#but if you're gonna defend one of them with the argument of 'but he felt like this from this perspective'

[lord-squiggletits]

Semi related to the other day's post about people calling OP a hypocrite for not wanting to kill people, it also really annoys me how often this fandom (even in corners like MegOP where OP is ostensibly one of the main characters) just disregards or does not care about how Optimus feels. Or seemingly doesn't even comprehend that OP having his own emotions/goals besides validating Megatron/whoever else he's being shipped with or interacing with. Or they think that every time OP is "mean" to someone else it's bad and awful, but when any other character does bad things it's justified because they were upset/hurt.

It's not really a commentary on character apologism or morality so much as it is annoyance that the spaces I've been around in near universally don't give a crap about how Optimus feels ever. Like, to use MegOP as an example since that's my main context of seeing Optimus content, I always see takes like this that only center Megatron's experiences/feelings while completely ignoring anything Optimus feels.

Like. TF One? It's okay for Dee to turn on Orion because he feels betrayed by him "siding with" Sentinel and Orion is such a jerk for banishing him from Iacon. But god forbid that OP might be a little upset about being dropped down a pit by his own best friend (and then said best friend immediately tries to kill him again when he comes back) and want Megatron to get the hell away from him if he's gonna be so violent.

Can't even count the number of examples in IDW1. Megatron is traumatized and oppressed so that means he can do as many crimes as he wants and hurt Optimus as much as he wants because "Optimus should've just listened to him better" never mind that OP literally did listen but no one besides dedicated IDW OP lovers ever points out that OP has a right to be pissed off at Megatron for some of the shit he did to him. People get mad at IDW OP for making Megatron give a speech denouncing the Decepticons because it's mean/controlling/anti-revolutionary or whatever (never mind that OP letting Megatron go free on a space adventure is incredibly permissive and informed by his personal bias towards Megatron) but they could care less about the fact that OP is staying on Cybertron dealing with the remaining Decepticons + shit with the neutrals and might maybe want Megatron to pull his weight deescalating the post-war situation so that Optimus has an easier time trying to manage.

It's very much a thing that heroic characters are held to higher moral standards than villains and grilled over doing similar things that villains are cheered for. But this isn't even some strictly moral thing, it's just. So fucking bizarre how ready people are to demonize Optimus because "he hurt X" or "he got in the way of Y" or "he sided with Z when he should've sided with A" but completely disregard all of the many, usually valid reasons Optimus has for doing what he did! It's all about poor woobies who suffered so much and are doing bad things because they're upset and justified from their perspective. But all of a sudden when it's Optimus, his feelings don't matter and how things look from his perspective (his goals, values, obligations, what he feels is right or wrong, the depression he often has across continuities) doesn't matter either. He did something that made someone else feel bad therefore he's the literal worst who only does things out of hypocrisy/self-righteousness.

It's not like Optimus could ever experience emotions like depression, anger, frustration, fear, loneliness, urgency, etc etc that drive him to do what he does. Optimus has no internal struggles between what he desires as a person versus what he feels is the right thing to do/what he's obligated to do. Getting sympathy for the very real hurt and struggle he experiences is just for every other character except Optimus, I guess. Swear to god the majority of the fandom doesn't actually see Optimus as a character and instead just sees him as a prop to either validate their fave or to act as a scapegoat for whatever's wrong with the plot.

[b33zlebubz]

RIGOR MORTIS | CHAPTER SIX

SIMON RILEY X AFAB READER | 18+ MDNI | MASTERLIST | AO3 PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: reader uses she/her pronouns, fluff angst & eventual smut, blood violence & death, suicidal ideology, slow burn, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, toxic workplace environment, flashbacks “Abandoned in a battlefield with the one person you thought you would never see again; you're forced to come to terms with the ghosts of your past."

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 10TH 2016 NORWAY, 2100 HOURS

"You watch yourself, Riley.  Because the next bastard you work under ain't gonna be as forgiving of your attitude."

Was Walker's final biting comment as Simon stood in his office, towering over the other's desk with barely restrained frustration as his hands clench into fists.  He was being dismissed—a simple wave of the hand shooing off Simon's entire argument.  While normally, he was used to it, but when he knew that he was right—well—it was a different story.

He knew there was only so much he could do to defend you on your behalf.  He still had people to answer to, people whose opinions mattered more than his, and he knew that.  He could snap at every soldier who sent an unprofessional remark your way but, at the end of the day, if the captain did nothing about them—there was nothing Simon could do, either.

Your situation becomes much clearer over the course of the week as he starts to oversee drills and training.  You're struggling, that much is clear.  Your strength is lacking despite your rigid commitment to the job and although the torment from your peers spurs you on—your anger is explosive.  Fragile.  Prone to snapping, as the prick Captain who laughed when some Private tripped you would say.  Some humbling from the others would do you some good.

It's clear something happened before you went on leave; something that couldn't be so easily forgotten.  He swears he could recognize the signs trauma on anyone, nowadays, and perhaps the reason Simon was suddenly so hellbent on helping was because he saw himself in you.  

It took him ages to get back on his feet, after Roba—to fully dig himself out of the metaphorical and physical grave.  It took months to convince his handlers that he was fit to re-enlist to begin with, he couldn't imagine how it felt to be back on the field mere months after whatever happened to you—not that he knew what happened at all.  And yeah, maybe he was playing favorites.  Sue him.

He storms out of Walker's office without another word, and a few days later he's sitting at the bar; checking the time on his watch for what feels like the fifteenth time in twenty minutes.  

There's only one pub on the whole base.  It's relatively small compared to the ones he grew up with in Manchester; but the energy is the same.  Neon signs, grimy countertops, overpriced drinks and Slavic rock on the speakers—it feels almost adjacent to home.

Simon can't remember the last time he was stationed anywhere that was stable enough to have a bar, and he's sure the other soldiers around him probably think the same thing.  Still, it's early in the night, early enough that it's still relatively quiet so that you and him could speak in private. 

If you show up, that is.

He sits at the very end of the bar, away from other people as his eyes sweep the small, dark building.  He swirls a glass of whiskey in his hand, barely touched since he's sat down.  It isn't until the very second his watch ticks 2100 hours that the door opens again, and you step in.

It's different seeing you in civvies.  It gives Simon a glimpse of what you may be like outside the world of uniform camo and clipped professionalism—winter jacket swishing over a dark, fitted sweater and jeans as you shrug it off upon entering.  The bruises on your exposed collar have pretty much fully healed, Simon notes, as your gaze meets his from across the dimly lit room.  Your eyes flicker with an emotion he can't quite pinpoint before you cross the area to meet him, and Simon adjusts the jacket on his shoulders.

You slide in beside him with your brow furrowed before you talk in a low voice.  "What do you want?"

He smirks a little under his balaclava, smug with the fact that his little idea had worked—without the uniform, you were more open to talk without rank getting in the way.  "A conversation."

"With all due respect, Lieutenant, you couldn't have done that out on the shooting range?"

He raises an eyebrow.  "Would you have talked?"

Your mouth opens and then shuts again, left without a response.  You seem to realize, in that moment, his intentions; getting you somewhere you felt safe speaking.  Without the watchful eye of your superiors looming over your shoulder and without the difference in rank to shut you down.

"Thought so," he says, leaning an arm on the bar as he studies your indignant expression.  "Legend has it you got into a fight here."

You huff, rolling your eyes as you sit back in your seat.  "Walker's been running his mouth, huh?"

"Affirmative," he replies.  "But somethin' tells me there's more to you than just insubordination."

A moment passes where you just look at him.  Then, your eyes narrow, "you've read my record."

The edge of his lip ticks up in a slight smile, "fantastic observation, Angel."

You scowl at the nickname, and he realizes he likes this—getting a rise out of you.  Picking your brain to see what makes you tick.  Seeing what buttons he can press to slowly break down your thick wall of discipline, revealing the person underneath.

"Just cut to the chase, will you?"  You lean in a little, impatient.  "Why am I here?  You do realize what this looks like, right?"

That gets a low chuckle out of him.  "It looks like a concerned Lieutenant and his rowdy subordinate havin' a discussion, love.  That's all."

You raise an eyebrow at him.  "Over drinks?" 

He hums.  "Over drinks."

"People are gonna talk, sir."

"People wouldn't dare to," he reasons.  "Not about me, and not about you—if you hear me out."

Your tone hardens, stubborn.  "I don't need your tutoring."

"'Course you don't," he lifts his mask up to sit on the bridge of his twisted nose.  “I’m just curious…”

Not once do your eyes wander to his exposed jaw as he raises his glass to his lips.  With his off hand, he gestures to other soldiers across the bar—part of your regiment and just a couple of the many giving you trouble.  Your eyes flicker to them as he talks over your shoulder. 

"Today; that cunt tripped you," he says quietly, gesturing to the drunk Private at the very end.  "Why'd you let 'em?"

He watches your eyes darken on the group of soldiers at the other side of the bar as he drinks, and your hand on the table tightens.  You don’t answer, not verbally, and he doesn’t press—watching each small shift in your expression.  You swallow thickly.

"I don't know," you answer.

He raises an eyebrow, curious.  You're strong—strong enough to win against someone in a fist fight, obviously—so why did you do it?

He wants to ask, wants to pry and figure you out just like another problem that needs solving, but he knows better.  So he doesn't. 

“They can torment you all they want but as long as they don’t throw the first punch; the fight’s always gonna be your fault.”  he tells you lowly, eyes narrowing at you as you chew on the inside of your cheek in thought.  He places a hand on your shoulder and you tense, eyes shifting back to him.

“So let them throw the first punch, Angel," he tells you, gaze darkening.  "But don't let it land."

His words hang in the air for a moment, your expression resolute.  He watches the gears turn in your head; watches you mull over his advice.  Watches you study him as deep as you can through the mask and the leather and the cocky bravado.

Then, finally, you ask: "why?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you so interested in my progress?"  You press, brushing his hand away.  "I'm a complete stranger to you.  Never mind a lousy-ass soldier."

"You are far from lousy, Sergeant."

"But I'm not half of what I was, right now."

He hums in agreement.  Your question stirs something in him he can't quite explain.  He sees himself in you, obviously; sees the potential hidden behind anger and frustration.  Looking at your record tainted with bar fights and psych evaluations felt like looking in a mirror, in a lot of ways, and it struck something in him.  Something that drew him to you.

But, like most things, he shoves that feeling deep into the back of his mind, tacking his sudden interest in you to the simple fact that he knew you could be better with just a bit of encouragement.  Directing that anger of yours into work rather than a feud with your colleagues.  His mind wonders, for a moment, what you could've been like before whatever happened to you.  Were you just as fiery?  Less so?  More so?

"'Cause I've been there."

You raise an eyebrow at his answer, "been where?"

"Rock fuckin' bottom," he answers.  "There's nothin' else to do but dig your way back up, but it's damn hard to do so on your own…hm?"

For a moment, it looks as if you're about to argue—to deny his accusations.  He watches as you realize it's no use, that he's read your file and he watches you chew on your cheek as you glance away; ashamed, maybe.

Then, after a moment, you nod.

"Maybe…"  you sigh, rubbing the side of your neck sheepishly.  "Maybe I could use the extra help, yeah."

He hums.  Satisfied, he sits back again, dropping the subject for now now that you've agreed.  Instead, he picks up his glass and downs the rest of it before turning back to you.

"Good," he says.  "Now what can I get you to drink?"

@crazy-phan-girl13

[muzicgenerator]

pls could u do a tom kaulitz angst? like he’s arguing w reader and mentions something he knows the reader doesn’t like bringing up, and he has to make it up to her, then it can turn into fluff <3

yep here it is!!

hope u like it and sorry for late reply T_T

(BRO OHHH MY GOD THE ORIGINAL STORYLINE DIDNT SAVE 😭😭😭 so i just made a new one which is this one AGHHH SO MAD RN btw i didnt proof read the entire thing)

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Atonement

✮

Pairing: Tom Kaulitz x Reader

Genre: a bit Angsty, Fluff

Warnings: None

Request Status: closed :(

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Last Night on Earth : Green Day

Playful bantering was one of the things you and Tom would do everyday in your relationship.

Sure, serious arguments would rise up which a simple kiss and genuine apology would quickly fix.

However those two won't do it right now.

"The hell do you mean I have trust issues?!"

"What?! It's true! Your ex cheated on you so you're scared to trust me; It's not like I'm gonna do what that guy did!"

Definitely, Tom shouldn't have brought your ex up who has no relation to this quarrel.

He knew how much of a prick he was to you and how he treated you; he even witnessed how devastated you were when you once came to him to seek comfort when you found out for the second time he had been cheating.

And he knew damn well you never wanna hear about the jerk ever again.

However, you did appreciate him admitting he wouldn't repeat the history you had with your past lover.

"The fuck, Tom? That bitch has no connection whatsoever about what we're fighting about right now.

And I saw the way you looked at her! It's like, if I didn't interrupt you both would've shared spits by then." enraged by what he said; you raised your voice to match his volume - which was unlike you since you're the composed one out of you two during serious arguments.

"Sorry but he kinda does! This issue you're having surely started with him. I remember the way you wasted your snot and tears on him and I dried it off.

And please stop being overdramatic, she's just a fan and I wanted to make sure she's happy. Not only with her; I mean with everyone of them!"

Tom tried hard to defend himself instead of admitting his wrongdoing.

"You are such an ass for bringing that shit up again when you know damn well your ass had issues too that I helped you get over with and all I've ever done was try my greatest to understand and care for you!

All I ever wanted was for you to stop looking at other people and look at me.. Am I asking for too much?" your voice whispered in offence and slightly croaked which made you resent yourself more.

Tom realized with wide eyes of what he had done,

"No, no of course not ____. No, look- I'm really sorry for what I said, I really am and-"

"Just shut the hell up, Tom. Save it, I don't wanna hear it right now." you harshly brushed past him to storm off to your apartment's bedroom in fear of hot tears falling down to your cheeks.

He sighed; ashamed in himself. Tom truly regrets letting those harsh and unnecessary words slip his blunt mouth. He knew he was better than this - definitely, he should control his mouth more and think about what he should say carefully during times like this.

The night spent alone in the bed you'd always share with Tom felt cruel.

Not for the reason he's not by your side; it's rather the fact that you're in bed without properly making up with him since you'd always forgive one another the same day.

A big part of you wanted to forgive him - believe that he truly didn't mean what he told you and only accidentally slipped because of the heat in the moment; that we all say things we don't mean when we're mad, and that he really wouldn't stab you on the back with a woman like your past lover did.

The smaller part of you scolded for being such an idiot; for believing a man would stay loyal - that you should call it off before he could do any further damage.

Honestly, you felt devastated just thinking about not being with him; so you eventually came into terms with yourself that the fire will settle down and you'll forgive him and he'll do better.

Don't know when it'll die down but it will. Hopefully soon.

Some relationships are worth fighting for, like you have with Tom.

Hence you will stay strong and prepare for many wars.

But tonight; you wanted and allowed yourself to fall asleep being upset and disappointed at Tom.

You'll let tomorrow do its thing.

✮✮✮

It was the next day and the back of your head was pounding alongside a stiff neck.

You sat up and glanced at the digital clock placed on your night table that read 11:37 AM.

After stretching your limbs out while reminiscing the night before; you decided it's time to wash your face and start making lunch for yourself.

When you turned the knob and pushed it open; you were greeted with the aroma of your favourite dish; one that was always served to you as a child when you still lived with your family - one that you shared its recipe and process with your lover.

"Tom?" you asked in disbelief. You were certain he had left since your ears picked up the sound of the front door being pushed open then close in the middle of the night.

Certainty assured your mind that you'd rather not see his face first thing in the morning after such a night. Boy, were you wrong.

Your lover turned his head quickly; unaware of your presence since he's so caught up finishing, as well as perfecting the dish.

"Oh- love, you're awake. I um.. made breakfast but you didn't get up and it's uh, it's almost time for lunch so I thought I'd make your favourite." he stumbled over his words; which is bizarre.

"The pancakes are on the table, you can eat them later as a snack."

You nodded your head with a tight lipped smile and mumbled a thanks before heading to the bathroom.

Once the door had shut; you quickly drowned your face with water to remove the image of Tom cooking without a shirt on.

It's not like it's the first time you've seen him like that; but the way you're reacting right now is how you feel when you catch him in these types of situations - preferably without the post-fight shit going.

After peeing, washing your hands, brushing your teeth washing and drying your face, and doing your skin care - you forced yourself to go back outside for you cannot stay in the bathroom forever.

When you opened and closed the baby blue painted door; your eyes wandered off to the table and drooled at the sight of the newly cooked meal.

Tom patted the seat beside him with a smile; gesturing you to sit beside him.

You had no choice but to join him for lunch; after all, you are starving.

Instead of giving in to his request, you sat in front of him.

Instead of painting a frown on his lips; he still kept his genuinely proud smile (from cooking such a delicious dish) and handed you your plate and utensils - to which you accepted.

"Let's eat?" Tom asked.

"I don't wanna eat without talking about last night." you said with a straight face.

The man in front of you softly breathed a sigh,

"You're right." he agreed with a nod

"I'll start by saying I'm really sorry, and I didn't mean what I said. I just want you to know I would never even dare to think about betraying you like that, and I was an ass for what I did." Tom seemed to look everywhere but your eyes.

He couldn't bring himself to look at your mesmerizing hues for he was certain his shredded heart would be turned into dust.

"I don't even know why I said those things, I- I know this sounds like bullshit but I swear I really don't mean those things and you're the only person who I have my eyes on.

Please give me another chance I- I'll be better now, promise!" he trailed off and fearfully continued;

"But y'know if uh.. if you don't and wanna call it o-"

"Shut up Tom we're not breaking up." you sighed

"I know you said those to defend what you did, and it slipped out because of the heat of the moment. We all say shit we don't mean when mad, I understand. But what I don't understand is why you'd caress her cheek and look into her eyes like that?" your eyes examined his facial expressions and only saw genuine regret on his face. You hoped he'd look at your eyes and tell you directly why.

Hence, before his ready mouth started to explain; you tell him, "Tom, look into my eyes, please."

You caught the way the ball of his throat bopped up and down; swallowing his saliva. His eyes slowly trailed up from the table to your chest, neck, chin, nose, then eyes.

"She said she'd been a fan since the very beginning of the band's debut. She loved all us a lot, especially me. I asked her if meeting us was a dream come true, she said yeah, and we talked a bit more. Then she asked me to touch her face because she really couldn't believe that it was all happening, which I did."

Tom would look away from the two windows of your soul for a second before meeting again.

He was replied with silence; which kind of scared him.

"____? Please say something."

"For God's sake Tom, why didn't you just start with that last night when I brought it up?"

Tom rapidly blinked once, twice, thrice, then for the fourth time. "... I must've forgot to bring it up because I was so caught up in the moment."

You laughed; a true one, "You mean too focused into bringing my ex up?"

He was speechless by how just a second ago you were dead ass serious, and now crying laughing at what you said.

"Sorry, I'm done laughing now." you giggled before continuing, "Fine, I'll forgive you if you tell me where you went last night."

"I went back to my apartment and did some thinking how to make it up to you and slept there. I went out really early to buy groceries so i can cook your favourite food here."

It was your turn to be speechless.

"...You seriously did that?" you asked with doubt in your voice.

"Yeah, I mean the proof is on the table." Tom chuckled.

You said nothing and finally dug into the 5 star looking meal, soon your lover did as well.

"Sooo, are we good?" Tom hopefully asked after sipping his water from the cylinder glass.

"I guess so." you blessed him with a small smile to which he returned with a big one.

Conversation flowed naturally between you as you ate the savoury food.

If Tom didn't make it as a famous guitarist, he'd definitely be a winner in Hell's Kitchen.

After Tom cleaned put the dishes to the sink; you insisted to wash it since he cooked. He declined numerous times but it wasn't going anywhere since you're more stubborn than him.

"All right, fine. Only if you let me hug you from behind." Tom made a deal.

"Pshh, why're you asking as if you don't do that whenever I do shit in the kitchen?"

Tom rolled his eyes with a smirk drawn on his lips as a reply and proceeded to snake his large hands to your waist; then pressing his chest to your back and resting his chin on the crown of your head.

Nothing could be heard other than the clanking of pans, plates, and utensils, along with the flow of the running water from the faucet.

The comfortable verbal silence and physical contact was very much needed after a fight.

After drying your hands with a cloth; you walked towards the couch and sat with your boyfriend still embracing you from behind.

"What do you wanna watch?" you turned your head to the side to look up at his face.

"Whatever you want, I'm fine with anything." Tom looked down to your eyes, then lips.

Slowly, he leaned his fave closer to yours so he could taste your lips.

Once contact had been made; you couldn't help but melt even more to his touch and wrap your arms around his neck - and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss and caress your waist and back.

Soon enough, the passionate kiss had come to an end to catch their breaths.

"I love you so much. You know that, right?" Tom stared into her hues as the tip of their noses touched.

You slowly nodded and brought your hands up to his hollow cheeks, "I love you more." you said before pulling his face closer to kiss each other's lips once again.

Tom mumbled in-between the kisses, "I love you the most, sweetheart." before deepening it. His tongue soon entered your mouth and both your hands rubbed and caressed your bodies.

The hot post-fight make out session would last as long as half the length of the movie you played in the middle of the session; playing Atonement for the millionth time from your entire life.

After pulling your mouths away due to your jaws hurting; you slept and cuddled like babies.

Feeling the safest in each other's arms.

[francis-writes]

Could you do a modern NSFW oneshot for Ramsey x reader where the reader and Ramsey are having an Argument in a car which somehow leads to Ramsey pulling over somewhere and the two of them end up having hate sex in the car?

A/N: i will someday finish it... perhaps.

Also sorry that i am not so active recently. I spend almost whole days on the university and I also joined local anarchist collective. Anyway. There's a lot going on.

"Don't be such a bitch"

"A bitch? I just wanted to know who's the girl that you spent the whole evening with. That makes me a bitch?"

"Can't I even talk with someone without your permission?" Ramsay raised his voice, visibly irritated. You were coming back from a party in friend's house. After you went to the kitchen, you couldn't see your boyfriend until you found him sitting on a couch with a stranger girl. It wouldn't be such a problem but they seemed to be unsettlingly close. You tried to find out something after the party but Ramsay wasn't eager to satisfy your curiosity.

"You can but that girl was definitely flirting with you. And you looked as if you wanted to get into her pants as well"

"Maybe I wanted to" he snorted "But I didn't. I don't fuck anyone behind your back so stop being so suspecting"

Sure, for now Ramsay didn't give you any reasons to worry. You didn't have any proofs for his infidelity, even though he was a hedonist and you knew that before meeting you, he had many lovers. Still... this  evening left you in a bad mood and you couldn't forget it.

"If you cheated on me, why would you tell me about that?" You shrugged. To be honest, you didn't want to argue but something was pushing you to defend your earlier anger.

Ramsay growled something under his breath and made a quick move with steering wheel. Fortunately, the road was empty at this hour but driving with Ramsay was usually an exciting experience - the same way rollercoaster is exciting when your heart stops for a moment and you wonder if you're gonna survive this.

"What are you doing?!"

Ramsay stopped the car on the roadside.

"We need to talk, but if you kept screaming at me while I was driving, there would be an accident"

"I wasn't screaming" you said a bit quieter than before, feeling some remorse for your (perhaps) unjustified anger.

Ramsay grabbed  your shirt and pulled you closer, so you could feel his warm breath on your face.

"You were. For no goddamn reason. I am starting to regret that I didn't fuck this girl, at least you would have a reason to make a scene"

Without a second thought, you slapped him. He looked at you with anger, maybe surprise in his eyes, and he grabbed your throat, squeezing it slightly so you barely could breathe.

You felt a mix of emotions, anger and fear were battling in you for domination. But there was also... excitement? You felt familiar wetness between your legs. Oh, as usual you couldn't decide whether you would rather kill Ramsay or fuck him.

"Maybe..." you tried to form a sentence despite lacking air "we should...move...to the back seats"

Ramsay raised his eyebrow and smirked. He let go of your throat so you could take a deep breath with relief.

"For what?"

"It would be easier to... discuss there"

He nodded, still with a sarcastic grin on his face, and moved to the back seats.

You just closed the door when Ramsay pulled you to himself and started kissing you, sneaking his hand under your shirt. His warm, calloused fingers wandered across your skin. The experience was pleasant and you usually relaxed under his touch but this time, something didn't let you focus on the moment. You pushed him away.

"So we're just gonna fuck now? As if nothing happened?"

He didn't say anything, just kissed you forcefully, holding your head so you couldn't move away. You bit his lip with all your strenght until he pulled off and touched his lip, just to see blood on his fingers.

"You stupid whore..." he mumbled and pushed you on your back. You tried to get up but he pinned you to the seat and with one free hand he tried to unbutton your shirt, but most buttons just fell off when he yanked the material. He leaned over and bit your breast. Pain pierced your body and you wanted to scream but he covered your mouth with his palm.

"Shhh..." he silenced you "You don't want somebody to catch us?"

Instead of responding, you bit his hand and used all your strength to got up while he still was surprised. You grabbed his tshirt and tried to pulled it over his head. Despite his irritation, Ramsay helped you (perhaps he wanted to see more than just dark material on his face).

You sat astride on his lap and began to kiss his chest and suck on his neck. You were still angry at him but the desire turned out to be stronger. You still could see the fire in his eyes, but for now Ramsay stayed unmoved, focusing on the pleasure.

His hands went under your skirt, squeezing your thigs, digging nails into your skin. You moaned between the kisses as he was marking you with bruises. You could feel bulge in his pants so you started moving your hips and rubbing against him. Ramsay gasped. You were together long enough for you to know how to stimulate him, get him on the edge and drive him crazy.

He raised his hips a bit and pulled down his trousers. His dick sprung out, already hard.

You  took off your panties and wanted to slide on him but it didn't want to get in.

"Fuck" you swore under your breath and you wanted to put it in forcefully but Ramsay stopped you. He started fingering you, massaging your clit with his thumb.

"Tight as a virgin. But don't worry, we'll get you wet"

"I am no virgin" you replied angrily. He smirked.

"I know, you're more visited attraction than Statue of Liberty"

"Oh, fuck you"

"Fuck me yourself, coward"

He took off his fingers and pushed his cock inside you. You didn't manage to find a fitting remark as you were adjusting to his girth. You slowly moved up and down and started riding him.

[thesoggyraincloud]

Catching her Chapter 8

/ Daryl Dixon x OC // Merle Dixon X OC (platonic)

Season 1-3 // THE QUARRY

word count: 2913

Updated

Warnings- Allusion's to SA, Cannon swearning and physical violnce ------

Instead of the comforts of a viable, functioning society, she had gotten two rednecks. They had arrived in a whirlwind, a week after the initial outbreak and a day after Quinn had run out of food.

------

Daryl. 

He hadn't felt terror in a long time. The kind that leaves you powerless, voiceless and without a scrap of logic left to reason with. That hadn't touched him since he was big enough to be called a man, since before he realised his fists left less room for argument than his words and he’d never seen a reason to turn back. The first time he’d felt terror was at the hands of his father, but this time maybe he understood Merle’s. Why he took the beatings and why he left. Because it paralyses you, when someone who feels like a part of you gets hacked away. Leaves you primal and wanting to charge towards the danger or away, whatever helps the feeling in your chest subside fastest so you can fucking breath again. 

Because he can't breathe. Not while she's in there and it’s his fault. He doesn't even know if she's ok, totally absent from their earlier scuffle at the Vatos base. All his senses tell him to run head first into the danger to get her, but the guilt in his chest makes him wanna turn on his heel and run away from it all entirely and back to Merle. His thoughts crashed and rolled against his skull as Rick spoke, forming words that were sucked away before they reached the redneck's ear. 

He was pulled from his thoughts when the items of offence were pushed into his view, the guns they unwittingly traded for their friends. And now would be forced to trade back, leaving him just as unable to defend her as before. He hated himself for it but his body felt tight at the thought that he’d be trading Quinn for Merle if he did this. One wrong move and he wouldn't be around to look for his brother. Hell every second that passes separated them by another mile, was she really worth more than Merle to him?

“Them Guns are worth more than Gold.” He huffed, rubbing his face, and quickly continued,  “Gold doesn't protect your family, put food on the table.” 

“Are they really worth it?” As the word left his mouth he physically pulled away from them, turning from the men and only thinking about the guilt coating his mouth. . 

“If I knew we’d get them back, I might agree.” Rick quickly turned toward T-dog, “What, you think Vatos across the way is just gonna hand 'em’ over?”

The boy they grabbed spoke up, Daryl didn't care for the subject of his words, only that the kid's voice made him feel like pushing his nose through into his skull. Hitting him didn't do anything to make him calmer it just poured more into his sense of injustice and had him pacing across the room again

“The question is do you trust that man's word?” T dog spoke over the chaos, and he tried to focus, to use his rage as a tool to help the situation and not hinder it, but he just ended up wondering how Merle would’ve responded. 

“No, the question is what you're willing to bet for it, could be more than them guns, could be your life. Are they really worth that to you? “ In his mind he asks himself the same question, weighing it against his heart and his mind. 

“The life I have I owe to him, I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away but he didn't, neither will I.” he paused and handed Daryl a gun and continued, 

“I could be asking you the same question. That woman, Quinn, came out here to help your brother. She could've stayed back at camp with the rest of the women but she's out here for you.”

He wanted to knock the self righteous bastard around the head with the butt of his gun or push him out the window and into the street, he didn't have a damn clue and he sure as hell didn't have a right talking to him about it right now. That asshat was ignorant of anything that happened in that camp, hell he owes her shit? she owed him if anything. But the nagging feeling was pulling his feet toward fighting, bulldozing through the next few hours to get Quinn back to him so he could try and get some control over this hellish day. He knows where she is and if he could get her back he might have some hope in finding his brother.  

The men around him stared at him, eyes boring in and he realised they were waiting on his answer. 

“What, you gonna hand the guns over?” 

“I didn't say that.” Rick turned to T-dog, “You can still leave, there's nothing keeping you here.” 

Like hell there ain't, Daryl internally snarked, but T-dog chose to stay. Giving him nothing more to complain about. Leaving that space empty to focus on the pricks that took Quinn and Glenn.

“Come on, this is nuts. Just do like g says.” The kid spoke up, and sooner wished he hadn't by the time Daryl's hand connected with his face again. And like a highschool bell, the slap quietened the room, unifying them in their decision to leave. 

 The whole ride down he sat in anticipation, each metre the van flew over filled him with steam and fire. Like the bow of an old ship his mind fractured into a thousand working parts pushing and pulling against itself, the bedlam refusing to placate against what possibilities lay ahead. She hadn't been there when they initially tried the exchange, although from the way they’d displayed Glenn like a Christmas turkey, he's almost grateful he didn't see her. Or he would be if it didn't mean 100 different, worser outcomes might be taking place. It could be happening right now, what had he done to try and stop it but think about leaving her there with them to chase after his damn brother, yet again picking up after him. 

Soon enough the Van came to a stop and He had to prepare himself for the fire fight to come. He stepped out into the sun with a frown and pulled himself alongside the others with boots filled with lead. When the door opened, Rick led with Miguel, displaying the hostage and using him as cover from any enemy fire. It was a cold thing to do, Daryl mused. Stepping in behind them, it was clear they’d not lacked much in man power, at least seven or eight men stood guarding the entrance, locked and loaded ready to push them back out into the street. 

“I see my guns but they're not all in the bag.” The head vato, Guillermo spoke first. 

“That's because they're not yours. I thought I mentioned that.” Rick countered.

Both sides anticipate the pull of metal against their fingers. Someone spoke up from the back but Daryl was so weird on Guillermo he didnt make out what was said just that something was, staring into the crowd of antagonist’s he tried to pin the voice down to a face. 

“I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation.” The head Vato replied and the room felt like it shrunk as the Vatos pressed them back. 

“No, I'm pretty clear. You have your man, I want mine.” Miguel was freed, stumbling into the men in front and being absorbed by the crowd. 

“Two hostages for the price of one? I'm gonna chop up your boy. I'm gonna feed him to my dogs. They're the evilest, nastiest man-eating bitches you ever saw. I picked them up from Satan at a yard sale. And my boys will do worse to your girl. I told you how it has to be. Are you woefully deaf?” Daryl had to hold himself from throwing the gun and running at the asshole. 

Rick argued back but the situation grew more tense by the second, each man cocking their guns readying for the battle, that was until a small figure displaced the crowd in front. Breaking it apart and revealing themselves to be an elderly woman, calling out for someone to help. 

“Get that old lady out the line of fire now!” Daryl shouted, but she paid the situation no mind, not seeing the true threat before her. Tugging away at a man and crying for them to help someone they couldn't see. 

Guillermo shouted for them to leave but it was too late, with their weakness exposed they had no choice but to back down. The elderly woman, now realising the man in front’s attire started to shout in defence of her grandson, she thought the group came to arrest him. The situation quickly made Daryl feel grateful that his grandparents had never been any thought to him, looking after the old was the kind of burden he knew he couldn't handle with the dead walking. 

“Let em pass” That brought Daryl back to attention, pushing forward to find what he’d come all the way out here for. 

“Where's the woman?” He hadn't bothered waiting for an answer, heading off down the corridor towards Glenn's voice. 

“If your looking for your wife,  she's in the nurse's office.” A larger woman pointed towards a door in the opposite direction and he started for the handle, halfway turning it before he actually registered what she’d said.

“Wife?”  He questioned but the woman had already begun walking away back to the gathering at the end of the hall. 

He clicked open the door with a breath of relief, she lay down sleeping on the examination table and for the first time since she was gone Daryl felt he could shut his mind up, if only for a minute, as if looking at her might salvage this hellfire of a day. 

“Quinn, Quinn?” He shook her but she didn't stir, it took a hard shove before the woman woke up. Shifting in place and wincing in pain as she slowly opened her eyes to his face above hers. 

“Jesus Daryl.” She flinched back until he caught her arm bringing her up to a sitting position. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“Those damn asshats busted my back when they grabbed me.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke, looking away from him. 

“Lemme see.” He panicked as soon as he’d said it, pulling away almost immediately at the idea but unable to stop the words leaving his mouth. 

She shook her head, yes and took a sharp breath in. 

“There’s something I gotta tell you before you…you know.” 

“I was in an accident, there's a lot of scarring from when I was fused back together, I got a couple of grafts and shit too.” 

“Fused wha-” He was cut off when she raised her shirt, twisting around to catch his face. 

“Jesus Christ.” Was all he could manage, her back was a mass of scar tissues and mottled bruising. A perfect line snaking up her spine stood against the paintings on her skin as permanent evidence of the surgeries she’d had to save her life. 

“This is from an ‘accident’?” He questioned, although he was faintly aware she’d just said as much. 

She didn't reply, clumsily pulling down her shirt and letting out a heavy sigh. Rubbing her face, likely still sleepy. It wasn't unusual but something about the weight in her limbs set his mind in motion, his eyes watching her more carefully. 

“It’s not something I like talking about.” 

He turned away, wiping his damp palm’s on his jeans. He stood rigid on the spot, eyes darting between the wall and his feet trying to come up with something to say. But he was left at a blank, he had never seen anything like that on someone outside of himself, he could only think of his father and the crack of the belt flicking over him.

“We should go find the others, Daryl.” She broke through the image of his fathers torment, slowly walking to him until he took her arm to steady her, moving them both down the corridor towards their friends. 

Once all was said and done, the vatos were left with half the guns and ammo and Daryl hoped he never saw them again. He’d spend the minimal time inside hoping he would recognise the fucker that hit her, and the rest helping her hobble around trying to find a brace for her back. He’d been in a borderline rage helping her look for it in the vast building, but once they had it he was exhausted and ready to head back to the van and away from all these damn people. 

He could have died hearing glenn call out ahead of them. 

“Oh my god. Where the hell’s our van? We left it right there. Who would take it?” 

‘Merle” Rick countered, he looked at Quinn but she had no expression, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“He's gonna be taking some vengeance back to camp.” 

They continued their trek forward, pushing on despite the missing van, it was starting to get dark by the time they found a car in decent enough condition to hot wire. They all passed the journey in anxious anticipation at the wrath Merle might have inflicted upon the camp. He felt too done at this point to feel any guilt over it, Merle's potential actions might be his to deal with but until they got back he could have a moment of peace. 

His focus returned to Quinns rhythmic breathing, deep in sleep her face covered partially by his jacket collar. He found he had the temptation to pull it down from her face to get a better look. He settled on counting her breaths instead, watching the car pass by the highway. 

“Is she alright?” T-Dog spoke from his space in the empty trunk behind them. 

“They roughed her pretty good.” Rick filled the momentary silence as Daryl thought of a reply.

She wasn't ok, not in the slightest. He had no idea what the fuck to do to help her, hell he didnt even know there was something wrong with her and he’d spent the better part of 3 months with her. If she told him there wouldn't have been a chance in hell that he’d have let her run after those guns, she put herself in so much danger. 

“She’ll be fine.” He really hoped she would be. 

When they arrived at a stop the air was cold and silent, penetrated almost immediately as the car door shut by a scream that ripped out across the quarry. A chorus joined them, wailing on as Daryl raced forward, Quinn momentarily forgotten in the back of the car. 

He knew the others were following behind him, their footsteps quickly falling among the shuffles of the dead as bullets rang out. In the smoke and dispersing crowd, it was hard to tell how many there really were, taking extra agonising seconds to clear out the walkers. Every direction he looked they stumbled around, most covered in fresh blood. He took them down as they came to him, eventually running out of ammo and resorting to using the butt of his rifle to smash them down. 

“AMY!” 

“Oh god”

“AMY!”

Andrea’s screams signified the end of the walkers' evasion on their small encampment, Daryl stood alongside the rest of the group. Watching in shocked and equally horrified silence. No one moved for a few seconds, standing stagnant in the sea of death around them not daring to disturb her. 

“I remember my dream now, Why I dug the holes.” Jim broke through the clearing, ending the silence and snapping Daryl back to attention. 

“I need to go get Quinn.” 

He didn't bother waiting for a reply but he equally didn't expect one from the shell shocked crowd. As he got further out, almost halfway down the road they had left the car as he heard another slow, shuffle of footsteps coming towards him in the dark. Grinding dirt under their feet and limping over to him he didn't think twice lifting up the end of his gun and stepping forward in quick succession. 

“JESUS CHRIST” It was Quinn, shuffling down the road, in the dark on her own ready to be chomped down on by any geek around. 

“Are you Dumb? Or just high again because I told you to stay in the Damn car.” He grabbed her arm, his heart beating faster than it ever had before. He took a good look at her, checking for any more injuries as she tried weakly to pull away. 

“Fuck you, I woke up alone. To screaming and gunshots. Where were you? What the hell is going on?” He was silent, staring at her shadowed face watching her expression closely.

“Walkers hit the camp, and you’d know that if you hadn't gone out there earlier and stormed up Atlanta like your G.I Joe.” 

“Is anyone hurt?” At this point she was leaning up to him, so close he held his breath. 

He pushed her shoulder down firmly, immediately regretted it as she cringed back, wincing in pain. 

“Aside from you, Yeah. Just wait till you get back to camp, no point crying over shit you can't do anything about right now.” He slid his hand down her arm, letting her lean on him as they started the slow walk back.

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[wavypotatochips]

Hi! Can I request one for Sergio Ramos where reader is a culé. Because I am a culé but this man is so fine 😭😭 (thank you ❤️❤️❤️)

Culé | 𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙤 ����𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙨

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Sergio Ramos x Female Reader

Word Count :

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : You are attending a Real Madrid vs Barcelona match.

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: Thanks so much for clarifying everything to me before hand c: Thank you so much for requesting!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

[ TRANSLATOR IS USED SO DIRECT TRANSLATION MAY NOT BE CORRECT ]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN, currently covered in college work so as of now uploads MAY mainly be on weekends. Thank you for your patience c’: ♥

For those who do not know, Culé is a Barcelona fan

You and Sergio have been dating for a while now, and while you love him dearly, there's one small problem: you're a die-hard Barcelona fan, and he plays for their arch-rivals, Real Madrid. 

The latest El Clasico game was coming up, and you were excited but also a little nervous. You knew it was going to be a tense match, and you didn't want to let your competitive spirit get in the way of your relationship.

The day of the match arrived, and as usual Sergio had to get up early to prepare. You wished him good luck and said you'd be rooting for him and Real Madrid, but both of you knew you were lying. Sergio did not mind that you were a Barcelona fan, but of course when he is wearing his Real Madrid jersey he always playfully bugs you with how he is gonna beat them, just for you two to get into a playful argument. As the much-anticipated match between the two teams approached, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The players took to the field, and the camera panned to the VIP section where the WAGs were seated. It zoomed in on you as you playfully teased with your Barcelona jersey and stuck your tongue out, the scene broadcasted on the massive screens throughout the stadium. The camera then focused on Sergio's face, who was on the field, laughing and shaking his head. Although you supported opposing teams, Sergio never felt ashamed of your choices, and you both refused to let social media judgment affect your relationship.

As the game began, you wore your Messi jersey and prepared to cheer your team on. You were glued to your seat, watching as the two teams battled it out on the field, each vying for an advantage. Sergio was playing in midfield, and you could see him tirelessly running back and forth, determined to help his team. You were screaming and hollering, completely invested in the game. Although you were cheering for Real Madrid, you couldn't help but yell threatening words towards anyone who tried to hurt Sergio, as if they could hear you over the deafening crowd. Despite your allegiance to Real Madrid, your love for Sergio and your concern for his safety superseded everything else.

In the 14th minute, Real Madrid scored the first goal, with a beautiful goal by Benzema. You groan in frustration, while Sergio jumps up and down, his teammates congratulating him on the assist.The rest of the first half is a tense affair, with Barcelona struggling to find their footing. Real Madrid, on the other hand, looks in control, and it's no surprise when they score their second goal just before the halftime whistle. You could feel the tension building in the stadium, with the Real Madrid fans jubilant and the Barcelona fans deflated.

At halftime, you take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves. “Sergio why do you have to be such a good DEFENDER!,” you groan.

But you're not ready to give up just yet. Barcelona is known for their comeback victories, and you're hoping they can turn things around in the second half. 

Unfortunately, it's not to be. Real Madrid comes out even stronger, with another goal from Benzema in the 52nd minute, followed by a stunning strike from Modric in the 68th minute. Barcelona can't seem to catch a break, with their passes going awry and their shots missing the mark. When the final whistle blows, the score is 4-0 in favor of Real Madrid. 

After the intense game came to a close, you waited anxiously outside the players' locker room. Your heart was pounding with excitement, waiting to see Sergio. Moments later, he emerged from the room, his face flushed and covered in sweat. Your eyes locked, and a huge grin broke out across his face. Without wasting any time, Sergio pulled off his jersey, revealing his toned, glistening muscles, before enveloping you in a tight embrace. You squealed in delight, feeling his damp sweatshirt stick to your skin. "You need to shower, you stink!" you teased. Sergio grinned, "Embrace the smell of a winner," he joked. You rolled your eyes, "No quiero escucharlo(I don't want to hear it.)"

Despite the sweat, the closeness felt intimate and cozy, and Sergio's embrace was comforting. You looked up at him, and he leaned down to kiss you. The warmth of his lips sent shivers down your spine, and you eagerly returned the kiss. Breaking the embrace, you take a step back, and look at him with admiration. "Although you did play great tonight, baby," you say, smiling. Sergio beams with pride," Wanna prove how much you love me?" he asks playfully , holding the jersey that was still in his hands out for you to take. Your face scrunches up in disgust, "Eww, de ninguna manera! (Eww, no way!)" you exclaim. Sergio laughs, "si manera (Yes way)," winking at you.

Feeling playful, you snatched the jersey from him, and held it at arm's length, making a face. Sergio chuckled, "Sabes que lo amas en secreto (You know you secretly love it)," he teases. You roll your eyes, "En tus sueños, cariño(In your dreams, honey)."

The next thing you know, you're leaving the stadium wearing his sweaty jersey.…. Or as he would say, the winner's jersey.

[idyllic-affections]

DON'T.... BECAUSE KAVEH'S YOUNGER!SIBLING BEING ANGRY IN THEIR STEAD.. im so sorry for swarming ur inbox but ydbihsjakdas

i could just IMAGINE their arguments about it

"she's our MOTHER, you don't disrespect her like that!"

"yeah, but she ABANDONED us!"

"she didn't abandon us-"

"YES SHE DID! she ran away and left us here, in sumeru, because she was hurting. i know."

"she deserves to be happy-"

"but what about us? what about me? what about you? she sounds SO much happier with our step siblings, and she doesn't even visit us! you can't keep defending her!

you can love her all you want, i don't care. you say she's our mother, but she's been absent ever since dad died."

"you have to understand-"

"I DO UNDERSTAND! and you took care of her when she was sad. you took care of me because she was sad. you were a child too, and you were more of a mother to me than her!"

"don't say that-"

"just because she's my mom doesn't mean i have to like her!"

kinda projected here but good god this makes me wanna explode. i like to think kaveh's younder!sibling has been going through that "rebellious teen phase", but it's not a phase, it's just how they are after growing up with a pretty absent mom and dead dad. they see how much their brother suffer, they 100% wanna help him, but they're going through it too yk??

imagine how frustrating it is for them whenever kaveh talks about their mom and he always says nice things about her but they could see the sheer bitterness, guilt, and melancholy in his eyes. they can't help but hate her for not being there for them (i like to think they're maybe an infant or very very young when it happened) n making their big bro, their parental figure, go through this horrible mess.

n they just kinda grew up with that hate w/o telling kaveh bc they didn't wanna add into his plate of problems. but the hate slowly manifested with other stuff until they went from 'not wanting to cause trouble for kaveh' to 'i cause trouble because i can't control myself and i need to release my anger on something else'

so ya i think kaveh's younger!sibling would be temperamental n people see them kinda like a bully, opposite of kaveh :( even if kaveh raised them kindly, i think reader's hatred to their mom saved them from copying kaveh's self destructiveness...

which caused kinda of a strain in their relationship when reader became a teen

(on the flip side for some reason i think reader would get along with alhaitham more (which would hurt kaveh tbh) bc alhaitham's mentality clashes so much against kaveh's n it's probably what reader needs more... they probably preferred alhaitham's "you're allowed to get angry at things you felt was unfair, even if she's your mother" than kaveh's "she still loves us... she just- she just needed to move on to be happy. she deserves it.")

sorry i kinda developed a whole reader here and maybe this is incoherent blabbering im gonna hide now >q< feel free to ignore !!

NOOOOO NO DON'T HIDE I AM HEARING YOU OUT SOO MUCH RN WE ARE ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH

ohhh the strain that would come as a consequence of that rage and pain... sigh. parentified kaveh is so real, honestly, because with how bad faranak's mental health became, she definitely would not have been able to raise her youngest child. kaveh would be the one to raise them. kaveh would be the one they ran to when they scraped their knee. kaveh would be the one to kiss away their tears. kaveh would be the one to help them with homework and little things like that.

it would always be kaveh.

(and i think faranak would be painfully aware of the way they no longer come to her for comfort and consolation, but i don't think she would be able to feel bad about it until years later, because she's already so... fucked up. she would just be glad that someone was nurturing her child, even if that had to be kaveh.)

i think [name]'s anger would be a good and important testament to how well kaveh really raised them, though.

(but of course, it would also prove dangerous and self-destructive which i mention a bit further down in the post!!)

one who values themselves is one who feels angry when mistreated.

and [name] is fucking livid, for both themselves and kaveh. [name] is aware of faranak's neglect. because kaveh taught them to love themselves more than he could ever even hope to love himself. kaveh raised them well, even if that responsibility never should have been his in the first place.

so it honestly hurts them both when they fight like that.

"don't you dare disrespect her, [name]. you have no idea what she did for us." "what she did for us?! what the hell-- kaveh, she left us for some random fucking guy neither of us have ever met! how can you not see what's wrong with that?!" "do not talk about her like that. she did her best. doesn't she deserve to be happy, [name]? doesn't she?!" "oh," they'd scoff, "so 'her best' is abandoning her kids, parentifying her oldest son, and running from her past like a fucking coward?" they would roll their eyes and turn away at that point. "no, kaveh. she doesn't. neither of us are, so why does she deserve to be happy?" they'd then leave.

and consider this dialogue somewhere in there:

"she isn't my mother. she didn't raise me. you can like and defend that woman all you want, but she never was and never will be my mother."

they care so much about what kaveh went through for them. they are so painfully aware of the sacrifices he made to raise them. you know how parentified oldest siblings are usually the only ones aware of the abuse and neglect, whereas the younger siblings they raised think their parent is an angel who did no wrong? it's the opposite here.

and [name] getting along better with alhaitham in their teens... you are so right. they would.

i can imagine them fighting like this in alhaitham's home, and when [name] finally gets pissed off enough that they just leave to cool down, kaveh also retreats and stays in his room for a bit. but a few minutes later, when he comes back out, alhaitham is gone.

he left after [name], because a pissed off teen out wandering alone in sumeru and possibly sumeru's wilderness is unsafe.

(i feel like [name]'s anger could translate into ambition. hmm. pyro vision [name], maybe?)

kaveh knows they get along better with alhaitham nowadays, and i think it hurts him so much. but... he also does want what is best for them, and maybe. just maybe he is not best for them anymore.

(little does he know, they cry a lot to his roommate about just... wanting their brother. but not being able to open up to him like they used to because he'll only keep making excuses for their mother. and he'll only keep hurting himself in the process. and they don't want to see him destroy himself.)

alhaitham would validate their feelings more than kaveh would. he believes they should be pissed. he's not good with tears and feelings in general, but he is rather decent when it matters. and it very much matters when it comes to kaveh's mentally and emotionally wounded younger sibling.

i think alhaitham is better for them at this point in their life. and, you know, i feel like... in a way, he could help them learn to be less destructive. because also i feel like [name] is self-destructive in their own way, too. they get pissed and push away the people they love (aka kaveh). and they're hurting themselves in the process, but it's in a less obvious way than how kaveh is hurting himself (all the overworking, constantly doing everything for everyone, etc etc).

alhaitham is so blunt and straightforward and it would be refreshing compared to the mental gymnastics kaveh does to justify what faranak has done. and honestly, the factual truth is that [name] is allowed to be angry. alhaitham knows that and he's very clear about it.

and hear me out--

[name] enrolling in the akademiya, but instead of the expected darshan (kshahrewar or something similar)... they enroll in haravatat. just a thought.

they're probably just kind of mean in general compared to their brother, and i think that comes as a surprise to a lot of people, but i mean... who can blame them?

they need to go to family therapy HELSPDKDHSKGA

[usercelestial]

okay putting my real and comprehensive opinion on bvddie here even though no asked just because i feel like i dont make it very clear

i ship bvddie but i do not think its happening, i lost hope for it around season 5 when i dropped the show because i felt like we were constantly being baited and tbh i couldn't stand what the fandom was. thats mostly why i dont post bvddie a lot because ultimately i don't want to interact with the loudest portion of that fandom. after buck came out as bisexual, i stopped caring about it even more even though i still enjoy the idea of it because instead of just thinking about buck being queer, he actually was. first and foremost, i like canon queer representation so bucktommy obviously takes precedent because eddie isn't canonically queer (yet, idk, maybe tim minear will pull a fast one on us). i care way more about hen and karen than i do about taylor/lucy, even though i like both ships. i'm okay with criticism of it, especially of the fandom because to be honest, i do think it's fair to call bvddie theories ridiculous and out there because they kind of are, BUT i don't think it hurts anyone to think that or hold out hope, and it's nice to see speculation and theories bc thats what fandom is all about. that couch theory still has a hold on me even though i dont think it's intentional lol. i don't think it's okay to directly make fun of any bvddie for having crazy theories because we've all had ships that make us crazy and thats okay. the exception here is if that particular bvddie is making fun of bvcktommys for their theories n stuff because at that point its hypocrisy. this goes both ways. if you're gonna come up with a crazy theory, you can't look at other people's crazy theories and claim any high ground there, which is unfortunately something i see a lot in both fandoms.

although one thing i will not do is say "well both sides are equally bad" because objectively bvddies have been around a lot longer and done much worse things. that doesn't mean bts are all innocent either however, one ship clearly has dominance over this fandom and has a large, extensive track record of harassing actresses/generally being aggressive about their ship before bt ever even happened. so there are many, many more cases of those shippers feeling threatened and lashing out unfairly while the others are often just acting out of defense. if there's a bully on the playground picking on someone else, and that person kicks them in the shin, i'm obviously going to hold the bully much more accountable for their behavior than i am for the kid defending themself. while that's obviously not always the case, (i've blocked my fair share of bvcktommy girlies for being weird about female love interests) when it comes to the "both sides" argument, we literally just know that's not true. also most of the shit said about tommy by antis is deeply homophobic so jot that down.

tbh i think being anti bt is much more egregious than being anti bvddie because that's actual queer rep that you're bashing and hoping dies. but there's a difference between being "anti" anything and just not liking it and thinking its annoying.

at first i think i understood it because i think bvddie kind of was the underdog when it first started bc it's was non canon queer ship between two canonically straight characters but thats obviously not true anymore and hasn't been for a while. bvddie has the attention of the actors, has the positive acknowledgement of journalists that get to directly interview those actors, and has the popularity within the fandom. so it's kind of just punching down at other ships at this point, especially ones including female characters who already don't get a lot of development.

that being said, again, I STILL LIKE BVDDIE, and have plenty of bvddie mutuals that i love so i try to avoid the generalization of "ALL bvddie shippers are like this 🙄" because obviously thats not true and there's nothing wrong with shipping bvddie obviously lol it's just a ship and a cute one at that. i think its ridiculous to care that much about hating a ship you just don't like that much, which is fine but like i think many ppl in this fandom need to take several steps back and realize it's not that fucking deep, just like the things you like and leave everyone else alone.

tldr: i like bvddie but im not gonna avoid criticizing a big part of that fandom. ultimately i think ship wars are silly and i don't really understand them. i like queer representation and i like queer headcanons but im not gonna hold out hope for anything. im very ship and let ship until you start to be a dick about other people shipping and then i think you deserve to be called out, especially if you're actively being homophobic/misogynistic/racist. also i think bvddietommy should be endgame lol, let chris has THREE dads and then everyone's happy :D

edit: oh and obviously i like bvcktommy if that wasn't abundantly clear lol

[saturrnss]

—-HOBIE’S CANON EVENT (headcanon)—-

Warnings: violent death, daddy issues, mentions of police brutality and underaged drinking, mentions of police corruption

A/n: I’m pulling this straight out of my ass cheeks so do with that what you will. And also I know London banned guns but I’m the writer so I can do anything

😁

.hobie never likes to talk about his canon event, only Miguel and Gwen know about it, and he will literally kill anyone who tries to bring it up.

•••

Lieutenant James Campbell was the worst cop on the London police force.

He was mean, cruel and nasty.

So many innocent people went to jail for a long time because of him and so many abusers and Murderers got out because their lawyers paid him.

He didn’t care for any of the citizens, he was so bad that it was the start of hobie’s long term hatred for cops

But some how, someway. His father- Officer Daniel brown was friends with him.

“I’ve known him since kindergarten, he's not be that bad”

His father used to say whenever hobie tried to bring his cruelty up or make side eye him when he was around.

Hobie never understood it. “How could you let that pig around here!?” “Not even turn ‘em in?!” He thought to himself.

One day, a couple of months after he got bit, he got into an argument which he started after he cussed James out which made him storm off.

“I can believe you defend that fucking clown!!” He yelled. “Clam down“ his father softly but sternly replied with. “I’m not gonna calm down! You willingly jerk those guys off like they’re gonna see you any differently!’’

“I don’t know those people that you hang out with, but I can see the number they did on you” Daniel says, fixing his tie at the kitchen counter and putting his police hat on.

“Don’t bring them into this!’’ He said being even more enraged at the fact that he was basically being ignored.

His father stepped away from the counter and went toward the door of the apartment, but hobie still wasn’t gonna let it go.

“No wonder mom left you, I wouldn’t wanna be with such a cunt either.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“….what did you say?” Daniel said without moving a muscle.

And before hobie could repeat it again his father jumped at him from across the room, forcing him against the wall by his shirt.

“Speak on her again in that way! Speak!!!” He yelled right in his face, spit getting all over.

And for the first time, he didn’t comply.

He would never admit it, but that was the first time, in years, that he felt like he pushed-too far.

His father dropped him and walked away from him, sucking his anger back into him and straightening himself up.

The sheer fear, that hobie felt a few moments ago is a feeling that he would never feel again in his lifetime.

He dad takes a deep breath. “I never wanted to be a cop.” Hobie looks up, confused as to what his father was saying.

“When I was younger me and my mates used to get into a lot of trouble with them,” he says. "but as I grew up, I realized that making a difference isn't just running around, high and confused, it’s about working inside the system. It might not look like it but I have to be very, careful with the power I have now."

He gets his jacket. "One less racist cop at a time." he stops again. "I'm not mad at you, Hobart. You're a young black trying to figure it all out," "but there's just some ways you go about it."

He opens the door and looks back one final time.

"I love you."

Hobie doesn't say anything.

He tries to wait for a couple of seconds, hobie usually breaks the silence with a response but this time he doesn't.

".....I just hope you know that."

He leaves.

And hobie is left there, silent.

•••

Later that night, he got shit-faced with his mates Pic and Scabs at this random punk bar they found. The screeching sound of guitars and the audience screaming was so loud that you could barely hear yourself think.

The smell was awful too but you got used to it after a while.

He stumbled out of the place after a couple of hours and puked into the nearest trash can he could find. Everything was so fuzzy, the longest he could go walking in a straight line was a few seconds at most.

But then, while he was trying to find some essence of soberness, blinking red and blue emergency trucks dart passed him on the street- police cars follow.

He usually wouldn't care about things like that but something in his mind was telling him.

"Follow''

So he did.

Part of him still wishes he never listened.

He didn’t really need to run that far since the scene was happening a couple feet away from him. When he got there it was so many people in front of him but it didn’t bother him that much since he was tall as hell.

The body was already covered so he only saw the blood continuing to leak out of it but it was already enough to make his stomach drop.

Something about it was -off- to him, so he pushed through the crowd, and lifted the cover.

And there it was.

His dad laying face first on the ground, multiple stab wounds to his head, brain matter splattered. Hobie was frozen, his face was like stone, he tried to hold back his tears but before he knew it they were filling his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, making his vision blurry even more-so.

“Sir.” A random policeman says, he doesn’t hear. “Sir,” he snaps his fingers in hobie’s face, this time the punk notices him but he just doesn’t care.

“Sir I’m gonna have to ask you to leav-“ the officer says and starts to put his hand on hobie’s shoulder but he instinctively pushes him away. Sooner or later more cops circle around him as he refuses to move away from the body. But before a fight could break out, voice comes out from behind them.

“He’s with me.” The officers stop and stand up straight to hobie’s confusion. He turned around to see the devil himself- lieutenant James, in all his prick-ish glory.

“I think you all should leave.” He says, forcing the officers to leave you alone, still side eyeing the punk while walking away.

For a short while there was silence, just a moment of taking in what was now reality, then James decided to break the ice. “..Sorry..son” he puts his hand on his back which makes both of them cringe to the heaviest degree.

They watch the paramedics put his body on a stretcher and lift him up onto the back of the ambulance but even that wasn’t an emotional moment due to thick air of tension created.

He runs off to get inside the vehicle before they close the door, escaping the awkwardness and into an equally dreadful but weirdly calming environment.

The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity, all he could do was hold his dad’s hand, watching the paramedics trying to save a lost cause.

They got to the Emergency room and rolled the officer away, leaving hobie there, alone, with only himself to comfort.

Later, while hobie was sitting in a waiting chair, trying to distract himself with whatever crappy American sitcom they aired on late night television, a doctor in a long white coat and round glasses approached him.

“You must be Officer Brown’s son.” The doctor says “what of it?” Hobie tries to say in his usual dismissive tone but this time, he can’t bring himself to commit fully.

“…..he was too far gone.” Hobie closes his eyes and sighs, he thought he mentally prepared for it but hearing someone say it was like it cemented itself into reality.

“If you would like,” the doctor said with pity in their voice. “You could come to the room to have one last moment with him.” He hesitated at first but then picked himself up walked to the room with the doctor.

When he entered the room it was a cold and sterile atmosphere, felt like one of those liminal spaces. The colors of the room were almost sickly, everything about it wasn’t right, the only thing that grounded it in reality was the body laying flat in the middle of the room.

The doctor quietly excused themself out of the room and shut the door. Hobie walked to the side of the body and practically just dropped on his father- and cried.

Cried hard. It almost felt like he was a 5 year old again, sitting on his dad’s lap wailing because he broke his arm, but this time he doesn’t feel a warm embrace, the reassurance and comfort of a parental figure.

All he feels is just a cold hand. Lifelessness.

No one to tell him it was gonna be all okay.

Nothing was there anymore.

He barley even remembers the funeral, all he can recount is James, his supposed “best friend” looking bored and laughing up a storm with people.

The case for his dad closed after about 3 months no matter how hard Hobie fought for it to say open.

He couldn’t keep up with rent so he got evicted.

The only option was to stay with his absent mom or James, and no way in hell was that happening.

He found an abandoned warehouse and decorated it to his liking. It’s not like he was depressed or anything but everything just went- numb for a little while.

On rare occasions he felt emotion, but it went away after a few seconds.

Life felt more like a really bad fever dream now.

If you could even call it a dream.

•••

Months after that, he was sleeping on a friend’s couch when the friend, Rob frantically woke him.

“Wake the fuck up Hobbs!!” Rob quietly yells in a panic. “What?!” He says, sitting up dazed. Rob paces back and forth.

"Scabs got merked!!" hobie's mind didn't register it at first. “…huh?" “Scab’s is dead mate!” It still doesn’t compute. “….what?” He says in an uncharacteristically dumbfounded tone. “Do I have to spell it out for you dumbass he is not with us anymore!!”

Then when it finally clicks, the only words he can muster out is

“....who killed him?" he asks but Rob didn't hear it, still pacing and talking to himself. It took hobie to get up and grab Rob by his jacket for him to finally get a straight answer."

"Who. Killed. Him?" He says slowly. "That cunt lieutenant said he had drugs on him when he doesn't even drink. One thing lead to another and he got shot."

His face drops.

At first, he was even more lost, and confused. He sat back down and put his hand into his palms. Then, it was like someone poured boiling water one him to wake up.

For the first time, in a long time, an emotion finally stuck with him.

Rage.

Blind. Rage.

He quickly went to get his guitar and his suit and quickly went toward the door. “Where yo-” hobie had already shut the door before his friend could finish the question.

He changed on the rooftop of the building and swung into the night.

He didn’t even know where that cunt was, all he knew was that he had to do something. Something that would make him feel the pain and numbness that he felt.

And the only way he knew how to do that was by Revenge.

He finally got to the lieutenant’s house- a modest, 2-bedroom house. He didn't have any children, he got divorced rather quickly before he could.

He got in through the window. It was pitch black and he couldn't feel anyone in the house so he walked up to the front door and waited.

He saw certificates and police gear all over the wall along with pictures of him on duty and all he could feel was disgust.

He could feel the sweat dripping down his face in his mask, palms sore from holding the guitar. His suit only made him feel claustrophobic but he didn’t care.

He heard a car pull up. His eyes immediately shot to the window, seeing a black Volkswagen Beetle parked in the driveway. He looks straight at the door, feeling him get out of the car and inch closer and closer to the door.

His heart was beating through his chest and was mentally psyching himself up. The sound of keys jingling just outside the door made him close his eyes.

“Once I deal with him,” he thought. “It will be all over with.”

The doorknob turned and he saw him. From that point on, It was like an out-of-body experience. He didn’t feel like himself- Something came over him.

Maybe it was a greater force than himself, maybe it was all the grief he somehow suppressed it was a mystery.

He doesn’t remember much of the fight, only the fact that James had a broken nose and was losing severely. But when he “got back” to his body, the scene was a horror show.

Blood was all over him, his guitar was broken and James' head looked like it had been split in two. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together.

It was so bad that two teeth were stuck in the bottom of his guitar. He quickly left the scene after he heard a car coming. He got on the roof of Rob’s flat and hid his blood soaked suit and guitar.

He knew he couldn’t leave it there for long or else it would stain. He opened the door to the apartment and immediately went to take a shower, and to be honest, he felt immensely better.

He was mostly glad that nobody would be bothered by him anymore, that there was one less burden on earth, but he couldn’t brush off the fact that something was watching him- Something familiar.

It was the most publicized murder case in the city. The brutality of it all intrigued people the most. “What could have the heroic police officer James Campbell, done to have deserved this fate?”

It made him sick, the blatant rewriting of history. Especially the fact that the authority force had so much more emotion for him than his dad.

That’s when he got his blue latter laces. His friends and the rest of the scene noticed but didn’t say anything nor cared. He got investigated for a bit but due to lack of evidence he was let go.

He took a break from being spider-man for a while, opting to spend time with his friends and to sort of heal. He cleaned his suit and fixed his guitar, trying to live a normal life after what he did.

He still gets night terrors once in a while, it gets mixed in with dreams of his dad. He makes jokes about his laces, smiling at Miles’s dad when he catches him staring at his shoes.

Definitely doesn't feel bad about that son of a bitches death, doesn't have a reason to care anyway. But there's still a pinch of- guilt in the back of his mind.

Festering. If he didn't say what he said, if he just caved in and told him that he loved him. Then he would still be alive.

.

A/N: idk y'all I'm not feeling this one 😔 also hey y'all

Wattpad: sevenstarcigs

Tiktok: sevenstarwp

[silver-crowned-riders]

Alright, it's been long enough. NEW INTRO!

These are the admins of Team Riders speaking!

I'm Jace! Tough-as-nails, a relentless battler, and a dare-Gira cyclist! SO WATCH OUT! He/him!

I'm Beau, and I'm the better one. But don't worry, I play nice~ she/xem, fairy fan, harmless little goober! I promise! ^^

// Beau's Meowth has been retconned with Tinkatuff in their place!

We live in Shinria, a region of stunning nature and fantastic Pokemon, but ignorant and cowardly people!

We don't find it necessary to reject myths about the harm Pokemon can do, cuz for the Pokemon where those stories aren't myths, it doesn't do a thing for them! Not that it helps much in the first place, people just don't listen sometimes. Sigh~

That's why we let 'em into our crew, to break as many rules and destroy as much they want! We've been eyeing the horrible, cursed and hated legendary beasts haunting our region, to add to our crew! We answer to no one except mister bossman Casey, we've had eachother's backs from the start and ain't a thing gonna break that!

He's pretty tech-illiterate though, and this little account is our little secret for now~ he knows. ewpsies. But we're still willing to speak on his behalf!

We also got a lot of motorcyclers here! Ain't really related to anything else, we're just cool like that! As a proud evil team we do NOT associate with the Rocket and Plasma types tryna juice Pokemon for all they're worth, we'd much prefer watching those Pokemon take their revenge!

Our team specializes in Dark, Ghost, Fire, and Fairy types, but we accept anything that would get rejected by others! Feel free to ask about our thoughts on them ^^

You can also learn about our region and team HERE! Ask us anything about it! We kinda get ignored a lot by the wider world so, yknow. It would be nice.

TEAM RIDERS OUT!

// New intro post for these guys! I've felt like their deal was a bit too ambiguous and I wanted to organize it different from how I originally did!

Past arcs (in order): [tba]

Pelliper mail is allowed, Magic anons usually no unless I say otherwise for like. a funny bit to happen.

Run by @swadloom. Minor, but they can make somewhat suggestive jokes which I'll tag. Let me know if I'm tagging anything else wrong!

IC anon hate and arguments are ok, but I can be anxious and have a harder time telling without ooc notes and such. Also they're sympathetic villains and Jace will probably yell at you a lot.

My energy for RP is inconsistent, however if you want to set something up just let me know beforehand! At the same time I'm very forgetful and often a slow replier and sometimes let things rot in my drafts or have issues with perfectionism replying to things. In short, message me if you have to, I'm alright with it!

Also like for my own comfort with recent community events no self identified pr/shippers please. Like if its a philosophy about fiction or you're neutral idrc but if you're the type to super vehemently defend it or fawn over those pairings THEN I DON'T TRUST RP-ING WITH YOU. 👉 👉 GET OUT!

ok goodbye 👋 enjoy these fools :)

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [4.5]

Masterlist

A/N: Y'all are angels and I appreciate you putting up with my dry spells. This piece is gonna' be a little shorter than what I would like but we're rolling towards a nice wrap up. Your patience is greatly appreciated, as always!

Warnings: family drama, the brothers getting into trouble, as usual

--

Eva hated long silences, especially awkward ones. Her father sat across from her and her siblings, sunken eyes averted to the table cloth as he'd let her words sink in.

"Are you sure, Eva?" Ivan asked, his voice tapering on a whisper.

The youngest sibling nodded, "Theo told me everything,"

Magda piped in, "She's got somebody new, Dad. She's gonna do to them what she did to us,"

"She's fucked," Greg added.

Their father let out a heavy sigh, "She's still your mother," seemed to be his best reasoning, "You can't just turn yours backs on her right now,"

Magda scoffed back, "And how many times has Mommy Dearest turned her back on us? I barely got so much as a phone call when Arleth was born!" she pointed to Greg, "Bet she doesn't know about Greg being gay! Or Eva's rockstar boyfriend!"

"Or your cancer scare," Eva added, her frustration reaching its boiling point, "Dad, I don't understand how you could still be in her corner? She left you! She left us all behind! And now she's bored in her new family so she moved on to the next thing,"

"And if she's going to keep this bullshit up, then Eva's not going to give her a kidney," Greg said, equally as disgusted as his sisters.

Fear flickered in their father's eyes, his gaze remained fixed on the table cloth, struggling to find the words to refute their argument. He wanted to cry about Eva's selfishness, but his rational side knew his hypocrisy would show no matter what.

"You're punishing her for something out of her control," he huffed.

Eva's frustration grew, her voice trembling as she tried to make sense of her father's enduring devotion.

"She has always been in control, Dad!" she exclaimed, "Would you listen to yourself? She doesn't care about you like this! Why are you still defending her?"

It was only then he met her gaze, the weight of his heartache showing through. It always had, it had aged their father significantly and it saddened the siblings greatly. They loved their father, but they could all agree that he was weak when it came to his devotion for his ex wife.

"She was a part of my life for twenty-five years," he muttered, his tone heavy in anguish, "She may not love me the way I wish she would, but she's still a part of my family. That means I had to find a way to carry the love we had and continue living mine without her,"

Greg shook his head, deflated, "You're still holding the door open hoping she comes home, but she's not, Dad. Lydia is laid up in a hospital bed with tubes up her nose, crying victim while fooling around on the guy she left you for,"

Eva's heart ached with the truth in her brother's words, comparable with the anguish for their dad's. This wasn't an easy decision for her, either, but Eva was never one for playing along with what was expected of her. She would be doing not only a disservice to herself, but to her family and their half brother.

"I'm not giving Mom my kidney," it felt weird to call her by that title, but it seemed to be the only way to drive home the fact that she was serious to her dad, "I still love her, but I'm not going to enable this delusion any longer,"

Remington had his chin in his palm, uneasiness swirling in his gut as he stared hard at the menacing cat. Pluto was hobbling around, still as curious as ever as he sniffed around the house, the only difference now was he had a bright blue cast around his leg. He wasn't even upset over what he had to pay at the vet, he was fretting over how to explain all of this to Eva.

"It's not that bad," Emerson noted, looking up from his sketchbook, "Should we sign it?"

"Can you sign a cat's cast? Or would it be too delicate?" Remington replied.

"It's a cast," he pointed out, "They didn't bind him tissue paper,"

On that note, Sebastian came stumbling into their kitchen, a cloth bag stock full of groceries in his arms. He dropped them onto the kitchen island with a heavy thud, glaring at his youngest brother.

"You know -- when you guys offered to have Thanksgiving here, I thought that meant you'd help me unload the car, at least," he grumbled.

Emerson rolled his eyes, "We're making sure the cat can walk," he replied.

Sebastian scoffed, "For the six hundred bucks we paid, he better be able to walk," he rounded the couch to find Remington, still hunched over as he watched Pluto, "Have you told Eva, yet?"

The middle brother shook his head, "She told me she'd call later, which means I have a few hours to come up with a viable story,"

"Would you calm down, please?" Sebastian took a seat beside him, "She's gonna understand Pluto was an accident!"

"I know, I know," Remington huffed, "I'm still nervous, alright?"

"Well, how about you get nervous about stuffing a turkey with me, hm?" he stood up and started for the door again, "C'mon, guys! Mom's coming with the turkey pans!"

Emerson glowered back, "Thanksgiving isn't even until Sunday, why are we prepping everything now?" he asked.

"Because we've never actually had a full, formal Thanksgiving in our own home before, and we gotta' prep that shit," Remington replied, following Sebastian, "It's kinda special, you know?"

With another eye roll, Emerson closed his notebook and stood up, "Alright, alright, I'm coming,"

The three brothers exited the door and started for Sebastian's open car, the trunk filled with more bags of groceries and tools they'd need for cooking. Remington made sure to close the door behind him, should Pluto get anymore wily ideas.

"What day is Eva coming back, anyway?" Sebastian asked, lugging another cloth bag into Remington's arms.

"Probably Tuesday," he replied.

"What about the surgery?" Emerson asked.

"She's not doing it," Remington replied simply.

Emerson stood stunned for a moment, missing his cue as Sebastian tried to hand him a flat of eggs, "Emerson!" he faltered as he nearly dropped them.

"Wait," he smacked Remington's arm, "She's not doing the surgery? Since when?"

"She texted me this morning," he replied.

Sebastian cocked a brow, "What about her mom, then? What's she supposed to do?" he asked.

"I don't know," he shook his head, "Something went down, obviously. I'll get the story when she calls me," he started back for the house.

"Shit," Emerson huffed, "Good for her, though. I told her to stand her ground,"

"I've given it some thought, actually," Sebastian admitted, "If it was Dad, I wouldn't give up a piece for him,"

"Glad we can agree," Emerson nodded.

Remington reached for the door handle and pushed, surprised however when he found the door wouldn't budge. He wrenched the knob, pushed and pulled, there was no give.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed.

"What happened?" Sebastian called from the car.

He wrenched the knob again, turning to his brothers exasperated, "The door's locked!"

Emerson dropped the eggs back into the trunk, coming to his brother's aid, "No way," he too tried the knob, pushed and pulled, rammed his shoulder, and nothing was working, "Yeah, we're locked out,"

Sebastian wrangled for his keys out of his pocket -- of course he had his own key the his brothers' house -- and came over. He inserted the key into the lock and twisted, though he was surprised to find the knob was unlocked.

"How can we be locked out if the latch isn't even locked?" he twisted the key again, the clicking echoing to make his point.

Remington felt a chill go down his spine, looking up at the house with worry. His close encounter from the other night whisked through his head, but he thought better than to bring it up.

"Holy shit," Emerson gaped, "How do we get back in?"

"Wanna ask the cat?" Sebastian huffed, trying to ram his shoulder into the door.

Remington relented, putting down his grocery bag and started for the backyard, "I'll go through the window in the back," he decided.

The back patio was locked shut, the exception to the open screen window to filter in some fresh air. Remington popped the screen out and climbed into the living room, careful not to knock over any furniture or spook the pets inside. He stopped suddenly when he found Pluto sitting at his feet, staring at him with his big yellow eyes.

Remington simpered, carefully picking up the tabby and cuddling him into his shoulder, without knocking his cast.

"Pluto, did you lock the door on us?" he awed, starting down the hall, "Such a bad kitty. What's your mother gonna' say when she comes back and I report to her all the trouble you've gotten into?"

He approached the front door, perplexed as he found indeed the lock wasn't turned. With Pluto slung over his shoulder, he wrenched the knob and the door opened with no stalling, on the other side his brothers, relieved.

"Was it locked?" Sebastian asked, picking up and carting in the groceries.

"No, it wasn't," Remington replied frankly, "That's fucking weird,"

Emerson smirked, the egg flat cradled in his arms as he passed him, "Maybe it was your ghost playing a prank?"

"Alright wise guy," Remington slammed the door again, "I'll wake you up at two AM next time and you can be on ghost watch with me,"

Sebastian simply shook his head, "The two of you are gonna' be ghosts if you don't help me," he warned.

Remington pouted back, "You gotta' get through Pluto first," he patted the cat's bum to make his point. Pluto's only response was a yawn.

Greg ran to the door before the bell even finished tolling, revealing Julian and Theo on the other side. Julian was just shaking out his umbrella, the rain continuing to thunder down in the streets.

"Weather's gone biblical, I swear," the older man shook his head. Theo kept his head down as he kicked his shoes off, glancing through the curtain of his hair to pick out Eva's silhouette in the kitchen.

"Thanks for coming," Ivan helped Greg take their coats. Eva meanwhile stayed in the kitchen, Magda was at the table nursing a cup of lukewarm tea and taking a well earned break while Arleth was down for her nap.

Eva was staring at the names on her phone, Remington's was just screaming for her to hit call and hear his voice, his scratchy chuckle or whatever stupid jokes he could come up with to make her feel better. She wished she could have the time to just transport herself out of this headspace, put herself back within reach of him and her kitty, she missed them both terribly.

"We had to after the phone call," she heard Julian say, her curiosity now peaked as she looked up. Theo was approaching in a small shuffle, looking nervously between her and Magda. Eva smiled sympathetically.

"Hey, you want some tea?" she offered.

Magda began to laugh, "You're offering a twelve-year-old boy tea?" she chuckled.

Eva shrugged back, "Well, I don't know. We have it ready!"

Theo cracked a shy smile, "Sure, I'll take some," he said.

"There's sugar on the table," Magda directed, her interest peaked too, "What phone call is your dad talking about?"

He looked to her sheepishly, then to Eva, a silent wonder if it was safe for him to answer. Eva was equally curious, nodding encouragingly as she poured him his own mug. Theo sighed.

"The hospital called us --" he began, however, their father's echoing cry took them all by surprise.

"Are you kidding me?" he nearly roared.

Greg entered the kitchen at that, his expression dazed as though he was in a stupor. His sisters and half-brother stared at him.

"What's wrong?" Eva asked.

That's when Theo spilled the beans, "They canceled your transfer," he told her.

On the one hand, Eva was filled with relief, a heavy weight lifting off of her chest. On the other hand...

"... Was I gonna' get a phone call about this?" she gaped.

"She's not a match?" Magda asked, her excitement and elation teetering in her own expression.

"Nope," Greg answered precariously, his tone heavy, "Somebody else is, though,"

Eva was in no mood for his long, dramatic silence, " -- Who?"

Before Greg could answer, sure enough, her cell phone began to ring. Her chest tightened when she saw the hospital name flash across the screen, nevertheless, curiosity gnawing away at her as she picked up the call.

[keephisname]

8/2/23 @ 1:54 a.m.

So I guess it starts. I honestly don't know how to. It's the first time this has ever happened.

It's funny, because the only thing I can think about is how before this the worst thing to ever happen between me and you was arguing over who would pay for pizza at the beach house. We got into a screaming match about how great the other was, and how it was only fair that the other paid because they had already done so much. Robby had to come upstairs. he was the only one brave enough to step in between us if we were having an argument.

I keep thinking that wasn't too long ago. And then I remember it was nearly four years ago. And how much has changed in those four years. And ho win this moment, without you right beside me, I wish nothing more than to take all four of those years back.

I'm writing this like you died. I know you haven't, but I think a part of me has. I don't think I've ever felt like this before. When Carmen and the beach house happened was probably closest. It took me the whole rest of that summer to feel any sense of normalcy again. I remember how hard you defended me and my feelings in that moment. I wish you were still talking to me. Ha, again, I'm saying that like you've been gone for years. and it's only been, what, two fucking days? I feel pathetic.

I meant what I said. I tell you everything. And I guess I don't know how to function unless I'm telling you everything. So, that's why I'm doing this. This is my way of still telling you everything. And I guess so I can heal in some way from this. it hurts. It hurts so bad, dude.

Right now, only Clove and I know. Richie's asked about you. I don't know when we're going to tell him. I have to tell my mom too. This'll kill her. She's always seen you like her own. I guess Buzz doesn't know either. Fuck, that's gonna suck. Hell, I don't know who I should and shouldn't tell. I wanna yell it from the rooftops, just to see what you'll hear, who you'll hear it from, and find a way to still be connected to you. Instead, I'm still tagging you in TikToks, like you'll ever look at them. The only solace I get in any of this is you haven't blocked me. Maybe one day I'll follow you on this blog, and you can read everything I've written for you.

When I go back to school this year, I'm going to find a therapist too. The only option you've left me with -- since we can't grow together -- is to spend time growing on my own. it's the only thing I can see to do. It scares me, because what if you come back, and we're too different? if we've both grown in a way that my kids don't call you "uncle"? That you're not next to me when I get married? It's funny, I think -- I was gonna do that proposal before the end of this summer. You know, before tax season? Like we always talked about? That way we could both be engaged for our final year. it would've been so great to see the look on people's faces.

I think ill end these with what I'm listening to. You know I love my playlists. I made one about how I feel right now, like the dramatic emo idiot I am inside. I've got to find some My Chem to put in there, that'll really sell it.

I miss you. And I'll never stop.

xx,

Ms. U

[kob131]

Unfortunately this isn’t Monkey 60, it’s someone else. The big issue that manga made and I can see it is how ultimately nothing matter. Don’t mistake my intentions, loving who you are is a great message but when the message involves a character being ignored while showing signs of heavy depression to the point of being not alive (I’m hoping this phrase is okay) and them magically getting over it feels sorta disgusting. It’s like a bad form of coping that I feel is more toxic than positive and the writers are trying to paint it like committing not alive (again I’m hoping this phrase is okay) and being reborn makes all the problems go away.

Thanks for coming back Anon.

And considering you're talking to a guy whose had suicidal thoughts and has depression- you could have just said 'comitting suicide' and it would have been fine.

I hope you see this because I'm gonna be bearing a lot here.

I feel like Kamen doesn't understand the complexities of depression and suicidal thoughts.

The mentioning of how Ruby's friends and family don't show concern for Ruby? That's not true. They do show concern for Ruby. Everyone is visibly uncomfortable when Ruby gives the parting line at the end of V9 E2. Blake tries to comfort Ruby during E7 and remind her of staying cheerful. Yang...does this three fucking times.

Do you want to know what Ruby herself does each time? She rejects them. She pushes them away or shoots down their concerns. Then she explodes on them for things that are either not their fault or just trying to move on.

RUby wasn't ignored- She felt ignored because she was isolating herself.

And just as well- Only Ruby could pull herself out of that slump. Only Ruby could pull herself out of that hole she dug herself in. Only Ruby could overcome that.

'But isn't it really wrong to just have your character magically get over suicidal depression after a small talk?'

Maybe. But you know what would be worse than Ruby's situation?

Losing the only man who ever believed in you, showed faith in you and guided you. Your so-called comrades not only TRULY ignore your pain, one of them even says that you're at fault for his death because you had an emotional episode and he died saving you. And all he gets is a minor call out by his sister. But you getting up in your friend's face, putting blame on him for your bro's death because of his religion? That's a big no-no. And the only person to actually try talking to you is some girl you found about a day ago. But hey, it's all better now! The girl you use to have a crush on told a story about your bro that you might have not even heard and you're all better after a speech!

I mean, what awful, no good, poorly written, obscure trash could that even be-

Oh. It's not only one of the most well remembered scenes in one of the most well beloved recent anime-

It's the story of the character who inspired me to keep living.

Yeah, I wasn't just saying bullshit to defend RWBY when I said I've had suicidal thoughts. That is something i legitimately went through. Back when i was in high school, with depression destroying my motivation to work on my grades, my mom screaming her head off at me about how I was ruining my life, how I hated how angry and temperamental I was. I legitimately thought about sliting my wrists and walking out into the snow to die.

And then i caught Kill La Kill on Toonami at my grandpa's house. I thought it looked cool so I looked it up and found Gurren Lagann. And I binged watched it. I watched a kid who went through far worse than me, finding himself in as deep a hole as me. And he pulled himself out. He found the will to keep living, to keep fighting, to break through any wall in front of him. And by the end, Simon was a true hero.

And that inspired to keep living.

I'm sorry but the arguments Kamen and so many make about Ruby's arc would also apply to Simon's. That there's no self reflection? Simon proceeds to do reckless bullshit throughout the series.

That no one cares about them and no one reflects on how they affected them? Team Dai-Gurren legitimately NEVER check up on Simon or try talking to him. NIA did more for him than they did and she knew him for a fucking day.

That what they did to them was toxic? Gee, at least Team RWBY admitted they may have made a mistake. Kittan, the guy who threw Kamina's death into Simon's face, acts like he always knew he was okay and he suffers no consequences for his actions.

That they're magically okay afterwards? Trying to show me a picture of Ruby coming back and Simon coming back would be like that Office meme- they're the same damn picture.

In every regard, for me to accept that RWBY fucked up would be to accept that Gurren Lagann fucked up as bad if not WORSE. And that doesn't work considering it resonated with me enough to keep going.

So I hope you understand why I don't think these arguments work. Especially since I know quite a few of these guys are Gurren Lagann fans.

[officeobject]

Okay, so like, this one guy likes my polls or something (still not sure if that includes me as a person but okay), and first of all, if he reads this, I just want him to know that he ain't scaring the shit out of me - well, if he is, it's partially fun, it's not his fault, and I have biases due to past experiences but my personal relationships with someone, will be the ultimate determining factor for my opinion and stuff, of them - like, personality above age, still, it's just that in the beginning, I might have my guard up more due to age and stuff, because look, when you're in the wild (well, the small city/town, but still), you don't have TIME for guesses, or getting to know people, you must assess the possible danger beforehand and go by that, until you learn the details, you know? And, like, don't feel like shit about yourself, I'm sure plenty of people would like you, and you seem like a good person, etc, I just have this inherent fear, because as far as I know, the people you're most similar to, are of the typically most edgy age AND gender, even if you're not edgy yourself - like, I'm not a psychologist, so Lord knows how fear works, but like, I'm not gonna hate you for being a teenie boy or anything, and the teenage boys I HAVE known, aren't just teenage boys to me, so like, I don't know if you felt any % of sadness or whatever, but like, don't worry, besides just some extra fear, my opinion (which will be based on personality), is neutral.

I ran out of ideas, especially if I have to keep the teenie in mind, but then I got an idea, and like, *sigh*, whatever, we're just making something I would like (the teen likes all kinds of polls anyway, and just likes pressing buttons - hope it's ACCURATE buttons). Anyways,

For context, the goth dog is the "family dog", not actually mine (if he can even COUNT as a dog).

Also, my "lawyer" responded today, and like, I TOTALLY gotta ACTUALLY respond today - life gets in the way sometimes I guess, though now it's time!

All jobs are available (except living with me), no you will not get paid, but like, my existence in your lucky life is enough of a blessing in the form of a gift from Heaven, so it's fine.

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4 - ʙᴏʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ

Summary: In the middle of exams and a diet of instant noodles, you decide to order some take out. What you did not expect was your delivery person to be a hot guy on a motorcycle, who, as fate would have it, happens to be a fellow student at your university.

chapter notes.: Penguin and Shachi being really interested in who Law had a study date with, and mentioning of Laws ex gf, also uncle Rosi mentions <3

tags.: One Piece, Trafalgar Law, Law x Reader, NSFW, slow burn romance (?), Modern AU, law has a motorcycle cuz its hot, Penguin and Shachi appearing as flat mates, Rosinante as the loving uncle, Laws crazy Ex,

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Law wanted to text you. He felt a bit guilty for leaving so abruptly without a proper goodbye. Maybe he could use the chance to apologize for his quick disappearance or, better yet, set up another study session. He had to admit, the last one had been surprisingly productive—way more than he’d expected.

Initially, he agreed to study with you because he was running out of time and figured someone who always seemed to be buried in their books could save him some effort. It might’ve sounded opportunistic—and honestly, it was. Sure, he enjoyed your company, but the main reason was to cram effectively. He wasn’t ready to admit, even to himself, that your presence actually helped him unwind, even for just a moment.

Still, he couldn't find the right time to message you. Walking home with Penguin, he didn't want to risk sending a text and having to deal with his teasing. Penguin already joked that their "study date" was more of an actual date, and that was already irritating enough. Even if it was something more, it wasn’t any of his business.

“By the way, those puns were terrible. Seriously, you’ve got to cut them, Peng,” Law muttered as he dropped onto the worn-out couch in their living room. Penguin already popping open a cold beer and handing one over to Law.

Before Penguin could defend himself, Shachi strolled out of the bathroom, a towel draped around his neck, his damp brown hair pushed back, still dripping slightly. He was already dressed in his usual comfortable clothes and hearing the conversation, he wanted to comment on Penguins thesis as well, which he also proof read for him.

"Yeah, Peng. You're supposed to impress your professor with your thesis, not make him cringe."

"Guys, come on, there's a strategy here!" Penguin held up his hands in mock defense, already sensing the incoming wave of criticism. He sat down next to Law and wanted to explain his…creative way of writing.

Both Law and Shachi exchanged suspicious looks but gave Penguin a chance to talk.

“My professor is basically a walking dad joke. I figured slipping in a couple of puns would make it more… relatable, you know?”

Shachi frowned, grabbing a beer before slumping onto the couch next to them. “Dude, it's an academic thesis, not open mic night. Are you sure that's the right call?”

Law was quiet for a second, considering it. Then he shrugged. "If your professor’s into that sort of thing, maybe toss one in... but just one. At the conclusion or something.”

“Are you seriously encouraging this?” Shachi raised his eyebrows, clearly in disbelief, especially coming from Law.

Law took a long sip from his beer, then shrugged again, nonchalant as ever. Maybe it was his exhausted mind talking nonsense, but honestly he didn’t really mind it if there was a reason. It didn’t sound stupid.

"Look, it's not like anyone else is gonna read it, and if the professor enjoys that kind of humor, why not? But, for the love of god, Penguin—just one pun. You’ve got way too many in there. It’s distracting."

Penguin sighed and leaned back against the couch, nodding. Law noticed his shift in demeanor—maybe constantly criticizing his work wasn’t the best idea. After all, Penguin had poured months into that thesis, combing through scientific papers, fitting them into his argument, all while completely neglecting his health and barely taking any breaks. Law knew that both his friends were sharp, even though they liked to goof around a lot. Law couldn't deny that. Penguin was knee-deep in marine biology, while Shachi tackled mechanical engineering. Both degrees demanded a lot from students, and Law had nothing but respect for their dedication.

“Besides the puns, it's a solid thesis,” Law said in his usual flat tone, reaching for the remote to turn on their small TV. It sat precariously on a makeshift shelf they’d salvaged from a dumpster. After a few minor repairs, it became somewhat usable.

They had agreed early on not to let their apartment turn into a disaster zone but also didn’t want to spend much money on new furniture. Despite that, the place had a cozy charm. It was an unspoken rule to keep it reasonably clean. Sure, there were occasionally pots “soaking” in the sink for far too long, and maybe some breadcrumbs were left scattered on the floor, but overall, the place wasn’t a mess.

Hearing the first bit of positive feedback from Law, Penguin now looked over, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

Shachi also noticing that some positive feedback was probably more constructive than just criticism, he was ready to lift the mood, giving Penguin a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Yeah, man! It’s a great read. I’m sure you’ll ace it. Seriously, stop worrying.”

“Honestly, the only thing I found to fix were those puns, anything else was good.” Law added, propping his head in his hand, his attention still on the TV. That was probably the most support you could get out of Law, generally speaking but also considering how drained he was.

Penguin’s face lit up with a wide smile, finally relaxing into the couch. After all the stress, getting approval from Law and Shachi felt good. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot!“

That being said, a comfortable silence settled between the three young men, which Law was very eager to enjoy. To his dismay however, Penguin wasn’t one to just sit there in silence and spilled the beans out of nowhere, now shifting the attention to Law. „By the way, Law was out with a girl.”

“I take it back. Your thesis is shit.”

Law shot Penguin a death glare, knowing exactly where this was headed. Shachi perked up immediately, practically sliding over for the incoming gossip.

“Oh ho ho, really?” He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning like a kid with a secret. “Is she pretty?”

“Yeah, man! You should’ve seen her! Her smile was so adorable and her—”

“I swear, Penguin, I’ll rewrite your entire thesis with nothing but dad jokes and send it straight to your professor.”

“C’mon, Law!” Shachi joined in, unable to resist. “You never go out with anyone. Obviously, we’re curious!”

Law rolled his eyes, trying to shut out the teasing, but the smug grins from both Shachi and Penguin made it clear he wasn’t escaping this conversation easily. He took a long swig from his beer and let out a dramatic sigh. “We were just studying.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure," Shachi waved off the uninteresting part, leaning forward with a grin. "How’d you meet? At uni? In a lab?”

Law could tell Shachi wasn’t interested in hearing what they were studying. It had been years since Law had anything serious with someone, and even that had fizzled out. His last real relationship, back at the start of university, had been a disaster—his ex was a little... unhinged, to say the least. Aside from that, there were the occasional one-night stands after parties, but nothing anyone would consider serious.

He hesitated, thinking of a way to dodge the subject. But he remembered how often his uncle had told him to open up more, at least to Penguin and Shachi. Law knew these two could handle his closed-off nature—they’d been doing it for years. If anyone deserved a peek past his walls, it was them. Rosinante was right.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “I met her during work.”

Penguin’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, while you were delivering food? How did you even end up meeting her like that?”

It was a fair question. Delivering food didn’t exactly lend itself to romantic meet-cutes, and Law wasn’t exactly Mr. Charisma when it came to flirting. It was hard to imagine how this had come about.

“Yep, brought her food,” Law replied, keeping it deliberately vague, the mischievous grin tugging at his lips. He knew that wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy them and was clearly enjoying dragging it out.

Penguin, not amused by the teasing, gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “Oh, come on! You can’t just leave it at that!”

Law smirked, savoring the moment. He tried to play it cool, but his friends were too excited to let him brush it off. Sure, your company was comforting, you were smart, and yes, you were undeniably pretty and his type—but Law barely knew you.

“Yeah, last week or so, I brought her order and—,” Law began, leaning back into the couch, his voice steady.

“Oh, the night you had to work overtime and finish that other assignment?” Shachi asked, recalling how exhausted Law had looked when he got home. He’d been worried—those dark circles under Law’s eyes seemed to be getting worse every day.

Law nodded, taking another sip of his beer. “Yeah, that night. She brought me some water, and—”

“Aww, that’s so sweet of her!” Penguin interrupted with a grin, earning a sharp look from Law.

“Can I finish without you two chiming in every five seconds?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Penguin chuckled, leaning back and gesturing for Law to continue. He could barely contain his excitement, but he tried.

“Anyway, she asked why I looked so rushed, and turns out she’s doing meds too—studying for the same exam next week.” Law shrugged like it was no big deal. “She suggested we study together. Saved me some time to work with someone who’s ahead of me.”

Shachi and Penguin exchanged a glance, their eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Wait, hold up. She suggested it?” Shachi asked, eyes wide.

“Yup.” Law met their gaze, already anticipating where this was going.

Shachi and Penguin looked at each other again, clearly having an unspoken conversation, before turning back to Law, their expressions a mix of disbelief and amusement. They both leaned forward like parents about to explain the facts of life to their clueless child.

“Dude, she definitely has a thing for you,” Penguin said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean ‘nah’? She went out of her way to ask you to study with her,” Shachi insisted, looking at Law like he was the densest person on the planet. “People don’t do that for just anyone.”

“She just wanted to study. We’re in the same degree. It's not that deep.”

Penguin shook his head, grinning. “Come on, man. She brings you water, chats you up, and then suggests a study date? You don’t see anything in that?”

Law sighed, trying to stay grounded. “She’s just being nice. I’m not reading into it.”

Shachi laughed, slapping his knee. “You’re hopeless. She’s into you, dude. Mark my words.”

Penguin nodded, clearly enjoying the teasing, while Law rolled his eyes again, though this time, a small grin tugged at his lips. His friends were hopeless romantics, always reading into every tiny gesture, convinced it meant someone was interested. Law, on the other hand, was the complete opposite—almost too oblivious to the idea that anyone could like him in a romantic way. He figured people didn't really go for someone as cold and closed-off as he was. Besides, he didn’t have time for a relationship.

“Remember when you were with Yuki?” Penguin chimed in, leaning back. “You didn’t think she liked you at first either.”

“Yeah… I wish she didn’t.”

Both Penguin and Shachi sighed, fully agreeing. Yuki had been... a handful, to say the least. Law’s relationship with her was still a running joke among the three of them.

“She still texting you?” Shachi asked, making himself comfortable again as if bracing for the gossip.

Law shook his head. “Nope. Blocked her. But I’m pretty sure she’s still following me with a second account on Instagram.”

Shachi let out a dramatic sigh.

“Never stick peepee into crazy.”

At that, all three raised their bottles in unison. “Cheers,” and taking a long sip. It was a victory toast—a reminder that Law had finally escaped the whirlwind that was his ex.

Just as Law was about to refocus on the TV, his phone buzzed. A new message. He casually pulled it out and glanced at the screen—it was from you.

Unlocking his phone, he read the text from you. It was simple: a thank-you for today and a question about meeting up again for studying. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it caught his attention enough to make him put his beer aside and reply right away.

Of course, his friends noticed immediately. Penguin leaned in, trying to sneak a glance at Law’s phone. "Y/N… is that her?"

Shachi perked up again, sitting upright, all traces of his earlier relaxation gone. "Oh, oh, what’s she saying?"

Law sighed, turning his phone away from Penguin, who was getting a little too close for comfort. “Ever heard of privacy?” he muttered, giving them both a warning look.

Penguin exchanged a mischievous grin with Shachi. "She wants to meet up again, doesn’t she?"

"It's just for studying. Now leave me alone."

“You could invite her over—” Shachi started, the teasing tone back in his voice.

“Definitely not.“

The last thing he needed was his friends playing matchmaker or causing any more awkwardness.

“Fine, fine, you're no fun... but how about this?” Shachi persisted, undeterred by the warning glare from Law. His patience was already wearing thin, and he was starting to regret even mentioning you to his friends, but Shachi was never one to be easily intimidated.

Law sighed, letting him continue. There was no stopping Shachi when he was on a roll.

“Do whatever you want, study for your exam, but if she seems cool, maybe bring her to the party in two weeks?” Shachi suggested casually.

“What party? The one your engineering group is throwing?” Law asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that one. By the way, Ikkaku said she’d come too,” Shachi added quickly, his tone more genuine this time. He wasn't trying to push Law into anything, just offering an idea.

Law looked at him for a moment, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. It was a simple, friendly offer, not the usual teasing. Shachi knew Law had sworn off dating after Yuki‘s chaotic exit from his life, but he was just trying to help him see that not every connection had to be a disaster.

“Just think about it," Shachi continued. "Study with her, get to know her, and if things feel right, you can bring her along. It's not like you're signing up for a lifelong commitment.”

Penguin chimed in, grinning. “Yeah, man, no one's saying you have to get married. Just have a little fun, meet some new people. Who knows?”

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t dismiss the idea outright. He was always packed with work and studying that socializing, let alone dating, had taken a backseat. The idea of bringing you to a party wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He could keep it casual, see where things went—no pressure, no expectations.

“We’ll see,” Law muttered, and took his beer back and leaned into the couch once more. He was glad the topic was over, and he could finally relax…even though you still ghosted around in his mind, especially after what his friends had told him.

Where you really interested?

…Nah, couldn’t be.

[Next Chapter]

tag list: @mars-mizuko (Comment to be added 🖤)

[chronicxwanderlust]

His silence was deafening.

In all the time that she'd known him, Marley had never seen Will at a loss for words. Though he'd shed the suit and tie and left the corporate world behind for a life of tying knots and refueling jet skis, he was as argumentative as they come, a trait she imagined served him well as a lawyer (but not so much as a deckie).

How many disagreements had she herself been on the other end of, silly spats over nothing turned to longwinded debates that left her sides aching from laughter, his inability to let anything go until he felt like his point, true or not, had been thoroughly made?

And what did it say now that he had absolutely nothing to defend himself with? That he wasn't even trying?

Putting out her cigarette suddenly felt like a mistake. Marley contemplated lighting another, torn between inviting this conversation (or lack thereof) to go on for any longer, or having to face him dead on without any sort of distraction, something to draw her focus away, something to do with her hands.

I shouldn't have left.

She reached for the lighter.

"Yeah, well," she paused as the flame flicked to life, "it's a little too late for that, isn't it?" The words murmured, as if the conclusion was simple, resigned to the way things were. The way he'd made them.

It'd all finally come together that last summer. The right place, the right time. The end of the season, no worries of workplace awkwardness, of burning too bright too fast. Endless possibilities Marley thought had started with that night, only to wake up naked and alone. No explanation, no goodbye.

A taste of her own medicine. Perhaps deserved, but bitter all the same.

"Don't." Her head shook, turned away from him under the guise of politely keeping the smoke from his face. "You clearly had your reasons, and I don't even need to know what they were, because they don't matter, Will. I don't care about them. But I'm not gonna sit here and let you sabotage somethin' good for me because you've just realized I'm not gonna be around as your backup option."

Emboldened, Marley turned to look at him. "It's been weeks since we got here and you expect me to believe this has nothin' at all to do with me and Culver? You're just now reminiscin' on one of your best nights when we've been sleeping fifteen feet apart for nearly a month?" Pretty words, but still just a way for him to beat around the bush, to try and deflect from what she was truly asking. "It's bullshit." She repeats.

You don't want me, Will. You just don't want anyone else to have me. For the first time in a long time, Will was speechless. He had no rebuttal, no string of logic to prove his innocence in the matter. A part of him wondered if she was right, though that felt just as wrong. The truth of the matter is that maybe he just didn’t know what he wanted. It’s why he took this job to begin with, wasn’t it? This soul searching journey of his was supposed to be liberating, but now it felt like it was continuously biting him in the ass.

Was his jealousy just getting the best of him? In a strange way, he wanted to believe Marley’s accusations. If this was all a game to him, it would certainly make it easier to let all of this go and give the poor girl a break from whatever mess he made. 

For the second time that night, he watched her hit him back with something he couldn’t justify. He hadn’t forgotten that night they had last summer. Nor did he forget that he left her soon as the sun rose. He didn’t know why he did it. He liked the way things were between them - fun, flirty, a simple boatmance that should’ve been nothing more. But that night proved otherwise. It was much more than that. 

He knew that deep down. 

“I haven’t forgotten,” he admitted and looked over at her. Silence hung in the air once more, but before it could take them over, he spoke again. “I shouldn’t have left.” 

He never admitted his faults - another Edwards’s curse. But he was willing to admit that much to her. Of course he was doing it now as soon as she seemed to get close to his boss. There was nothing coincidental about his timing and they both knew it. It was unfair, just like everything he said to her that evening.

“I should’ve stayed… because that night with you was the best night of the summer. The best night I’ve had in a very long time.”