would test his resilience like never before.

The training started and nothing foreshadowed trouble, although Dan had already noticed the strange behavior of his car during the first training session, but ignored it, considering that it was just a minor problem that could be easily fixed. He did not even suspect that a much more serious storm was brewing, which would destroy his hopes and dreams in a matter of seconds.

Grabbing the steering wheel of his car, Daniel felt a wave of electricity run through his veins. The noise of the crowd, the smell of burning rubber, and the realization that he was about to embark on a dance of speed and precision filled him completely. The pit lane was cleared, and he took off on the track, striving to leave his mark and show a good time even in training.

Working harder and harder with each lap, Daniel was focused, his heart pounding almost to the rhythm of the engine. But just at the moment when he was preparing to masterfully maneuver in a sharp turn, disaster struck.

Ahead of him, Oscar Piastri, a McLaren driver, lost control of his car and crashed into the guardrail.

In the blink of an eye, his entire positive attitude turned into a nightmare. The smile quickly faded from his face.

Daniel tried to let go of the steering wheel, his right hand let go of the steering wheel, and then he grabbed it back when Oscar's car was potentially in his way, which led to terrible consequences.

The blow was sudden and strong, causing Daniel's left arm to even throb with pain. The realization hit him like a dagger–the metacarpal bone was broken. An unpleasant feeling gripped him as he headed back to the pits, his dreams of success in racing slipping away with every agonizing second.

Despite the overwhelming pain, a sense of determination and defiance blossomed in Ricciardo's heart. He knew that he would have to deal with the pain both for himself and for his loyal fans who supported him throughout the journey.

When you saw everything that was happening, you immediately felt your legs give way and your vision blurred. You were about to faint if it weren't for the firm grip of one of the engineers who happened to be near you.

You felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest. It could have ended much worse.

Dan was immediately taken to the medical center and you didn't even have time to tell him anything. I could have run and gone with him, but your well-being was seriously shaken. Your heart was pounding, and your face showed concern. The thought of the pain of a loved one tormented you from the inside, but you knew that you had to remain calm for the sake of both of you. You have already seen Daniel overcome countless difficulties, and it was at these moments that you most admired his resilience.

While he was being X-rayed, Ricciardo's mind sank into the depths of his emotions. He couldn't deny the disappointment that threatened to engulf him. The opportunity to demonstrate his talent and compete at the highest level was cruelly taken away from him. And he couldn't realize: whose mistake was it? If he hadn't turned into the wall, would he have crashed into Oscar? What would happen in this case?

He struggled with a mixture of anger, sadness, and a tinge of guilt.

Why him? Why now? Will he be able to regain the level of performance he fought so hard for? How will this affect his further races? Doubt and uncertainty began to creep into his mind, fast and lightning-fast, like a shadow, but Ricciardo did not let him linger. He knew that he needed to channel his energy into the difficult task of recovery.

As soon as he returned to the paddock, with a bandage on his left arm, you couldn't stand it and burst into tears, covering your face with your hands.

Dan came up to you and gently hugged you with his right hand, kissing your forehead.

"I'm fine. Just a little scratch. Just a little scratch..."

His light–hearted response did little to ease your anxiety, or rather, did not ease it with everything, but reminded you of the qualities that you valued in Daniel - his unwavering optimism, his ability to find humor even in the most difficult situations. You knew he was determined to overcome this setback, no matter how serious it was.

And you will always be there to support him.

[ultraericthered]

One Villainous Scene: Enough To Feed A Whole Army

It's serendipitous that this one come not only as Winter Is Coming, but also soon after the final episode of The Penguin, as the scene in question pulls a similar thing to what the events of that episode did.

Episode 14 of the first season of Vinland Saga, titled "The Light of Dawn", might just be the most uncomfortable episode in the series, and in any anime series. Rather oddly centering heavily around a bit character who never matters in the series narrative ever again beyond this particular episode and what it sets off for the following one, it reaches its climax when the viking army that Thorfinn, Prince Canute, Ragnar, Priest Willibald, and the rest of Ragnar's men are accompanying - y'know, our main characters - arrive at Anne's village and raids the place, rounding up all the villagers to force them out into the snowy cold while the vikings ransack all the houses to check the grand total of all supplies in the village, particularly the rations.

Only Anne managed to flee to safety but is watching what befalls her family and neighbors from a distance away. We see men, women, children, and even crying infants, all people who have done no harm to these Danish invaders whatsoever, huddled outside. Askeladd has determined that the village holds enough food for 50 people to last the winter, which comes up short for 104 soldiers. After chiding Willibald for an earlier display of defiance towards him and making a threat on his life should he do so again, Askeladd's attention is turned to the villagers as one pleads with him to let the villagers keep half of the food supply, with the other half being forfeited to the Danes. He even plays the "I have a baby!" card as an appeal to Askeladd's humanity. Only no such humanity seems to be moved in Askeladd, who dryly responds "A baby? That's rough." A stern, cold-blooded Askeladd announces to the masses that he has put all of them into consideration, and looks to ensure that none of them have to worry about going hungry during the winter...or for any winters to come for that matter. He intends to release them from their suffering, by ending the lives of all of them. Every last man, woman, and child.

At the protest of doing this to innocent civillians, Askeladd replies with only stone cold rationale - if he were to let all of them live but banish them from their home village, he'd have no food or drink to give to them that would sustain them out in the winter's cold, as he plans to keep all of the village's food and make it last for as long as they're able to stay there before winter fades, and should any one of them escape with their life, they'd be able to tell Thorkell and his forces where they are (which is indeed what ends up happening with Anne after her survival btw). As such, they all must perish. Askeladd's already had his warrior flunkies dig deep holes in the snow-covered ground to cram in up to 62 dead bodies. "But these people are Christians!" Ragnar protests. To which Askeladd gives a literal, word for word "So what?" Askeladd belongs to no conventional religious faith, and he doesn't let beliefs, affiliations, nationalities, gender or age set for him any standard of who he can or cannot shed the blood of without hesitation should the cause of the moment call for such blood to be shed. Which this moment does, as he's keen to remind Ragnar: this is what's best for Prince Canute. So with no more questions to be asked, Askeladd issues his command: "Kill them."

The massacre that follows is appalling and horrific to behold, even though very little of the butchering is shown on-screen. But what gives it its horror isn't what's transpiring, but how and why it is, and by who's hand. Askeladd is the true protagonist of Vinland Saga's Prologue Arc (its first season in the anime) in many regards, and we've followed him up to this point and continue to follow him even afterwards. The insights into his past and how it shaped his present character, the glimmers of deeply held convictions, motivations, and beliefs we get out of him that offset his usual devil may care attitude, his badass warrior spirit and charming personality endear him to us and allow us to be invested in his actions that drive the plot forward. He is in fact so charismatic that the viewer will likely be so enraptured by him to the point of wanting to follow him, of wanting to root for his success, of disregarding or perhaps even forgetting the basic fact of who and what Askeladd is, which is what he's always been from the moment we met him: a remorseless, merciless, spiritually detached, machiavellian and oftentimes cruel mass murderer. He's not a man, he's a beast. He knows he's a beast, and he laments it only as often as he relishes it. The same man capable of murdering Thors in such a despicably underhanded, craven way is of course capable of ordering the bloody massacre of an entire village full of innocent civillians under rationalizations of taking life and butchering bodies when such evils are deemed "necessary" by him. He feels nothing about seeing people all the way down to literal babies get dispatched of swiftly but no less brutally and painfully. To him it's all just part of how he lives his life being the man he is and doing what a man like him does. But to us in the audience who've by this point bonded with him in a way and have come around to trusting, supporting, and liking the bastard, this moment comes in like a knife in the back or through the throat to serve as a wake-up call that pulls no punches. We see Askeladd and his viking crew through the eyes of non-players not affiliated with them and who know nothing of them that we've gotten to know, and it reminds us of the ugly truth of what callous, barbaric, inhumane monsters these people are to others.

And just as disturbing? The silent complicity of Thorfinn and Canute. They're a part of this too. They also own it. The blood of the innocent soaks their hands as well, even if neither one lifted a single weapon against a single villager. This is where the path you follow Askeladd down inevitably leads, and it will weigh on their souls forevermore.