#I’m not taking away from his influence at all but I’m angry that everyone thinks Kakashi’s relationship w him is so deep

[sinnbaddie]

I don’t understand why Kishimoto never added Kakashi having thoughts about Gai when he died in the pain assault. It’s like he doesn’t want his relationship with Gai to have depth but then adds all these interactions and feelings that show how much he means to Kakashi.

He thinks of his dead friends and family, he thinks of Konoha 11, but he doesn’t think about his longest and biggest support? Not even a passing thought?

Might Gai is Kakashi’s best friend and rival, he isn’t a nuisance to him and he doesn’t think he’s less than him. Their relationship has substance and evidence to show how much they care about one another, im sick of Kishimoto and his constant need to diminish it then prop it up and then diminish it again. How can he be so inconsistent with relationships and character writing??

[ivybucky]

lightning in a bottle - logan howlett x reader

mutant!reader nearly harms the team in a moment of panic and feels unable to deal with the aftermath, but logan is there to bring you back in more ways than one

a/n: i have so many ideas besties... currently have a list of 5 fic ideas and this is the first one I was able to flush out. here's some angst with happy ending for ya (no smut)

content: angst with happy ending, lots of electricity(literally), mentions of torture and screaming, mentions of mutant experimentation, implications of shitty birth family, confession of feelings, reader crying, sad reader, angry/sad logan

words: 2329

~~~~~

All you could think about was the lightning. 

You remember walking into the room, where the footage of your torture was displaying blatantly across the TV news cycle, the team sitting there and watching with rapt attention. “Mutant Experimentation Footage Leaked” scrolled across the screen. You remember the static tingling in your fingertips as you recognized what you were watching. Your own cries echoed from the speakers as footage of Stryker’s experimentation on you from a month prior when you had been captured is played to the nation. 

“Turn it off,” you had said quietly, pleadingly. The team’s gaze snaps to your silhouette in the door frame. Their eyes held sorrow, and something else that you did not want to see. 

“Y/N-” Storm had started to speak, but you wouldn’t have it. 

“Turn it off, now,” you’d said, clenched fists at your side as the panic began to swell, small flares of electricity flaring around your knuckles. Memories of the torture, the agony, the hatred came rushing back all at one and your eyes couldn’t leave the screen as it continuously replayed it. 

As the feeling heightening, electricity cracked in the air. Your eyes lit up, a bright purple gleam taking over. There was too much silence in the room, the sounds of your screams playing in a loop like a broken record as the news team played the footage over and over. Finally, someone broke it. “Y/N,” Logan had spoken up, an odd, unfamiliar tone in his voice. Good god, was that pity?

“What?” You had snapped, finally looking away from the footage and making eye contact with the team, with Logan, and you understood it wasn’t pity you heard in his voice, but a form of fear. Your anger slowly dissipated as you took in the state of the room - everyone in that room (who wasn’t bald) had hair floating up into the air, falling under the influence of the clouded electricity that filled the ceiling, just as one is before they get struck by lightning. 

And gods above you had almost struck them. 

Your fists fell lax at your sides, realization of the height of your emotions, the loss of control taking over your features. “I-” you stuttered, unsure how to apologize for the pain you nearly inflicted. “I-I’m sorry.”

For a moment, no one moved a muscle, no one said a word. It wasn’t the first time you had lost control, but it was the first time any of them were in danger because of it. Everyone stood like statues, watching you with bated breath, as if you were one nudge away from electrocuting the masses. You turned and fled the room, quickly striding back to your room to inevitably lock yourself in. It was the only place you felt like you could be and not hurt anyone.

Hours had passed since, but you couldn’t shake the look on their faces, the pure fright they showed, caused by you. Decidedly, that wouldn’t happen again - you wouldn’t allow it, in any capacity. Would they always fear you now? Could you manage to stay surrounded by people you loved, but knew there would always be a limit to how far their love for you went? Could you withstand the constant pins and needles your family would walk on around you, again?

It was that thought that had you hurriedly shuffling through your closet to find the duffle bag you had lugged over your shoulder when you were originally picked up by X-Men. It was crumbled into a wrinkled ball on the top shelf, thought to no longer have any use. 

You paced around the room, picking up the things you knew you couldn’t leave without. The students can go through my clothes, you thought with some sort of sad acceptance. Though, that didn’t keep you from packing some of the staples. The school logo printed on a t-shirt, an old sweatshirt that was singed from a fire fight in your first mission with the rest of the team, a stolen old flannel that smelt like smoke and whiskey-

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” You look up almost startled at Logan standing at the door to your bedroom, now cracked wide open. Logan… You’d nearly forgotten about the worst part - leaving him behind.

He leans against the door frame with a confused expression, arms crossed over his chest. You furrow your brows before turning back to the half-full duffle bag that sat on the foot of your bed. You knew you couldn’t look at him when you spoke again. 

“I’m leaving,” you nearly mutter and you stuff more clothes into the bag. You can feel your eyes getting hot, and try to take a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” he asks, his own brows furrowing. “Leaving for a mission?”

Your movements paused. You could tell the truth, but the reality was that he would try to stop you. And even if nothing had come out of the tension that hung between the two of you, you knew you would give in. 

“Yeah,” you swallowed as you lied. “Just a quick one, some intel gathering. I’m leaving sometime tomorrow morning.”

There was a brief pause, like Logan was trying to get a read on how truthful you were being. “Maybe I should come with you,” he says. “For backup, just in case.”

You clench your eyes shut - of course, he thought you needed to be accompanied. “I’ll be fine on my own,” your hands slow their movements as you place the last item in the bag, a gray zip up hoodie Logan had given you once. Were you saying that to reassure him, or yourself? You lied through your teeth like it was painful, as if the act of clenching your jaw so hard would break your bones and your will. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

There was another pause, and you were sure he was going to call your bluff, but he just clicked his tongue. “Well alright,” he said gruffly, almost dejectedly. His hand fiddled with the door frame for a moment hesitantly. “You know that if you need-“

“I know,” you interrupted, turning to give him a tight smile. “I know.” He gave a saddened half smile before nodding and walking away. 

The space he once occupied at the door was empty now, but for a moment you stared at as if he was still there, as if he was still trying to comfort you even when he didn’t know how. 

An errant tear slipped from your eye and trailed down your face for a moment before you snapped back into reality, wiping the tear away quickly with the heel of your hand. You aggressively zipped up the bag and slung it over your shoulder, eager to leave before anyone, mainly Charles, got an idea of your plan. 

With the click of the front door, and the clap of a thunderstorm on the dark horizon, you were gone. 

As Logan left your room, he externally winced at his inability to provide comfort - to you of all fucking people - as if the non-action hurt him. The pain on your face seeped into the air and into his adamantium bones, as if it was transferable through the longing gazes and secretly honeyed words. 

He hung his head and he slowly walked further down the hall, a part of him hoping he would hear your door creak open and hear you call out his name. Instead, he was met with the faint sniffles of a teary nose that only his heightened hearing could pick up, a scuffle of fabric being shoved tightly into the duffle that was then harshly zipped shut with a shuddering sigh.

He turned the corner to retreat to his room before he could hear any more, deciding to join the mission the next morning anyways. 

The following morning, Logan made his way to Charles, unexpecting wanting to make his intentions to follow her known to someone. He entered the room, Charles already staring directly at him with a face one could only describe as similar to an omniscient god.

“Logan,” Charles spoke, somewhat resigned. “She doesn’t have a mission.”

Logan paused in his step with a furrowed brow. “What are you talking about? She said she was leaving this morning.”

“I did not give her one,” he confirms. “I have a feeling-”

Logan cut him off before the professor could continue. His jaw was clenched tight as he spoke the words. “She left.”

A tense silence took over the room, Charles watching Logan with a straight, yet dissecting gaze. Logan broke eye contact and looked away momentarily as he felt his heart sink to his stomach for the first time in decades. 

Finally, he looked back to Charles with a determined glare. “Where is she?”

The side of the professor’s mouth twitches up. 

—-

It only took two days for Logan to reach you. Charles was able to track your location easily as soon as he was asked. It took nothing for Logan to take the bike and peel out of the upstate town. Now, he stood in the rain staring at the shitty side-of-the-road motel with a simmering glare. 

His mind floated despondently in the air above him, completely unattached from his body as it stomped its way up the stairs and down the hall to your room. His fist banged on the door loudly, uncaring of its stability under his metal skeleton. His heightened exhaustion and emotions tethered him enough to not let his head fly too far away from him, but the reality was that he hadn’t slept since you left and the only words he spoke were to himself as he practiced what he would say to get you to return.

But then, the door swung open. His mind snapped back to his body as soon as he saw your face, but the pleas he had planned to beg left him just as quick. 

“You lied to me,” he growled, he accused, standing in the open door, his hands resting up on the door frame. The rain continued to pour just past the motel covering, evidence of its duration linger in the form of wet tracks down his leather jacket, the dampness of his hair, the drops that stuck to his face. 

“Logan-”

“You lied to me, Y/N,” he repeated, a new kind of angry heat simmering in his eyes. “You were not leaving for a mission.”

You take another deep breath. “‘M leaving for good,” you utter softly, your hands trembling slightly at the first out loud admission of what you had planned to do. You circled the back in the room, putting the cheap mattress in between you as some sort of barrier. The duffle bag he saw you packing days ago sat mockingly between you both. 

“Come on, what the fuck? ‘Leaving for good’?” He asks incredulously, taking a step forward and letting his arms drop to his sides. “You were going to leave the mansion, just like that?”

You stare at the duffle’s opening, having only reached that motel hours ago, not long enough to unpack the only remaining items you had. “I can’t stay, Logan,” you say softly, not moving to look at him. “No matter how careful I am, no matter how hard I try, I can’t control it, I can’t control me. Even Charles doesn’t know what to do with me, I-I had to leave, it’ll be better for everyone.”

“No,” he says defiantly, moving cautiously closer around the side of the bed. “Not everyone.”

The tears welled in your eyes at his words, unable to stop them from falling and you crossed your arms in front of you protectively, the tear-stained cuffs of the hoodie, his hoodie, pushed up your forearms. “Why are you here, Logan?”

“Why am I- are you stupid?” He scoffed, causing you to flinch at his harshness. “I’m here to bring you back. You’re not leaving the school, you’re not leaving me alone-”

“You don’t want me,” you cried, with tears streaming down your face as you shake your head. He can feel his heart break at the side of your distress. “None of you do. I nearly struck all of you the other day, just because I got emotional. I almost hurt you, and that’s the last thing you need, Logan.”

Logan quickly moves closer to stand in front of you and cups your cheeks, bringing your wet eyes to his. “Don’t you get it,” he says with a strained, rough voice. His thumbs sweep gently under your eyes to brush away the tears. “You are the only thing I need. Fuck everything and everyone else.”

Your hands come up to hold onto his wrist, keeping his hands exactly where they are on your face. “Logan-” you stutter as you search his eyes almost hopefully. “What are you saying?”

There’s a brief silence in between your soft sniffles and the sound of the rain on the other side of the motel door. When Logan speaks again, it is deliberate, and it’s what he wanted to say all along. “I’m saying I am nothing without you, sweetheart,” he urges, his thumb pulling your bottom lip from your teeth. “I was nothing before you, and I know that if you leave now, I’ll be nothing all over again. Not a single person in that school wants you to leave, me especially.”

You squeeze your eyes shut in time with the hopeful clenching of your heart, forcing tears out as you do so. You rest your forehead against Logan’s as he continues. “Please,” he nearly whispers, his nose bumping against yours. “Come home with me and turn nothing into something again.”

You nodded against him and spoke a wet “okay” before pressing your lips, finally, against his. And, just as you had predicted you would several nights ago, you gave in. 

_____

a/n: quickly posting this bc if i keep staring at it i'll never post it pls tell me how i did :D logan smut comin soon, pls like, comment, reblog

[erwinsvow]

thinking about being rafe’s calm. when he’s about to actually start pushing and throwing punches and yelling, but if you’re there and run up to him and drag him away, he complies—lets you talk him out of the situation and walk back to his quiet car or an empty room. he’ll listen when you speak, when you try to calm him down, hug him, kiss him, until he stops seeing red.

the first time it happens he feels embarrassed on the inside—wondering how long you’ve had such a big influence on him. feels weird like he shouldn’t be reliant on anyone but himself, feels like it’s wrong because he’s supposed to be protecting you and not the other way around. 

he buries these thoughts the next time it happens, with his dad. you two were eating breakfast or maybe cleaning up after, he can’t remember, when ward comes in to have a discussion with rafe. he politely asks you to step out for a second but you glance up at rafe, and he looks so hard and angry already that you decide it’s better if you stay. ward starts talking—things that don’t make any sense to you but must mean something to your boyfriend—and you can almost feel rafe getting tense, his fist balling and jaw clenching.

on your side of the counter, his dad can’t see your hands, so you take rafe’s fist into your palm and force him to relax his fingers, holding his hand and gently rubbing his palm with your thumb, bringing him into a hug the second ward walks away. you can feel his heart thudding when you’re so close like this, fingers running through his hair to help him stay calm. you’re surprised it even works, proud of yourself for trying and not being too scared. 

it’s a  little bit harder with lots of people around. rafe’s prone to getting agitated by pogues no matter what they do. it doesn’t help that they’re all sarah’s friends now—seems like he interacts with them twice as much. you know it’s inevitable to stop them from yelling at each other, that these are just people who will never get along with each other, but you still try.

sometimes it doesn’t take much more than a tug of his arm while your hands are in each others to get him to walk away. it’s like if you make him realize you’re standing next to him, that he’s not alone and doesn't have to be alone ever again, he can snap out of it. it’s been working more and more recently, you think, incredibly pleased with yourself. rafe’s happy so you’re happy, and the two of you both know it and don't have to talk about it.

then comes a big one—your boyfriend is as angry as you’ve ever seen him. you don’t know what’s happened, just that you want to help him. you’re starting not to care who’s at fault, who caused this, and you’re beginning to blame everyone else for even doing something that makes rafe angry. that sentiment is a little brainwashed, you reflect, but you don’t really care anymore.

someone throws a punch and rafe’s not going to back down from a fight. when someone finally tears them apart, your boyfriend’s bleeding from a cut on his face and has a big bruise forming on the other side. you don’t look at the other guy because you know it’s worse. you drag rafe to his truck, heart beating fast—feeling really upset yourself. you thought you were getting better at this, that you were good for him, but you weren’t able to do anything today. you’re both silent in the truck, until you use your sleeve to wipe away some of the blood on his temple, sniffling. 

“just took a punch and you’re the one crying?” but it doesn’t come out harsh, the way you’d expect. he says it soft and gentle, like he’s mad at himself for making you cry. his tone doesn’t help matters so you start crying even harder.

“hey, hey, come here-” and in a few swift motions, you’re out of your seat and sitting on his lap, face buried in his neck while you get the collar of his shirt damp. “m’sorry, baby, didn’t mean to scare you.” you pull away to look at him, tears glittering in your pretty eyes and cheeks wet.

“i���m sorry,” you finally get out, quiet and weepy. you’re disappointed in yourself.

“what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and you cry harder, unable to meet rafe’s eyes.

“i couldn’t stop it, i’m supposed to stop and help you so this doesn’t happen-” 

rafe’s not stupid—he knows what you do when you see him getting upset. he knows it and he’s thankful and he loves you, but he starts to feel the worst he’s ever felt thinking that you’re in tears because he couldn’t hold back from punching some stupid, inconsequential guy.

“hey, c’mon, stop crying.” rafe’s hands come up to wipe away your fresh tears, guiding you back onto his chest while you’re still sobbing. “hey, listen to me, no tears. you’re good, right?” you nod. “so be a good girl and listen to me.”

you sniffle again, quieting down and listening to rafe’s voice and the thud of his heart against your ear. 

“i love that you make me feel better. but it’s not gonna work every single time, okay? can’t have you in tears every time i get pissed or you’ll die from dehydration.” you laugh a little, breathing hard.

“i just wanna help.” 

“yeah?” he asks, getting another idea. “anyway you can?”

you nod against his shirt eagerly.

that’s how you get like this—in the backseat of his truck, your legs folded back to your chest and rafe’s hands pushing you into the seat and holding you in place. he slams in and out of you at a brutal place, probably one so intense the entire truck is shaking from the outside. your eyes roll back at each thrust, the pain in your limbs from the tight fit and position dissipating as rafe starts to talk to you.

“this’ll help me, baby, every time-” and you interrupt with a particularly loud moan when he moves a hand to play with your clit. “feel good? i’ll never get angry again, promise. jus’ let me do this every time.”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 32

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Threats of SA; Threats of harming an infant; Distressed baby

Rick had stopped at every sign, letting you out while Carol or Lori cared for Birdie. You had used a tube of the baby’s diaper cream to paint a white bird on each surface. There were likely better things you have used but this one, you knew Daryl would understand and follow. Anxiety was slowly crushing your chest and try as you might to swallow it down, it was nearly impossible to bear.

It was at least an hour of Birdie crying restlessly before the warehouse was found. The dead surrounding it were little in number, easily dispatched by those that weren’t a child, pregnant woman, or one who had a baby suckling at her breast. You carried a bag on each shoulder into the building, wishing it were enough to help you feel like you were doing your part. 

You sat away from the door, knowing that’s where Daryl would have placed you and his daughter, furthest from any entry point. It was also to hinder her cries from attracting anymore walkers. She was inconsolable, something—mother’s intuition, perhaps—telling you that she had been made worse by the absence of her father. And as much as you loved their bond, you wondered how dangerous it could prove to be to encourage it. 

“I said leave it, Lori!”

Your head snapped up to find Rick stalking toward the door with his wife on his heels, her hands below her protruding belly as she attempted to keep up with him. “Rick. Rick, we need to talk this out!”

“No!” He barked. “What we need to do is survive, and we can’t do that if I don’t stay focused.” When she tried again, he turned with a shake of his head, leaving her there with tears in her eyes. 

“Lori.” You whispered, getting to your feet. It was difficult to get off the floor with a baby but you managed. You couldn’t stand to see her like that. No, Lori wasn’t perfect and she made a mistake. She had been alone with a child, acting out of fear once she had been told her husband was dead. Maybe she had loved Shane. Maybe she hadn’t. No one talked about it and perhaps they shouldn’t. It was all irrelevant anyway. Lori was there and pregnant and hurting so deeply. “Hey.”

“Oh. Hey, uh—” The woman turned and wiped at her eyes as if you hadn’t already noticed the glimmer of moisture. “Hey, Y/N.” Her eyes were drawn down to the wriggling bundle in your arms, little squeaks and sniffles escaping from behind the blanket. “How’s little Birdie?”

“She’s fine.” You lied, flinching when the newborn screeched. Taking a moment to move her onto your shoulder and begin patting her back, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I think she’s missing Daryl.”

“Yeah.” A gentle hand reached to pet the back of Birdie’s head. “Y/N, I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Lori was always so strong for everyone, her thoughts on the decisions that would affect the group never going unspoken. But then, at that moment, she sounded so small, so uncertain. 

“Don’t be.” You caught her hand before she could pull it back, holding it tightly. “I love Rick but he’s wrong. He’s wrong and he’ll realize it. I’m just so sorry that he’s hurting you like this in the meantime.” You stood by your words. Rick was trying to do what was right for the group, but even that was being influenced by the anger he harbored. For Shane. For Lori. For himself. 

“I deserve it.”

You blinked, mouth agape. “You do not!” You shook your head incredulously. “Look, you made a mistake. Doesn’t mean you need to pay for it over and over.” She mimicked you, her hair swinging back and forth. 

“No, I really do.”

“Lori.” You said pointedly. She looked you in the eye, face wet and flushed. “I get it. You were angry with him for what he did to Shane. It was a lot to take in and maybe your first reaction wasn’t the best one, but you’re trying to talk now, trying to understand. He’ll come around.” You gave a shrug. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll sic Daryl on him.” You smiled when she laughed wetly. 

Lori reached for your shoulders, pulling you in for a wide hug that angled to one side, Birdie and her belly making it laughable. “Thank you, Y/N.” She wiped her face with one hand, cupping yours with the other. “You know, I was a fool for thinking you were trouble when Daryl carried you out of those trees. I’m sorry for that.”

You waved dismissively with a quiet pfft. “Don’t worry about it. I am trouble.” Her smile dampened but didn’t disappear. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” Birdie began to root against your neck with a series of coos and squeaks. “And we wouldn’t have this angel if you weren’t.”

Chuckling you began to wiggle your arm out of your shirt, Lori stepping forward to help. “Now if I can just get her daddy to eat as much as she does, we’ll be set.” Before you could situate your bra, the baby began to fuss, growing louder with each cry. 

“Well, she sure sounds like her father.” 

“Facts.” You nodded, grinning and guiding Birdie to your breast. “Grab Carl and come sit with me? We can work on some math.”

The sun had set, the knot in your chest growing tighter with each minute that Daryl didn’t walk through the door. Beth had taken Birdie to give you a few minutes of peace with Carol sitting just behind you. 

“He’ll be here. Daryl’s smart. And so are you for the signs you left for him.” She was brushing your hair, pampering you the only ways she knew how with the limited means at her disposal. 

“I hope he’s okay. What if he’s hurt? What if he ran into the herd?” You were twisting the front of the sweater you had thrown on when the temperature had dropped even lower. 

“He’s smart, Y/N.” You heard the quiet sound of the brush being sat aside. The woman’s hands began to work at your shoulders, eliciting a moan from you and a chuckle from her. “He’ll be here.” You nodded, hearing Birdie begin to cry in the back of the warehouse. 

“I’m being summoned.” You jested. Carol was smiling when you turned around and levered to your feet. Birdie was still crying, the sound echoing like a scene out of a horror movie. “Carol.” Your voice had gone low, serious. “Why isn’t Beth bringing her?”

“She’s likely trying to soothe her on her own. She looks up to you and wants to help.”

Beth looked up to you? Oh, that poor child. You were no one’s role model. 

You listened for a moment more, your brow creasing, lips turning downward in a deep frown. “Carol.” You waited for her reply before continuing. “You remember how you told me that I would be able to tell the difference between cries?”

“Yeah?”

“I think this one is telling me something’s wrong.” Your stomach was churning, the knot of anxiety twisting in your chest was no longer for Daryl but for Birdie, a deep sense of foreboding that your child was affirming. Something. Was. Wrong. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s go check in then.” 

You nodded, feet moving with such haste that it took the other woman a quick jog to catch up. Birdie’s squalling had reached a new level, the breaths between cries barely audible in their stuttering. Without thought, you began to run, your tired body attempting to futilely resist. 

“Beth? Carl?” You shouted, the sounds of snarls and hands slapping the outside of the building growing louder with each inch of space you covered. “Beth!” The girl wasn’t answering. Lori and Maggie frantically called your name from somewhere behind you but Birdie’s desperate wails for her mother easily drowned them out. 

When you saw her, so small and fragile on the cold concrete, little limbs flailing, nothing else mattered. There was no blanket. No knit hat on her head. She was in only a diaper. 

“Oh god, Birdie!” What happened? Where were Beth and Carl? You didn’t stop, you needed your baby in your arms. The reasoning no longer mattered. You needed to ensure her well being before asking any questions. Nearly there, you exhaled. 

“Y/N, look out!” 

Without breaking stride, you turned toward Rick’s voice just in time to see the butt of the rifle. 

And then there was nothing.

Your head was throbbing, your pulse finding its way up to where the wet warmth was leaking from just above your right eyebrow. Struggling to open your eyes, you strained to focus through the rush of blood in your ears, the pounding of dead hands on the building’s exterior, desperately locating your baby’s panicked screeching. 

“Birdie.” You whispered, certain it was slurring. Your mouth just couldn’t form around the syllables. When everything finally cleared, you could see her. The tremble from the cold shook her tiny form. “Oh my god.” You whispered, attempting to struggle to your feet only to find that your hands were bound to a weighty shipping palette. 

Subduing your panic long enough to survey your surroundings, the glow of three kerosene lamps cast a pale yellow luminosity over the entirety of your group—similarly bound—with Rick and Beth struggling against the rope while the other heads remained bowed in a subdued level of unconsciousness. You turned your attention back to your newborn and renewed your fight against the restraints, your skin chafing and breaking open. 

“Mama’s here, baby girl.” Birdie would not be consoled. If anything, she grew more agitated. 

“So you’re the one stupid enough to have a shit-smearing biter magnet.” 

Your head snapped to the left, toward the roll-up doors. A group you hadn’t noticed leaned against the metal, armed to the teeth and reeking of mayhem. 

“The fuck do you want?” You snarled, a protective mother’s venom lacing every word. 

The single woman in the posse laughed, malicious and entertained. “Some fun.” She shrugged, her face split into a grin that made your teeth itch. “That’s really all there is left in this world. Survival and fun.” Lowering her rifle from its perch on her shoulder, she crossed the distance between the two of you and crouched. “We’re gonna take everything you have.” A finger traced your jawline, down your neck and circled your clothed nipple. “Everything.”

“Then we’re gonna let that gremlin bring the biters in to take care of the rest.” One of the men added without so much as a glance away from his handgun, the walkers growing louder as if they could hear and comprehend the promise of a fresh meal. 

Giving your breast a squeeze, the woman stood, scanning your group appreciatively before her eyes lingered on Lori. “Boys, you can take that one. I got no interest in that full belly.” She pointed the barrel of her gun at you. You never so much as flinched, your baby’s wails fueling a rage you’d never before felt. “I want her. And the kids.”

“You’re vile.” Hershel said in that level tone that usually ground on your nerves. In that moment, you found it more than fitting. 

“Ugh,” the female rolled her eyes. “Kill him first. No one wants those wrinkly old balls in their face.”

The words left you before you could even consider their consequences. “You’re gonna die today.” When she smirked at you, your steely glare remained. She lowered to a knee and pressed the muzzle into your chin. You barely contained a wince when your head was forced to tilt back. 

“What I’m gonna do is fuck that ruined pussy with this rifle and listen to your baby scream.”

Twisting onto your left hip, you brought up your right leg, your boot connecting with her temple just as she sat back. “Bitch.” You seethed, watching her topple over. Another man rushed you, his fist snapping your head to the side, reigniting the stars in your vision that you had only just managed to lose. 

“She’s gonna be fun, boys.” Staggering to her feet, she stumbled over to Birdie and pointed the rifle at the infant’s head. “Maybe I’ll just shoot the little one and let your screams bring the biters in when we’re done with you.”

“No!” Your anger faded to fear within a split second, the various voices of your then conscious and collective group pleading for your baby’s life. “Okay, okay. I’ll cooperate!” You bartered. “Just wrap her up. Please.” 

“I don’t think so, mama bear.” 

A noise from the front of the warehouse drew her attention, but not yours. Your wide, wet eyes were glued to that gun aimed at your daughter. Please, Daryl.

“Think the biters got in?” An older guy asked, hocking up mucus and spitting it at your feet. 

“Maybe. Go check it out.”

He obliged with a shrug, whistling the entire way until he disappeared into the darkness. 

The taunting continued, the other three group members moving from person to person, pointing out in disturbingly vivid detail what they liked or disliked about that individual. You paid them no more mind, instead watching the little contorted red face of your baby girl. You couldn’t warm her, comfort her. How could I let this happen?

“What the fuck?” 

Blinking back the fat tears you had given silent permission to fall, you followed everyone’s perplexed gazes toward the front of the warehouse. The old man staggered out of the darkness, a spray of blood his predecessor. His throat was gaping wide. 

“Gary?” The woman hyperventilated, her rifle nearly falling from suddenly inept fingers as his body collapsed to the concrete, not to move again. He must have meant something to her. 

Good. You smiled wryly. 

“Come out!” One of the other men shouted, prompting crazy lady to raise her own weapon. 

Your eyes flickered back to Birdie, yanking and wiggling against your bonds again, the ropes wet with your blood and unyielding. The baby was wearing herself out, cries simmering to shivering breaths and hiccups. The ropes did not give. Bitch could tie a knot, you’d give her that. 

“Oh.” The woman’s voice was suddenly excited as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “I think papa bear’s joined the party.” She made a show of deliberately placing herself just above Birdie, moving her rifle a fraction of an inch before you watched Daryl, blood-saturated and dirty, step out of the shadows.

“Don’t point that thing at ‘er again.” He wasn’t pleading. He was demanding. 

The woman’s eyes sparkled, her free hand covering her mouth in an oopsie expression while she redirected the gun—finger on the trigger—right at you. “Is this better, your majesty?” In a flurry of clicks and shouted warnings, Daryl’s crossbow was aimed at her while all other weapons held him in their crosshairs. 

“M’a give ya one chance to walk outta here.”

She cackled, throwing back her head. “I don’t think you’re—”

“One chance.” Daryl repeated, his mouth unseen from behind his weapon. “Ya’d do well to take it.” There was a tremble to his frame visible even from the distance that lay between you. If you could see it, so could they. The only difference being that you knew it wasn’t from fear. 

“I want him too.” The woman jerked her chin toward your partner. “Put down the bow, pretty boy. You’re not gonna waste any ammo today.”

“Won’t be a waste.” With a quick twist of his torso, three things happened simultaneously: The crossbow fired. The ropes around your wrists went slack, the sleek length of the bolt pressing just against your skin. And Daryl stepped back into the shadows, a barrage of bullets following his retreat. 

With the enemies’ attention on the unknown whereabouts of the archer, you scrambled across the floor and scooped up your baby, throwing yourself backward onto your ass to slide behind the pallets that had held you. Her skin was so chilled, her tiny frame shivering as her distressed cries renewed in their intensity. 

“Mama’s got you, baby. Daddy’s here. Daddy came for us. It’s okay.” One arm at a time, you managed to pull yourself free of your sweater and bundled her up. You drew up your knees and held her close to your chest, shielding and warming her simultaneously. “They won’t touch you again.” 

Glass shattered, the area dimming as a bolt destroyed one of the old lamps. 

“Come out, you bastard!” 

Another lamp fell victim to Daryl’s aim. 

“Where is he?”

With a final sound that echoed for more than a moment, the environment was cast into darkness with only the myriad of gunfire battling the shadows that Daryl was using to his advantage. With each discharge, you curled tighter around your daughter, her howls splintering every inch of your heart. You longed to hold her properly, soothe her, fight away the fear that clawed relentlessly to sink its claws into such a space of innocence. You wanted to join the fray, rip out their throats, but Birdie needed you exactly where you were.

And she would always come first.

The number of weapons that fired continued to dwindle, the cling of metal against the concrete preceded by a shout or gurgle. 

Your archer was taking them down one by one. 

You wanted to see it, wanted to witness them suffer, even if it was for a mere moment but you couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk Birdie’s safety. 

“Someone get him!”

“Where the hell  is he?!”

“The fuck should I—” Another gurgle, another thud. 

“Fuck!” The woman screamed, her voice carrying from somewhere further away. You couldn’t be certain if Daryl had intercepted her or if she was simply fleeing, but as long as she was far away from your group—your family—you didn’t care. 

“Y/N.” Carol’s voice somehow managed to break through the chaos in your head, your eyes searching her out in the darkness. “Y/N, he got them. Can you—” 

“Yeah.” You breathed shakily, unfurling from around Birdie to shuffle blindly forward, bowed over the little bundle to ensure you didn’t knock her into anything that might be in your way. “Yeah, I’m coming.” 

You found Rick first, cutting his ropes one-handed with a piece of glass from one of the lamps. Lucky you, it had been found by sliding your knee over it. 

“Take care of her, I’ll get everyone else.” He instructed. You nodded, knowing the deputy couldn’t see but it was all you had in you at that moment. 

“Where’s Daryl?” Beth asked, her young mind falling right into sync with yours. 

Why hadn’t he come to you immediately? Was he hurt? Had he given chase to the woman? 

You squinted against the flashlight’s beam, one eye clenching shut as you found Carol kneeling over one of the men, a bolt lodged in the right side of his neck. His head was at an odd angle, suggesting that the puncture had not been the end for him. 

With your family surrounding you, all eyes wide and cautious, looking for danger, watching for Daryl, you finally settled but only in the slightest. Muscles still tense, you shifted Birdie, drawing up your knees to place her on your elevated thighs. 

“Hey, there, little Dixon. Ssh, it’s all okay now.” Slipping a hand beneath the sweater, the relief of feeling warming skin nearly brought you to collapse. 

“How is she doing?” Hershel asked, his voice elevated to be heard clearly over the distraught infant. Your strength was nearly at its end. 

“She’s cold, Hershel. It—the sweater’s helping but she’s still so cold.” Your fingers were stroking her cheeks, brushing through wispy blonde hair, rubbing her belly over the sweater while careful of the drying umbilical cord. 

“Babies are resilient, Y/N. And this little doll just happens to have the genes of one of the most stubborn men I have had the pleasure of knowing.” A gentle hand rested on your shoulder. “I’d like to take a look at her all the same. May I?”

With a sniffle, you lifted Birdie, her tiny head just beneath your chin. One last gentle squeeze, you supported her head and passed her over to the veterinarian, scrubbing your hands over your face as you stood. You must have looked a wreck, but you needed to find Daryl, needed to hold him almost as desperately as you had needed to cling to your child. 

“Please! Just let me go!”

You spun where you stood, searching out the woman. “Daryl?”

“Were ya gonna let them go?” Daryl’s voice was menacing, his tone low and bleeding with promise of maleficence. You were acutely aware of others trailing as you followed the voices, moving boxes and stepping around tools to climb the stairs to the second level.  

“I—”

“Mm-mm. Don’t.” He spat, the sound of more containers falling over against the wall. “Don’t bother.” 

He came into view a little at a time, more with each step you climbed. His crossbow was on the floor. His crimson hands were empty. Still, the woman cowered, backing toward the windows with her body folded, palms up over her head in surrender. 

“Daryl!” You tried, but he didn’t acknowledge you. 

“Just let me go. I’m the only one left and I—Please, I don’t wanna die.”

Suddenly your feet wouldn’t carry you, heavy laden and stuck to the floor with the weight of your disbelief. You wanted to laugh just as much as you wanted to pluck the knife strapped to Daryl’s hip and slit her throat yourself. 

“Ya threatened my girl. Ya wanted to use my daughter as walker bait!” The archer hissed, his fingers flexing in and out of fists. “A fuckin’ baby an’ ya wanted to kill ‘er.”

You could hear the others at the top of the stairs, halting just behind you with the same interest of watching the scene play out, trusting Daryl to do what was right. 

But what was right?

“Ain’t gonna kill ya.” He finally said, tilting his head as the woman began to stand straight, the fear dissolving before your eyes. Daryl was a better person than you could ever be. If he walked away, it was going to take every single individual on that landing to restrain you. 

“Thank you. I’m so sorry. Thank you. I’ll disappear, I’ll change. I won’t—”

He moved so fast, grabbing her shoulders while driving the sole of his boot straight into her knee, the sickening snap of bone causing your stomach to roll while a sense of vindication washed over you. 

She needed to hurt. She needed to suffer.

Her screams stimulated the walkers around the building, their rotten fingers scraping against the metal, palms pounding, teeth gnashing. 

Daryl spoke loudly, holding her up by fistfuls of her shirt, his face inches from hers. “Said I ain’t gonna kill ya. Never said ya weren’t gonna die.” He shoved her, his boot once again connecting with her body, a kick to the abdomen with enough force to send her soaring backward. She crashed through the window, nothing but the splintered wood and shards of glass accompanying her to the ground.

Straight into the herd of ravenous undead. 

And her blood curdling wails of agony were music to your ears. 

[hexite-nightmares]

My very unorganized thoughts on S2 of Arcane but only about Viktor

Alright I finally had time to think and write everything down so here we go. I want to preface that I have been weary about this season ever since I watched the act 1 leaks. Mainly because it was very clear he was never going to be a machine, and they didn't give him enough screen time to develop his motivations into ACT 3 Viktor being convincing enough

LET'S START WITH THE FALSE PROPHET VIKTOR

Alright so he has about 11 minutes ish of screentime. Aside from the glaring issue of Jayce reviving him and not destroying the hexcore, taking away agency from a disabled character. It was clearly a false prophet situation, but it was so fucking confusing on whether he could feel like a regular human, if he was under the Hexcore's control which makes the agency issue worse or just jaded. He all of a sudden starts speaking like he's reading Deuteronomy passages ?? We don't know for sure if he's aware that he's basically creating a hive mind now, did he start his plans of making everyone into one right here? Sky seems to encourage him to do this, what does she know about it since shes been in the hexcore ALONE for a little longer? (writers didnt confirm whether it was the real her or not) . Act 1 Viktor's issues are mostly about agency, and a seeming full abandonment of his identity as a scientist, his personality does a full 180. He doesn’t seem to question that the object that revived him and killed Sky is giving him healing powers, but he’s angry at Jayce so we have no clue if he’s being controlled or not.

The show doesn't seem to care to spend time with him bc Isha and Ambessa I guess.

Anyways lets move on to not even act 2, but ep 6, his only episode in this act.

I had huge gripes with this episode, mainly because whatever the fuck was going on with Viktor trying to "keep" Vander's humanity, when he clearly was taking it away from everyone he touched, does he actually believe what he's saying or is he under the Hexcore's control still?. Obviously the glaring issues of Sky being there without any actual input, they're cosmic friends I guess but with very generic lines, and the fandom has to fill in the blanks with whatever Amanda Overton feels like saying about Sky in the moment(if we don't see it in the show I don't take it as her development, sorry). So Viktor builds Colloidal silver drinking Joshua tree and ppl think it's fucking Eden, Jinx calls him a Machine Herald when there's NO SIGN OF MACHINERY JUST PURPLE MAGICAL METAL LOOKING FLESH. We get a whole ass different realm with no explanation other than, oh yeah Viktor is inside there. Jayce comes in and almost kills him. The only option there is at this point is for Singed to start his MH era. The choice of becoming MH is nonexistent now, other people have to jumpstart things for him. I know some people interprete this commune as Viktor achieving his dreams, thinking he was being himself, that he was in paradise with Sky and.. that wasn’t the case for me.. it was extremely sinister. Worst part of this Act, is that MH was seemingly a damn trial experiment for Orianna.

BONUS:

So it seems that Christian Linke has confirmed Sky was the hexcore using its influence to manipulate viktor into the glorious evolution. He said it was meant to be as a misdirect. So to everyone who got dunked on here for “wanting to be spoonfed” or “not reading into it deep enough” for thinking he was being mind controlled, you were right about it being the hexcore. Viktor has been confirmed to have no agency until episode 9 I guess. He also mentioned Viktor’s goal was getting the most power/influence… we never saw a fucking glimpse of this in season one I’m sorry.

ACT 3

First awful problem here is obviously Singed having to jumpstart things. Viktor is aware for his choice of whatever is happening with the egg thing. Yet....there's still no sign of machinery. We get a scene where Sky fucking dies again, he refers to her as Ms Young, which im guessing is a parallel to the other time he dismissed her in S1. But of course we get the double fridging in the show, cuz making female characters just for the sake of advancing her crush's plot line is sooo amazing. Here lies sky, the character who is barely a character. Well after that we get the sequence of his transformation and we get that butt ugly mask. His personality does another huge change again. So we know the hexcore is not influencing him anymore as the hexcore completed its goal of the glorious evolution.. so I guess viktor really does think this is the right way?

A huge issue I have again, is the lack of agency. In this particular scene Jayce goes "My partner died in this room" yeah..Viktor didn't fully choose to become this right? it all started with Jayce using the hexcore on him, it’s been manipulating him the whole ass season…Kinda wish there was some sort of acknowledgement from Jayce that he’s basically the catalyst of this.

He gets his laser because...fanservice. There's no way he went all the way to the lab and magically attached it to himself just to cut off a wall. He keeps going on that choice is false, but a few minutes before he said he’d evolve all of those willing?

In the cosmos, beautiful sequence. I don’t love Jayce’s dialogue choices(about his disease) here and then it all being about viktor hating himself.. since the hexcore was leading to all of this, his motivation for it all being self hatred feels a bit eh. The sequence is beautiful and Jayce and Viktor destroying the anomaly with the rune shard is nice, that part was cute. But then they kinda disappear and we only know that viktor is alive so far, no clue about Jayce. The sequence is touching towards the end and I’m a sucker for characters finding each other in every timeline/universe but it can’t make up for all the other things that are bothering me. This seems to be the one time Viktor has some sort of agency I guess.

Then obviously the worst part that will bother me forever. The thing that made me almost slam my laptop shut

This retcon is just awful I shouldn’t even have to say why, it makes things fucking weird and it’s frankly stupid. Also viktor can’t rock a beard like that.

Anyways this is very disorganized, fuck you riot I felt like an insane former this whole time but I was right.

[soxcietyy]

Temptation

Chapter 7

Your dad is tired of you bringing home these unworthy men. None of them being fit to take care of you or to be given the family business since you are the only daughter. He decides to find you someone fit to be your husband and receive help from the father of the church. That’s when you meet Yuta, though just because he goes to church doesn’t mean he’s much of a saint

Mafia, murder, violence, mentions of religion, (will contain other things in the next chapters)

The rest of the week he spent as far away from you as he could. He would come home late, sleep in a spare room or sometimes he wouldn't come home at all. Ever since that day he couldn't help but maintain his distance. He was scared, he didn't want to frighten you like that again. Not only did that cause him fear but also the fact that he cared about that.

He was Yuta Okkotsu, one of Gojos most important business partners that worked under him. Everyone was supposed to be terrified of him. But just the single though oh you being scared of him gave him an itch.

He tried to convince himself multiple times that maybe it was because this was all new to him. The concept of marriage and now having to care for Someone else other than him. Yea that sounds about right. This will soon pass and he'll be back to his normal self.

He's been away from you for a good length of time that he kinda felt prepared to face you again. Putting his foot down and putting you in your place. A women shouldn't be walking over a men. Maybe his actions were justifiable last week. He told you to stay put and you did not listen which created consequences.

Yea that's it, you deserved what you got and he will not let it slide.

"Yu?" He hears a soft feminine voice speak. He snaps his head from the paper he held to the door way where you stood in a sun dress.

"Darling you know well you're not allowed in my offic..." as he spoke to you he noticed the bruises on your neck that he left last week. That delicate skin of yours being harmed by his own hands. He couldnt bare to see the injury's he caused so he looked back down at his paper.

"Yes I know but I'm worried. We haven't been able to sit down and relax. You're always busy or coming home late. We haven't even slept in the same bed. Im worried about us." you say

About us? what a joke, with the way he's been treating you he was surprised you thought that way. A normal girl would of already attempted to run away.

"I don't think what I’m doing should concern you. Go back to bed and get some rest." Yuta says as he scans the paper he's been rereading over and over again. To him it seemed like a never ending paper, every time he read it he would get lost in the words making him have to reread it over and over again.

“Can I least go out for some fresh air?” you ask him “Of course.” He says as he begins sign the paper he held.

“Without someone following me.” You cross your arms. The number of times they had stopped you this week from walking out was outrageous. Every time you confronted Yuta about it he would ignore you and keep on with his business.

“you’re not allowed to go out without anyone accompanying you.”

————————

Your angry thoughts influenced your actions immediately. Storming out of his office you quickly made your way upstairs snatching up his wallet that rested on the nightstand. You couldn’t believe that he had just spoke to you that way. This wasn’t what you imaged being married to him was. You felt like an idiot for actually agreeing to something so dumb like this. Anyone would have seen something like this coming a mile away. You were just so stupid, so gullible to believe every word that fell out of his mouth. After putting your heels on you walk downstairs. You knew well that Yuta had guards stationed right out the doors.

You were so sick of being stuck here with an arrogant man. All you did was try and be the best wife but clearly, he could care less about you and your efforts. Opening the door, you see a tall buff man standing with is back facing you. You let out a small huff as you quietly closed the door behind you. Taking a few small steps forward you see him turn around at the slightest sound of your heels hitting the floor. “Go back inside before I throw you like last time." That did happen didn’t it. “Yuta said he’ll meet me outside the gates. He seemed to have lost his wallet.” You say trying to get pass him.

He lets out a laugh as he blocks you from going further. “do you think I’m stupid little girl? He would never let you go even a few feet from him.” The guard laughs even harder as he shoves you back making you stumble a bit.

You give the man an innocent smile. “Clearly you don’t know him enough to know that he would let me do that. Let me through before I tell him that you put your hands on me.” You talk back.

“What would people say if Yuta’s wife was being man handled? Clearly you would be fired right away.” You stare into his shocked eyes. He mumbled a few words before letting you get pass him. If you knew it was this easy you would if been escaped this place.

Immediately you started walking to the open gates. Walking with the fear of him possible looking outside his window to see you walking off the property. Once you made it out the gates you turn around and shut them. The guard looked at you confused for a second before booking it towards you. That’s when you quickly lock it with the key Yuta always carried in his wallet. You gave him another innocent smile before you ran down the road. Luckily those gates where as tall as pine trees, that means he had no choice but to get another key from Yuta who should be at a meeting about now. That’s if he had the guts to interrupt a meeting.

Running as fast as you could in heels, you cut through people’s property’s so you wouldn’t be found so easily. Eventually after so long of running you made it to the city of New York. Yuta did not live far from the city at all making everything supper close to you guys. Stopping at a coffee shop you rest by the wall and catch your breath. You haven’t ever ran this much in your life before. The adrenalin in your body was still pumping as you held your chest.

“Oh, darling are you alright?”

Alarm bells ran in your head once you heard them say darling. When you look up your met with blue eyes but not the dark ones you know. They were infused with a light green color making them look really friendly. Moving from his eyes to his face you realize this was a total stranger. This man had blonde short hair, chiseled jaw, he wore such a nice navy-blue suit that complimented him. Your mouth seemed to have dropped, mesmerized by his beauty. “y-yes! I’m fine I just got done with my morning run.” You say

“A run? In heels?” he raises his brow.

“yes...”

“Your quite an interesting girl, how about I invite you to grab a drink with me?” he says holding his hand out. You looked at him not being able to believe him but take his hand either way. He grabbed it firmly and walked out with you in his arm.

“ I know this coffee shop with better drinks up the street. I had came to the one we had just left to grab a quick drink to go. Then I ran into you, and I just love having drinks with people.” He says as he walks with a fast pace. This man was really tall, to the point where it kind of hurt your neck to look up at him.

When you guys got to the place you couldn’t believe how beautify it looked. Plants where planted in so many spots and it smelled like roses from the pots that surrounded you. This was something you’ve never seen before. As you approached a table, he pulled your seat out and letting you sit before taking his own. A waiter soon came up to you guys and asked if you guys needed time to order.

“No need, I would like Americano and for the lovely lady hmm, what do you want tea or coffee?” he tilts his head making his golden locks fall to the side.

“I uh, I like tea.” You say

“ Hōjicha please! Oh and maybe a set of your delicious biscuits.”

As the waiter left, he put his attention back towards you. “so do you usually take strangers on-“

“Coffee dates? No, no I am quite a busy man, I was actually free this morning and well I couldn’t just ignore you.” He smiles.

“Oh well thank you for taking me out uhh.” You say ignoring the fact that he called this a date.

“How rude of me! I haven’t introduced myself, haven’t I? The name is Angelo.” He says.

“Oh, I’m y/k Okkotsu.”

His eyes seemed to have lighten up once you told him your name.

“Magnificent.”

“Do you work Angelo?” You ask him curious to know his profession if he could afford to go to such a coffee shop.

“I own many restaurants and coffee shops around here, including the one were at. Its quite new actually.” He says as he looks around admiring his work.

“Really? Wow I really love what you did with the place. It’s so stunning and it feels like I’m in the middle of a flower field.” You say surprised.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it darling. What do you do for work?"

“um currently nothing, I’m just home all the time but I want to get into my husbands business. I want to feel useful you know? But how can I do that when I’m not even allowed to know anything about it.” You look down at the wooden table “oh sorry I started venting without realizing it.” You say embarrassed.

“No need to feel bad I enjoy giving advice to people.” He says as he receives the drink from the waiter that you didn’t even notice. He set your drink in front of you as he took a sip of his. He let out a satisfied sound come out as he tasted the drink.

“What does your husband work in” he asks as he licks his lips.

“Trading under a company.” You say as you also took a sip out of your drink. Your eyes brightened the second your tastebuds made contact with the liquid. This was really good, this man kept on surprising you by the second.

“What is this? It’s so good, I’ve never had such a flavorful tea.” You bring the cup up to your lips once again.

“Ha, I knew it would be to your taste. It’s a Japanese’s tea that has roasted green tea leaves. Its naturally sweet yet has a hint of a smokey flavor in it.” He lifts his hand up in the air to get a waiter’s attention.

The man quickly runs to him and ask him if everything is okay. Angelo reassures him everything is good and that he just wanted to know if he had a bag of the tea you were currently drinking.

“oh you don’t have to do that! I can always come on my own, I want to support the business.” You say.

“oh sweety but what if you can’t go out when you crave it? You already know how husband can be, ugh so bitter for no reason, Speaking of.” He brings his drink to his mouth. “Y- your husband how is he like?”

For a second you thought he was going to say your husband’s name. Then again, he shouldn’t even know him.

“Well, he’s…nothing like I expected him to be like.” You say with a sense of sadness. You had no idea why you held such high expectations for him in the first place. You didn’t even know him for that long and here you thought he was going to be the best husband ever. “I just wish he was more caring, kind, and well just loving in general.”

You had no idea what had happened, when you first met him, he was the most kindest person ever now he was someone else.

“Sorry to hear that,” Angelo crosses his legs as he stretches them out. “Something like that must not be easy to go through, I trust your strong enough to pull through, right?” Angelo looks down at his watch and raises his brows. “it’s near noon, do you need a ride?”

Ride, but to where? You couldn’t possibly go back to Yuta’s. He was going furious when he finds out you escaped. If you ran back home, you feared your dad would call Yuta since apparently, they were buddy’s now. You could get a hotel room, but they would be able to track you right? At this point he must have already called everyone he knew to look for you. At your wedding the kinds of people that came up to him were unexpected, bank tellers, police, business people, doctors, and more. He probably had all eyes and ears out for you. You couldn’t held but fiddle with your wedding ring to ease your thoughts.

“Or you could come to work for me, you can be my secretary for the day.” He offers with a genuine smile.

“Really?! But I’m a women, wouldn’t people look down on you?” You say feeling a bit excited for the opportunity.

“You think I care about other opinion? Is that the way your husband thinks? Such a childish mindset. Common let’s go to my company building.” He says as he helps you get up.

AN: Guys I wrote this on my laptop on word during my finals. I typed 5 pages of fanfic and thought I out did myself and once I posted it onto here I screamed. YOUR TELLING ME THIS IS HOW 5 PAGES LOOK LIKE.

[itsabouttimex2]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE YOUR AU!!!!! IT'S SO GOOD!!! op, your ideas are fantastic, you're really creative and an awesome writer!! 💫🌟

The monkiefam dynamic is so fun to read about — and pretty sad in MK's case, the poor guy.

Hopefully it's not too dark of a question, but how brutal does MK get during the primal moon? If he gets too violent with reader, does Wukong or Mac try stopping him or would they just let the natural pecking order happen?

I feel so bad for him, he's is gonna have a hell of a time acknowleding all the stuff he did during the primal moon week :/

Thank you so much, that means a lot to me! I’m glad people like my silly little things! (UPDATED to add a few extra characters!)

Thankfully for Y/N, MK isn’t too brutal- I don’t think they’ll come out with anything worse than a sprained wrist or ankle. The trauma will persist far beyond their injuries, however. When the last green moon of the week fades, he’s positively distraught.

Lining his hand curiously up to a slap mark on Y/N’s cheek to check it, tears brimming in his eyes when it lines up too perfectly to be a coincidence.

I don’t know whether he heartbrokenly distances himself or tries to make up for it with extreme smothering. The poor kid just wanted to spend what was supposed to “just another green moon” with one of his best friends.

And as for Macaque, though he’d really like to help Y/N… he just doesn’t have the ranking. MK is above him in the hierarchy, so he genuinely can’t do anything to upset or piss him off. This only that accomplishes is him getting smacked around right beside Y/N. All he can really do for them is apply herbal balm and bandages after the fact. If he hasn’t had a seal applied to his powers yet, Macaque might think about trying his shadow portals, but… it’s probably better not to risk having two angry monkeys on his tail, demanding to know where he’s hidden their beloved cub/rookie.

Sun Wukong is crazy delusional under the moon’s influence- to him, Y/N getting thrown and tosses all around is just “playfighting”, so he won’t interfere until after things get genuinely harmful. The moment he hears his little “cub” scream and start to cry, Old Sun is there in a second, bringing them into his arms and cooing softly. If they come to him begging for protection and use a “Bàba” to sweeten the deal, they’ll have his shelter for a number of hours, so it’s not impossible to get away from MK… just very hard.

And even after learning that something as severe as a broken wrist has occurred, Wukong coddles MK and forgives him on your behalf, writing the whole thing off as an accident. Not that you get any less smothering then him- you’re now stuck in bed with stiff bandages and surrounded by young mountain monkeys and sweet fruit. In a way, it saves you from any further rough play.

All three of them are dangerous in their own ways, of course. None are outright above “disciplining” you, with slaps or bites or shoves. There’s no (intentional) bone-shattering or flesh-tearing, but they make you afraid that there will be.

———————————————————————

After the Primal Moon ends, there’s a lot of patching-up to do afterwards. For example…

Pigsy has to come down from the constant self-drugging, taking more than a few hours to compose himself and make the rounds with his friends, calling them all up in short order. Once he’s gotten through everyone- Tang, Sandy, Mei, even her parents… then he spends a few minutes making sure he hasn’t gored any holes into his restaurant. Unlocks the windows and doors, but doesn’t flip the open sign.

He’s not up to deal with customers right now. All he wants is to check on his kids.

He’ll take MK and you out to eat today, he thinks. You’ve both earned it, after a week of isolation up in your shared room, under strict instructions to stay inside and come down for no one and nothing.

Red Son is always horribly humiliated when everything is said and done, a groaning and red-faced mess of shame. Another week of essentially devolving into a child, desperate for love and attention. Another, slow, grudging week of constant begging for skinship and words of praise. Needless to say, he’s pissed off and looking for an outlet, and beating on the numerous Bull Clones just doesn’t seem all too enticing… when he’s got a much squishier target who’ll actually squirm and yelp?

Sure, he’s not going to outright mangle you. No permanent burns. No shattered spine. And he’ll take pity on you eventually and stop with the torment. After a few months, he might even start to like you.

Let’s hope you get there mostly unscathed.

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

ahh i love your writing so much!!! are requests open?? if so id love to request more ethan nakamura >_< maybe a piece about the reader comforting him after the war? (au where he survives ofc) but honestly i wouldnt mind anything lol

loser ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

ethan nakamura x reader backtrack: "loser", bigbang inspiration: you!

in the days following the battle of manhattan, ethan nakamura was sent to the infirmary and visitors were banned from seeing him. this was probably for good reason--you bet that if campers had unrestricted access to ethan, they’d descend upon him with swords and arrows and finish off what kronos couldn’t do. unfortunately, this also meant you couldn’t see ethan at all. you didn’t even know if you necessarily wanted to see him--just thinking of him made your heart ache--but there was something that compelled you toward the big house every day, standing outside and staring through the windows at the infirmary beds lined with the injured. you often had to be dragged away from the big house porch.

after about a week, ethan was discharged from the infirmary. you now often saw him wandering around camp by himself, trying to keep his head down and avoiding eye contact with everyone. he had nobody; none of his friends from the hermes cabin were talking to him, luke was dead, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything except watch from afar. if it wasn’t for you warning the naiads to keep an eye on him, you were sure he would’ve drowned himself already.

you and ethan had so much history. you had been friends for years before everything went to tartarus. you had been the only one ethan confided in when he was feeling angry or upset about the gods. you had been the one to hold him when he had nightmares, to sing softly to him until he fell into a restless sleep. you had known before everyone else that he was planning to betray camp, to join luke and kronos. you had begged him not to go, but he hadn’t listened. you had spent hours tossing and turning in your bed, unable to sleep as your mind danced over all the memories you and ethan shared. you were the best of friends, the worst of enemies, and maybe even something more. and it had been you, in the throne room, who sang to ethan to snap him out of his kronos-induced brainwashed state. you had, essentially, saved his life. and you were miserable. you couldn’t help but feel like you had just reduced ethan to a life of being ostracized and hated; it would take months, if not years, for people to forgive him, if they even would.

maybe it’s your past together that made you so determined to stay with him. you saw how pale his face was; the bags under his eyes were dark purple, and he never showed up to campfire singalongs anymore. you couldn’t remember the last time you saw him smile.

about a month after the battle of manhattan, annabeth started building the new cabins. hades was the first; nico was more than happy to help out with some of the exterior and interior designing. cabin fourteen was for iris, cabin fifteen for hypnos. the design of these cabins were also both heavily influenced by butch and clovis, two respective sons of the gods whom the cabins were built for.

“[name],” annabeth called after you one morning as you headed to archery with your cabin. you turned around to see her clutching a folder and a bunch of paper in hand. she showed you the top piece of paper; it was a blueprint design for a cabin. “I’m designing nemesis’s cabin. do you think ethan would want to . . . you know?”

you noticed her nose crinkle a little as she said his name. you couldn’t blame her though. ethan had, after all, stabbed her with a poisoned knife. but the blueprint looked amazing; it was everything ethan had told you he dreamed of for his own cabin. “this is great, annabeth,” you gushed. “I’m sure ethan would love it. and I can ask him, but honestly. . .”

she understood right away. “sure,” she said. “no pressure.”

now, campers weren’t necessarily supposed to go into cabins that weren’t their own. you silently prayed that hermes would forgive you this one time as you made your way to cabin eleven, footsteps feeling heavier the closer you got. your breathing quickened, and your heart started thumping faster. you didn’t know why you were so nervous to finally talk to ethan. this isn’t about you, you tried to tell yourself. ethan’s cabin is finally being built and you’re just here to tell him.

ethan was right where you knew he’d be; sitting on the couch in the hermes cabin (because he didn’t have a bed, only a sleeping bag on the floor) and staring forlornly out the window, facing away from you. you watched him look sad for several minutes, barely controlling your shaky breathing. your fingers were trembling, you realized, and you squeezed your hands into fists to try to get them to stop. taking a deep breath, you cleared your throat. “if you stay cooped up here forever, you’re going to miss the construction of your cabin.”

he startled a little at your voice, before slowly turning to look at you. “what?” he muttered tiredly, face scrunched up in confusion.

“your cabin,” you repeated. “unless you’d prefer it to be a surprise. but I thought you wanted some sort of say in how the nemesis cabin looks.”

he blinked, an odd emotion crossing his face. you wondered if he was about to cry. “nemesis cabin?” he repeated.

“yeah,” you said. “are you coming?”

he practically jumped off the couch.

ethan practically fainted as he saw the base of the nemesis cabin. his hand reached for yours, pleadingly, desperately searching for something to anchor himself to. you let him grip your arm as he stared at the cabin. his face was pale.

annabeth, to her great credit, actually came over and explained to ethan her plans. she couldn’t hide the disgust or hatred in her eyes, but she actually talked to him nonetheless--you suspected someone like percy had forced her to be civil. she asked ethan a few questions about the interior and exterior of the cabin, like what kinds of designs he would like. ethan was too stunned to say anything at first, only nodding numbly, so you stepped in, trying to remember all the things he had once said he dreamed of having: “large mirrors. black floors. scales everywhere. lanterns and torches. am I missing anything, ethan?”

his mouth opened, then closed, his grip on your arm tightening. “uh, no. I don’t think so. thanks, [name]. chase.”

you elbowed him, not super subtly. “annabeth,” ethan corrected hastily.

“hm. yeah.” annabeth looked him up and down, eyes slightly narrowed. “I can do that.” she gave you a polite nod before turning around and walking off.

you were left with ethan, who was still looking dazed at the fact that there was an actual nemesis cabin being built. “what do you think?” you asked finally, a little nervously.

“I’m such a loser,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. “such a loser. [name]--”

“about time you realized.” you tried to make your voice light and playful. “don’t worry too much, ethan. you’re getting your cabin, after all.” you didn’t know how else to comfort him.

he blinked slowly, and you were shocked to see tears glistening in his eyes. “I wasn’t thinking--I never should have--”

you quickly shushed him, dragging him away from the construction site and toward the lake. you shooed away the naiads so the two of you could have a little privacy. you reach up and hastily brush tears away from ethan’s pale, cold face. “I know you feel guilty, ethan. you can see it on your face. it’ll be okay, all right? it’ll be fine. everything will work out. you did what was right in the end.”

he was shaking a little now, so you quickly took his hands in yours, pulling him closer to you. he clung tightly to you, as if you were the first person who has ever been kind to him. perhaps you really were. you lost track of time as the two of you stood on the dock hugging, years of memories and words unsaid passing between the two of you. presently you ran your hands through his hair, whispering comforting words to him. “it’ll be okay,” you tell him. “the war is over now. you’re safe. you did the right thing. I knew you would come back to me; I saw the good in you from the beginning.”

you didn’t even know if ethan heard or processed a word you said. all you knew was that with every whisper from your lips, his grip on you tightened, as if you were the most precious thing in the world that he could never bear to let go of.

there would be plenty more time for the two of you in the future. there would be words exchanged, fights and laughter and blasts from the past so intense and dark you might not make it out. but right now, as the two of you stood there, you were the only ones in the world. right now, this was all you needed. this was enough.

the first request I've received! thank you for loving my writing and for requesting, and I hope this met your expectations!

divider by @enchanthings

taglist: @loveinalocket, @raysmayhem-72

[gtwscratch]

Go Home

Summary: Tango and Jimmy are the first ones out in Double Life. They talk for a bit, and Tango says some things he’s going to regret.

This is inspired by @cramblm! She made a comic a while back about these two, and I was (FINALLY) motivated to write something again :D 

This is also part one of a two-part little story!! I’m not sure when part two will be up, but yeah! If you like this one, I hope you guys look forward to the next part!

CW: Team Ranchers angst, that’s about it

Word count: 1,203 words

[Part 1] [Part 2]

===============================

Tango looks down at the server, floating above everything. He idly rubs his arm. He can almost still feel the phantom pains of the enderman ripping into Jimmy, and by association, himself.

Huh. So this is what it’s like.

It’s oddly peaceful. Obviously there's still chaos going on below him as the last of the server’s peace crumbles away, but this was… different. Tango had died before in these games of course, but never first. It’s weirdly calm. And lonely.

Tango then hears the sound of rustling fabric, and his heart aches. He doesn’t need to look to know who it is—no one else has perma-died yet. Tango doesn’t want to look; so, he stares forward. They float in silence for several minutes before Jimmy breaks the silence.

“Tango,” the half-avian starts, “I’m.. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“You’re still here.” It’s less of a question and more of a statement.

Jimmy glances away and fiddles with the necklace he’s wearing. It matches the one Tango wears, given to him by Jimmy after the first session. “... Well, yeah. I.. I don’t want.. I, uh, didn’t-” 

Tango cuts him off, his tone coming out harsher than he had intended. “Why are you still here?”

“.. I could ask you the same thing,” he responds quietly after a moment’s hesitation. He looks out at the server and then reaches for Tango’s hand. “C’mon, it’s rough to watch at the start sometimes, we should-”

Tango snatches his hand back, keeping it close to his chest. “We should what, Jimmy? We can’t do anything. We’re dead.”

“We can at least go somewhere that won’t see so much bloodshed.” Despite the tone Tango is taking with him, Jimmy’s own voice remains soft and patient. “We can go back to the ranch.” He sounds a little hopeful. Tango ignores it.

“And then what? Just wait around and welcome everyone as they die? Pretend that everything is fine and that we haven’t just come in dead last?” Tango’s tail flicks angrily back and forth, and the flames in his hair burn a little brighter. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Tango isn’t upset about coming in last. He’s never come close to winning before, and it’s never bothered him all that much. He doesn’t understand why he’s so angry all of a sudden. The blaze-hybrid hasn’t once looked away from the soon-to-be-destroyed landscape. He hasn’t once looked at Jimmy.

Tango releases a heavy sigh. “It’s over, Jimmy.”

They both know Tango is talking about more than just their time in the game.

Tango can almost sense Jimmy tense—can feel the faint panic and hurt spread in his own chest despite their link already being severed and fading. Maybe he just knows Jimmy that well. Maybe Tango doesn’t want to go through with this.

“.. What?? No, Tango, don’t- don’t say that..!” Jimmy raises his voice for the first time. “This isn’t-! I-it can’t be-!”

“It can be, and it is. We don’t know if something like this,” he gestures to the server in front of them, “will ever happen again, and if it does, I don’t see us teaming up again in the future.” What Tango fails to elaborate on is that he doesn’t think he’d be that lucky enough to have Jimmy on his team again.

Jimmy tries to reach for Tango again. “Please, don’t say that. We’re the Ranchers..!”

“NO! We’re not the Ranchers anymore!” Tango finally snaps his head in Jimmy’s direction, the flames in his hair and tail flickering and growing as his emotions do. “‘The Ranchers’ are gone! They were something that the psychos who created these games influenced and forced, and now they’re gone, Jimmy! That wasn't real!” 

But, oh, how he wants this to be real. Somewhere along the way, Tango found himself catching feelings for the half-avian. Despite their situation, he always seemed to be so optimistic and confident. Even when the ranch was burned down and Tango lost it, Jimmy remained (mostly) level-headed and helped get Tango to calm down despite getting burnt by his flames. And yeah, if it had been anyone else he’d accidentally hurt, he would’ve felt bad, but it felt even worse because it was Jimmy. Jimmy, who always found a reason to smile. Jimmy, who always put up with everyone’s crap. Jimmy, who apologized to Tango when they found out they were bound despite Tango being the one to lose their first life and being the reason the two found out they were bound in the first place. Jimmy, who didn’t deserve this kind of fate but received it for a third time now.

Ah, so that’s why he’s angry. Because this cruel, sick game has done nothing but take from and torment this saint of a player.

And maybe that’s why he’d been partnered with Tango. 

Because fire destroys everything it touches, and the expression on Jimmy’s face is proof of that.

Tango quickly looks away. He can’t bear to see the pain and betrayal in Jimmy’s eyes. “Just.. just go home, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s voice wavers with one last attempt. “Tango, please-”

“Go,” his flames flare up once again, and even in death, their temperature rises. Tango’s arms are wrapped tightly around himself now.

Jimmy hesitates for another moment before floating off in the direction of their the ranch, leaving Tango alone like he’d requested. It isn’t until he’s sure that Jimmy’s gone that he slowly lowers to the ground, kneeling in the grass.

He carefully uncrosses his arms and touches the charm on his necklace, a feather carved from iron. It won’t melt with your flames Jimmy had once said, nervously beaming as he handed it over and showed his own charm to Tango (a flame, also carved from iron). Tango exhales shakily, tracing over the ridges on the pendant. He stays there for a long time, just staring at the pendant and desperately wishing that this wasn’t how things had turned out.

Tango doesn’t know how long he’s kneeling there when the second lightning strike sounds, indicating another two members have fallen. He takes a deep breath and hides the pendant beneath his shirt before getting up and floating in the direction of where he heard the lightning strike. Did it come from the Box..? Yeah, that sounds close enough. 

As he makes his way over there, he risks a glance over to the ruined ranch and sees Jimmy sitting at their graves, leaning against Tango’s. Tango looks away quickly, but he stops, hesitating on continuing to the Box. At this point, his anger has subsided and has morphed to guilt and regret. He wants to go to Jimmy and apologize—to tell him he didn’t mean it, but would Jimmy take him back? Would he want to try for something that was genuinely real and not influenced by whoever put them into this mess? What would Tango even say to make up for what he said??

Tango decides to settle on the plan of giving them both some space. He needs to think about how he’s going to apologize, and, if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t want to see Jimmy again so soon. 

So he continues on his way, scared to give Jimmy and the ranch another glance.

===============================

Hope you guys enjoyed :) I worked on this instead of school work haha

[star-spacer]

Initiation

Part of "The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces" series

The Heart Pirates were overwhelming. So loud and chaotic that you didn’t know how you’d ever fit in with them. But you didn’t have any need to worry.

Takes place near the beginning of reader's journey with the crew.

Though you had joined (more like forced yourself into) the Heart Pirates in a blaze of chaos and explosions (quite literally), that courage didn’t stay in the aftermath of everything. When it was all said and done, and you’d stitched in a place on the Polar Tang as their tentative tailor, all the fight and bravery went down the drain.

Though you couldn’t say that you thrived on talking to others, you boasted fair enough people skills (which was more than could be said for their—your captain). Just enough for you to be known as a cordial and affable person. But with your history, growing up as you did, you had to say that your inclinations leaned more to that of reservedness.

The same could not be said for this new group of people you found yourself with.

They were loud, you already knew that from your initial introduction to them. But now, in close quarters and a confined space, the noise absolutely echoed. The sense of camaraderie was strong with them, inside jokes and banter flowing like water between them all. They would often include you in it too.

“Hey, Newbie!”

You froze as Ikkaku honed in on you, a touch of wildness in her eyes as she sped to you, dragging Clione along with her.

“Oi, don’t involve other people in with this!” the hooded blonde complained, but he still cornered you alongside the tall woman.

“We need you to settle this for us!” Ikkaku declared, crossing her arms. “Clione thinks that white lights are the best interior lights. But obviously, warmer lights are better than cool ones, yeah? You agree, right?”

“No???! Don’t influence the Newbie!”

“Shut up, you’re just angry because I’m right!”

“Uhm,” you began warily. “I think white lights are good if you want to maintain alertness, but warmer-toned lights are good for relaxation. Depending on what you need, one cn be better for your eyes than the other.”

Both stared at you blankly.

“Yeah, but which one is better?” Ikkaku prompted.

“I… They all have their…uses…”

Both members threw their hands up in twin displays of frustration. “That doesn’t help at all!”

They devolved back into their squabble, and you took a step away.

Two heads snapped at you. “Stay here!”

Your shoulders sunk down as you glanced furtively down the hall to see if anybody was coming. It seems like you’ll be stuck with them for a bit.

But not only did they pull you into the most mundane of conversations, but they were also touchy.

Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi were guilty of being particularly forward, the three having no qualms being in everyone’s space. While Bepo’s was well-intentioned—the Mink trying his best not to overstep his boundaries aside from when he’d scoop someone up in a hug—Penguin and Shachi had no qualms about holding back. Crewmates were often the victim of one or both of them leaning on them at once, on either side. The first time they did that, you nearly jumped a foot in the air, if not for their weight on you. 

The bolts of fabrics you were carrying thumped to the ground as you were jostled by twin pairs of arms, pushing you down. “Ah!”

“Whatcha got there, Newbie?” Penguin asked.

“New fabrics for the boiler suits,” you replied, wiggling out of their hold to hurriedly pick up the nearest roll, inspecting them for any stains. You would’ve snapped at the pair for making you drop them, but you were too busy fretting, and did not want to piss off the unofficial-official first mates of the captain. “I–Uh, C-Captain approved of this particular type. It’s more suitable to the conditions of the Tang than your suits now.”

“Oh shit, really?” Shachi crouched down right next to you, his side pressed up against your own as he grabbed the bolt of fabric you were holding while Penguin began gathering the other rolls.

The taller man tried to pick up all up, but let out a curse as their weight bore down on him. “Holy crap—”

You wobbled as his heat burned into your side, a hand reaching out to steady him as you took a few off to lighten the load.

“How the hell were you carrying so many with your stature?!?” Penguin ask incredulously, tugging his hat back in place.

“I’m used to it,” you said simply, reaching for the rest in his hold. However, a hand fisted the back of your current suit’s collar and hauled you up. “Ack–!”

“No need!” Shachi announced, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders. “Big Bro Peng and I will help you carry them!”

“Are you sure this is not you two trying to worm out of the Captain’s duties again…?” You asked.

“No way!”

“That’s silly!”

(They were, in fact, trying to dodge responsibilities.)

Though, despite their welcoming air, you couldn’t help but linger at the edges of everything. Too afraid to integrate yourself into their folds. Yes, you may have been brought on as their tailor—a position sorely needed as the most experienced person before you were the poor cook who at most knew how to do basic stitching—but you were still Newbie, first and foremost. Still clumsy when taking up the shared duties and occasionally getting lost in the halls. Your position here was strenuous at best, and you feared that there would be whatever reason that made them drop you off at the next island they docked at.

You peeked your head into the mess hall, wondering what was important enough that you were summoned there after your watch duties 

Shousai was the first to see you, the large, bald man waving a gloved hand at you. “Oi, Newbie, there you are!”

That sent an excited titter over the crew.

“Newbie’s here!”

“About time!”

“What took you so long?”

You took a tentative step into the room, but remained near the doors, wringing your hands. They had called you over the intercoms in the middle of you reworking he boiler suits, so it made you anxious to resume working.  “What’s… happening…?”

“Since, you’ve been doing a stellar job aboard the Polar Tang,” Bepo announced. “It’s about time that you get initiated into the group pose!”

“Group pose?”

The Mink nodded, completely serious. “Yes! We Heart Pirates take pride in our crew, so it’s imperative that we are ready to show that pride whenever Captain introduces us!”

Slowly shuffling backward, you asked, “Do I have to do it?”

“Yeah!” Clione yelled. “We all have to do it! You’re part of the crew, now. You can’t get out of this, Newbie!”

Hands grabbed your shoulders, and you looked back, expression full of betrayal as you found Uni to be the one pushing you to the group. The stoic man’s expression gave nothing away, except for the slightest pinch in the corners of his eyes that indicated amusement.

More hands grabbed at your arms when you were in range, Uni leaving to assume his position once he ensured that Shachi’s hold on you rendered escape impossible. You were shuffled from person to person, but for once, their touches didn’t make you tense nor freeze the way touches used to. They had, without you realizing, wormed their way through your guards as much as you’ve settled into their rank. In their endearingly Heart Pirates way.

Weak. Would have been what he called them. Called you. But those were just the whispers of the dead.

Shosai muttered your name as you were slotted right next to him. “You have to convince Risso to make something other than broiled rice cakes and peas and fish for dinner.”

“He says we have to try and conserve our supplies,” you protested quietly as Omura’s elbow dug into your shoulder.

“Yes, but we all know there are much better combinations than fish and peas.”

Scanning the group for the yellow newsboy hat and braids of the cook, you asked, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“He likes you more!”

Bepo turned to give the both of you a chastising look as Shachi shushed you two. The Mink waited until the redhead ran through the positioning of your arms and legs. “Okay, Newbie! We’re going to do it now. Do you have the pose memorized?”

“Yes,” you said sulkily, resigned to your fate.

“Okay, Heart Pirates! Three, two, one!”

The crew burst into a clamoring of noise and limbs, you following suit with a heaping dose of embarrassment.

Your face burned  even hotter as, right after, the captain walked into the room. Law didn’t even blink as he saw the group of you in the mess hall, mug of coffee in his hands as he sipped on it. The crew held that pose, as if waiting for his approval.

He looked at you all with a sharp eye, amusement shining through as he cocked his head. “I think you should move Newbie-ya more to the left.”

“COME ON, CAPTAIN!”

Your face quivered as you fought a smile. Surrounded on all sides by lively figures, you undeniably felt warm.

Eventually, the nickname fell away, to be replaced with your own name or “Tailor”. Years later, as you and your nakama—a little bruised, and battered, but now twenty strong—assembled into that ridiculous group pose to greet Straw Hat, Shosai lifting you up onto his shoulders so you could throw your arms up and out into a victorious ‘V’, Jean Bart’s steady presence behind you, you couldn’t feel a greater sense of belonging.

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 13

Am I being mean by releasing the last 3 chapters week for week? Maybe just a bit 🤭

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, a garbage family, family trauma, disowning, tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen

Word count: 3,2k

Masterlist

Part 12 ~Part 14 (coming soon)

“Elle dort profondément, la journée a été longue.” Y/N’s brother and parents both look up at me in shock. I can’t help but laugh at their expressions. We’ve been here three days and if it weren’t for her family, it would be idyllic.

We’ve gone hiking in the beautiful mountains, she’s shown me all around her hometown. She has so many memories here, a lot of them good, but when I hear the things her mother says to her, I can’t but wonder if she’s sugar coating some of it.  

“What? You didn’t think that me, a million-dollar man who travels the world every day, with a French teammate, wouldn’t speak French? Not even a little?” I can only sigh at their foolishness; I see now why my sweet girl is so easy to...shape. Luckily for her, she has me and no one would dare hurt her with me around. Her family, however, after what I’ve seen they don’t get the same lenience.  

 I sit down on the table, “Tell me, how much do you want?” If I was some old-timey villain I would take out my checkbook and write some obscure numbers with lots of zeros. Her brother furrows his brows, “How much of what?”

I chuckle, I thought at least he would be smarter, I guess not. “Money. How much do you want to never speak to Y/N ever again?” Her mother scoffs and begins rambling about just how important she is to her.  

“Look, you’re a terrible influence on my precious girl. You make her feel terrible about herself after I spent all that time convincing her otherwise. Now, we can do as normal families do and only see each other on the holidays. Even then, it’s going be exhausting for her. So, why don’t we just take a short cut? How much money for you to kick her out of your life, permanently?” Her brother looks appalled and disgusted.  

His fist goes to find my jaw, but I catch his hand before he even comes close. “Be serious, you might be a rough and tough city farm boy, but I’ve spent years of my life practising my reflexes.” I take him by his shoulders and shove him back down in his chair. “How much will it be, mom, dad? Fifty thousand, a hundred thousand, or shall we go into the millions?” Everyone goes quiet at the numbers I’m talking of.  

“See? That wasn’t so hard? Now, Cash or Card?”  

“They’re so unbelievable! You know what, no, I’m glad that they did this. She’s been nothing but a cruel bitch all my life. Now that I’m happy, she hates it.” She screams into the phone, she’s standing next to the bathroom trying to get some distance from other people.

“No, I don’t care if they’re my family, who says that to someone?” She scoffs, likely she’s talking to Jasmine and Ilsa, I know Alex and Kika would defend me.  

She’s angry, a wrinkle in a brow and I just want to make it all go away. Maybe even, I’ll have to get rid of those two friends as well. They’re not good for her either. “I know I’ve only known him for a month and a half, but it’s been the best few weeks of my life! It’s been better than anything I’ve had with that fucked family of mine. And the fact that you two can’t see that, really shows me something about you two.”  

Her footsteps are loud on the floor of the plane. She throws her phone on the seat and plops herself down in my lap. Instantly her head finds the crook of my neck and her small hand takes fists full of my shirt. She pulls me as close as possible to me and wrap my arms around her. This is where she belongs, nowhere else but in my arms.  

 Her whole-body shakes as sobs make its way through her. “No te preocupes, mi dulce niña. Estoy aquí para ti. No importan, sólo estamos tú y yo. Just you and me. You have me now, you don’t need them.” I soothe her cries, rubbing circles on her back as she mumbles on about how awful they are and how evil they’re being.

I know it’s better for her in the long run, but it hurts my heart to see her like this. Hurting. At the same time, having her cling to me as if I am her lifeline is a feeling I can’t help but savour.  

“Carlos, where are we going?” A sigh escapes me. “Singapore, for the next race. But I have to talk to you about it.” She raises her head; she has these big doe eyes that has this melting effect on me. Yet at the same time, it makes the khaki’s I’m wearing tighter than I’d like it to be. “This is going to be the hardest race of the year. For the rest of the week until at least Friday, I’m going to be very busy with very hard training.”  

I know for a fact that this is the worst time possible to leave her alone. Right now, I need to be with her every moment. She has to be with me and no one else otherwise my whole plan will be for nothing. I have to be the only one comforting her, if not she’ll think that she can rely on others. My sweet thing whines at the realisation and goes to hide her face again but I stop her before she does.  

“I know, I’m sorry. But, I really don’t want to leave mi dulce niña alone, no?” She shakes her head, wiping her tears with the same hoodie I’d given her at the very beginning. I might have blasted the AC, just to see her wear it again. I know it gives her comfort and she just looks like a doll with it on. So small and so cute, I feel as if the love is oozing from my heart.  

“Now, we have one of two options. It’s not too late, we can still turn this plane around. Get you a nice, big apartment somewhere in France.” She stops me before I can even continues.

“No, I don’t ever want to see that damn country ever again. What if I see one of them again? I’d much rather live on the streets.” I can’t help but smirk, taking her small hands into mine.  

“I thought so. What about somewhere in Madrid? Why don’t you move in with me?” Her eyes go even bigger and bites down on that puffy lower lip of hers. I adjust her to sit on my other leg, the friction between us making me rock hard. Soon after, her eyes avoid mine. Her eyebrows pull together and I can’t help but reach up and smooth the crinkle in her forehead. 

So much seems to be running through her mind, and it shouldn’t be. Things should be easy for her, look pretty and be my pet. That should be the end of it. But this world can be so heartless and make the important people in our lives hurt. “Tell me, mi niña bonita, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”  

She sighs and then gives me those big doe eyes again. This time they’re all puffy from crying, and she looks just as beautiful as the day I met her. “Daddy, I don’t want to leave your side.”

Her words are like lava through my body. I take her chin and give her a kiss on her cheek. “I know, baby, but what other option is there? Follow me everywhere I go? You’ll get bored, I’m sure.” She doesn’t hesitate and shakes her head.  

“No, no, I promise. I’ll be good.” This would be more perfect than any other option. Having her by my side for the whole world to see. “I don’t know, cosas dulce,” it’s mostly just an act, I want her to beg. “Please Daddy, please?” She jumps ever so slightly on my lap and I can’t help but holding her waist to keep her still, not knowing how much longer I can hold out. Especially when she’s like this.  

Y/N takes her small hands and hold my face. Then she places a kiss on my cheek, then the other. I take her petite hands in mind. “Oh, alright, but no whining missy.” I hold out my hand, showing how stern I am. But she wraps her fingers around mine and gives me the biggest brightest smile. “You know I can’t say no to you.”  

“Carlos?” I had just finished pretty extensive training for the race. The whole gym room’s heat is all the way up to 30 Degrees Celsius, sweat is dripping off me. My hair is wet, luckily my girl gave me one of her headbands to keep my hair out of my face.

I could see her eyeing me the whole time. I couldn’t bare the heat much long, and just had to take my shirt of. Or maybe it was tactical to get her attention, nobody will ever know.  

“Yes, mi querido?” She gets up from her seat, discarding her phone which she had been so engulfed in before. Her hips sway, she too is sweating and is wearing the smallest little shorts I’ve seen in a while. It entrances me, every time she walks, the way her legs move. The way those tiny shorts sits a way below her naval. Showing off what all the boys are missing out on.  

Y/N makes her way over to me, her fingers dancing on my shoulder. “No, mi cosa bonita, you don’t want to touch me. I’m sweaty and smelly.” She scoffs and wraps her arms around my neck. “You’re saying that like I care.” I can’t help but chuckle at her attitude. Yes, last week changed her, but so far it’s for the better. My hands find her hips, “You’ve been looking so good lately, cosas dulce.”  

Her laugh alights my whole body. “You’ve been using that one a lot lately, I’ll have to google it,” I pretend to wince at her words. “No, cosas dulce, I might get in trouble.” Now she really does laugh, throwing her head back like she does when she’s comfortable. “Why do you laugh?” She shakes her head, “You, Mister Sainz, could never get in trouble with me. You’ve been nothing but perfect.”  

I pull her closer to me, our hips touching the other. “Is that so? I’ll have to hold you up to that.” I can’t help but place kisses all over her bare neck. “Except right now.” My heart rises and I’m just glad the monitors aren’t on.

Has she found out? No, no it can’t be. If she did, she’d be a lot more upset. Or would she? Would she be happy that I did it? Relief to get rid of them and have them well cared for at the same time. She doesn’t look happy now, but she doesn’t look to upset.  

“I’m scrolling through Instagram, right, only to see an edit about you. Guess my surprise that I found out through an Instagram reel that I missed your birthday!” Oh yes, that, is that really all? I can’t help but laugh at how serious she is. “You didn’t miss it; we did celebrate it.” Her eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?” I love the way her long hair sways to the side when she’s confused.  

“Your fashion show, after the shopping trip. It was more than enough of a present for me. Not to mention you got the sunglasses, with our initials on them.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“You keep calling me hardheaded, but you can be even more dense than me.” I laugh, she can be so complex. Switching from soft and needing to be held one moment, to sassy and chatty the next. I love every moment.  

A hum escapes me, “Aren’t you brave, talking to me like that, cosas dulce?” She ignores my words and carries on. “It doesn’t count as a birthday gift, if I didn’t even know it’s your birthday.” I sigh, seeing now that she’s going to be persistent on this. “That’s why I love it so much. You gave me a gift without even knowing. Call it something poetic, like our souls just knowing, or something simple. Like the kindness you give me that no one else does.”  

She pushes out her bottom lips and her eyes go all big again. “Carlos, that’s really beautiful.” She pulls me down by the neck and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Oh, how I cherish those. I remember each and every one. “But, at least allow me to make you dinner tonight.” I don’t want her going through all the trouble, or making too much of a fuss.  

“Don’t bother, cosas dulce. There’s no point in celebrating. 34 Years and I spent most of them racing, to no avail. A team that fucks me over, another year with no win and still no championship behind my name. And the rookies are getting younger and younger, and better and better. I’m sure I’ll lose my seat in a year or two and after that, it’s retirement for me.”

I didn’t mean to spill out all my thoughts just like that. But when she looks at me with those eyes, I wan’t to tell her everything.  

She cooes and pulls me tight in her arms. “Don’t talk like that. I’m sure you want our kids to see you race at least once.” What? She surprises me again and again. This is good, very good. She’s seeing what I see. Our goals are aligning. Before long I’ll have her all to myself. “You mean it?” Her smile lights up the room and my life.  

“Of course, now give me your card. Brutis, Otis and I are going grocery shopping.” That’s my girl. No longer afraid to ask. “You know where it is, cosas dulce.”  

I can hear music blasting through the hotel room, along with my girl screaming the lyrics at the top of her lungs, like always. She’s dancing and swaying to the music. Her hips move in ways that entice. But the most attractive thing about her, is that she looks as happy as can be. Pure joy radiates off her like the sun’s rays. Nothing is as beautiful as her delight and I just need to be a part of it.  

I scoop her up in my arms and place her on the first open space on the counter. She breaks out in giggles, “Aren’t I glad you’re feeling better,” she mutters between laughs as I make marks all over her neck and shoulders.

“How can I not with such a beauty in my arms?” She blushes and still giggles as my scruff tickles her. But soon she gently pushes me away, not far, by the chest. Her hands there is like fuel to my engine. Sparking my whole body to keep her here, trapped.

“You’re just in time,” she smiles jumping off and plating the food she had made. “I made Fideuà.” At just the mention, memories of my childhood come rushing back. Big Christmas family dinners, with lots of people. Kids running around, screaming with delight, as people laugh and drink lots of wine. “Ah, mi amor, now you are bringing back some good memories, no?”  

Y/N’s smile is big as she hands me the plate and pours some white wine. The first bite is perfect, the taste of fish explodes in my mouth. After it’s the texture of the pasta and the hint of Saffron.

“Wow, I must say, mi amor, this is as good as Mama’s.” This makes her smile as wide as ever. “Really, you mean it? You’re not lying?” There are some slight differences, but it’s incredibly hard to notice. I shake my head no.  

“It’s almost identical.” She blooms with joy and her cheeks are just so faintly red. “Caco sent me the recipe from your mom.” I should have known. “My, my, already in kahoots with my family.” I pull her into my lap as we both enjoy our dinners. “Speaking of, mi amor, I want you to meet my family. And I know you still feel unsure about moving in with me. But if you meet my parents and see the city...”  

Her gaze is stuck on her dinner as she just moves the shrimp around. “I’ll meet your parents, but I won’t promise you anything.” That’s good enough. That’s more than good enough.  

Xxxx  

There is a blazing heat through the paddock. Everyone is sweating and I can only imagine Carlos must be so uncomfortable in his racing suit. Boiling hot, you can see his hair is sweating but you know he won’t wear his headband in public.

It’s a maybe five minutes until they play the national anthem. Yet still through the flurry of everything and everyone he still makes his way towards where you stand with Caco in the garage.  

He hands you his drink, with the weird tube and everything, clearly given to him by Rupert. “Here, it’s very hot, remember to drink a lot of water.” You sigh and take him by the race suit.

“Carlos. Your race starts in twenty mintues, you shouldn’t be bothering yourself with me.” He clicks his tongue. “Siempre tan testarudo,” you sigh, you’ve googled it before and he says it so much that you know he’s calling you hardheaded.  

“Carlos!” The people call out his name, they could get a penatly if he misses the song. “I’m coming! Caco, asegúrate de que bebe mucha agua.” He speaks to his cousin, who agrees. He goes to leave but you grab him by his suit and pull him back. His lips fit perfectly onto yours. He pulls you close by the waist, his other hand rake deep into your hair.  

He kisses you back with such passion. Like a fire lighting between you two. Your soul finally finds rest. You’ve been wanting this for weeks and now you’re finally taking it for yourself. And you can tell by the way he holds you and pulls you closer that this is what he’s wanted. He’s been yearning for it just as much as you have.  

Finally, when there is no air left in your lungs you’re forced to break apart. “I’ll move in with you.” His whole body comes alive with joy. “Really?” His smile is wider than I’ve ever seen before. “Yes really, now go before Ferrari fine me themselves!”  

Hollywood Life 

“Y/N Y/S/N’s content quality and quality raises, could she have gotten herself a full PR team?” 

Glamour 

“Fans are going crazy as the boost in Y/N Y/S/N’s conent shows new insight on her and her boyfriend Carlos Sainz’s life that’s never been seen before.”  

Page Six 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend seem to be attached at the hip.”  

Us Weekly 

“People are freaking out over Carlos Sainz’s post race interview:  ‘The first non-Red Bull win of the season. What would you like to say?’  ‘I’d like to thank my girlfriend. She’s the reason for this trophy. I know I should be thanking the team, but I know they’d much rather have Charles win this. So, this is for her.’ 

E!News 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend seen celebrating in a club with Lando Norris as the DJ.” 

People Magazine 

“Fans are swooning after a video of Carlos Sainz winking to his girlfriend on the first place podium surfaces.”  

My taglist is open, just ask! :)

[ofallthingsnasty]

henlooo!! i read ur post abt manipulator kaiser and oliver. (i’m already 20 btw) what would be their reaction if their foreign!s/o tries to escape from them and go home to their country? would they hunt them down or would they just let them go?

hello hello haha 🤗 tbh I've only thought about Kaiser with a foreign darling so far because that really tickles me - but Oliver as well? Interesting thought 👀

word count: 1k goes with this thirst post here

tags: yandere, emotional manipulation

I think neither one is the 'hunting down' type (Shidou or even Barou, however...) - but Kaiser, in my opinion, will not hesitate to utilize his fame. Soccer is really popular here in Germany and I know a fair share of players and their partners even though I am absolutely not invested in the Bundesliga and the likes. You leaving and in such an abrupt way? Basically overnight? That's going to be all over the yellow press, no doubt. He is one of Germany's best players and he won't have to lift a finger to get all eyes on your 'break-up' (Of course they don't know that you basically fled, don’t know what he’s really like behind the scenes-). The media circus will be a lot for you. You'll definitely have to go private or even delete all your socials because of the sheer amount of hate you will get (if he let you run your own, of course. He might just be the type to insist on him curating those for you, never mind the fact that you could be located through those). Your face is all you see the moment you open any European news site, aside from the more serious ones. The media will most likely smear you - and maybe even turn on you fully once Kaiser drops a few calculated words. Everyone will speculate why you left like you did, will try to analyze yours and Kaiser’s relationship until they’ve found a plausible reason. You’re better off ditching the internet or the media all together for a little while. As for Kaiser, would he ask you for forgiveness, knock on your door one night or just straight up snatch you up? Oh, no. He's too proud for that, even though he is positively seething. He's angry, first and foremost, angry that you could be so ungrateful, that you would just leave him, a goddamn superstar. You were supposed to worship him like the rest of them, not run for the hills the moment he got a little too comfortable. But I can actually see Ness sniffing your location out and paying you a tearful visit, harping on your feelings, telling you how much of a mess Kaiser is without you, how he can be so difficult but, really, he only acted the way he did because he loves you- He’ll put on his sweetest face, the biggest teary eyes. When you don't fall for it, he will turn downright nasty and berate you for it, threaten you. Don't you know what level of influence Kaiser has, how much money he has to waste? You think some measly borders will stop that? He can turn your life into hell even from a continent away, you'll see. Ness will play the errand boy for Kaiser happily - and he'll mean every word he'll say. Disloyalty towards Kaiser is just something he won’t stand. I think he'd leave you to mull over it - waiting to see if you can be scared into crawling back. But if you still don’t come back, Kaiser will make Ness’ threats come true until you do, paranoid and destitute. He can absolutely pull some strings - and he will.

Oliver doesn't have the same tools available to him - not that he isn't famous, just not as much as Kaiser - your break-up will probably be picked up by some tabloids and fans online but it won't make the waves it does with Kaiser. But forcing you back with his influence is not his style, anyways. No, Oliver will make you take him back. Willingly. I think he'd grin and bear the ‘break-up’, on the outside. He won't lose his cool over this, even though it's bothering him a lot. He'll throw himself into his work, his team, keeps that laissez-fair attitude as if his life depends on it. I don't see him as the type to come up with an intricate plan to get you back but he'll let you cool off a little and bets on your poor, little brain smoothing things over for him in retrospect. He won't pick up anyone during this time to get back at you or to make you jealous - he'll be on his best behavior, won't be mentioning the 'break-up' anywhere, won't utter a word of contempt into your direction, won't even go out to party that much. For his standards, he's turning into somewhat of a golden boy - but it really is just a ploy. To make you see how much you've changed him. To make you see how heart-broken he is. Due to his charade, you’ll probably think yourself safe - until he turns up at your door one day, with the biggest apologetic smile on his face. It’s so jarring, it actually stuns you into silence. He’ll show you just how much of a talker he can be - for hours and hours he’ll lay it on thick, won’t spare a single, oh-so-sad detail. And it’s so easy to let yourself fall for his charms again - it wasn’t all that bad, right? You’ve loved him, still kind of do - the old wounds have scarred over, the pain long gone. And with the way he eyes you, still tired from his travels, like some kicked puppy, his attention solely focused on you... You can feel a familiar tug at your heart again and before you know it, you find yourself doubting your past self. Maybe you just overreacted at times? Maybe you could have poured yourself more into the relationship, could have given him more - shown him just how much you loved him. It’s an ugly feeling of doubt, of uncertainty, of longing. Before you know it, you’ll see the relationship through a different lense and him in a much softer light - how lucky you are, then, that he is here to stay for a little while, just until you can sort your feelings out. And this time, he’s serious - and willing to show you with a shiny ring on your finger.

[sagittarot]

🔥 Mars 🔥

Mars - known for aggression, motivation, conquest, acting on desire, sex, and stamina

One's mars sign can drastically influence the way they carry themselves, are seen, and impact personal relations and diplomacy. Mars is Energy.

❤️‍🔥 Mars aspecting Chiron can lead to wounds being healed through physical activity- such as martial arts. It should also be noted that it may also indicate particularly violent wounds, or wounds involving domineering men.

❤️‍🔥Mars in pisces need to learn to act on instinct. Decisions are made intuitively and felt through. Because pisces is co-ruled by Jupiter- luck tends to be on their side in accidents or conflict. The type to be in a serious car wreck without a scratch.

❤️‍🔥Mars in cancer are very moody individuals. They can be very shy in private, but project confidence in group settings. They claim to be loners, but I usually see them socializing and going with the mood of the crowd they’re in. Super sweet, but more on the guarded side of cancer placements.

❤️‍🔥Virgo mars have ANGER issues. The type to journal their darker feelings graphically. Think of constant bickering and debates as stimulating and engaging. PE teacher vibes.

❤️‍🔥Libra mars are by far the most charming libra placement I’ve encountered. They can really make everyone comfortable and smooth rough edges in their environment. The type to just shrug and go “this too shall pass” at high stress situations. Very loyal and old fashioned lovers. Their energy is directed towards unity.

❤️‍🔥Pisces mars genuinely need to have a hold on their escapist tendencies. I notice we’re either running from something or highly highly spiritual. Mediums fr tho.

❤️‍🔥 Gemini Mars 🤝 Arguing as a way to flirt

❤️‍🔥 Pluto-Mars aspects and their eternal struggle with control and power is real. You know they aren’t in a good place when they keep trying to death-grip everything in their lives.

❤️‍🔥Saturn-Mars and needing to build up tension

❤️‍🔥 Mercury-Mars and the voice *chefs kiss* 🤌🏻

❤️‍🔥 5th house mars 🤝 being addicted to high risk activities.

❤️‍🔥 Mars in 1st house can appear to always be injured/ in accidents. Commonly seen for the first time with casts and braces. Athletic. Also prone to arguing about themselves. “I’m not like that at all!” “my leg is fine! Just leave me alone, I can handle myself!” Etc

❤️‍🔥 Capricorn mars is NOTORIOUS for their waiting. I’m not saying they don’t take action (they DEFINITELY do and BOLDLY) but it’s more structured when they do. When they move, they make it so NOTHING can disrupt their foundation. They’re slow and steady FS. Very respectful of lover’s boundaries in my experience.

❤️‍🔥 Mars in 2nd house constantly argue about their worth, fortune, and their structure. Sign will color how this plays out. My mom has Aries mars in 2nd house- always arguing with people ab money, her values, eating habits, etc. my father also has mars here- but it’s Virgo, and he will debate about giving away his money, debate values, etc. he tends to be less aggressive than my mother in this house.

❤️‍🔥 Mars in 7th literally HAVE to argue with their partners. I don’t know why. They get really upset when their partners don’t argue back. They really like bratty banter.

❤️‍🔥 10th house mars 🤝 arguing with authority figures

❤️‍🔥 Mars-moon hard aspects have a hard time balancing their emotional reactions, and tend to have very impulsive responses to stimuli.

❤️‍🔥 Mars in detriment or fall signs tend to have lower energy levels and aren’t necessarily motivated to act easily.

❤️‍🔥 Mars in water signs and houses can and will be angry if those around them are. Very reflective lol. Also the type to get hype/motivated when in a crowd. Probably loves mosh pits tbh. Hard for them to release that emotion.

❤️‍🔥 Mars-Venus are charming individuals, often making peace during war, but can sometimes take out their angers and frustration on their closer friends and lovers. Could also just find conflict with social relationships.

❤️‍🔥 Mars Opposite Jupiter (cap mars) can be VERY quick. For some reason he wanted to edge himself??? Literally went in and exited immediately.

❤️‍🔥 EVERY Sagittarius Mars i have met was so funny and sooo nerdy. 10/10 my Sag Venus falls SO hard for this mars sign (esp bc its in my 5th house). Most around my age have aspects to pluto, which is very hot omg. In true fire mars fashion,(in an unserious and joking tone) i have been told by this placement, "I don't want to share you," and that they would flip off anyone checking me out.

[thunderclaw100]

Eva let out a sigh as she walked through the hallway of the massive. This way was long and empty. It doesn’t seem like any of the other irkens or working staffs been down here in a while. The vortian had just got done helping out the technicians in the room she passed by. Now Eva is on her way to her room on the east wing of the ship. A long way back it seems.

“Stupid drones. With all the people they have on this ship. Why come to me, out of all others?!” She fussed. Ever since she’s been brought here and tending to the tallest therapy schedule.

Eva had less and less time for herself. Though what could she even do here anyway? The irkens here don’t like her presence on the ship. Some even bad mouth about her while she passes by. Few irkens had attacked her whenever she’s alone. Tallest Purple despise her because he believes she’s taking all of tallest Red’s time and attention. Which is ironic considering it was Purple who recommended his co-leader to find a vortian and make them his therapist, so that he can work out his angry outbursts lately.

“Ok now which way was it again?” She asked herself. Looking from her left to her right. Both sides seems identical and this ship is so big and crowded with many obstacles, that it made Eva disoriented. She stayed where she is and took a moment to think and grab her bearings. The vortian had no clue that someone was creeping up from behind her.

A tall figure was looming right above her short structure. It was only it got close enough for Eva to see it’s shadow, that she quickly turned her head to look over her shoulder. As fast as a voot runner, Eva found herself grabbed and pinned against the wall.

“What the heck?!” She shouted.

She was about to make a scream but soon got a look at her attacker’s face. Eva growled in annoyance. A smirk appears on the other. His arms keeping her caged between him and the wall behind her.

“Tallest Red! You nearly scared me out of my skin!”

“I’m glad I did. Otherwise you wouldn’t know where you were heading to just now, Dr. Eva.” He said.

Doctor, he says. It’s just a temporary title for her ever since he picked her out of the rest of her vortian friends at the vort research station. Eva is a scientist but has take on the task of being tallest Red’s personal therapist. She is under contract that tells her to remain as such for a full month. After that, she can return to her post. It’s only been a week and a half since then, and the irken leader has been getting a little too comfortable with her around. Unlike everyone else on this ship. They want her to stay away from the tallest. In fear Eva may influence him.

“You’re a little far away from your usual station, Eva.”

“So are you. Why are you stalking me?” She asked. Keeping her tone down and not making it sound disrespectful to him. Tallest Red hovered back a bit.

“I wasn’t stalking you. Something’s been tripping the alarms, so I’ve came to investigate it.” He told her.

“Why not have one of your soldiers do that?”

“Because it would be pointless to let them. Besides, I was already strolling down this path. Then I saw you just standing there I couldn’t resist scaring you.”

Red laughed. The vortian placed her hands on his chest and push him away from her. For someone so tall. Red is acting like a little smeet.

“Well I hope you had your fun. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Eva walked right passed him and ended up back at that open hallway again.

The tallest leaned back against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. He smirked as he watched how confused the female is. Clearly she’s never been on an irken ship- let alone the massive. Eva stiffened.

“I can hear you judging me right now. Stop it.”

“Then let me guide you to your room quarters.”

Eva felt her face heat up with embarrassment. What would the others think if they see her walking beside their tallest? It might be the only way back though. She decided to take him up on that. Tallest Red smiles and lift a finger from his cross arms to point in the direction of where to go before taking the lead. Eva trailed behind him in a trotting pace.

“I hope I don’t get any backlash over this. I have enough eyes on me already.” She thought.

[studiomkm]

The Not-So-Friendly Face of Death

I am not usually a vindictive person. I am Death, the final person that people see when they leave the Earth to move onto the hereafter, and that comes with a literal eternity of perspective. Everyone is truly equal in death. Young, old, rich, poor… when the mortal coil has been shuffled off, nothing matters anymore. It is the ultimate peace, at least for those who have lived decent lives.

Life, unfortunately, does not share that same equality. The way people reach me varies in seemingly infinite ways, with never-ending variety. Before they enter my realm, I can do nothing for them no matter how much I sometimes wish to. It is only after they join me that I can finally exert my influence. I am almighty in my realm between life and the afterlife and I can do many things to help make things better. I can also do many things that make things much, much worse.

Rage burns in my eyes as I slowly start to form the existence that will interact with Julian DeSantos. I have been there for each and every single one of his victims, all 31 of them. I had to comfort 31 children as they were cruelly torn from the realm of the living after suffering horrific torture. They came to me, broken and traumatized in ways that no one that should ever have to experience, let alone anyone so young.

I used my power to take their pain and trauma away, to make it nothing more than a scene from a movie that they had just watched instead of experienced firsthand. Each of them chose to move on immediately to the afterlife, just to try and get away from the cruel memories of the lives that had been cut short for them. I hadn’t cried so much in decades.

“Must keep going. Must keep going.” Julian says as his spirit comes free from his dying body as it collapses onto the dirt in the Nevada desert.

“You’ll find that difficult, DeSantos.” I spit out his name as the visage that he’ll conceive me as comes fully into existence.

“M-mother…?” he squeaks out meekly as he turns his spectral head to look at me.

Of course I look like his mother. As his entire sick, twisted life becomes part of my vast store of knowledge, that fact makes perfect sense. His mother had been the root cause of all of his vileness. Not through any fault of her own, mind you. She just had a sick, twisted little boy who hated the fact that his mother spent just as much time with the kids of the orphanage she ran as she did with him. He wasn’t special enough for her and that made him violently angry.

“I’m not your mother, Julian DeSantos. I am Death.” I growl at him.

I have no choice in what form I take in front of any individual soul but that doesn’t mean I have no control over it. With most people, I would change little things like my hair or eye color or the shape of the face they unconsciously gave me. With Julian, however, I decided to go far beyond that. I twisted the form of his mother in the most nightmarish ways I could think of, with more than a little help from the many creators of horror stories that I’ve helped along.

My face contorted and became slowly skeletal, my eyes sunk into their sockets and my bones cracked and popped at unnatural angles. I made myself taller as my teeth became like shark teeth, endless rows of sharp, jagged terror. My fingers elongated and I decided to make my eyes glow an unearthly purple color, simply because it’s Julian’s least favorite color. By the time I’m finished I look like Margaret DeSantos had been molded by the imagination of Lovecraft.

Julian’s spirit screams and collapses onto his rear.

“Yes, Julian. You’re dead. All your many sins have finally caught up with you.” I tell him, making my voice deeper and more twisted with every word.

He runs. He can’t really escape me, nobody can, but I let him run for a few minutes anyway just to cultivate a false hope in him. I need this monster to suffer. I don’t know if he’ll continue to pay in the afterlife, since I don’t know what happens to those who move on from my realm, so I need to make sure there is real consequence to what he did. Like I said, death is fair. I make it so, sometimes with extreme prejudice.

I let a few minutes pass and summon a long chain with a rusty hook on the end. I could have gone for the traditional scythe but the chain will scare him more as it drudges up his own cruelties. He always enjoyed using chains and meat hooks. We’ll see how much he enjoys them now.

“You can’t run, Julian.” I say, knowing he can hear me no matter how far away he’s managed to run.

It takes me mere moments to speed across the desert and catch up to him. Based on the look on his face, he’d wet himself if he were still able to. He tries to crawl away from me but I’m done giving him any false hope of escape.

“You’re not among the living anymore, Julian DeSantos. There is nowhere you can go anymore, not without my say so.” I tell him as he whimpers and struggles in vain against the chains that rapidly wrap around his body.

I lift him up slowly once the chains are nice and tight on his spectral form. He screams and wriggles uselessly back and forth as I force him to look me dead in the eye.

“I was there for all of them, Julian. Every single one of those children you brutalized came to me after their suffering finally came to an end. I was there to deal with each and every ounce of pain and misery you inflicted on them. I was the one who sent each of them on their way to the world beyond this one.” I explain as my hands tremble from the sheer sorrow and rage that fills every last micron of my being.

My words get him to stop squirming and he turns to look at me. Suddenly, he’s not terrified anymore. Well, not completely anyway. Now his horror has turned to rage and I can feel all of it. I am not impressed.

“I was sending them to you?! Sending you more reasons to ignore me?! I AM YOUR SON!!!” he screams like an overgrown child throwing a tantrum.

“I am not your mother, Julian DeSantos. I am the being who governs the realm between life and the afterlife.” I say again as I slowly grow even larger with the sickening crack of bones, “I am there for all who die. You are not my first monster, nor are you my greatest. You are just a sad, sick, disgusting thing and you are not leaving my realm until I say so.”

I’m nearly 15 meters tall by the time I finish those words. The fear starts to return to him as he’s forced to watch the ground slowly get farther and farther away. Whether he chooses to look at me or not, I will not allow him to lose his fear. His victims deserve that.

“So what?!” he shouts as he shakes in place like a Chihuahua, “I’m already dead. What could you do, huh? You’ve got nothing because you are nothing!”

I don’t even bother answering him. Any further words would be wasted on this blight upon mankind, so I simply jam the rusty hook into his spectral body. He screams in a manner so blood-curdling that it actually soothes me just the tiniest amount. It’s far from the end for him though, so I let him drop the ground once I’ve grown to 30 feet tall.

He hits the ground with a thud, dispersing dust in a very rare interaction with the physical world. With anybody else, I’d have loved to spend time discussing it with them but I don’t want to deal with this man for too much longer until it’s time to finally send him on to the afterlife.

“I took their pain and trauma away, you know. All of your victims came to me broken and left me as healed as I could make them… but that kind of emotional energy doesn’t just flutter away, you know.” I say to him as I start walking, dragging him along the ground at the same speed as a galloping horse.

“I’ve held onto every last ounce of it. Every second of pain, every inch of fear, every ounce of hopelessness and every milligram of despair that every single one of your victims experienced is tucked away inside me, just begging to be shared. Would you like to know what it feels like?”

He doesn’t bother to answer me and I don’t bother to wait for him to answer. Instead, I transfer everything I took from those children into the chain and force it to travel down the chain. In a few moments, it will pour into him through the hook I’ve embedded in his chest and he’ll become nothing more than a screaming mess. I lift him up from the ground again and summon a dark void directly underneath where he’s dangling from.

“Julian DeSantos. For what you’ve done, I deny you the right to move onto the afterlife. Instead you will spend every single one of the years those children would have lived if you had not ended their lives suffering everything you inflicted on them. Until that time, you will be banished to my dark place along with the other filth that has stained the world of the living.” I tell him right before the energy of all those children’s pain pours into him.

He screams in the kind of agony that I am glad no human will ever be able to know in their life as I feel the sweet relief of my unloaded burden leave my body. I do not regret taking their pain into me for even a moment but neither did I do anything but suffer myself under it. I take a deep, cleansing breath as Julian continues to scream without end and for just the briefest moment, I feel a tiny twinge of pity for what he is about to endure.

“I will see you again in 2,170 years, Mister DeSantos. Oh, and if you see Hitler or Stalin in there, please do me a favor and inform them that they’ve only made it to 2021 so far.” I tell him casually as I release the chain.

His scream dies the second his head touches the empty void and a second later, the rest of him disappears completely. I’ve sent him where I send all those who I simply couldn’t let get away with the atrocities they committed in life. Perhaps I shouldn’t bother, as there might be a Hell that they go to when I finally allow them to move on, but I have no way of knowing if that is true. I simply refuse to take the risk that they’ll get to move onto something better without ever facing any real consequence for their actions.

Some of the souls I have met have told me that I overstep my bounds in doing so, that I should leave them to whatever the afterlife has in store for them. It’s mostly philosophers but more than a few good police officers have agreed with them. I simply tell them the same thing.

I am Death. In this realm, between the here and the hereafter, there is no greater being. No greater power for me to answer to. I am the beginning and the end and I have chosen to connect with humanity and serve the infinite parade of souls in whatever way I can. I include making sure that true justice is served, as that is my prerogative after embracing humanity.

In other words, nobody tells me what to do but me.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t take suggestions.

[2bpoliticallycurious]

3. “The whole MAGA cult is just very frightening to every sane person.”

“As a European watching this and other elections, it continues to blow my mind how fragile your system seems to be. There is a lot that's wrong in politics where I'm from, but I fully trust our democratic process, at least, and have never once thought about anything other than my own choice when voting. The whole Electoral College thing making geography the deciding factor over which vote is important? The gerrymandering, the costs of campaigns, the different rules in different states, the voter registration, the differing circumstances under which you cast your ballots, and how they are ultimately counted. 

People are being intimidated on their way to the booth, it's sometimes difficult to keep your vote secret or to avoid being influenced in the voting place, partisan people might count votes and confirm the results... Seems like the system invites malfeasance.”

—Hana, Germany

4. “It’s scary that Trump has been able to brainwash half a nation using fear and division… and can still be taken seriously in this day and age, especially in one of the world's largest economies.”

Sony Pictures Entertainment/Zombieland / Via youtube.com

—dantruemanmail, England

5. “I have so much anxiety over this election.”

“I know what it will mean for our world if Trump gets in, and it’s terrifying. I’m also pretty horrified that he has so many supporters. How can they not see he’s another Hitler?”

—nostalgicmug67, Australia

10. “We’re laughing, but also crying.”

“I’m very nervous about what could happen on a global scale. The man has constant temper tantrums and nuclear codes — great combo. That and a dictator's ambition. I’m very worried for the world. And I’m laughing at Trump supporters. People that stupid shouldn’t be allowed to vote."

—Eileen Bouman, Netherlands

12. “As a non-American who moved here last year —from the UK— I'm constantly disappointed and surprised at the extent to which people —on both sides (but more so on the Trump one)— simply do not listen to each other or care about facts.”

“People will happily repeat things they've heard that have either been proven false, or are literally impossible — and state it as if it's a legitimate reason to have their opinion.  

I find it terrifying that the impact of statements is entirely down to the statement, and not whether it's actually true. People seem to have deliberately, willingly switched off their capacity to weigh evidence and make decisions based on it. Instead, they form an opinion and choose which 'evidence' supports it, happy to pick things that are made up, or simply wild conspiracy. It feels like everyone's reverting to a time before things were actually checkable. The one glimmer of hope is that most people —even those who claim to hold abhorrent, bigoted views based on lies— seem not to act on those views when it comes to one-on-one interaction. So I guess...everyone hates everyone, but not in person?”

—Jamey, United Kingdom (via Los Angeles)

23. “I think America has gone completely insane.”

Drazen Zigic / Getty Images

“As a woman, it hurts even more to know that over 70 million Americans voted for a man who brags about his sexual assaults on women. It is genuinely baffling to watch from abroad. I wish Americans could understand that the entire world is affected by the U.S. president. We are all going to suffer from the climate crisis, and the people of Palestine and Ukraine are completely f-cked. This will also affect funding for women's health in developing nations. It's a disaster all around. I'm angry…and honestly completely f-cking furious with everyone who voted for this dangerous liar. If America wants to flush itself down the toilet, that's up to them, but you'll take us all with you.”

—Hannah, Scotland

24. “I dunno what's going on in Americans’ heads.”

“At this point, I just think Americans like him. They like that he's a felon; that he gets away with basically everything; that he's a rapist; vulgar; crude; a liar; that he screws over people who worked for him; that he's going senile. They have all the info they need on him. We all do. And they like him. He reflects American values. I didn't believe that after he won the first time. People hated Hillary and didn't really know him. But now? I just think he reflects that vast majority of Americans.”

—Anonymous, Canada

25. And finally, “Your elections are insane.”

Dougberry / Getty Images

“The electoral system is nuts. Donald Trump ‘won’ the 2016 election by getting fewer votes than his opponent. Stephen Colbert, who I think is a generally smart and self-aware guy, referred to America being ‘the greatest democracy in the world’ whilst discussing an election where the candidate who got fewer votes won. That is not a hallmark of a great democracy. Also, if you want foreigners not to have opinions on your elections, you need to stop referring to POTUS as ‘the leader of the free world.’ As a resident of the free world (UK), I have some thoughts.

I'd also like to add that I don't think our electoral system is any better. Our current government got a huge majority by getting just over a third of the vote. That's silly. But I don't claim it's the best country in the world either."

—EdwardJeff, United Kingdom

Contrary to the propaganda spewed on the right, Trump is NOT considered a strong, respected leader around the world. Rather, he is considered a corrupt, mercurial, unhinged, regressive, far-right politician whose impact on the U.S. and the world will be destructive.

Most of the world thinks LESS of America because Trump was voted into office.

Still, I wish the world (and Trump) realized the 2024 vote did NOT reflect all or even most Americans preferences. According to US News & World Report, That's because about 89 million or 36% of the 245 million Americans who were "eligible to vote" DIDN'T vote in 2024.

Today (11/17/24) with 152.4 million (98.1%) of the votes counted, 76.4 million (or 50.1%) voted for Trump--only 2.7 million more than the 73.7 million who voted for Harris.

Leaving the roughly 2.6 million votes that haven't been counted yet out of the equation, that would mean that roughly 31.5 % of eligible voters voted for Trump in 2024.

So basically less than a third of eligible American voters elected Trump. That is hardly a "mandate," and hardly representative of the American people.

But because more than a third of Americans sat out this election, a minority of right-wing Republicans and low-information "Independents" have sold our country down the drain to neofascism--mostly because the price of eggs was too high--leaving most of the world shaking their heads in disbelief.

Foreigners are better informed about US politics than half of Americans.