#I will literally destroy at my race as long as my body doesn’t fall apart

[roylustang]

Okay I kind of fucked myself up but I also fucking DESTROYED that 40 mile run

[petrichormeraki]

i saw senpai @shadeswift99 do this so now im inspired:

Hermits Ranked On How Much I Could Fight Them And Win:

Welsknight: this bitch doesn’t even need to touch me. he would obliterate me just by rap roasting me so hard i would instantly disintegrate. 0/10 i would have no chance 

Grian: if i didn’t know any better i would take him. unfortunately i do know better and i know he’s stronger than all the other hermits that met irl at a convention and he absolutely destroyed a strength arcade game. 4/10 only because he has hollow bones but he would just evade me until i got tired and then punch my lights out

TFC: tfc would take me the fuck out with his one arm and leg, but i really feel like he just wouldnt bother. -10/10 bc i would never lay a fucking finger on my minecraft grandpa, he’s been through too much already. even if i did square up he is probably jacked as shit from mining for miles on end. no way 

Bdubs: bdubs would absolutely beat me on sheer strength, but he suffers from Little Guy Syndrome just like i do so id be able to take him out by insulting his height and distracting him since i know from experience that is what tics little guys off the most. however he also completely feral and is barely keeping a lid on it so he would stab me without any prompting. 3/10

Scar: nope. man is fucking giant and he’s too sweet to even consider a fight. i dont like using that cop out but i mean it in this instance. plus jellie would absolutely tear me apart if i even came near her boy with malicious intent and thats not how i want to die. 1/10 because i would win but at what cost.

Cub: man looks old as shit and is a government enforcer. i would not hesitate to fight him. 6/10 only because he has vex friends that would destroy me if i touched him

Cleo: she would break my legs and i wouldnt even be mad. i mentally could never throw a punch at her because zombies scare the living fuck out of me. i would instantly lose 0/10

False: i would die. -100/10

Stress: she was a drum player which means she has a lot of pent up aggression in there somewhere and i cannot compete with that. she also carries around flowers and that would take me out via allergy attack if i even got close. 4/10 because i think i could do it on principal but i also know i wouldnt be able to realistically

xB: mans has literally murdered in cold blood in season six, i fear him. he seems docile but thats all a facade and i know it. 2/10 only because fear would make me stronger but not strong enough

Tango: he would physically be very tough because of wrangling ravagers but he is also an idiot. thats not much advantage to me because so am i. 5/10 i think it would be an even split on who would win

Zedaph: in straight hand to hand i would obliterate him. however he unironically makes deadly traps just for people that visit his base so uh. 7/10 because i would drop him but he’s also too much of a violent introvert to even let me get close

Mumbo: he’s tall and buff but he’s too self conscious to use his physical attributes to his full potential. all i need to do is aim for the middle and he’d fall like a timbered tree. 8/10 only because i cant reach his face (and even if i could i wouldnt go for it bc of the beautiful mustache) 

Hypno: i know nothing about him and that scares me. ???/10

Keralis: he’s very sweet but he’s also rich. sorry keralis. 10/10 

Xisuma: i would give it my best shot but honestly i wouldnt even be able to touch him. he’s the fucking doomguy!!! what am i supposed to do!! 0/10

Iskall: he’s an assassin and built like a brick shit house. he’s also too friendly, i would unconsciously pull my punches because i don’t feel right about fighting such a nice guy. 0/10 he would actually take my life

Impulse: also a drummer. he is unsure if he’s actually human or not and that fact alone means he would be able to take me the fuck out. 2/10 he’s also a government enforcer and i want to fight him but i wouldnt last long 

Doc: he fought a god and only lost an arm. -10/10

Jevin: i could probably take him but the fact that he consists entirely of the substance that makes my bones want to escape my body means i would not fucking touch him if you paid me. 0/10 

Beef: he seems like a genuinely cool and fun guy but he wears a blood covered apron all the time so god knows what he’d do to me. he’s also smart enough to make advancements in technology that the human race has only dreamed of achieving. 0/10 because he looks like my dad and i would never fight him

Etho: he terrifies me. he canadian so that’d make me let my guard down slightly but then he’d sic an army of endermites on me. he’s an OG and i would not survive. 0/10  

Ren: he’s puppy. i would never dream of punching a dog in the face. even if i did, ren is so casually horny that i would whiff every shot out of sheer embarrassment. 5/10 because we would stalemate. 

[starfirette]

Ok but Helena Bertinelli x fem!reader where Helena takes all her pent up anger out on reader thru sex and she just tops the FUCK out of R and it’s super hot and R lowkey loves when Helena gets angry when it leads to steamy sex👀 oof I need a MINUUUTE😫

a/n: this is very smutty. it is more emotionally angry, and y/n more takes her anger out on helena, BUT i think it's good. .......i think?? | 18+

masterlist | more helena | inbox | ships + requests open

Every single piece of furniture was toppled over.

The fine china that you’d once had shelved on display littered the floor in ground little pieces.

It was a shocking scene to say the least, especially when you were expecting to walk through the door and take an instant nap.

After being in Moscow for the week, both you and Helena had been looking forward to coming back to the shared Alaska home high up in the mountains.

As you stared around in a state of shock, Helena pulled you by the waist. It was as though she wanted to shield you from the destruction that laid before your eyes.

You weren’t naive. At least, not too naive. You could recognize what was going on.

The last time something similar happened was three years ago. At that time, you and Helena had recently been married. It was the threats and destruction that followed Helena which caused her to leave Gotham with you in tow. Together, you traveled halfway across the across the country, in search for a haven that would protect you from Helena’s enemies.

But they’d found you. Again.

“Get your coat,” Helena instructed as she pushed you towards the foyer. 

“But-”

“Get your coat, now, Y/n,” she snapped again, not bothering to look at you. 

You felt oddly embarrassed by the way your wife had spoken to you. You mustered a submissive nod as you hurried to pull on the coat you’d just taken off.

Helena’s angry, Italian cursing bounced off the walls as she turned through the house, her shoes crunching over glass. She spoke with someone in the phone. Her words were fast and icy. She rarely spoke in Italian, but you’d been with her long enough to learn some of the lingo.  She spoke about a safe house and about a rabbit--

Maybe rabbit wasn’t the right word. 

But you’re positive it’s something about a safehouse. 

You waited in the foyer, shivering in the heavy coat you wore despite the warmth it was generating. 

Helena came rushing to you after her phone conversation ended. “We’re getting back in the car,” she instructed you, using her hands to physically turn you back to face the door. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” you asked, feeling dumb as she snatched a random sweater from the coat closet. 

“We’ve been found, so we’re leaving,” Helena said again, slowing her words as if she was trying to dumb it down for you. She put her arm around your waist, ushering you out of the house and carefully down the snowy pathway that led to your driveway. The fresh powdered snow had two sets of footprints, your own and Helena’s. You didn’t see any others, nothing that would have alerted you to thinking someone had broken in. 

Your face burned with warmth as Helena buckle you into the passenger seat. You don’t like being babied by her. You were tempted to bitch about the way she was treating you, but you knew better. At least, right now. You try to remember she’s in a panic, and she’s running on auto pilot. 

The car raced down the long driveway that wrapped in a spiral down the mini mountain. 

Your heart thumped in your throat as she sped away from the house. You clutched into your seatbelt, letting it dig into your palms. “Slow down,” you finally blurted out.

Helena grunted in response. Her foot reluctantly pumped the break.  

You know she doesn’t like to be told to slow down, or to relax, or to be safe. Even so, Helena knows you don’t like when she drives to fast, or goes into a rage, or puts her safety on the line. 

The drive was silent as she expertly navigated some snowy backroads. You wanted to talk to her, maybe even distract her from whatever was boiling in her brain. She didn’t explain what was happening. You were left to your own devices. You could only assume she was taking you to one of her safe checkpoints in Cordova. That had been ingrained into to your mind; Cordova is safe. If anything happens, go to Cordova and call someone, whether it be Harley or one of Helena’s contacts in Italy.

You slumped down your seat, shifting all of your body to lean against your door, your head against the window. "I love you," you muttered.

Helena didn't say anything.

The underground house in Cordova spans 500 square feet. It's nothing fancy. It's more of a basic studio flat than a house, really, with a very well structured lay out. The kitchen consisted of a two burner stove and an old fashioned ice box. On that same note, the given bedroom was really just a queen size mattress on the floor, shoved in a corner against the north eastern wall. It had a pile of new pillows, still wrapped in their Macy's store liners.

You dropped your coat on the little coffee table in the dead center of the room. It faced an outdated, but thorough, television set, with a boxy TV and VHS player. Stacks of worn VHS tapes and magazines were laced neatly on the little coffee table, alongside the clunky television remote.

A single door was on the western wall, and you assumed it led to the bathroom.

You pried off your shoes as Helena closed the heavy vault door, turning all of the metal spires so the locks clicked, leaving only you and her within the room.

It was a heavy silence for a couple minutes. Helena didn't do anything but stand, staring intensely at the vaulted door, as if it was responsible for destroying your mountain top mansion.

You curled into the bed. The quilts had the consistency of hotel blankets, thin and flimsy, allowing all the cold air to pass through the threads.

The side of the bed sank when Helena sat down, her long legs bent at the knees awkwardly. Her hand placed softly on your back, which was huddled in the corner of the bed, pulled over with the quilts.

"Are you okay?" Helena asked. Her voice was hard. She sounded as if she were in a great deal of pain.

You rolled over. You faced your own wall, turning your back on her. When you did not answer, Helena asked again. "Don't ignore me," she snapped.

You jerked upright.

Helena looked momentarily surprised, as if she'd watched a corpse rise from his grave. You stared at her with wide, angry eyes.

"Don’t even start,” you snapped, holding up a finger to stop whatever words Helena was about to start blabbering out.

"You're not allowed to speak to me any way you want, any time you want," you added with a jab of your finger. You scrambled to leave the bed, tripping over the bedding as you clumsily plunged out of her reach.

"I understand that you're stressed," you said, trying to control the volume at which you spoke. "But you always take it out on me. You always make me feel like the world's going to end."

Helena pinched her nose, bending so her elbows rested on her knees. She looked stressed, just so stressed, just about as stressed as you were feeling, but maybe less angry and shaky. "This is serious, Y/n," she said slowly, as if she didn't think you would have understood her otherwise.

"Even so, we have to keep our wits about us. We have to keep our relationship steady, otherwise we're just going to fall apart and fail. This relationship will not last. It will not last. We are always going to be chased by these troubles, by your enemies. I think I could handle it if we didn't get into massive fucking fights every time it happened. It feels like I'm a kid again, watching my parents go back and forth, staying together 'for us kids', when it's pretty clear that divorce would just be better for all of us."

Helena by now had released her face. She had a blank expression as she stared at you.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

You couldn't muster much energy, so you shrugged and collapsed on the little sofa. "I don't care anymore," you muttered. "I just want water. I want to sleep."

Helena ran to your side. She knelt at your feet, quite literally on her hands and knees for you. She braced her hands on your thighs. "How can I make it up to you?"

You stared down at her, unsure of what to say.

"I cannot lose you," she said next. "There wouldn't be a reason to have such safehouses like this if I lost you."

"I cannot handle these fights anymore. It's too much."

"What can I do?"

"I just want to sleep," you sighed. "I'd rather just...listen to the television."

Helena led you to the bed, straightening out the mess you'd made when you'd trampled out of it. You shimmied out of your pants, throwing them out so you could sleep comfortably.

"Please just talk to me," Helena begged as she laid behind you. She wrapped her arms around you tenderly, your back pressed against her chest. "I'm just tired, Helena," you sighed as you let your eyes fall shut.

Helena dragged her hand up the stomach of your shirt, her calloused palm tucking close against your belly.

"I'm tired," you whispered.

Her fingers slipped beneath the band of your underwear. Her palm cupped your warmth, her lips pressing soothing kisses behind your ear.

She did not tease that night. She swept two finger tips into the opening of your hot, twitchy cunt, swiping drops of arousal and then spreading it around your clit. The lubricant beneath her fingertips made the sensation slippery and slick. You slowly gasped at the feeling. The sensation got you to slip out of your body for a split second, as if you could see the scene playing out in front of you. Your hips were grinding fast and hard into Helena's hand.

You snatched her wrist and pushed her hand down. "Inside," you snapped. "If you're really sorry, then inside."

"As you wish," Helena murmured. Her three fingers pushed up and in, stretching the velvety walls of your cunt out. You wanted to scream. Her fingers curled and reached up at the spongey spot way inside of you, like the brightest star in all the galaxy.

"Shit!" you cried. You lurched your head back, your hair scrunching up into Helena's face and nose. She didn't seem to care as she slowly pumped in and out, always making sure to press up at your starpoint.

"Never again," you cried as you gripped at Helena's forearm. You used this as an anchor point to keep you grounded while you wiggled your hips into Helena's hand. "You're never again going to treat me this way. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dove, yes," Helena assured you in a soothing voice. "You're such a good bird for me," she sighed, her cool breath tickling your ear. "And you deserve good things. You deserve to cum all over my hand."

Yes, an internal voice shrieked within you. You thought another version of yourself would punch through your chest and take over, take over everything.

Your entire existence rolled up into nothing but pure light as you felt your high coming on quickly. You knew you were cumming, and Helena did too, for she used her other hand to simultaneously stimulate your clit.

The pressure released, like a balloon snapping in your belly.

You were breathing heavily as you sank into Helena's arms. You hadn't realized how tense you'd been until all of your muscles relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Dove," Helena murmured into your ear. She held you tight and close. Her natural perfume, a blend of rosewater and fresh flowers, flooded your senses. With your energy dwindling after such an exertion, you didn't have the strength to argue or complain. You laid there, silently accepting her apology. No longer were you distracted by the wanton desires for orgasm and relief. And in the same way, you were no longer consumed with bitter anger.

"Do you promise we're going to be alright?" you asked, voice cracking and hoarse.

Helena kissed your neck.

"I do."

[heliads]

Pretty Cool

Peter Maximoff is more than a little impressed with the new girl at Xavier’s School.

masterlist

Peter’s listlessly leaning up against a wall outside the classroom. One downside of being faster than everyone is that he has to wait so much longer for his friends to show up. Class won’t start for another five minutes anyway, but he had nothing to do and so he showed up early. Finally, Jean turns a corner and walks towards him. 

“Took you long enough.” Peter grumbles, and Jean rolls her eyes. “Sorry we can’t all have the ability to go the speed of light. By the way, Scott’s not coming because he has to help the Professor with something, so it’s just us for today.” Peter groans. “Oh, come on. The highlight of my day is making fun of Scott, what else am I going to do?” Jean stifles a laugh as she walks inside the room with Peter. 

“Actually, you can check out the new girl in the back. Xavier says she arrived just this morning.” She points to the other side of the training room, where Peter can see the silhouette of a girl. She’s separate from the others, probably because no one knows who she is, but Peter is instantly taken by her. “She’s really pretty.” He blurts it out before he realizes, and Jean laughs. “Perfect. Now I have some entertainment of my own- you drooling over this girl before you even know her name.” Peter sticks out his tongue at her, then quickly speeds away to Xavier’s office. Before Jean can even blink, he’s back.

“Okay, so I did a little research and it turns out her name is Y/N L/N. She’s from some place not too far from here, and she’s really good-looking.” Jean groans. “If you’re going to go snooping in the Professor’s files, could you at least find something more interesting to talk about? How about her powers? Or literally anything else other than her name and her appearance?” Peter waves a hand at her. “I couldn’t get too far before Xavier started to sense my presence in his office. Whatever, I think we’ll find out soon enough- here comes Logan now.” It’s true- the newly appointed professor is walking briskly towards the group of students arrayed in the vast space of the training room. It’s still weird to Peter that Logan’s their teacher, but whatever. He’s the one with the most experience actually fighting people, therefore he has been chosen to train all the students.

“Alright, listen up class. Today, you’ll be taking part in another simulation.” He squints at a screen in front of him and presses some buttons, causing the room to dissolve into the simulation. As the training room creates the scenario, Logan continues speaking. “You’ll have to cross a bridge that’s guarded by two giant automatons.” He gestures at the newly formed bridge. Two massive iron robots stand in the middle of it, each easily the size of a building. Thanks to Xavier’s technology in the training room, the simulations can be any size and have anything in them. This leads to some pretty interesting lessons. “Alright, line up. You’ll go through one at a time.”

As the students shuffle into a group at the back, Jean takes her place at the start of the bridge. Jean always goes first, mainly because everyone else is too afraid to get in front of her, but she says she wants to go first just to make sure she doesn’t copy anyone else’s techniques. The consequences of being a mind-reader are that Jean is always worried that her own ideas aren’t actually hers, and just someone else’s thoughts that she read by mistake.

Jean stares down at the iron giants for a moment, considering her attack. Without warning, she shoots a beam of energy at the first one, causing a fiery explosion to erupt in its chest. She takes to the air, soaring high above it so she can envelop it in even more of her magic. The robot doesn’t stand a chance, and it collapses in a heap of rubble. The other automaton suffers a similar fate, and Jean gently glides to the ground, lightly dusting off her hands.

“Alright, good job to Jean. Who’s next?” Logan’s voice booms across the room as the simulation resets itself for the next student. Peter strolls up the bridge, whispering “Showoff” to a smirking Jean as he passes her. He stretches for a moment, readying his arms and legs for the upcoming attack, then pulls down his goggles and starts to run as fast as he can. Like usual, the world around him slows down, and he races up one of the robots, tearing as many of the exposed wires and computing parts as he can. He jumps easily from one machine to the next, destroying everything he can get his hands on. By the time he finally allows himself to slow down, the automatons are short-circuiting and falling apart behind him. To his classmates, everything happened in just a moment.

“Good, Peter. Uh, can’t really tell what you did, but you did it fast, so good for you.” Logan’s commentary makes Peter grin, and he makes his way to the other side of the room next to Jean. Peter usually tunes out the rest of the class after he finishes with his run of the simulations, but when he sees who’s stepping up to the bridge next, he can’t help but turn back around and stare out of curiosity.

The thing about simulations in Xavier’s school is that everyone goes in a very specific order. Peter’s not sure exactly when this unspoken rule came to be, but it’s a tradition that has never been broken for as long as he’s been at the school. Everyone does the simulation in order of how powerful their mutation is.  Jean goes first, as per usual, then Peter. Both of them have gone on missions with Xavier, so they are automatically the first ones to go. The rest of the students go after them, with the most powerful next and the least powerful last. That’s just the way things are. For this class, the next student to go should be a loud, slightly arrogant boy with the ability to control fire. Admittedly, controlling fire is a bit of an overstatement, as all he seems to be able to do is sporadically shoot out columns of flame that reach a maximum height of two or three feet, but it’s power over fire nonetheless. He always goes next, and that’s just what happens.

This is why Peter is more than a little surprised to see the new girl striding up the bridge instead, walking in front of fire boy to the front of the line. Behind her, the class dissolves into quiet whispers, the same confused look on everyone’s face. New students will go last, that’s just what they do. What is she doing, going third?

To her credit, the new girl seems to be utterly unfazed by the whispering behind her. She eyes the automatons for a moment or two, then suddenly slams her hands down to the ground. Instantly, a wave of ice erupts from the place where her hands touch the ground and spreads rapidly across the bridge. The ice climbs up the robot’s feet, spiraling up its body until the entire automaton is covered from head to toe in ice in a matter of moments. Y/N eyes the robot, then flicks her hand at it. Suddenly, the iron giant shatters in a storm of ice crystals, leaving behind nothing but the faint smell of motor oil.

The new girl turns her attention to the other robot, which has realized her presence and started to charge her. The echo of its massive footsteps echo around the training room, but the girl doesn’t even flinch. She flings her arms forward, sending out shards of ice that are several feet long and sharper than a blade. The automaton slumps to a halt, impaled by the swords of ice coming out of it. As it shuts down from injury, it silently dissolves into just a few pixels that rearrange themselves into the open air of the simulation. Y/N studies the ice she’s left coating the bridge, but at a small movement of her fingers, it rises up and is summoned to her, disappearing into nothingness once it reaches her hand. 

The girl calmly walks off the bridge, leaving the entire class in stunned silence. Logan clears his throat, trying to keep the astonishment from his voice. “Uh, good job, Y/N. By the way, class, this is Y/N. Our new student.” Y/N walks over to where Jean and Peter are standing, and watches as another student steps up to the bridge. Peter, doing his best to sound cool, smiles at her and introduces himself. “I’m Peter.” Y/N smiles back. “I’m Y/N, but I guess you already knew that.” Relaxing, Peter can’t help but keep talking to her. 

“How’s your first day so far?” She leans back against the wall, taking in the class around her. “It’s pretty good. I think I confused people by going third, but I didn’t really know order was such a big deal.” Peter shakes his head to dismiss her fears. “Don’t worry, I think people won’t have any problems with you going third from now on. What you did was pretty cool- uh, pun intended.” She laughs at that, and the happy gleam in her eyes when she smiles is enough to make Peter want to tell a hundred more jokes. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want to cause too much drama on my first day.” 

They keep talking until the end of class, and Peter is more than a little disappointed to hear the bell ring to dismiss them. “Do you need any help getting to class? I can show you around.” Y/N beams at him. “I’d love that, Peter.” They walk off together, talking happily together like they’ve known each other for years, and Peter can’t help but hope that she’s in more of his classes so he can spend even more time with the prettiest girl he’s ever met.

[writingbykrystal]

Whatever you thought the zombie apocalypse was going to be, I can guarantee that you're wrong. There was no government virus that escaped containment and infected the masses. There are no savage, flesh eating monsters. There are no brutal, but thrilling fights between the zombies and the last living humans. There are no dead bodies rising from their graves.

So, what did happen? Well, we're not entirely sure. All the greatest minds seem to be either dead or stumped.

What we do know, is it's a fungus. Not a tasty mushroom that you eat in pasta, or a cute, aesthetically pleasing red and white toadstool. This fungus is a vicious parasite. We don't know entirely where it originated, only that it came from somewhere in the jungle, and picked up by a human that went where they shouldn't have.

Now, this zombie doesn't spread through bites by an infected person. No. This zombie spreads through spores. Fungi tend to reproduce by releasing bursts of spores into the air that are carried by the wind to a new location. This fungus is no different. What is different from most fungi though, is that these spores need a host to germinate in. So, they find one. This species happens to like humans.

It's fairly easy to get infected, in fact, it's almost impossible not to, which is why it spread so quickly. Once a burst of spores has been released into the air, they float around, until they enter the body of a host. And they will enter. These spores can enter through any and all openings to the body. Eyes, ears, mouth, nose, open wounds. Any space that leads to the blood stream eventually is a space that a spore can infect you by.

And what happens once you're infected? Well, you don't turn into a savage killing machine, hell bent on eating anything in your path. No. Instead, you turn into a puppet. Once the spores have gotten into your body, it's only a matter of time before they enter your brain, and then it's over. The spores invade your brain tissue, destroying neural pathways, and replacing the gaps with its own DNA. Then, it uses its new control to take over your whole nervous system. And you can feel it. It starts with you being unable to move your limbs. And then they start moving on their own. And then you feel your brain start to shut down. You keep blacking out. And then one time, you don't wake back up. It's not a slow process, either.

But why would it do that? What is the evolutionary advantage of taking over human brains? Well, in almost all forms of life, the only goal of an organism is to survive and reproduce. This fungus is no different. Since it's spores need a host to germinate, there needs to be hosts available. So, the fungus sets out to find a suitable place to release it's spores.

Once the fungus has completely taken over the host's body, it starts to move. Slowly, awkwardly, the fungus moves the host's limbs until it starts walking. A slow, mindless lumber of a body controlled by something with no previous access to limbs. And so, the body walks. And walks. And walks. The body will keep moving until the fungus finds a suitable location to release its spores. During the journey, the host doesn't eat, or sleep, or drink, it only walks. This is not a human being anymore, this is a living corpse.

And sometimes, a dead corpse. Because sometimes, the journey takes so long, that the host body dies. But this does not affect the fungus. No sir, the fungus does not care that it is controlling something dead. The fungus will continue on regardless of the body's state, until it finds a place to release, or until the body is so decomposed that it literally falls apart, and there are no more muscles or ligaments to propel it.

So what happens when the fungus finds a suitable place to release its spores? Well, it bursts. Literally. You see, while the body has been going on this death journey, the fungus has been busy. Inside every available body cavity, lungs, heart, stomach, you name it, it has been growing fruiting bodies. And these growths are what produce new spores. So, when everything is ready, the fruiting bodies rupture, releasing spores, and taking the body with it. The host body explodes, and with the chunks of human remains, come millions of infectious spores, immediately contaminating anyone within range of the burst.

Sometimes, when the conditions are right, there will be thousands of bodies, full of fungus all gathered in one spot, waiting to burst. Men, women, children, all lined up, in various states of decay, waiting for some trigger. And then, all at the same time, they burst, releasing enough spores to infect an entire country.

So, what can be done? How can we stop ourselves from being infected? Ha. We can't. No matter what precautions you take, you will still get infected. Wearing whole head coverings won't work, you have to take them off eventually. Drink water, the spores can be transported via rivers and streams. Eat some food, there are hundreds of spores just sitting there, dormant, waiting to be picked up by a host. Kill the infected, it just releases the spores sooner. Contain them, they will burst anyway, spores getting through air vents and cracks in a wall.

It's inevitable. It's just a matter of time. I would know. I've been lucky so far, but now my luck's run out. I can feel myself declining. I've been infected. I'm blacking out, and my legs are moving of my own volition. I don't know why I'm writing this, maybe some future historian that has miraculously survived will wonder how the human race almost went extinct, and will find this. But probably not. Most likely, everyone will be entirely wiped out, and nature will reclaim all we've built. And this letter will be lost to time, just as I will be.

[alexwritesfiction]

heaven

word count: 2k

tw // mcd

A/N: This is an emotional scene so take care lmao

I take a deep breath and step up on the alter, my nerves wracking. Anxiety sets in, the only question on mind as to where Xavier could be. And what did Aleander mean by gift?

As more time passes by, the looks on our families’ faces grow worried, making me even more nauseated. I can't believe he's late on our wedding day. As pissed off as I am, i can't help but want to call him and make sure he's alright. A bad feeling sets itself in my stomach. I'm gonna kill him.

“Where is he?” I almost growl at Ray, who’s standing just a few feet away from the steps.

“I don’t know, Cath,” he whispers in a shaky voice, and I know he's freaking out too. Xavier means so much to him, he knows that today was important to him. I can tell by his face that he can't comprehend why he wouldn’t be here on time.

I try to calm myself down, to not think about worst case scenarios, but my mind is a haze.

A ringtone cuts through the air and I can feel it in my heat that it's him. I sigh in relief.

Everyone’s eyes whips to Mom, who has my phone in her clutch. Her eyes widen as she frantically takes it out, almost stumbling as she tries to reach me.

I hurry to her and snatch it out of her hands, my fiancé’s name flashing on the screen with our photo from the baking session. My fingers shake as I look up to see everyone desperately waiting for me to pick the call. My fingers slide across the screen and the phone is barely put to my ear before I hear his faint voice.

“Principessa, how are you?” a small but firm voice speaks through the line. That’s all he's got to say? He's late and he's asking me how I am? My tolerance shoots through the roof as I try not to blow up.

“Xav, where are you right now? I'm here literally standing at the altar and you're not here and the officiant—” I rush out, only to be cut off.

“This is goodbye, baby,” he chokes out in a broken voice, and I try to imagine his face right now but I can't. my heart stops. Freezes for a second before completely dropping to my knees. The thing that scares me the most about this is that his voice is as serious as anything and I know he isn’t joking. He didn’t call me by my nickname, he just said goodbye.

A lightheaded feeling takes over my mind as I try to form a complete sentence to reply to him. I can't breathe, there's a heaviness in my chest that won't go away.

“What— Xav, what,” I stutter out. A beat passes before a small “no” falls from my lips and I feel everyone around me tense. I don’t have the mind to look at them and all I can concentrate on is how he just said goodbye.

“Marry me, principessa? Right now?”

And that does it, a tear escapes my eyes and I lose my cool. My ohone almost falls from my grip but I tighten it in my hand so much that I feel my knuckles turning white. I walk back up to the altar, I feel safe there. I wipe awy the stray tear and set my face into a firm expression , failing to let it seem like my soul didn’t just escape me.

“Get your ass down here, Xav, or I swear to god I'll hunt you down right now,” I almost growl out, and I hear a faint chuckle. I feel Ray pacing around and I look up at hik to see him on a phone call. I can hear him telling someone to find out where he is. He runs out to his car and I divert my attention back to him.

“Ray’s coming to get you, Xav. What’s going on?” I croak out, no longer able to hold back the desperation in my voice. I tremble as I speak, and Tahlia comes up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I barely register to shoot her a grateful look but his next words break me.

“I'm so sorry, principessa, always and forever,” he says in a soothing voice, God darn it, Xav. It's only then that I register what’s happening. He promised to never say goodbye, and now he is. He promised he’d never go away and now I feel like he is. He said he’ll only ever say goodbye when of us is taking our last breaths when were old and wrinkly and he's saying it right now and I'm losing my control.

“No!” I exclaim, “I'm not letting you die on me, Xav! I won't! Don’t you even dare, you can't do this to me,” I say loudly, hating how my voice cracks at the end.

“Principessa, I accept you to forever be mine, and that youll forever live in my heart. I take you to be my wife till death do us apart. I do, Cath. Do you—”

He just said his vows.

“Yes! God yes, Xav. You don’t get to do this to me! This isn’t how it's supposed to work! We were supposed to have this…this magical ending and we were supposed to take on the world and you weren’t supposed to do this, Xav,” I cry.

We just got married, and he's not here

“We don’t always get our happy end, do we? And you, principessa, you were the biggest happiness of my life,” he says, sniffling. I can't hear him cry, haven't heard him since his mother’s death anniversary. It's unreal, to see him unravel. I don’t like how he's using past tense, like he's already not there.

“Xav, no, please, I love you so much, come back here, hold on a little while, baby, you’ll be okay,” I choke out. I feel numb, like everything arounf me has turned into thi air and I'm alone, holding on to his voice like it's life support.

“I love you, Catherine Lily North,”

“I love you, Xavier Lee Blackheart,”

“Catherine Lily North, I love you,” he says with a huge smile on his face. My heart beats out of my chest as I try to comprehend what he just said. As reality sinks in, I mirror his smile, clutching his hand. “I love you, Xavier Lee Blackheart,” I say, and his eyes widen. I guess he didn’t expect me to say it back because the next thing I know, he's pressing his lips to mine.

His unruly breathing makes its way to my ears as he doesn’t reply, making me grip onto Tahlia’s hand, almost crushing her fingers. It's a miracle I'm still standing. I let go of her hand and bunch up my gown’s clothing, like it's somehow gonna take me to him.

His breathing shallows, and my mind almost bursts in panic.

“Xav? Xav! Stay with me! Please, babe, I won't be able to do this without you, I can't,”

“Yes, you can, principessa—”

“Not without you! Never without you, please. I need you here with me, right by my side, holding my hand, Xav,” I beg him to stay, but it's like my plea falls on deaf ears.

He doesn’t say anything, and his breathing keeps getting fainter and fainter, until he cracks the silence.

“I hope you know I fought for you, my love,” he whispers. He seems to calm down from the high of pessimistic things and it makes a small ray of hope shine through me.

“I know you did,” I say, but something tells me he isn’t just talking about with his father.

“I got your lillies,” he says. I can detect the small smile on his face as he laughs softly. He bought me lilies, for my middle name, for my wedding day. For us.

Memories flashes through my mind and I let go of my dress I was clutching on, flicking it back and forth in anxiety.

“Remember what I said about last words, principessa?” he voice suddenly reappears, his words striking a memory and making my heart race.

“i’ve always wanted my last words to be your name,” he says, a serene smile on his face as he strokes me cheek, before leaning in and pressing a small kiss to my forehead. I giggle, feeling all the peace in the world right here with me.

“Yes…Xavier, NO, nope, not happening. We are not doing this right now. Xavier, listen to me,” I choke out, shaking my head frantically, holding onto the officiant’s desk for support.

A long inhale follows, like he's struggling to breathe. Struggling to stay.

“Principessa,” he says, with a sudden franticness in his voice that makes me almost fall over the edge. His breathing softens.

“Xav—”

His breathing stops. Terminates. Discontinues.

And he dies.

“Xavier!” I scream out, my throat rough. I want to shout out at the heavens, I want to kill the people who killed him, I want to freaking destroy the planet for bringing our story such an ill fate. I want to do so much, but I can't.

I can't, because he's not here. I can't, because he's gone. Because he’ll never be here again.

My hand loses its grip on the desk and I collapse, the call falling from my hand. My knees crumble and I fall to the ground as violent sobs wrack my body, refusing to stop. I vividly feel someone putting theIr arms around me, and I just fall onto them, my eyes closing. I want nothing more to see him

To feel him one last time. To tell him I love him. To hug him, to kiss him until we’re dazed. To spend forever with him.

My numbness leaves and I feel everything all at once, a whirlwind of emotions staggering me with their force and I can do nothing more than wail and cry. I feel the force of the universe weighing me down and I physically can't get away. My mind claws at me and I cry out in pain, thrashing out at anything that comes in my vicinity.

My wedding dress that he picked out for me with adoration in his eyes comes to bite me and I want nothing more than to feel him with me again. To rip this dress in half but also treasure it forever.

I hit the ground and then gently run my hands on it like it’s Xavier’s face. I cradle him in my mind and it’s like the earth has shattered beneath me. It tears me apart that I just lost a part of myself to heaven.

The darkness around me becomes so much that overcome with love and grief that when I finally close my eyes and surrender myself to darkness, I only see him everywhere.

Him. Everywhere.

———

How you like that? XD

taglist:

@petitpancakes @skinni-ciggis @bubblegum18 @cbfjdx @fckingpernico @dumbsouvenir @i-like-5sos @heartbreakgirlisagoodsongcalum @neptune-falls @metanoiamorii @thescatteredscribbles @little-boats-on-a-lake @talesofsorrowandofruin @w-l-ink @baguettethebooklover @euphoniouspandemonium @wannabeauthorzofija @lady-of-himring @the-writing-avocado @ink-fireplace-coffee @your-local-book-worm345

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 9

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: A morning with you and a talk with John make it clear to Loki what he has to do. And, perhaps letting the right people in on his secret wouldn’t be so bad, after all. Chapter Warnings: some very fluffy bits and tons of pining A/N: From here on out, it’s going to get pretty plot heavy, so be prepared. Feel free to let me know what you think :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @marvelousdaydreams​ @parkastoria​ @lokistan​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

Loki regained control of consciousness slowly, each sense returning to him one at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly without having been injured. The last thing to register in his brain was your weight on his chest. You were on top of him even more than you had been last night, but he did not mind in the slightest. Instead, he smiled softly at your sleeping form, listening to the sound of your deep breathing. His eyes fell to your lips, parted ever so slightly, and he was overcome with desire to kiss you awake. He shook his head a little at the ridiculous idea.

He intended to sneak away and leave you to rest, but you foiled his plans by snuggling closer to him in your sleep, pinning him where he was. Looking down at your peaceful form, he caught a whiff your scent. It made him feel safe, a sensation he’d not been familiar with in a long time.

“Loki,” you whispered in your sleep.

“Yes?” he prompted, his heart beating a wild rhythm.

“Cold.”

“Ah, I see.”

It was silly to be disappointed. He shouldn’t have expected much else, after all, but it was not so uncommon for someone to make a confession in their sleep. He pulled the blankets tighter around you. For good measure, he said an enchantment to warm you up and ward off the cold radiating from his body. You released a sigh of joy and cuddled closer still.

Loki supposed he could go back to sleep, he very much would have liked to in fact, but now that he was up, his mind was racing. Now that he was sure of what he wanted, he’d need a plan to get it. To get you. The only problem existed in the form of his incompetence toward mortal courting procedures. He was vaguely aware that it was usually referred to as dating nowadays, but that didn’t exist on Asgard, so the word held very little meaning to him. A twinge of sadness shot through his heart as he realized Thor would probably know, considering his infatuation with that mortal woman, Jane Foster. Someone that he had been kept away from because of Loki. Now that he had you, his own mortal to love and cherish, he felt it an indescribable evil that he’d done such a thing.

“G’morning,” you mumbled in a groggy voice, too recently out of sleep to be embarrassed by your position just yet. You looked up at Loki and rubbed your eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than I have in a long, long time.”

“Yeah, hard work will do that to a person.”

“Perhaps,” he said, trailing one hand gently down your arm as the other came to rest on the small of your back. “Or perhaps it was something else.”

“Oh! Well, um, you know,” you fumbled for a coherent sentence, his words suddenly brining you to your senses. “It was probably the work thing. Building a barn, all that dancing. It takes a lot of a guy.”

You nervously laughed and made like you were going to roll off of him, but his arm didn’t budge, holding you in place.

“Well, for whatever reason, I am still rather tired. I would not mind a lazy morning.”

His beautiful grin convinced you to stay, and he couldn’t resist humming a little Asgardian tune as you absentmindedly played with his hair. It was a song Frigga had sung to him when he was just a child, before the malice had rooted itself in his heart. It always reminded him of a simpler, more innocent time. Here, with you, he felt that same feeling he did then.

“That’s really pretty,” you said once he was finished. “What song is it?”

“Something from deep in my memory. I am afraid that is all I can say.”

“Oh, well that’s good that things are coming to you in bits and pieces. Your brother, that book, this song—you’ll remember everything before you know it.”

“And yet, nothing could compare to this.”

“Yeah, this town is pretty charming.”

“I suppose you do not remember the last conversation we had about this,” he tsked. “It is not the town that I am referring to.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him. No matter how many times he said something like that, you wouldn’t get over it. Often, he couldn’t believe he said them, either, for a whole slew of reasons. For one, falling in love with a mortal was the last thing he’d ever imagined for his life. Though, now that he knew more about humans, he found it far more believable. And for another, he just didn’t have all that much confidence that anyone could love him like that. Why say such things if the feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated? That was the thing, though. With you, he dared hope they might be.

You opened your mouth to say something, but were cut off by the creaking of the barn doors. A loud meow came from Taffy as she made her way up to where you were, but you knew the cat wouldn’t have been able to open the doors. You and Loki looked at each for a brief second, both mortified and nervous to be found in such an intimate, vulnerable way. As a voice sounded from down below, you hastily broke apart, and Loki immediately missed your warmth.

“Are you out here?” Mama shouted, calling your name.

“Up here,” you said, leaning over the edge. “Loki’s here, too, in case you were worried.”

“Well, of course I was worried, but not ’bout him. Do you know how close I came to a heart attack when you weren’t in your bed this morning?”

“You are aware I’m not five anymore, right Mama?”

“Yeah, well, with your judgement,” she said, eyeing up Loki as he appeared beside you, “you sure seem like you are sometimes. Now hurry along before you miss breakfast.”

Well, the truce was nice while it lasted, but Loki guessed that whatever points he’d won with her from saving Matt were canceled out by his evening with you. Apparently she wasn’t too keen on the idea of you two cozying up with each other. Not that he meant that in a weird way or anything, but last night had been pretty intimate. And that wasn’t even mentioning this morning.

Shooting Loki an apologetic smile for Mama’s comment, you scurried down the ladder as not to upset the woman more. The raven haired god sighed and followed you, casting one last longing glance at the pile of blankets and pillows where you were snuggled together just moments ago.

“Listen here, boy,” Mama menaced in a low tone, putting up a hand to stop him. She checked over her shoulder to make sure you were already out of the barn before continuing. “I won’t be losing another one of my babies to an untrustworthy stranger.”

“I believe I already told you, I would never hurt them, never hurt any of you,” he almost pleaded. “That is not my intention.”

“Just because you don’t mean to hurt someone, doesn’t mean you won’t.”

She stalked out before Loki could get another word in, not that he really knew what to say. She was right, after all, especially when it came to him. How many people, how many families, had he destroyed in his path of life? He’d certainly ruined his own.

The God of Mischief sat down on a hay bale, burying his head in his hands. He felt distraught beyond words, torn between his head and his heart. His mind was screaming to let you be, but his heart—oh, his poor crippled heart!—was begging to never be away from you. And, in the end, wouldn’t leaving lead to pain for you, too? Whether you loved him back or not, he knew you cared in some way.

“Loki, you alright out here?” John called from the barn doors. “Mama said you were coming along, but you-know-who was starting to panic that you’d fainted or something.”

The trickster god smiled at your concern for his well being. It only strengthened his conviction that you wouldn’t totally scorn him if he were to tell you how he truly feels. Still, the thought of actually doing that was so daunting that he hid his face again.

“I am fine,” he said, taking in a deep breath. “Just fine, thank you.”

“You’re not,” John replied as he sat next to Loki. “We’re friends, right man? You can talk to me, too, you know.”

“It would be quite a lot to unpack, I am afraid,” he admitted with a wry laugh.

“I’ve got time.”

“I...” he began, unsure of how much he could say without revealing the truth. “The whole time I have been here, I have felt that I should leave. But now I do not know how I could do that without hurting those I care about. I also cannot fathom staying here forever without telling my true feelings to...” he trailed off, not quite ready to admit it out loud just yet, but when John said your name, Loki confirmed it with a nod. “For the first time in a while, I do not know what my next move should be.”

“Well, for starters, be completely honest with me, God of Mischief and Lies.”

“Pardon?” Loki deadpanned, his mouth dry.

“I know, Loki. But before you run off, I haven’t told anyone.”

“When? Why?” Loki questioned, at a loss for words.

“Remember when I went into the city the other day to get supplies after the tornado?” Loki nodded. He would have gone, too, but there was still too much damage around the farm from the twister for both of them to take off. “I found out then. Some small newspaper ran a story on it, and I put the pieces together.”

“And as for the why?”

“Because you’d literally just saved my son not forty-eight hours before. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. So I don’t care what they say, I don’t think you’re all that bad. Or bad at all, really. Don’t worry, you’re secret’s safe with me.”

Loki nodded slowly, comprehending the information he’d just been given. John really was a friend to Loki, but he was something more, too. He was almost what a brother should be, in Loki’s mind at least. He was like how Thor used to be when they were children. There was one time, before he’d received any kind of training, when Loki’s spell had backfired on him. It had hurt, both emotionally and physically, but he was too fearful of being reprimanded to tell his parents. Thor had sat with him then, much like John was doing now.

“I cannot even begin to thank you,” he finally said. “And I truly promise that I will do everything in my power to protect this family, not hurt it.”

“I believe you, but you have to promise one thing.”

“And that would be?”

“Tell them how you truly feel.”

It was a fairly reasonable request, all things considered. And John had insisted multiple times that you felt the same way about him. So perhaps this story wouldn’t have such a tragic finish after all. Then again, did villains get happy endings? Or maybe Loki wasn’t the villain. It’d been a bit since he hadn’t thought himself one, but in light of everything that had happened over the last month or so, he was starting to see things in a more favorable way.

“Alright,” he agreed. “I will do it, but you must give me time to plan.”

“Deal. And I hope you know, you’re going to have to tell them the truth sooner rather than later. About all this.”

“I do know. And it will be sooner. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt them.”

“It’s like I said before, Loki, I believe you.”

After thanking him again, they headed to the house, those three words ringing in Loki’s ears. I believe you. It had been a long time since anyone had believed Loki. Maybe he could believe John and accept that you liked him too. Maybe. But he wouldn’t have to guess for long; he knew he’d be finding out very, very soon.

[tailorvizsla]

[Disclaimer: I was absolutely fucking wasted when I wrote this. I’ve cleaned up all the typos I could find, but “Drunk Tailor’s Thots” and the meme stay. Enjoy.]

Title: cracks in his armor Pairing: Daddy x Reader, your tongue x his hammer (and other places), your back x his work table lmaoooo [Sadet (OC) x f!Reader] Word Count: too many (~3k ish?) Rating: absolute filth like NC-21 or something like I’d probably throw myself off a cliff if anyone saw this shit irl Warnings: no use of a condom because tailor is a hoe like that just pretend it’s okay, the ol’ in an out, you lick his hammer, stuff, plot what plot this is straight up porn, inappropriate use of a hammer, he is big meat mando we are hiding all 7+ inches of tiingilar-fed Mandalorian sausage in various holes, we’re climbing the Matterhorn and sliding all the way down to base camp coochie first, we are fucking Sadet like it’s the Dicklympics and we’re going for gold in every category Author’s Notes: just pure unadulterated thirst because who doesn’t want to get bent over and absolutely destroyed by a dude with nice shoulders and a huge dick also we’re licking his hammer BUT pretend it’s CLEAN I ain’t got time to write in him cleaning it off, it’s clean, I promise. 

[I feel like I need to apologize to @magsgotswags​ for what I’ve done to her boy, but...that would be a huge fucking lie and I am not a liar. That being said...I’ll hose him off, put his hammer through the autoclave, and make sure he eats a well-balanced meal before I send him back. 🤣]

📚 My Master List 📚

You’re not sure how this even started but here you are, bent forward over Sadet’s work table with your pants down around your thighs and his cock buried in you to the hilt. He’s got one hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pressing your cheek into the soft, buttery wood underneath you. The other hand holds your wrists behind your back as he fucks into you, his fingers like iron bands as they dig into the delicate bones in your wrists. 

Sadet isn’t big into emotions, but you know for a fact there are at least two things he loves in life – his craft and his big beautiful beskar hammer. Hazily, you wonder if it was the fact that you had cornered him to ask what his line of work entailed that caught his laser-like attention and got you into this situation. A sharp thrust forces a half-sob from your throat as his cock finds the end of you, as if he can sense your distraction from the lesson at hand. He has this thing where he likes to lecture you and test you on what you’ve retained later. It’s not fair – you both know it – but you’re whimpering so much right now you can’t even protest his treatment of you.

Even if you could, you wouldn’t. As emotionally constipated as he is, this is still the best cock you’ve had in your life and you’ve made some headway with getting him to open up a bit. You are not fucking this up. Licking your lips, you let your eyes drift shut as he continues his merciless pace, hips smacking wetly into your ass. You’re virtually helpless to do anything but take his cock. Just the way you like it.

“ – utilizes seven basic techniques [1],” he’s saying, and you feel him look down at you as he squeezes his fingers around your wrists. “Can you name four of them and tell me what each one accomplishes?”

You manage to uncross your eyes as you open them.

“D-drawing,” you gasp out. “Len-lengthens th-the metal.”

“You like length, don’t you,” he murmurs. “Continue.”

A whine pours out of your mouth as he changes his angle just a bit, pressing his cock right into that sweet spot, the one that has you squirming and throbbing.

“B…bending…”

“Mm-hmm,” he responds. “Bent, just like you right now, hmm?”

“…heat,” you manage to get out. “Allows it to b-bend. Ductile. Malleable.”

“Just like the heat of my hands makes your legs spread wide open,” he murmurs. “Bend apart like red hot steel. You feel like it on the inside, too.”

Squirming, you let out a pathetic little mewl as he slows his pace, letting you feel every inch as he draws out until his cock threatens to fall out of you entirely.

“Come on, two more,” he says. “You can do it, little one.”

You wrack your mind, trying to remember what he had been saying earlier. The wretched man stops moving entirely, letting you feel every little twitch of his cock inside you. At least now, the only thing distracting you is the heavy weight of his hands on your body.

“Welding,” you blurt out. “Welding.”

He resumes thrusting slowly, the pressure around your wrists lightening ever so slightly. You don’t need to be prompted to explain it to him.

“Welding…joins two metals,” you stutter. “The same, sometimes dif-different metals.”

“I like joining,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a thrust that forces a noise between a grunt and a scream from between your lips. “Look at us, two different types of metal here. I’d say you were copper. Soft…conductive. All it takes is one little spark and you glow for me. Takes a lot to shatter you…but I think I can make it happen.”

You bite down on your lower lip. He’s broken you before, brought you to the edge until you sobbed for him, begged him for release, promised him the world just to let you finish. He’s a generous lover but when he focuses on the task at hand – whether finishing beskar’gam at the Forge or while fucking you to the brink of tears – there’s very little that will redirect his attention from his work.

“One more,” he coaxes. “You can do it.”

Your brain sputters to a halt. No matter how hard you try, you can’t remember the rest of them.

“Can’t remember?” he asks softly, voice faintly mocking. “I’m disappointed you weren’t paying attention.”

He releases your wrists and pulls out, leaving you feeling empty. Effortlessly, he lifts you up, maneuvering you onto your back in the center of the table. Before you can react he grabs either side of the front of your pants and pulls, neatly ripping the fabric apart. Fuck, yet one more thing you’ll need to worry about later. Sadet lets out a dark noise of delight at the sight of your well-fucked cunt, glistening wet and swollen.

“Hands under you,” he orders, and you slide your hands under your lower back, pinning yourself into place. If you obey, there is a chance he will take mercy on you, let you come and forgive you for not paying attention to his lesson. As his fingers dig into your thighs, you know there isn’t a chance he is going to let you off that easy. It was futile to hope otherwise.

“Blacksmithing utilizes seven basic techniques,” he starts. “You got a few of them. Drawing, bending, welding. There’s punching, which is used to create a decorative pattern or to add a hole.”

His fingers trail up your thighs as he holds your legs wide apart.

“Speaking of adding holes…I haven’t fucked your ass yet, have I?” he murmurs. You’re not able to hide your grimace and Sadet laughs at you. “If you’re ever in the mood, I’ll happily wreck your ass the same way I wreck your cunt, little one…now where was I?”

He pauses deliberately, reaching up. The man yanks your shirt open, sending buttons flying in every direction. Your bra follows but you don’t dare protest – he’ll just offer to buy another one for you. There is something about literally ripping the kute off you that turns him into an animal.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “You weren’t paying attention during my lesson. How to punish you…”

You whine and squirm, knowing what’s coming next. With one hand, he places his hammer on the table, all smooth beskar from the head all the way down to the metal shaft. Sadet lifts it and aims the handle right into your cunt, sliding it in slowly. It’s thick and cold and he only uses it on you when you’ve really pissed him off. You deserve it though – he’s given this lecture at least a dozen times, you should know the seven steps. It’s your own fault at this point.

He keeps a tight grip around the shaft to keep it from sliding too far in and hurting you. He’s fond of making you cry but not that way – he doesn’t want to hurt you, he only wants you to cry from pleasure. When you finally relax down onto the surface of the table, he starts to rock it in and out slowly. When you reach up and squeeze his forearm with your fingers, he knows he can use a little more force, and you return your hand under your back.

“There’s upsetting, which thickens metal on one dimension through shortening on another,” he says. “Then there’s also upsetting, which is what your refusal to pay attention does to me.” He sighs exaggeratedly. “You’re a mess in armor, but...a tolerable mess.”

You whine, pussy clenching around the ice cold intrusion inside you, heart racing at the sight of the smooth dark visor floating out of reach above you.

“Can you remember the last one?” he asks, his voice almost taunting. “You can do it.”

“F…finish…finishing,” you pant out, and he tilts his helmet down at you in a Mandalorian smile.

“Good girl,” he rumbles at you. “I may let you finish, little one, if you keep being good for me.”

He turns his attention to his hammer, watching the beskar disappears inside you, only to reappear moments later, wet and drenched in your slick. He stays there until the metal is warm from your cunt before he pulls it out. Lifting the edge of his helmet up, he brings the metal to his lips and the tip of his tongue darts out, lapping up a bit of your mess. You shudder in response.

 “Warm, sweet. Soft. Tastes good,” he says. “Tastes like you.”

He gently places the hammer down onto your torso, the heavy head on your belly and the smooth metal shaft pointing toward your face. Without waiting you open your mouth and close your eyes, stretching your lips around the smooth metal handle. It’s a bit awkward like this, bobbing your head while you clean the long streaks of slick off the beskar, but he loves it in a way he can’t really explain. 

Once he’s satisfied, he pulls the shaft out of your mouth with a wet pop. Then he deftly turns it around, holding the head just above your lips. Locking eyes with the horizontal bar of his visor, you let your tongue dart out, tracing along the gleaming metal surface. His other hand tightens at your waist.

“I have something else for your mouth, if you’d like,” he murmurs.

You nod once at him, and he offers his hand, pulling you up into a sitting position. Sadet helps you down and you lower yourself onto your knees as you take in the sight of his marvelous cock: thick, long, uncut, and curving slightly up and to the left. Parting your lips, you bob your head, taking him a little further each time. He doesn’t move as you take him in until he brushes up against the back of your throat.

One hand rises to cup his balls – heavy and covered in a fine thatch of curling hair – while the other rests on his thigh to brace yourself. Peeking up at him from under your lashes, you let him sit in your mouth, tasting yourself and the faint bitterness of his cum. Sadet rolls his hips, giving you a few moments to settle in before setting a brisk pace. His fingers dig into your scalp as he tugs on your hair, guiding you on his length, not speaking a word as he simply watches his cock disappear into your mouth.

You sort of give up on controlling the pace then and go slack in his grip, yielding to him entirely. Your jaw starts to ache rapidly, but you keep your eyes on his visor, knowing that your glazed over eyes drive him wild. You can taste hints of bitterness as his precum spreads across your tongue, his pace growing faster and rougher as he chases completion inside your hot, wet mouth. His other hand curls around the back of your head and you know he is getting close to the edge.

“Wanna hear you gag,” he whispers, and you squeeze his thigh it’s okay you tell him with your hand.

Your jaw burns now but you don’t want to tap out, you don’t want to stop, not while he’s so close. Your cunt clenches around nothing, painfully empty after his cock and hammer, aching desperately for him to finish inside you and coat your insides with his seed. As he hits the back of your throat, you gag a bit, and he groans in response. Tears stream down your cheeks as he continues. You can hear the harsh pants from his modulator and thank the gods you think to yourself – you’re not sure how much more your mouth can take right now.

Sadet pulls his cock free and strokes himself to completion on your face. Thick ropey splatters of cum coat your skin and fill your mouth, spilling down onto your breasts as he groans, a growling noise from deep in his chest. He holds you there, his body hunched forward as he pulses the last few drops onto your chest.

With his index finger, he wipes up a bit of cum clinging to the head of his cock. He tilts your head back and wipes It onto your lower lip. You dart your tongue out to lick up the mess, listening as his breath hitches. When he lets go of your hair, you sink onto the ground, body aching and trembling from exhaustion. As goosebumps prickle across your arms, you realize you’re also trembling from how cool it is over here in this corner. He brushes his thumb against your cheek.

“Stay there,” he says quietly and you nod. 

You’re not sure you’d be able to move even if you wanted to right now. As Sadet goes to the hook on the wall, you use the remains of your shirt to wipe the mess of your face. He takes down his luxuriously soft fur cape. Instead of wrapping it around you, he spreads it onto the ground next to the Forge and returns to your side. As you get to your feet, he wraps a calloused hand around your elbow and helps you up, guiding you over to his cape. Along the way, you shed the remains of your top and bra.

Sadet joins you on the cape, taking his helmet off last, and setting it down on the floor next to you. Dry heat pours out of the exchange vents, sending another prickle across your skin as he settles between your thighs. His eyes drift shut and you know he’s stopping to enjoy the heat. During the summer, he always pauses when taking that first step outdoors, taking just a moment to tilt his face toward the sun to bask in the harsh light. He opens his eyes and you smile up at him, squeezing your knees around his hips as he settles across your body. 

He guides himself inside, pushing in with short, gentle thrusts, sliding in until your bodies meet. Meeting your eyes, he starts a slow, deep pace, hitting every single one of the needy spots inside you that scream for friction. As you trail your hands up his arms and shoulders, fingers cataloguing the knots in his muscles, you sigh with pleasure. You luxuriate in the deliciously soft fur underneath you and the sweat-slick glide of his body above yours, his weight heavy and comforting at the same time. He takes it slow, trying to be considerate of you, considering everything he’s done to you in the past half-hour. 

Digging your nails into his back, you feel the thick corded muscle jumping under your fingers, sighing with pleasure. You can’t hold back your inhalation when his lips – soft and slightly chapped – meet your collar bone as he kisses you for the first time. He starts to pull away but you wrap your arms around his neck, pleading with him silently to keep going. And he does, pressing one light kiss to your shoulder after another, trailing his way to your neck. When he bites down, you moan wantonly, cunt and legs tightening around him. Your reaction seems to encourage him and he keeps going, each kiss sending a dizzying arc of pure lightning shooting through your entire body.

By the time he makes it to your jaw, you’re shaking, on the verge of coming, your head swimming dizzyingly from the sheer pleasure of his lips against your skin. His next kiss lands right next to your lips and you desperately want to turn your head to meet his lips but you know it’s not his thing so you let him decide what happens next. He hovers for just a moment as you watch him with half-closed eyes, your pupils surely blown wide open from arousal, and he leans in, his breath fanning across your cheeks. 

That’s enough to send you right over the edge and as your back arches, Sadet kisses you on the lips, swallowing your cry of pleasure. He thrusts a few more times, tongue tracing the seam of your lips before you remember to kiss him back. Your hand curls around the back of his head and pulls him in close as you deepen it, mouths open and his tongue hesitant against yours. He thrusts shallowly a few times before drawing to a halt, his lips never leaving yours as he continues the kiss.

He draws back after several more toe-curling kisses and you unlace your legs from around his waist, dropping your feet onto his calves. When he hisses and jerks forward, thrusting his half-hard cock into you, you give him an apologetic grin and remove your feet to the cape underneath your entwined bodies. When the two of you have regained your faculties, he pulls out, and sits back on his heels as you rest your hands on your belly.

He tilts his head slightly as he offers his hand. Once again, he pulls you up. You take in your ruined garments with a wry look on your face.

“I’m going to have to go back to my room in your clothes again,” you quip at him.

“Who said anything about you leaving?” he asks.

Your mouth drops open in a little ‘o’ of surprise, your eyes jumping up to meet his. After all this how can he still want more? He laughs at you as he picks up his helmet and hammer.

“I haven’t gotten to test your knowledge of different fuel sources yet,” he explains. “We have all night, sweet girl. There’s plenty of time for me to breed you.”

With that he marches you toward his sumptuous bedroom.

__________________________________________________________

[1] Traditional blacksmithing has seven basic techniques used, but can be divided into four rough categories: forging, welding, heat-treating, and finishing.

__________________________________________________________

Data:

Tailor: would 100% let Sadet smash

Kalni:

Figure 1: Meme showing the subject’s thoughts on Sadet the Armorer from the Samaki Tribe. The strong language in this image – “In conclusion, I’m a slut for Sadet” –  indicates the subject is willing and able to permit Smashing to occur.

Maggie: Yes

Kata: Yes

Izzy: Yes

-

Conclusions:

To come to an accurate conclusion, the experiment would need a bigger sample size. However, based on preliminary results, it can be concluded that Sadet is 100% Smashable.

-

Bibliography:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blacksmith#Smithing_process

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The “You Enabled This” Tag List:

@hdlynn​ @magsgotswags​ @thecautiousengineer​ @maybege​ @nelba​

[pangtasias-atelier]

A Reborn World’s Anomaly

Well, my first fic after a long ass break is for a character that literally no one knows. So blame @mimisgarbage for sharing my love in this dumb whore. Also, I can never just write about fat Yuma, gotta mention the fucked up ending cause I am still emotionally scarred and hurting from that shit

“Those idiots really did it,” Nagamimi glances down at her newfound arms. Her entire body newfound, she barely marvels in her appearance. No longer in the form of a stitched doll somewhat resemblant of a rabbit, her form is now that of a person. Her black attire the same as ever, the sleeves of her rich black outfit engulfs the entire length of her arm, barely stopping at her wrists. Attached to both sleeves is a single white ruffle that nearly engulfes her hands much like her arms. The rest of the outfit is a short skirt that is much less concealing. Ending a tad bit above midway above her knees, the extra ruffling added at the bottom gives a bit more fabric to cover her up alongside her black leggings and black pumps. A rich lilac vest sits atop her outfit with a darker purple cravat right above said vest. Her dragging bunny ears are replaced with blonde hair, two flowing braids of hair parting it down the back with one being far longer so as to reach down to her knees. 

“Nagamimi!” A shrill shout sounds as Mio runs towards Nagamimi. Not quite sure as to how she knows Nagamimi or where she even came from, the innate trust she has in her and Unit 13 has in her eases Mio’s already minimal concerns. Mio no longer as sickly frail, she runs with reckless abandon despite her black boots, her long yellow-green hair flows behind her freely. Her short white top rustles from the movement but her black shorts thankfully covers her up. Unwilling to fully stop, she nearly rams into Nagamimi through forcefully grabbing her arm with glee. ‘What are you doing out here?” 

“What’d I say about grabbing me like that?” Nagamimi raises her voice yet she makes no effort in putting up the slightest amount of resistance. “I was just saying an extra goodbye is all,” Nagamimi’s eyes never once taken off from the horizon she stares at the increasingly diminishing figure. 

“They already said goodbye. The rest of Unit 13 is still celebrating! And Julietta but he celebrates for everything,” Mio tugs at Nagamimi’s arm.

“Yeah,” Nagamimi continues to stare; the tension in her jaws remain. Her mind races. The thoughts jumbled, sudden, instantaneous moments churn throughout her conscious. Flashes of the world destroyed. Flashes of everyone but a select few killed, those near the stage of a dragon spared. Flashes of Unit 13 destroying VFD and with it, a world free of dragons. And yet, Unit 13’s leader’s sudden call had raised questions. Questions only for Nagamimi as the rest of Unit 13 had been purposefully left out of the loop by their leader. With the near teary state their leader had been from such an unexpected call, Nagamimi had no choice to leave it alone. With only her and Unit 13 knowing the truth of their remade world, there simply had been no opportunity to speak about the contradiction of Yuma existing. A man-made human created for the sole purpose of destroying dragons only to instead willingly turn himself into one, his entire existence is contradictory. 

And yet, Unit 13’s leader was willingly overlooking such a strange anomaly. Yuma slain by their own hands, Yuma had refused to back down despite the two’s relationship. The deep burning shame and regret haunting them afterwards, the image of Yuma dying in their arms from the wounds they themself inflicted, properly analyzing the situation was simply out of the question for them.

“What’s wrong?” Mio staring at Nagamimi’s face, she glances between her face and the place where Unit 13’s leader once was, their entire silhouette now gone. 

Nagamimi deeply sighs. Her entire frame puffing up with air only to expel it still feels too  insufficient of a sigh. “I just don’t want to go back to where everyone is. They’re so loud,” Grumbling herself so as to sell the lie, she immediately gives herself away with her smirk. 

“You’re a terrible liar!” Mio pouts as she drags Nagamimi back inside.

“I hope everything works out for those two this time,” She earnestly wishes under her breath before she follows Mio’s efforts to get her to rejoin the festivities. 

Stepping off the usually packed trains of Tokyo, Unit 13’s leader deftly weaves through the hustle and bustle of packed foot traffic. This new world exactly the same – minus the disappearance of dragons – as their old, destroyed world, the address Yuma had given them is easy to get to. A quick search revealing apartment complexes, Yuma no longer living at ISDF with dragons ceasing to exist, he had eagerly expressed wishing to see them. The shock of Yuma somehow being alive still refuses to wear off, so they hurry through the crowd despite the angry complaints tossed their way from their rushed state.

Eventually reaching the address Yuma sent them, their prepared mental state or rushing up a litany of stairs is still high on adrenaline even when they find Yuma’s apartment to be on the ground floor. Fishing their phone out of their pocket, they double and triple check the address before placing it back. They clear their throat. Their fist shaking, their lungs refuse to cooperate with them as they hold their breath back upon knocking twice. The instant a second passes without a response, their chest seems to well up with water as the sudden inability to breath sinks in.

“It’s open!” A shout responding to their dread and panic, the prickly moist tears that threatened to protrude begin to recede. They almost slam the door open upon their rushed entrance. “I’m in the kitchen,” The soft yet smug tantalizing voice of Yuma’s penetrates their ears and sinks into their very flesh. Their legs continue on moving towards the captivating voice. They stop upon the sight that awaits them. 

The kitchen in a somewhat state of disarray, Yuma is at the epicenter of it all. His engorged figure makes it hard for him not to be, Yuma’s hefty body taking up a large swath of the kitchen area. Surrounded by cats, Yuma’s obese body seems even somewhat laughable with the tiny pets clinging to him.

No longer possessing the fit musculature for a body designed with the singular intent of killing, Yuma’s figure is instead comparable with a body designed solely to eat. Where once there was a defined outline of abs shown only in more personal, intimate moments from their dates, Yuma’s heaping gut lurches forward into a massive overhang. Tucked in neatly and safely behind the comfort of his turtleneck, the fabric surprisingly doesn’t fight back its owner’s corpulent body; instead, it conforms to Yuma’s soft curves making up the doughy mass of his gut. His overhang reaching down a bit above his knees, the end up Yuma’s gut ends in a notably defined bell shape, the curve of his stomach curving ever so slightly inwards below his navel. His stomach mercilessly pulled down by gravity due to its sheer weight, the mass of lard rests comfortably on his thighs. The inner rivulets of fat making up his thighs are hidden behind his tank of a gut. However, the sides of his thighs jut out from so much fat crammed into his figure. The edges of his thighs peeking out from behind his gut offer a sense of their own immense girth, the inner mystery of his thighs filled in by the width of his overhang. Each thigh wider than a person, and with extra width to spare for a second, the two tree trunk thighs fill the fabric of Yuma’s pants. His pants perfectly tailored to fit him just like his turtleneck, the legs of them taper to fit his body, the entire canvas of sagging puffed out fat making up his legs visible. Rolls marcating the edges of where his ass and legs meet, Yuma’s ass juts out behind him, a slight fall to them as well from its own weight like Yuma’s stomach. A cat clings onto the fabric of his pants; its nails digging into the thick fabric as it hangs off the side of Yuma’s thigh.

Yuma’s legs slowly shift in clear, deliberate motions. Moving obviously a challenge with so much girth in the way, his pendulous gut sways from the movement. It slaps against his thighs. Turning to face towards Unit 13’s leader, he lets out a sigh – half from spotting his partner and half from exhaustion. “You’re finally here,” His face is puffed out from the extra bits of flab piled onto his cheeks and chin. No longer so angular, it’s instead rounded out to give a more soft and welcoming aura, The apron attached to him offers an even more welcoming aura, the width of it only covering half the width of his expansive gut. Even his breasts splay out the sides of the apron. Both heavy tits rest comfortably on the shelf of his gut, each sploying out somewhat to the sides. The apron lacking a knot, it instead has a collar to fit around his doughy neck. Two cats vye for Yuma’s attention, one on each soft shoulder. Yuma’s doughy looking arms rest comfortably on his plump love handles. Too much effort to hold up the two burdened arms despite each only holding a bowl of cat food, his fat bunches together. 

“Yeah,” Unit 13’s leader is at a shock – partly from Yuma’s mere existence yet mostly from his newfound weight. “I made it,” Releasing a radiant smile as the edges of their lips upturn, their feet glide along the floor as they step forward with zero hesitation. Their fingers gingerly wrap around both bowls in Yuma’s hands. The cats meow at them as they walk back. The cats circling their feet, they take great care in placing the bowls down, yet they do so quickly before the cats can prematurely grab them while still in their hands. The cats content with their food, Unit 13’s leader saunters back to Yone. They press a hand on Yuma’s stomach, their fingers sinking ever so slightly into the warm mass of fat. “Sorry about the wait, big guy,” Immediately accustomed to Yuma’s strange reappearance and even stranger figure, they loop an arm around Yuma’s, the warm pile of pudge encases their arm on all sides. 

Yuma lets out a small huff of breath before shaking his head at the nickname; his near shoulder length gray-brown hair swishes from the motion, bits of his green eyes momentarily hidden behind his hair. “I guess I’ll never get you to stop calling me that,” A twinkle in Yuma’s eye, he follows their steps as they slowly lead the way. 

“It’s hard to not call you what you are,” They give a couple affectionate pats against Yuma’s wobbling stomach. Leading Yuma out of the kitchen, they make their way past their cats that are preoccupied with eating. “Plus, you seem to get a kick out of it too,”

“Oh, I get a kick?” Yuma counters. His personality much the same, he continues his rebuttal. “I’m not the one insistent on using such a nickname, am I?” His fatigue starting to get to him, he huffs afterwards. 

“We’re almost there, big guy,” They ignore his rhetorical question and instead lead Yuma further back into the living room. Yuma merely rolls his eyes with a scoff thrown in for good measure. 

Upon reaching the couch, they reluctantly remove themselves from Yuma. A wide permanent indent marking his spot, Yuma gratefully lowers himself down on it with only minimal creaking from the loveseat. His bulk finally resting, his fat bunches up together. His thighs take up nearly the entire expanse of the loveseat. His gut rests on the wide pedestal that is his thighs. “Make yourself comfortable,” Yuma challenges. 

Without a pause, Unit 13’s leader sits in the tiny crevice left available between Yuma’s fat and the armrest. However, they lift up Yuma’s gut, the mass of fat barely lifting up despite their best efforts. Shifting around, they place their back on the armrest as they sit on Yuma’s lap. Most of their body smothered under Yuma’s gut, they let go of his stomach with a grin. “Got the best seat in the house. Even comes with a personal heater,” They rub Yuma’s gut with their right hand; their hand goes in slow counter-clockwise motions. 

“Glad to be of service,” Yuma suddenly blushes as his stomach growls. 

“Now it’s my turn to be of service,” Opening up their phone, they start ordering food without waiting for any input on Yuma’s end. Tapping and scrolling away, they smile as Yuma simply starts searching for something to watch. 

Deciding to simply take this newfound world without question, they let out a contented sigh as they place their food order, ready to enjoy their first date with Yuma in this world.

[secret-engima]

Fic title thing - heart held close to the moon and Neptune

...

...............

Neptune ... Neptune was the Roman god of the sea right? ... Just looked it up and yes he was so-

>:D

FF7

Mer

AU

But rather than EVERYONE being mer or whatever, it’s ONLY the three Soldier Firsts of canon. Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal who have never met any other mer, because Shinra are immoral and terrible and use propaganda to promote the idea that Mer aren’t REALLY just like humans in intelligence and emotional range and soul, they just happen to look human-ish on the top half. And because Mer are seemingly extinct (read: in hiding), they have nobly “Resurrected” the lost line of the “most exotic creatures of the sea” in Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal and claim to be in the process of cloning female Mers to “reintroduce the species”.

Except mer are NOT animals.

Mer are the children of Gaia’s oceans, the pulse of her waves and tides, touched by her moon on high. Mer are MAGIC and they will not be contained.

They escape, by the skin of their teeth and with many bloody scars, helped by the last of descendant of the True Mer (Aerith) who can walk on two legs for a time because of her half-human blood. They flee, out into the wild waters, just the three of them as a pod, rapidly protective of their little Pod Queen Aerith, their little sister in their eyes for all it would doom mer to extinction again. So they swim, up river and through lake and through the sea, and sometimes Aerith stops to visit the human woman who cared for her as a child and to tend the garden on two legs while the other three lounge in the little pond and sing softly together, and it’s ... nice.

Then Aerith meets Zack. Zack who is a cheerful sellsword rather than a Shinra plaything, who still respect the Old Ways as best as an ignorant human can, and Aerith adores him and so despite what they want, Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal refrain from dragging him below the waves and eating him for trying to court their sister. But Zack is genuine and not cruel like the other humans they’ve met, he gets along with Elmyra and dotes on Aerith and Angeal ends up taking him under his fin after Zack nearly falls in and downs in the pond because surprise this idiot CAN’T SWIM, and really that is that. They have another human in the pod.

Zack tells them all sorts of stories, of the lands they’ve never seen. Jungles and deserts and icy mountains, and in those stories one name and description comes up a lot, the other, younger sellsword Cloud Strife. A fierce little mountain girl who still swears to the Old Spirits and avoids Fairy Circles and will not set foot on a boat until she’s made a sacrifice to the lost Children of the Sea. He describes his “little buddy” so often during his tales that really, it’s no wonder Sephiroth RECOGNIZES the woman while on a solo hunt, struggling in the water, bubbles escaping her mouth and nose, arms and legs bound from where she’s been THROWN OVERBOARD by pirates stealing the ship she had booked passage on.

Sephiroth screams and the storm screams back. The pirates stand no chance and Sephiroth pays them no more mind as he dives down for Cloud, ripping the ropes apart with his claws, swims her up to the surface and realizes that the storm he just summoned is a PROBLEM. The waves are too high for him to keep the human’s head above the water and she’s already NOT BREATHING and Sephiroth can’t just- UNSUMMON a storm, but this girl is Zack’s friend and Zack is pod which makes THIS ONE pod and Sephiroth-can’t-let-her-die-.

Sephiroth holds her close and sings-sings-sings, struggling against death, screaming to the moon to spare this human, to make her SURVIVE somehow, because Sephiroth has too few people in his life and he cannot afford to lose any of them, even one he has never met before.

And Sephiroth-

Sephiroth was Hojo’s finest creation. He was grown from the blood of the most Ancient mer. The Wild Kin even Aerith’s race of mer feared for their power, their savagery, their ability to wrap up the world in their voice and SHAPE it the way they wanted. Jenova is not an alien virus in this au, oh no, Jenova was The Sea Witch. The most feared and powerful and deadly o the Wild Kin, the last to fall in their war against the much more numerous humans and Cetra mer that had banded together against the Wild Kin and their Sea Witches. Jenova was the one who cursed the Cetra and decimated their numbers, she was the one to freeze the great northern sea mid-motion like a glacier around a great crater.

Jenova is, in a morbid, cloned sense, his mother.

Sephiroth sings.

The world obeys.

The body in his arms changes.

Cloud breathes in water and does not drown.

When Cloud groggily wakes up three days later, it’s to one very frantic Zack hovering over her face, the sky above her head, and the weird sensation of being submerged from the waist down. She remembers being knocked off the ship and sits up in confusion-

Looks down and doesn’t see legs.

The glittering tail of ink black and spiraling ice blue twitches spasmodically under her stare, responding to her desperate attempts to move legs that AREN’T THERE ANYMORE.

Cloud starts screaming and all the glass and quite a bit of nearby stone shatters.

While Zack and Aerith help deal with ... THAT whole mess, Sephiroth lurks guiltily in the nearby river, not daring to enter the pond while Genesis whimsically notes that aside from the ice blue swirls, her tail exact same shade of black as his, so does that mean she’s a full blooded Wild Kin now? Genesis and Angeal aren’t, because they have bright red and bright blue scales with black highlights respectively, sign of Wild Kin blood but not nearly as pure as Sephiroth’s jet black and trademark silver hair and slitted eyes. Angeal slaps Genesis over the head and says there are bigger things to worry about, because SINCE WHEN was any kind of magic strong enough to transform a human into an ACTUAL MER and what do they do now? Sephiroth already tried turning her back, but it didn’t work, because that kind of Song that remakes the world itself can only be used on a person on that large a scale ONCE, so now they’re stuck and how will they explain any of that to Zack’s formerly-human friend.

Sephiroth continues to lurk at the bottom of the river, feeling very guilty. He didn’t mean to do that. He meant to save her, not transform her, and the entire thing tastes too much of Hojo’s lab and his unwanted experiments and talk of using Sephiroth’s blood to create clones or hybrids.

Maybe once Zack and Aerith calm her down she won’t entirely hate him?

Who is he kidding, she’ll probably try to gut him with her bare claws.

(Anyway a sort of Modern-Fantasy AU where Mako is a thing but the SOLDIER program isn’t, Mer are a thing, and Fem!Cloud and Sephiroth end up doing an enemies to lovers slowburn but more in a you-transformed-me-against-my-will-so-I-HATE-YOU to friends to lovers way.)

(Also Hojo tries to do more evil shenanigans and Shinra hopes to conquer the world, but that all gets shut down by the Pod because fun fact you can’t run a wold spanning empire if all your ships keep mysteriously getting sunk. It’s not like you can helicopter EVERYTHING over the water, especially since all air traffic gets rapidly shut down by the mysterious super storms that blow in when they try. Reeve eventually gets accidentally kidnapped by the Pod and converted to their side so he starts looking into non-Lifestream power alternatives and Rufus is on board because honestly there’s nothing like a couple of mer arguing, IN YOUR LANGUAGE on whether they should eat you for your sins to make you rethink your life choices and by extension all your evil father’s life choices.)

(Also also Vincent and Felicia are both experiments by Hojo to see if he could create human-mer hybrids. Felicia is a sea serpent and Vincent sometimes forgets that Legs Are A Thing and so just sighs tiredly on Elmyra’s floor in all his red and black octopi glory. Veld is pulled on board the “lets kill Hojo and reform Shinra” boat after he nearly gets his throat torn out by his long lost daughter only for his long lost Turk partner to tackle her and talk her down from accidental patricide.)

(For reference, Sephiroth is a black beta fish with some silver edging on his fins, Genesis is a red with black stripes lionfish, and Angeal is a long-suffering blue and black lions fish. Aerith turns into a long-finned koi, and discovers quite by accident that if you kiss your human boyfriend enough times he gains the ability to breathe underwater and transform into a mer for a few hours before changing back into a human again.)

(And because I’m on a roll, Nanaki is still a cat-lion-thing, Cait Sith has underwater capabilities, Jesse, Wedge, and Biggs are all incredibly baffled humans who aren’t sure how this is their life now, Tifa would like to know when and how her best friend became a Mer (Cloud: It’s all catfish’s fault. Sephiroth: hey.) Barret is a monstrously overprotective dad and Marlene is the world’s cutest baby mer and Sephiroth would literally destroy the world for her if she asked him too. Genesis would help him. Angeal would just sigh and hold Marlene out of the danger zone.)

[i-write-sometimes-blog]

You matter to me (Empress!Rey x Reader)

Request: Can you do a Empress!Rey x reader? It starts off as the reader being Rey’s prisoner and later on, Rey starts having feelings towards her and later on, grants the reader a small amount of freedom. She begins falling for Rey, too. Neither of them share their feelings until one day, something happened that put her in a bad mood and she lashes out at the reader when she was trying to ask her what happened, wanting to help her feel better. After lashing out, it brought back the reader’s fear of her and she started to keep her distance from Rey. Rey doesn’t take notice of this at first until when she needed something from the reader a couple days later. She had her back towards Rey and flinched when Rey put a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. When she took a step back from Rey in fear, it made her feel bad and she apologizes for it and in the end, she felt she needed to be more protective of the reader. By anon

Words: 2,315

A/N: ngl this took me forever, I literally wrote like five different drafts for this, bc the request was awesome and I just couldn't find a way to make it justice. So here it is.

They had captured you.

This was bad, very bad. Even worse than the wounds in your body but they didn’t matter, dead would be better than being held in this immense dark palace. You had heard what she did to the rebels she captured and it was worse than dead.

The stormtroopers dragged you to her place, but didn’t feel the real terror until you saw her sitting impsing in her throne, the Empress herself a few feets away from you. Her bare presence made you shivered as an urged to scream built in the back of your throat. She seemed so dangerous.

And when she spoke damn, you were terrified.

“I’m keeping this one” she said “take her to the infirmary and then bring her to a cell.” she order to the troopers who followed as soon as she went silent.

You passed a time in a very small cell with nothing except a small and hard bed, looking at the four walls until she visited you. The first time you were beyond afraid unsure of her intentions, but she spoke in a surprisingly calm and kind way.

“How’s the wound?” she asked looking at your bandaged leg.

“B-better?” you mumbled nervous. A reassuring smile formed in her lips as rose her voice again.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you.” she said “I need your help. You have a name?"

"Y/N" you told her.

"Well, Y/N, I need you to tell me everything you know about the the Resistance, can you do that?" Gulping hard you thought for a moment, you weren't going to betray your friends, not put them in danger. But there was no much useful information so you slowly nodded.

"Excellent" she said smiling.

She kept coming every day, ask you the same questions about where was the Resistance, how many were there and how to defeat them. And you kept your word, you told her everything you knew and it was not a lie when you told her you had absolutely no idea where they were.

But that didn't stop her from visiting you every day making sure your leg was fine. The questions became deeper, she started to ask more about you than about the Resistance and allowed you to ask her things.

Rey, her name was Rey. You found out one day and immediately like it, it was a soft name, a gentle and sweet one that matched her features, so you started to call her that, not Empress anymore.

With the time she moved you from the cell to your own personal room, she said it was a reward for your cooperation though the way she looked at you made you think it was because she was falling for you and the idea curved your lips into a bright smile.

You started falling for her too, for the way she sat imposing on her throne, for the confident way she talked, for the smile she gave you every time her gaze crossed yours. You started to get closer, more than you probably should considering she was the enemy. Wherever she went you followed, at first as a command but you enjoyed being with her.

And then one day she opened up with you sitting in a balcony looking at the way the stars painted the night sky. She told you about her past, her life in the desert planet. A single tear rolled down her cheek with the memories.

You looked at her long and detailed, but all you saw was a girl broken by years of tragedy and pain. By seas of tears, false hopes and broken promises, forced to do terrible things to find peace only finding more pain and a void inside her. Not the monster everyone said she was.

Maybe that was the moment you truly fell for her, seeing her so vulnerable, so afraid. You wanted to comfort her, hold her in your arms and assure her she was more than that, to find a way to bring back that confident smile to her lips you loved. You carefully took her hand in yours, a simple yet very intimate gesture that made her smile just enough to melt your heart once again.

****

Loud screams rumbled down the hall as you walked closer to the room they came from, the voice made stronger with every new step you took. Rey’s angry voice traveled to your ears and made a shiver run down your spine and almost freeze as you finally stood in the doorframe.

There she was standing next to the holographic table that displayed a blue recording of a battlefield, she looked so upset murmuring things nonstop as she walked from side to side in the small room, her voice cracking let you know she would break down in the matter of a second so you got closer to her talking softly.

“Hey, you okay?” you said and she looked at you.

“Rebels again” she told you “They keep getting in my way and then disappearing again.” you nodded and she turned her back to you, she knew how much you worried for your friends in the Resistance. “No matter how hard I try to find them they just keep moving, and some planets are starting to stand against me, they don’t respect me. I am the Empress, they should fear even think about doing something like that without consequences..”

“It’s going to be fine” you told her placing your hand on her shoulders trying your best to comfort her.

“No it’s not, Y/N!” she yelled before she abruptly turned around making you flinch a bit apart as she continued, you looked now right into her eyes filled with all kind of negative emotions “Nothing is fine, nothing is great and surely nothing is gonna get better!”

“You can make this better, just calm down, please.” you begged her “We can solve this, it’s gonna be fine, I’ve seen you do it before. I know you will find a solution” you told her hoping to cheer her up a bit.

“No, you don’t understand, Y/N!” she exploded in anger “Nothing is gonna be fine until I destroy the Resistance! Not until I make sure every single one of them is gone!”

“Rey…” you murmured.

“Save it, Y/N. You there’s nothing you can do for me, I don’t even know why do I keep you around when you’re one of them! After all this time, all the things I’ve done for you, you still hoping they will win someday ” she hissed leaning closer to your face, the words leaving her mouth in a rush, desperate to be heard.

Rey stared at you furiously and you felt your heart racing as fast as a ship flying through lightspeed, beating fastly against your chest, with every new word a intense pain grew in your heart.

“I saved you, I healed you when you were left behind to die! They abandoned you, Y/N! They didn’t even looked back, your precious Resistance let you hurt in the ground like garbage so they could escape!” she stormed and you felt a lump forming in your throat.

“I was willing to die for them.” you murmured.

“See? You keep defending them. Tell me what have they done for you?” she stay silenced for a moment waiting for your answer “Tell me!!” she screamed sending a shiver down your spine as you closed your eyes in terror.

“What? Are you going to cry now?” she asked serious and you did your best to contain the tears pooling in your eyes. “I should have kill you when I found out you were useless, you have no information for me, I have a whole lot of engineers who could do your work with ease, you have no purpose here.” she added placing on of her hands around your neck digging her black nails in the side of it. A rush of panic invaded your body bringing back memories from the day you met this woman and thought that was the last day of your life. You gulped thickly before you rose your voice.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” you said as firm as your weak voice allowed you. The Empress just glanced at you for a few seconds that felt like an eternity for you. Then she slowly let go of your neck.

“Get out of my sight.” she whispered in a dangerous and threaten tone that you obeyed immediately.

Once you were in the hall you allowed the tears to fall down your face as your heart ached, after all this time you forgot how dangerous the Empress was, how imposing and deadly she really was, maybe she was a bit different in the inside, she was soft and you had witnessed she had a good heart, but at the same time she would always be the evil ruler that sat imposing in her throne with a burning desire to conquer the whole galaxy. She could kill you if she wanted to, she would do it without blinking and you knew it. The thought invaded your head as you kept walking, filling your body with terror.

As the days went by you tried to keep your distance from the woman in dark long dress that ruled over the palace, it was a survival instinct maybe, to hide from that we know can kill us, from what we fear and you were once again terribly afraid of what she could do to you.

Staying as much time as you could in the room she had gave you, wasting your time in insignificant motor designs, fixing broken things, anything you could to be far from her. But there were times you were obligated to be around her, in meetings to discuss improvements in ships, weapons, whatever. She was there, you kept your eyes away from her, answer her questions as fast as you could but not in a warm way as before. Rey didn’t seem to notice your cold words nor the distance you built between you, she was too busy destroying cities and searching for the Resistance and it relieved you a bit but also hurt you knowing she didn’t care about you.

“Y/N?” you hear her voice as she stepped into your room, you thanked you had your back turned to the door otherwise she would had seen your face tensing as the fear slowly spread through your body. “There you are” you heard her said in a calm way, even a bit of happiness lying in her voice. “I’ve been searching for you, I thought you were somewhere else. I need your help, I don’t know this system and I don’t trust those commanders. I need to find a new base, maybe a prettier one and well, you know every planet so I want you to tell me which one’s better” she said. You kept your glance in the tiny metal item on your desk.

“Are you even listening me?” she said a bit less enthusiastic “Y/N” she repeated as you felt her warm hand on your shoulder, feeling her touch elicited goosebumps all over your skin and by a reflex you moved away from her as you stood up from the chair you were sitting finally meeting her concerned gaze.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” she asked worried taking a step closer unconsciously you took a step back.

“Please, don’t.” you shivered as she tried to take another step towards you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she said truly concerned about the fear in your eyes. She examined your features, your tensed body the she seemed to figure out the cause of your fear, her. Her mind went back to that day she screamed at you, she regretted the way she treated you, she knew she had fucked up but didn't think how much she had until then and damn it hurted her to see you this afraid of her.

"This is for the other day, isn't it?" She sighed as her gaze went to the ground searching for a way to start. "I was in a very bad mood, things went out of my control" she explained softy and calm. "And you were only trying to cheer me up, I didn't see it. I shouldn't have say all that, l just… shouldn't. I let my anger blind me and I hurt you, Y/N, the very last person I want to get hurt." She said sincerely gazing at you in her last words. You wanted to trust her again but her words kept echoing in the back of your head. You felt the need to get the feelings stuck in your chest out of you.

"You threatened to kill me" you protested remembering her nails digging in your skin.

"We both know I wouldn't" she said "I can't and I regret that day, all I said and did, I didn't mean it… I'm sorry" she stopped for a moment and took a new insecure step towards you that you didn't stop. She glimpsed at you. "You matter to me, Y/N"

You glanced at her as your heart raced softly with her words.

"You matter to me a whole lot. I'm sorry I was such an idiot back there. Please, Y/N, forgive me." she said and went quiet waiting for an answer.

Doubting for a second you stepped closer to her and placed her arms around her bringing her into a warm hug. A forgiveness hug.

"I'm sorry." She repeated as her voice cracked a little.

"We're going to be fine, Rey." you murmured caressing her back. "Just please don't try to kill me again" you chuckled trying to erase the tension in the room. And it actually worked as you heard Rey's soft giggles.

"Won't happen again, promise."

[countessrivers]

25 or 27, if you're still doing the cuddling prompts, please and thank you ❤😄

I’m going to do both, with some generous interpretation of “firsts” (lets say, firsts in these bodies)

Another EoT au, with the prompts 27. First cuddle + 25 With a first kiss

“Get out of the way?”

“You said it first.”

“No, I know. It’s just… That’s rather…”

“However it is you’re planning on finishing that sentence, I suggest you don’t.”

The Doctor opens his mouth like he is going to do just that, but then clearly reconsiders and shuts it instead. He’s looking appealingly roughed up, face and hands covered in cuts and bruises, those big, doe eyes wide and staring at him, like he’s not entirely sure what he’s seeing. Surprise always has been a good look on the Doctor, this one in particular, but there’s an undercurrent of something there now that sets the Master on edge, that makes him want to run.

He hardly has the strength for that though. It’s enough of a struggle to roll over and sit himself up against the edge of the platform.

They’re alone now, the humans, including the Doctor’s old man, have all scarpered. The other Time Lords are gone too, from the universe and his head, the quiet particularly noticeable having so recently felt them again. It’s only the Doctor left, hovering at the edge of his consciousness like he’s physically hovering on the other side of the room. He’s a familiar, steady presence. Not pushing, or even prodding at him, just there.

It’s… nice.

Or at least, not completely awful.

It’s just all so quiet. Quieter than it has been in a very long time.

Because the drums are gone. For the first time in what feels like forever, the drums are silent. He searches his own mind for the sound, tentatively at first, then with more urgency when he’s not immediately bombarded by them.

But they’re not there. He even tries to purposefully recall the sound, the pain, the feeling of the relentless noise pounding inside his head, getting louder and louder until he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He can remember, but it’s distant, veiled, and the drums themselves don’t return.

They’re gone.

Maybe it was the sealing of the time lock, or the destruction of the white point star, but for whatever reason, they’re finally gone.

The Master lets his head fall back, eyes slipping shut as he takes in the all-encompassing silence he’s only ever known in death. It’s different know, because although he currently feels like death warmed over, he’s not. He’s alive. He’s alive and he has won.

Diseased?

Rassilon can take his staff and shove it up-

So engrossed in revelling in his victory, he doesn’t hear the Doctor approach. It isn’t until he sits down next to him, knocking their shoulders together, that he notices.

“You saved my life.” The Doctor’s voice sounds raw, and the Master has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not entirely to do with all the yelling.

“Did I?”

If the Master keeps his eyes closed, it has nothing to do with not wanting to meet the Doctor’s gaze or face any of the sentiment he’s sure is there. He’s tired, is all.

“Rassilon could have killed you. You could have been pulled back into the Time Lock with them.”

The Master scoffs.

“The size of your ego, Doctor. It had nothing to do with you. They ruined my life, called me diseased. I wasn’t going to let that stand.”

“Uh huh.”

The Doctor’s tone is one of disbelief, and it’s infuriating enough to have him turning to glare at him. The Doctor just looks back, face far too open and earnest.

And the thing is, it’s not a lie. The Master was, is, thinking fondly about choking the life out of Rasslion, watching him die and regenerate and then maybe having another go at it. He wants Rassilon dead, wants the whole damn council dead. Wants to tear them apart with his bare hands and his teeth. He wants them begging for his mercy, wants to make them suffer for what they did, for using him again and again, and then tossing him aside. For using both of them and-

“Well, whatever your motives, you saved my life. So, thank you, Master.”

He really wishes the Doctor would just shut up. Even the sound of his name on the Doctor’s tongue isn’t enough to quell the annoyance. He doesn’t want to examine the flash of rage, the desperation he felt when he saw Rassilon raise his glove, so determined to destroy the Doctor if it was the very last thing he did. He doesn’t want to think about what it was that pulled him to his feet when it would have been so easy to stay down, to let them all go out together. He doesn’t want to dwell on the Doctor’s face as they stared each other down, the barrel of a gun between them, his own eyes infuriatingly wet as he spat out every taunt he could think of, so sure the Doctor wouldn’t, couldn’t, choose him.

And then the relief when he did.

He doesn’t want to think about who he is, who they are, now that the drums are gone, that Gallifrey is gone, that they’re here and alive and alone and the only two left. No humans, no hostages, no plans in-between them.

Just them.

He doesn’t want to think about it, and he certainly doesn’t want to talk about it

“Master, I really think we should-”

Oh, for the love of Omega.

Drawing on what little energy he has left, he turns around, grabs hold of the Doctor’s jacket, and pulls him into a kiss.

The Doctor’s shocked enough to let himself be moved, and doesn’t fight so much as flail is hands around a bit before sinking into it, opening his mouth for the Master’s tongue as he clutches at the ratty hoodie.

It’s been a long time since they’ve done this. Literal lifetimes, and certainly the first time in these bodies, but it’s, what’s the phrase? Like riding a bike. The Doctor slides a hand around his back, letting out a soft moan when he bites his lip. The Master slips his own hand under his jacket, feeling a heart race beneath his palm, pulling him closer with an arm around his waist until the Doctor is practically in his lap.

The Doctor looks a little dazed when they pull apart. He opens his mouth, and the Master is torn between admiring how wet and full and red it is, and swearing at him for not taking the hint. Though he supposes that if the Doctor isn’t going to shut up, then he’ll just have to kiss him again.

He doesn’t have to though, because instead of speaking, the Doctor leans down and wraps his arms around him, burying his face in his neck. The Master doesn’t to anything as ridiculous as flail, but he’s not entirely sure what to do with his hands so they end up hovering awkwardly in the air.

“What are you doing?”

“Hugging you.”

The Doctor’s words brush against his neck, so close that he can feel his lips moving on his skin as he speaks.

“Well stop.”

He should probably push him off, but the way the Doctor’s arms tighten around him suggests that he won’t be easily moved.

‘Make me.”

[rebelcourtesan]

Hordak - Peeling Back the Layers

Alright, if you’ve been following my blog for a while, then you know how much I like villains.  A show is only as good as its villain and She-Ra and the Princesses of Power have given us several awesome villains.

Since it’s a reboot, all of the characters have underwent redesigns.  From She-ra’s more modest outfit that brought out raging fanboys, and the wide range of ridiculous 80′s outfits remodeled to be more practical and stylish.  Perfuma isn’t wearing a flower on her head and Catra is actually a cat girl and not a lady stalking around in a tight red dress.  

long post below

One of the biggest changes is Hordak himself.  Instead of some muscle bound brute, they remodel him to have a slimmer build and wearing a tunic/tabard with a technological mind.  

In season 1, we actually do not see him in person until the end of the THIRD episode.  Though he is the leader of the Horde which should put him as the main antagonist, I consider Shadow Weaver to be the main antagonist of season 1, mainly because she makes more appearances and has more influence over the actions that hamper the heroes (BFF Squad).  At best, he’s a recurring character, at least in the first season.

However, even then, I was drawn to him because I liked his redesign so much and was quite intrigued with him.  He was shrouded in mystery and kept himself distant from current affairs unless it’s to make a brief appearance to intimidate Shadow Weaver and receive reports on what’s happening outside his sanctum via monitors.

In the original She-Ra series, Hordak was much more attached to Adora.  In SPOP, he dismisses her as a lost cause and in turn makes Catra the new Force Captain, overruling Shadow Weaver’s selection, which shows a very pragmatic side to him.  He also overruled her when it came to using the Garnet runestone to attack Bright Moon.      

He pretty much remains a static character throughout season 1.  We still don’t know more about him other than his being the Leader of the Horde and he has a cool disposition towards his underlings.  

It not until we hit season 2-3 that multiple layers are stripped away to allow us a closer look.  And the one responsible for peeling back those layers is Entrapta.

I’ve gone on in length about why these two work so well together as a couple.  With her lack of social skills and obsession with science and experimentation made her to the perfect companion of a man who isolates himself from others and considers Etheria a backwater planet with no concept of interstellar travel.  They suited each other as if cut from the same cloth.  

Imperfection is beautiful.   

These are the words that sparked a deep relationship he had never experienced before, that he had never imagined and we’re given Hordak’s background . . . or a side of it.

Hordak plays the part of an unreliable narrator when he talks about his past.  An unreliable narrator.  An unreliable narrator is a narrator whose credibility is compromised.  Whether its someone who is bias towards events (racist), naive of certain events (a child), has an askew perception (Humbert Humber, the pedophile narrator in Lolita.  

In Hordak’s case, it’s his programming as a clone and strong attachment to his ‘brother’ progenitor Horde Prime.  We’re given only one part of the story and we’re led to believe that his ‘defection’ was a physical disability that causes his body to break down and chronic pain.  And for a long time, until the end of Season 4, this is what we the audience believed was the case.

However, we are quickly shown the true reason why he was discarded.  He had attained a mind of his own and individuality.  

Which asks the question, did Horde Prime allow Hordak to come to the conclusion that it was a physical defect?  Or was it Hordak’s won misconception that led him to believe such?  There had to be a reason why his ‘brother’ would reject him so and he body was falling apart.  So that must be the reason, and therefore he must rise above his frailties to prove himself strong in Horde Prime’s eyes.

Yet, he meets Entrapta and experiences genuine acceptance. Unconditional love and affection from someone he didn’t have to prove himself to.  Entrapta who created a suit to ease his pain and make him more functional without expecting nor asking for anything in return, but did it simply out of friendship and love.  It’s literally an eye opening moment for him.  

From this point on, he shows a wider range of emotion beyond that of anger, cool reception, or frustration.  

He struggles to give his thanks to Entrapta, even going as far as to assure her she was worth something.  

He demonstrates regret at the thought of returning to the Horde Prime.

Hurt when he believes Entrapta betrayed him.

Loss and grief over loosing her.

Pleasure in the battle field.

Embarrassment when the Imp teases him for thinking about Entrapta.  

Season 4 has Hordak leaving his shell or sanctum to lead the Horde army in taking over Salineas and has a taste for battle.    

For Season 4, he has the mannerisms of something had just been spurned by a lover.  He disallows Entrapta’s name to be spoken in his presence, has her things thrown out, and yearns for her while desiring her work and recordings to help him finish his arm cannon.  He even wanted to face in her battle as if he wanted to show her up or have a confrontation.  

He has become a leader that is more open with his underlings now, more confidant and isn’t a malignant being that intimidates his followers from the shadows as he had done in Season 1.  

Then another layer is stripped away when Double Trouble (lauded as a hero for this) reveals what really happened to Entrapta.  

Now we see him as a man in pain, suffering loss and grieving for a loved one.  He had been the fool that had discounted her loyalty.  And with sending someone to Beast Island is considered a death sentence, in his mind, Entrapta is dead, murdered by Catra to gain his trust and steal power.  

Then he does something out of character for himself.  

Remember, in Season One, he was calm and collected, pragmatic and cold with his mind focus on his goal.

Then as the Horde is posed to win the war, he attacks his second in command Catra.  Which is understandable reaction to see revenge, but it’s a very human thing to do.  I’m using the term ‘human’ loosely as many of our favorite characters aren’t human as a race, but you know what I mean.  

He destroys a good portion of the Fright Zone, his own lair and base, trying to kill Catra, consumed with fury over Entrapta and being tricked.  One doesn’t need to be a soldier or a general to know how this would weaken his position in a war. Yet, the emotional pain has put him past caring of how this would weaken him.  All he wants is to avenge Entrapta.  

 Then we have the final layer removed.  The false hope.

We are finally given a missing piece of a puzzle that we didn’t know was missing.  We learn that Hordak’s true defect was having a will of his own.  

When we are introduced to Horde Prime (and brutally so), he completely outstrips Hordak as the main villain of the series and lays him bare to raw vulnerable person seeking affection he never truly had. 

Let’s compare.  

We went from this, when we first see him in the series.  Cold, calculating and feared.

to this.  On his knees, begging for approval, and frightened. 

What I love about this is that it happened so naturally over the course of four seasons in a way I cannot find fault or call bullshit on.  This is a character whose barriers have been stripped from him, first through love and then fury, and then fear and rejection.

His motivation throughout his life had been to please Horde Prime and his actions which has been the cause of so much strife in the series from the war, banishing King Micah, Shadow Weaver betraying Mystacore, Adora’s seperation from her family, Catra, Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogolio’s childhoods, have all been to reunite with an abuser that not only outright rejects him, but then rips away what was left of his mind.

When Season 5 comes around, we’re going to see a new Hordak.  Not a reprogram amnesiac (though I believe he’ll start that way), but someone who has to find a new purpose.  And in finding a new purpose, he’ll likely become a new man.  

But predictions are for another post. 

[weirdochick56]

Mr. Evans II- Chris Evans AU Chapter Two

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, heartbreak, angst, MILD SMUT, a little bit of infidelity

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind, this is for entertainment purposes only.

Word Count: 3, 509 words

Read Chapter One here!!

***

(Gif isn’t mine!)

He’s looking at you and you’re looking at him and all you can think is god, his voice is sexy.

Your dad looks between you two, brows raised.

“You two know eachother?” He asks, bewildered.

You barely hear him, too taken by Mr. Evans’ intense aqua gaze on you and how good that nickname still sounded and looked coming out of those oh-so kissable lips. 

“Hey, Chr-Mr. Evans,” you correct yourself in a soft whisper, unable to conjure much else in response. 

His name felt so unfamiliar in your own mouth, and yet, your tongue welcomed it with such vigor, wrapping around each syllable, each sound like it’d never get to do so again. 

You finally tear your eyes away from his, turning to your dad. “Mr. Evans was my English teacher.”

He beams, pleased beyond your comprehension. “What a small world we live in! Funny how I’m marrying your teacher’s aunt isn’t it?”

You can’t help it when your brows raise to your hairline. “His aunt?”

Ah, so that’s where the familiarity in the eyes came from...

You can see it now, their similar features.

Kennedy interjects, gripping your father’s arm with a grin. “Yeah. Chris’ mom is my sister. He’s been really great through all of this, too. He even helped repaint the house.”

At this, your stomach falls. Your face goes stone hard as you fight the urge to turn your gaze to him because you knew if you did you would explode. Betrayal burns low in your belly and you hold back the impulse to lash out on Mr. Evans, clenching your fists. 

Instead, you look at your dad with an icy stare. “Are you fucking kidding me, dad?” 

His face falls, the color draining. “Y/n, please not here.”

But you don’t care. Your heart aches and your stomach churns with anger. Seeing him move on and try to repaint over your mother’s memory- this wasn’t how you expected it to go. You wanted him to be happy, yes, but not if it meant he’d be erasing everything about your mother and her legacy. Everything but that. 

But what really bothered you was that Mr. Evans, of all people, had helped do such a thing. Just thinking about how he had helped erase your mother’s memory made you want to barf. Now that was a sting you weren’t quite sure you could ever recover from.

You step up to your father, chin held high. “With all due respect, father, I will talk my mind wherever and whenever I damn well please. As far as I’m concerned, you are not removing her entirely from our lives like she never even existed.” You smirk. “Luckily, I’m here now. And I’m gonna be your daily goddamn reminder of that.”

“Y/n can you please-“ your father grips your arm in his but you feel utterly repugnance for his touch right now.

“No, dad!” You hiss, ripping your arm from his touch. “She loved this house, and you knew that! Why would you let her-” you point aggressively at Kennedy. “Come in and change our house. My house. Mom's house?!” Without realizing tears have trickled done your cheeks. Of anger or hurt, you don’t know.

You wipe at them furiously. Fuck, you hated this and you were not planning on crying on your first day here. Pathetic little girl. 

Despite your blurry vision, you manage to preserve your snark, looking around at you. “Congrats on the engagement, guys,” you spit disgracefully before your gaze lands on Mr. Evans who watches you with an unreadable expression. That fucking wall again. 

You just wish you could read him like one of his books but that wall- it was damn near unpenetrable. 

“You know what? Screw this. I’m jetlagged and quite frankly your faces are boring. I’m headed to bed.” You look at your father and Kennedy, tone satirically lazy. “My room is still there, right?”

Your father clenches his jaw, clearly wanting to say something else before Kennedy squeezes his arm in warning, offering him a small smile. He visibly relaxes and a firm nod of his head is your only response. 

You can’t help it when you scoff, rolling your eyes as you spin on your heel to walk up to your room. “Fuck’s sake,” you mumble under your breath incredulously.  

*

Not even a few minutes after you’ve begun settling into your room, does a knock come at your door. You sigh, not necessarily wanting to speak or even see anyone right now. 

“Whoever it is, I’d appreciate it if you’d kindly fuck-!” you call out before being abruptly cut off as the person opens the door, striding in any way. 

“Still got that potty mouth, I see.”

You freeze at the sound of that voice. That voice...a shiver travels through your spine like a small ripple travels in water.

You immediately pause your unpacking, gaze immediately snapping to his. “W-what’re you doing here?” you fight against the lump in your throat, swallowing tightly. 

He licks his lips, watching you from his stance near the door with his strong arms crossed across his now even broader chest. His gaze is undecipherable and you feel at a huge disadvantage not knowing what the hell it is he’s thinking. 

Nothing much has changed, apparently.

“I didn’t know,” is what he says once he finally breaks the insufferable silence. 

You huff at him, going back to your unpacking merely to seem unbothered. 

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Y/n,” he begins seriously. 

Your insides instantly melt at hearing his voice embrace your name once again after all this time and out of pure damn instinct, your movements freeze and your gaze jumps to him. Fuck. 

His gaze doesn’t waver. Doesn’t move away an inch. “I just-,” he licks his lips. “If I had known how much it meant to you- I mean....I-I wouldn’t have- I hate seeing you cry,” he whispers sincerely- as if that is all he is allowed to say.

And you believe him, dammit, you do.  

But you’re not the same naive girl from before and he needed to know that. He needed to know that you’d grown up and that he was a part of your past. Not your present and he sure as hell was not a part of your future. Not the one you had planned, anyway. 

“Okay,” you retort nonchalantly, not even sparing him a glance. “Do you mind closing the door on your way out? Thanks.”

You hear the shuffle of feet then the closing of the door and then silence. 

Finally feeling like you can relax, you release a small sigh, looking up.

A strangled, small, startled gasp escapes your lips and you force your hand down from jumping to your racing heart. 

In the few seconds you’ve kept your head down, he’s stridden over to you with incredible stealth and is currently towering over you so closely, you can smell him again. In fact, he’s so close that from this angle, the tip of your nose brushes against his firm t-shirt-clad chest. Was he working out more? Your stomach clenches and your lips part in shock. 

He gazes down at you with a spark of emotion in his eyes. “You’re back.”

It’s as if he can’t believe it.

You peer up at him, once again trying to read him. Was that...pride? Curiosity? Longing? It was hard to tell. 

“I wanted to be here for the wedding,” you confess quietly before chuckling dryly. “But I might just end up leaving earlier than planned.” 

At this, he jerks. It’s small, minuscule even, but you catch it before he regains composure. 

“Aunt Kennedy is a really kind woman and she loves your dad. Give her a chance,” he responds calmly. “I know it’s hard for you to watch this happen right now, but everyone deserves happiness.”

You look him in the eye, your heart clenching. ”I assume that includes my mom too,” is all you answer despite wanting to say “And what about me? Us?”

His gaze saddens dramatically. Still, it’s a controlled emotion-- not a crack in the wall. Merely a door he’s opened because he’s allowing you a glimpse into what’s simmering beneath. “I-”

“I know,” you cut him off. “I know that I have no right to stop them from marrying and finding happiness because my mother never got to live her happiness thoroughly. I don’t care that they’re getting married, frankly. What I won’t allow is having my mother’s memory destroyed.”

He licks his lips. “Sweetheart, I get that. I really do and I respect it, too. But-” he hesitates. “Why does it matter so much that we repainted?”

You sigh. “One of my fondest memories is painting this house with my mother. It was one of the things that made it ours. Home. Purple isn’t a common color in this neighborhood in case you haven’t noticed. And my mom- she absolutely abhorred blue.” Your lips quirk up lightly. “Thought it was too sad of a color.”

When you look up at him, he’s even closer, glancing down at you like he couldn’t get enough of having you close. Inspecting you too. 

“You’ve changed.” It’s not a question and you wonder how this is all still happening right now. How you had him in front of you, talking to you like you’d been long lost friends who’d had a rough patch but still somehow found your way to one another again.

“Have I?” you decide to play coy, remaining planted in your spot as if to let him know you weren’t intimidated by him even though you were quite literally shiting your pants right now. 

How your body was reacting to his proximity was freaking you out even though you should have been used to it. It infuriated you that even after all this time he was able to do this to you. To cause such internalized emotions to whirl around you and force you to suppress them.

He nods, his fingers twitching beside him as he scans your face closely. “You have.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to control your fast-beating heart to no particular avail. “So have you.” 

He smirks softly.  “Have I?”

You nod in response like he had earlier, weirdly enjoying this new back-and-forth banter. 

It was as if this new energy between you from your time apart was fresh and new and clean- and suddenly you could feed off eachother like never before. But still, the weight of what you refused to discuss hung over your heads like some unreachable, unbearable burden. 

And there was an air of maturity and even an entitlement that came with that. Alongside it, all these old emotions you’d suppressed over the last two years ferociously fighting to break out of you. 

It was all too complicated.  

“You have. And it’s not just the hair,” you jest, giggling lightly at your own little joke. 

God, he smelled good. And looked so good. And-

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers like it’s hard to find his voice and you can see his hand slowly rising to touch your face. “Still such a firecracker-” he pauses to chuckle with sad endearment, his gaze twisting into a confused frown. “But...different somehow. And I can’t quite put my finger on it.” 

His words are enough to make your limbs tremble with delight and you can’t help it when you’re taken aback by his bluntness. You hadn’t expected him to be so upfront with his thoughts right away. 

He still thought you were beautiful...

In your time apart it is true that you’d hardened your heart. Truth be told, after the heartbreak he brought you, you couldn’t bear another heartbreak. It’d kill you. So you decided to put up a wall of your own.

His fingers are two centimeters from your face and your skin immediately buzzes with exciting liveliness, anxiously, desperately, seeking his touch on your skin. Wanting- no. Needing it more than anything. 

You ached for him to touch you like he had before. To light the same fire within you that you knew could never be put out. To hold you so close to him, entangle himself with you so intricately, you wouldn’t be able to tell when you started and he ended. 

But nothing is as it was before. And it wouldn’t be fair for you to act like it was.

“Then don’t,” you mumble and just before he can fully press his fingers to your face, you swiftly step away from him, rounding your bed and acting like you’re so much more interested in unpacking even though your heart is fucking racing in your chest. 

The silence that settles between you two is tense and horrible, the air filled with so many questions about what had gone on in the past two years you hadn’t seen eachother, but neither of you is brave enough to act on your curiosities. 

So you say the first thing that comes to mind without looking up. 

“Who is she?” 

He quirks a brow at you. “Who is who?”

He’s acting coy- baiting you to get a reaction, you can tell. It was a game you weren’t all too eager to play, to be honest. So you stop unpacking, looking up at him straight in the eye. 

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” you retort sassily. 

He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Why do you care?”

You hide your embarrassment with nonchalance, shrugging. “I don’t. I was just curious.”

He chuckles mockingly. “You know...curiosity killed the cat.”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” you quip, glancing at him.

He laughs that beautiful laugh that made your insides quiver, skillfully avoiding your gaze (and your question).

And rather than stand around awkwardly, he opts to spin on his heels and look around your room. He does this with such a high degree of casualness and familiarity that it boils your blood for some reason. He prods and pokes as if you aren’t standing right there with him, looking at the band posters and books. 

“Interesting...” he hums before laughing under his breath as he holds up a Queen vinyl record with a raised brow. “You’ve got some taste, sweetheart.” 

You snort, trying to hide how bothered you really were. “Yeah, says the guy who listens to Frank Sinatra.”

He freezes for a only a split second but you catch it once more. What? Did he not think you’d remember?

“Touché,” he retorts under his breath, flipping through one of your books.

Something about the way he carried himself in your space like it was his too- even after all the time that has gone by without you even seeing eachother- made you so utterly pissed. 

 “Can you-” you sigh, trying to refrain from letting your petulant side slip. 

“Why are you here, Mr. Evans?” you ask point-blank, unable to see why he was choosing to stick around you despite your weird and awkward situation. You’re also not seeing a point in beating around the bush.

He doesn’t respond at first, merely looks at you with that same unreadable expression you hated so much. 

“I had found out about your father and Aunt Kennedy only when they were already engaged. It came as a shock to us all. I don’t want you to think I planned any of this in some weird, creepy strategy to-“ he inhales sharply, smiling wryly. “...you know what I mean.”

You shrug. “I didn’t think it was either way.”

He clears his throat. “Good, because I have no reason to do that, you know?”

Sharp pain inevitably shoots through you at this and you can’t help but laugh dryly. “Of course you don’t. I hadn’t expected this either, for the record. If you were shocked, imagine how much of a sneak-up this was on me.”

“Well, that’s because you left.” It comes out of his mouth too fast and there’s something ever so slightly strained in it.

You reel back immediately, brows raised. Is he accusing you of something? And is that hurt you hear in his voice?

You don’t get time to voice these questions before he’s completely backpedaling, freaking out because he’s said and shown too much. 

“Anyway, I think it’s about high time I head back downstairs. Get some rest, sweetheart.”

Before you can even fully process what you’re doing, you throw yourself in between him and the door, blocking his path. Peering up at him, you try to ignore how close you two are and how softly your chests are brushing. 

“Answer honestly. Do you hate me?” you whisper so softly, you’re sure he has to strain to hear what you’re saying.  

His face immediately twists into a sad grimace- tender and vulnerable- as he looks down at you. His eyes are utterly entrancing, your lips only a few inches apart. Slowly, his hand reaches up to touch you again. 

A crack in the wall?

Your flinch is tiny, a twitch at best, but he notices. His grimace deepens and he slowly retracts his hand, letting it drop stiffly beside him. 

He gradually steps back and you’re terrified he won’t answer your question before he talks again, his voice soft and earnest. 

“I thought you would know by now.”

“Know what?” You frown.

 He smiles. “I could never hate you, sweetheart. Even if I tried.”

And then he walks out. 

*

You sleep for hours, too exhausted to even change out of your clothes before you tumble onto your bed and pass out.

You really must’ve been jetlagged because with all the thoughts racing through your head after what’s just occurred with Chris, you’d think it would have been impossible to fall asleep in the first place.

It’s all so confusing and weirdly coincidental. Like really, what are the odds of this happening? And maybe in a moment of insanity, you can’t help but think what if this is destiny? 

But it isn’t long before another thought overrides that one and you grow scared when it strikes you right in the gut. This would mean that you’d have to see a lot more of him. Especially since it’s the week of the wedding.

Something in you curls and you don’t know whether it’s in excitement or fear. Probably both. 

You stay in bed a while longer, unable to go downstairs in fear of awkwardness and having to face more guests with a fake smile plastered on your face. Your thoughts kept going back to Mr. Evans and all the questions that were left unspoken between you two, so you decide to distract yourself. 

Talking with Margo and catching her up on everything seemed as a good place to start at as any. 

And she -as you’d expected- freaks out after you tell her Mr. Evans is related to Kennedy and you have to take your phone off your ear momentarily due to her shrill screams.

“Margo, seriously. Calm down, it’s not that big a deal,” you lie right through your teeth, getting off your bed and putting your phone on speaker as pull your hair into a messy bun. 

She laughs maniacally. “What the hell do you mean, baby girl!? Do you even realize how gaga you were about eachother just a few years ago? It’s crazy that your teacher crush is now practically apart of your family.”

You scoff, blushing madly as you pull your heels off. “I was not gaga about Mr. Evans, Margo. It was just a schoolgirl crush.”

She hums unconvincingly. “Yeah, sure. It’s not like it was clear as day on both your faces that you loved eachother.” A pause. “...not to mention the fact that you both went on to have a relationship afterward.”

You freeze, eyes as wide as saucers. “W-what?”

She laughs breezily. “Oh please, Y/n. You’ve been my best friend since childhood, you really think you could hide something that big from me? Nuh-uh, babygirl. It was written all over your face when I even brought him up, too. But even more telling were the looks you gave eachother. That’s when I knew.”

You swallow harshly, slowly reaching for your makeup wipes, almost like you didn’t know whether you should be acting like this wasn’t completely unexpected or not. “We gave eachother looks?” 

She snickers. “Did you ever! Hate to break it to you, hun, but the look of two people in love is practically impossible to hide.” She sighs, voice lowering. “I’ll admit, at first I was offended you hadn’t told me but then I remembered those looks. You were wrapped up in your own little world and I knew telling me would mean letting someone else in that world. You weren't ready for that and neither was he.”

You’ve ceased everything you’re doing, your mouth trembling and tears already gathering in your eyes. You have no idea what to say or even do right now. Hearing someone else say this out loud...it was electrifying in a horrific way.

After a few seconds of this, she finally speaks up again. “Y/n?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry,” is all you can say in a shaky whisper. 

She clicks her tongue. “It’s fine, really! I just- I know it’s not because you didn’t trust me with it. I mean I could see you practically dying to tell me. It must’ve been hard not being able to talk to anyone about what you felt, right?” Her tone is soft, comforting. 

You sag with relief. “God, you have no idea. It doesn’t matter anymore though,” you straighten out.

“Why?”

“Because it’s been over for a long time. In fact, we hadn’t even labeled what ‘it’ was,” you laugh dryly. 

She’s silent for a second before responding in a matter-of-fact tone. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

That strikes you for some reason and you remember what you’d told him that day at his house when you were pointlessly and foolishly begging him to keep loving you. “What we feel is real. This- us, we’re real. You know we are.” 

And yet- You huff, a sardonically sad smile spread limply on your face. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what that means, Margo.”

Your talk with Margo had carried on far into the night, and you’d caught up with her life, not wanting to think anymore about Mr. Evans and everything that was going on with the wedding and your father. 

She had met a guy a few years ago- Todd. He was a nice dude. Kinda nerdy, totally not her normal type. But he treated her like she deserved, loved her endlessly and she did so too. You envied her happiness, truthfully. But you were also really excited for her.

You tell her about Daniel and the problems you had been having, practically screaming about how complicated it all was and how you “just wish you could fuck him”.

 Margo, who had never shied away from sex and all its conversation glory, explained that once you found someone you truly loved-- it was magical to become one with them physically. Heightened everything about sex-- the pleasure, was an obvious one, but the intensity with which you experienced that pleasure, on the other hand, wasn’t that obvious.

That also really stuck with you. Was it really? Would it feel like that with Daniel? What was holding you back from just going ahead and doing it? You loved Daniel so shouldn’t it be easy to want that with him?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m making it too complicated. Maybe I should just go for it.

After you’d finished talking to her, you’d changed out of your clothes into your PJs- a simple tank top and cotton shorts and once you thought it was late enough into the night that you wouldn’t bump into anyone, headed downstairs for some food. 

All this emotional turmoil makes one hungry.  

Read Chapter Three here!!

***

Does it ever!

A Special Thanks to:

@star-spangled-steve​

@tomoyaevaans​

@pepsicola-is-my-brand-man​

@whereeverythingisbetter​

@fallenoutofrose​

@plutonium-m​​

@beepbeepromanoff​

@faithmichaluk​

@sincerelytlh​

And my forevers!

@jessikared97​

@ladyofletters67​

@lilypalmer1987​

@sammykb1994​

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

Where Your Words Lay - Part 2

A follow up to this story here: https://blake-belladonna-defence-force.tumblr.com/post/190194078227/where-your-words-lay

A month after discovering each other, Blake decides to have a very important talk with Yang.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Blake!”

Blake let out a surprised laugh when Yang latched onto her in a tight hug as she opened the door. A month on from their first meeting and Blake still wasn’t quite used to Yang’s sudden hugs.

Not that Blake was complaining.

“Hello to you too, Yang.” Blake let out an amused snort as her recently discovered soulmate lifted her into the air for a brief moment before putting on the ground. “I really hope that that’s tuna bake that I can small in that bag.” Blake felt her ears lean forward with interest. “Otherwise, I’m kicking you out of my apartment, Goldilocks.”

“Yeah, Yeah. The only reason the universe gave me to you is so that I can feed you.” Yang sighed dramatically as she picked up her bag and walked into the kitchen. “Let me put in the oven to keep it warm until it’s time to eat, yeah, Beauty?”

Blake chuckled softly and made her way to her couch. Since their first meeting, she and Yang had been hanging out on an almost daily basis. Talking and getting to know each other. As they talked, they had developed little nicknames for each other based on stories that they reminded them of; Yang as Goldilocks from Goldilocks and the three bears and Blake as Belle from Beauty and the Beast.

Throughout that time, Yang had never shown even a sign of wanting more than friendship. She was respectful of Blake’s comfort zone and never made Blake feel uncomfortable around her. In all honesty, it felt exactly as she imagined it always would.

“So…” Yang said with a playful smile as she walked over with two classes of red wine, passing on to Blake as she sat down and crossed an ankle over her knee and gave Blake a charming smile. “You said you wanted to talk about something. What’s up?”

“Um.” Blake cleared her throat and sipped at her wine, needing the liquid courage. “It’s a bit more of a serious talk, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, Blake. Feel free.”

“Well… you know that I don’t talk to my parents or any of my old friends. But I’ve never told you why.” Blake inhaled deeply and continued. “I met a guy called Adam Taurus when I was 20. He was 25 at the time. My parents hated him. My friends didn’t trust him. But I let him convince to run away with him to Vale.” Blake paused and let out a frustrated growl. “But I guess that’s wrong. He got into my head. Made me feel small. Like I was nothing without him. He alienated and isolated me from my family and friends and manipulated me into believing that this move would be good for us.” Blake let out a dark, mirthless chuckle. “Spoiler alert; it wasn’t.”

“Oh Blake.” Yang said softly, lilac gaze steady and compassionate. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Blake shrugged, taking another drink. “I learned my lesson and I’m not going to let anyone put me in that position again.”

“Blake… you don’t need to explain-“

“I’m not explaining myself. But before this... this soulmate thing continues, I need to get this out.” Blake said quickly. “This is for me, just as much as it is for you.”

“Okay. But if it gets too much for you, don’t force yourself. Please.”

“I won’t.” Blake promised with a shaky smile. Comfortable and respectful as always. “Um. It didn’t happen overnight. It was gradual. Little things that began to pile up. Eventually, I couldn’t even recognise him anymore. Or maybe it was that I never knew the real him in the first place.”

Blake fiddled with the hem of her shirt, her fingers lightly grazing her scar. She inhaled deeply and continued.

“It got worse as time went on. He went and got his mark covered by a tattoo, rejecting his soulmate and he tried to get me to do the same. But I knew what they said about the pain of soulmate rejection if it wasn’t mutual. I couldn’t do that to mine. To you.”

“Blake…” Yang murmured, her voice devastatingly soft.

“I, um.” Blake cleared her throat roughly. “I guess that he was jealous of somebody he never met having a soul bond to me. Somebody that he couldn’t scare into leaving me alone. He kept people away from me, stopped me from making friends.”

“He didn’t want to the risk of you meeting your soulmate.” Yang said, voice level and controlled, her eyes briefly shifting to what almost seemed red. “He wanted to keep a hold of you. To control you.”

“Yeah.” Blake shuddered, remembering his anger, his words, the backs of his hands… “He… didn’t like sharing. One day, we got into a bad fight. I was so tired of feeling like a prisoner. Of feeling like a fucking shell of a person. Choosing not to cover my mark was the one choice that I was able to consistently make and I couldn’t let him take that away from me. I wouldn’t let him take it from me.” Blake bit back her tears and continued. “He… he finally got fed up with my refusal. He took matters into his own hands.”

“His own- Blake!” Yang said, sitting up and putting her glass onto the coffee table and staring in dread at Blake. “What do you mean “took matters into his own hands?!” What did he do to you?”

“He stabbed me.” Blake whispered, heart racing as fear flooded her veins. If Yang rejected her now… “In my mark. I- I don’t- he wanted to scar me bad enough that it would sever the bond and-“ Blake was shaking, her entire body trembling as Yang gently took her glass and put it beside her own.

“Can I hug you right now?”

When Blake nodded, Yang pulled her into a firm hug, tucking Blake’s head into the crook of her neck and holding her close. Blake let her tears fall, occasionally letting pained sobs into Yang’s neck as Yang rubbed her back, gently soothing her and murmuring soft reassurances into her ear.

“He-“ Blake muttered, voice cracking as she pulled back to look at Yang sadly. “He didn’t succeed, the mark is still there, you can still read it… but the scar… it- it’s not- your words are emphasised by a fucking scar, Yang!” Blake stares desperately at her. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Yang whispered fiercely, tears filling her own eyes as she cupped Blake’s jaw and rested their foreheads together. “God, Blake. None this is your fault.”

“Why aren’t you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Becau- because… I’m broke-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Yang interrupted her gently, her voice cracking. “You are not broken! Hurt and scarred but never broken. You’re still standing. You’re still trusting and caring and letting people in. Coco, Velvet, Weiss… and me.” Yang shook her heads with a disbelieving laugh. “Even after he tried to destroy you, you’re still here. A scarred mark does not have a lesser connection than an unscarred mark. I hate that stupid wives tale! It’s cruel and heartbreaking.” Yang growled.

It was an old belief that if your mark was scarred before meeting your soulmate, that it was a match doomed to fail. It made the bond weaker, somehow. But here Yang was refusing it.

“Besides… I literally lost the part of my arm that had your words on it. The words shifted, moved up to my bicep. Do you blame me for that? Am I somehow unworthy because of it?”

“No, of course not!” Blake said instantly, ears flicking anxiously. “But… this was my fault!”

“No, it wasn’t. That asshole wore a mask and played a role. He tricked you, Blake.” Yang said firmly, eyes pained. “If anyone is to blame for their scars, it’s me. I was reckless on my bike and this…” Yang brought her prosthetic hand up and flexed her hand. “was the result. Am I still worthy of being your soulmate?”

“Of course!”

“Then why are you any different?” Yang said softly, thumbing away a tear. “It’s just an old wives tale told to get kids to not be reckless little shits. Does this connection between us feel weak to you?”

“No.”

“Me neither.” Yang gave her a watery smile. “I’ve spent so long searching for you and I assume that you were planning on searching for me?” Blake nodded quietly. “I’m not going to force you to accept our marks. I’ll never force anything on you. But I do know that I would kick myself if I didn’t try to have you be a part of my life somehow.”

“I- me too.” Blake mumbled quietly, leaning into Yang’s hand slightly, instinctively seeking out her comforting touch.

“We don’t have to make any decisions right now.” Yang said gently. “But when we do, we make them together. I won’t force you either way, okay?”

“Okay.” Blake said shakily, clearing her throat before pulling back and giving Yang a watery smile. “Thank you, Yang.”

“Don’t thank me for treating with common decency and respect.” Yang said quietly. “Don’t thank me for treating you with the dignity that you always deserved.”

Blake swallowed past the lump in her throat and fiddled with her shirt. She let out a sigh and lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing her mark and scar and turned to face Yang.

“Here.” She murmured, refusing to meet Yang’s gaze. She heard the sudden intake of breath from next to her and felt Yang’s fingers graze her scar, tracing the word written on her skin.

“God. I am so sorry, Blake.” Yang whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “But this doesn’t change a thing, Beauty. Not to me.”

Blake exhaled shakily and lifted her own hand to trace her fingers along Yang’s mark.

“Same here, Goldilocks.”

She felt Yang pull her shirt back into place and watched as Yang offered her arms to her. Blake only hesitated for a moment before moving into them, sighing softly as Yang leaned back against the couch and pulled Blake close to her. Blake tucked her head under Yang’s chin and smiled shakily when Yang kissed the top of her head gently.

Making the decision to find her soulmate had been a good one to make. But choosing to let Yang in and pursue whatever this would lead to… Blake believed that Yang would be the best decision of her life.

[ayy-jayy-siciliani]

One Year || Self-Para

When: March 23rd, 2021 ; March 22nd, 2020

Where: Pico District, Santa Monica, California; Ocean Park, Santa Monica, California

Warnings: Gaslighting, Emotional Abuse, Violence, Abuse Mention. 

Featuring: Lexa and Maverick Maxwell

Like every Tuesday, AJ made his way to therapy to talk about his mental health struggles and life in general. It was nearly two years ago that he decided to go into therapy because of the haunting childhood memories coming back in flashes, but today, marked a year. It was a very serious year that he didn’t talk about, the turbulent times with his ex girlfriend, Madison. Today would be the day he’d open the letter to himself that he wrote to himself last year. It would be a day where he’d probably cry in the office and ask Lydia to lay on her lap later on and drown out the noise from the world. Either way, it was a hard day because of what surfaced back to the surface. 

When he was handed the letter from Dr. T, he could feel his heart racing against his chest. 

“Take your time, AJ. It’s okay.” 

He nodded at the woman, biting his lip nervously as he opened the letter and took at the scrawled writing. He could remember how shaky his hands were as he wrote down everything in an account. It was a page of pain, of heartache, of feeling so useless, of feeling like he failed as a human being. When in reality, none of it was his fault. 

****************** 

March 22nd, 2020, AJ’s Beach House. 

“Luke hangs around the other two and I don’t feel comfortable having him at the party,” AJ pointed out with a concerned look as he leaned against the counter. 

Madison scoffed, rolling her icy blue eyes as she made her way through the living room, picking up for the event. “None of them have been around here at all, so it’s likely Luke realized the other two guys aren’t shit and he just wanted to have fun. It’s no big deal.” 

It was something Madison always said to AJ. She constantly invalidated how he was feeling, constantly made him feel like he was paranoid. 

“You’re being such a Sag, chill out,” She retorted at his silence. AJ sighed, and shook his head. He was standing his ground this time. 

“Nahh man. He’s real simpatico with the other two, I’ve seen it before. Even Mav’s seen them talking—“ 

“I mean I didn’t see that he was talking to them, bu tat this point. There’s nothing we can do. It’s mad fucked up to be like ‘jk, you can’t come because you know people we don’t like,’” She interrupted him.

At this point AJ started to back down and then said, “I’m just saying, keep an eye out for that cause he can’t be trusted. I’mma leave it at that.” 

“If we’re taking back invites, then you can tell them,” Madison responded, her ice cold glare met AJ’s defeated stare. She was relentless. Always pushing, always wanting to climb the ranks. She’d do anything for a smidge of popularity. Even if it meant making him and his friends uncomfortable. 

“If you want to invite them, that’s your prerogative. I’m just saying be careful what you say around him since you want to keep him. That’s all,” He finally said as he pushed himself off the counter to go grab the door, but before he could, Madison snapped. In typical Madison fashion. 

“If you want to fucking tell them that they’re not invited then that’s YOUR prerogative and you can go ahead and figure out how to do that without making us look like a bunch of jackasses and making it so no one wants to come to the party because we take back invitations and don’t let people in if we don’t like the people they hang around. I’m not sitting here pointing fingers at the whole city —“ 

AJ had dissociated so hard, that he didn’t even realize that Maverick had walked into the apartment with the beef and cooler for the beer to where he saw the whole commotion. He looked at AJ with sad eyes, watching him get completely torn apart by that pompous bitch. Ever since she moved to Santa Monica, she swore up and down that she was queen of the joint just because her family was good at real estate, big fucking whoop. 

“I mean, I was about to invite Lexa and that bitch is buddy buddy with Vanessa and your sister. Like we aren’t giving people we don’t know chances now? Like literally NONE of those guys have been around to harass you or your friends. Sometimes people like to party hop, who are we to judge? But if you want to kick him out, you can tell them and you can figure out how to do it,” She rambled. 

“You know what, fuck you, Madison. I’m tired of your fucking shit. Leave AJ alone and go fuck off somewhere,” Mav snapped at her, causing AJ to snap back into reality. 

“Mav, it’s good—I got this,” He said. 

“Are you going to let him fucking talk to me like that, Anthony?!” Madison screeched. 

“Madison, shut up, holy shit!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, his body trembling in anger. 

Maverick quickly backed out at how loud AJ had yelled, as he had never seen the other male ever this angry. Madison, was stunned to silence. 

“Fuck this. I’m out. Do whatever you want,” Madison finally said after a moment of silence. 

“It’s not even my fucking party, so???” AJ called out. 

“Fuck you, I’m out. Do whatever you want. Cancel it, send everyone home. I don’t care because I’m not dealing with this disrespectful petty bullshit,” She fired back. 

“Aight, bet. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” He shrugged. 

“You know how fucking toxic and fucking bullsht and petty that is? And if you don’t, then I don’t know what to say, either way, we’re done here. I’m out. I’m not doing this again. I literally said I wouldn’t do this again if it was like this, so I’m not,” She rambled on. 

“Okay, so what’re you doing here then? I already told you, don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Do I need to spell it out for you, Mads? It’s over. O-V-E-R,” He said with vitriol filling his system. She attempted to go in to slap him when a hand came in and twisted her arm. 

“He said it’s over and I believe he asked for you to leave, did he not, Madison?” Lexa called out. 

“Ow, you’re hurting me!” She shrieked. 

“And yet you were about to hurt a good friend of mine. Make that make sense. It doesn’t right? Here’s the deal, sweets” Lexa twisted the woman’s arm harder and pushed her up against the wall. 

Meanwhile, AJ made his way over to the bathroom with Maverick in tow to make sure his best friend was okay. 

“You’re going to leave MY city by the end of the night or I will let Gossip God in on the whole ordeal and I will make sure your reputation is destroyed and your family’s little ‘empire’ will fall to pieces at my hands. You’re done here, Madison,” Lexa responded, venom seeming through every word. 

Madison looked at Lexa with contempt for a moment as Lexa continued to twist the woman’s arm harder until there was fear, and pain, in her eyes. “Do, I make myself clear?” Lexa asked. 

“Crystal,” She yelped out. 

With that, Madison was out the door and never to be seen again…and AJ had to be put together in order to brave through this party. 

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

“Dear AJ,” AJ began, “You went through a nightmare of an evening. You dumped your girlfriend after months of invalidation, of feeling worthless, of feeling less than a man. It was hard, but you had your friends to support you.” 

He took a breath, and wiped a tear away. “I hope, a year from now you’ll be in a better place. That you’ll find love within yourself. That you’ll learn the good about astrology rather than the bullshit Madison fed you. You’re a good Sagittarius…you’re a good person. Don’t let her take away your power,” He continued. 

“I’m proud of you no matter what. Ma’s proud of you, Ivy’s proud of you, Lola’s proud, Nonna and Pops, your whole family. Don’t let yourself feel less than because of one insecure person. You are worthy of being loved. You are worthy. Hang in there,” He breathed out and could feel the tears welling up. 

Dr. T slid over the tissue box towards AJ and he took a few, wiping a few tears away and took a breath. 

“How did that feel?” 

“Freeing,” He smiled and nodded. “Definitely freeing,” He took a breath. 

“AJ, you’ve come a long way from this. Look at you, in a committed relationship, rising the ranks in the NFL, you have a strong support system. You’re getting there, and even I am proud of you,” the older woman nodded with a smile. 

“Thanks, doc.”