#it was such a bitch the entire time but finally. he is stable

[theamazingannie]

Why is it so hard for parents to tell their kids what they want for Christmas??? My dad has been going on for MONTHS about wanting this particular thing so I said my sister and I would get it for him and now he’s like “it’s too expensive don’t go it” when the thing is FIFTY DOLLARS. I spent that much on him last year just me!!

[pampushky]

i hate the air he breathes his foolish decrees

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 2 - 5k

woooo welcome to part 2 my loves! sorry for the slight wait. I've been doing hot bitch shit (my actual job). but now we're back. enjoy the fuck out of it. TW: no mention of abuser other than as him. mentions of abandonment and severe physical trauma in the form of a house fire. lore drop on the main character too!!

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Mid-March 2005. Los Angeles.

Niki gets a call from an unknown number that wakes him up from a deep slumber, and he hardly has any time to think as he’s pulling a sweater over his head and forgoing a hat entirely. It’s his third day in as your legal guardian, and you’re already transferred to a state-of-the-art hospital in Los Angeles, across the country from where you’d lived previously. A newer set of mountains. A city to the hamlet you’d once known, hidden away in the foggy mountains of North Carolina.  

As he blearily walks into the hospital lobby, there’s already a small team of doctors waiting for him, explaining rapidly what's happening to you as they walk him up to your room in the burn ward. You’re in the best hospital for burns on the continent— Niki had made sure of it. Had paid for the flight over here two days ago, with a medical staff on board to keep you stable during the five-hour flight. 

The doctors swarming around your unconscious form resemble vultures. The burn center director explains everything to him when they finally get to your room. The rapid medical treatment nearly made you present early. Freakishly early, by all standards. It’s understood to have been a panic response by your body— because you're on the brink of death in the burn ward, your hormones so out of whack that for whatever reason, your brain had gone, ‘Oh, yes, it’s time to do that now.’

Studies had shown that those in areas where the risk of death was high often presented much earlier, with other cases that also supported something known as “panic presentation”. You’re an extreme example of the latter. But it had never been seen to this degree. You need to be knocked out for several days, going comatose while a team of doctors works around the clock to save your life while it seems likely you will melt away like the first snowfall on a sun-warmed road as it seems new complications get piled onto your case file every day. The way the doctor talks about you makes Niki feel like you’re more of a specimen meant for study, and not a pup who’d just lost her Dam. 

Marlene has already decorated the sterile room to reflect more on a child’s room. And wherever there’s an empty space on a table, she’s placed down vases full of fresh flowers. Flowering dogwood. That’s what the state flower was of North Carolina, and however early in the season for blooming it was, she managed to find fresh ones every day. Now, Marlene was back at the hotel, settling a new wave of interest about your identity while Niki tried to figure out what he was going to do with you when he's lead into the room.

You’re already on several new medications to prevent you from presenting early, having them inserted in through an IV and eventually, to be taken as a pill when you could swallow. You'll be on these same medications until you’re seven or eight, when they can start to consider weaning you off of them to let you present then because it’ll be safer. Niki hates the idea of you presenting even then. You should be almost fully grown when you present. Not— not still a pup. With baby teeth still in your mouth. You should be wrestling. Learning to access your canine form, and causing mayhem like his sons had. 

So he does what he’s been doing for the past five days. Niki sits quietly by your side in your private room. Holding your tiny hand while a machine breathes for you, not even five years old, and fighting for your life. Completely unaware of the complications your existence has thrown straight into Niki’s lap, dredging up old, old wounds that his sons have yet to recover from.

Because the great complication is that you’re his biological grandchild. 

Through a son, a beta, that neither Lukas nor Mathias had gotten to know. Or Niki, for that matter. But here you are. The only link to that son. To the ultimate undoing of his marriage and mating, his infidelity thrown back in his face in the form of a sedated, traumatized pup that can’t understand him through his accent.

Left without a dam, your mother. Lost to the roaring flames of a housefire that you’d somehow survived. Part of Niki wants to know how his son had ended up in the area, and if there are any other new descendants he should know about. So he petitions the court to gain access to your files before he legally adopts you, and he stares down at them before finally lifting the cover of the manila folder and starts to read.

All the files seem to stare right on back at Niki as he continues to pour through them, officially five minutes and nine seconds into being your legal guardian. They’re meticulous, just as expected— it had become standard for anyone who’d had so much as a visit to a hospital to create a DNA profile, especially after they presented. His affair child’s profile stares back at him, with what he can only assume is an up-to-date photo. Male. Beta. Signed away parental rights before birth. Austrian nationality. That’s all you have to go on for your biological father’s identity. 

That’s all that linked Niki to you, and how the social worker had managed to contact him. All other positive matches from your father’s side are his former mistress as your biological grandmother and his two sons with Marlene as your uncles. There are no other pups listed for his affair child. No other grandchildren that he has to worry about. Your dam’s profile is more complete. A smiling picture of her holding you as an infant, left by her family.

Female. Omega. Deceased. American nationality, born in Banner Elk, North Carolina. 

And under that:

Dam’s pack signed away pack and next of kin rights to the pup. Relevant health history is accessible through the International UN DNA database. Pack requested no contact order until the pup has reached legal age, or unless the pup does not survive her time in hospital, so they may bury her in the family plot with her Dam.

This makes a chill run down Niki’s spine. Your pack had… signed you away? The only people who had been familiar to you— and they had signed away their rights as though you were more of a burden than anything, only asking for you back if you were dead. It makes him shudder, as he looks down at your tiny body again, for what must have been the thousandth time since he’s been introduced to you. Since he’d so quickly agreed to become your legal guardian, your legal sire. Covered in bandages and hooked up to dozens of wires. 

The social worker explained that signing you away was them not wanting to pay for the massive medical bill, along with the scandal your birth had caused in the small community. Your Dam was unmated, and even worse, unmarried, raising you on her own in a less-than-up-to-code cabin her late father had left her, further out in the mountains, a thirty-minute drive into town. 

The matriarch of her pack had been well-regarded in the area— it was an open secret that she was looking for any excuse to remove you from the picture. This just happened to be the perfect excuse. How was she going to be able to pay for your medical costs on her own when it was just her? All the advanced treatments you’d need— it would be too much in her old age.

When told about the Children’s Health Insurance Programs that could easily provide care for you, your grand-dam had just made a sour face and told the Social Worker she was still signing away her rights. Her surviving children were quick to follow her lead.

What a backward system. Niki had growled to himself, pacing in the room. Reading the reports from the insurance company he’d managed to legally bully his way into receiving from your biological family. 

The cabin had burnt down in nearly an hour. You’d been trapped under a metal bed frame when the roof collapsed in on itself. When they’d found you, it had been a recovery effort for bodies. And despite it all, you’d survived, your whimpering and crying alerting the firefighters that you were alive. Severely burnt, with the old mattress and polyester blankets having melted and dripped across your little body as the embers settled. Half of your body severely burnt from where the flames could still reach you. Crying out for your Dam even as you were airlifted to the nearest hospital with a functioning burn ward.

Going over your files has become a habit for first past three days. Ever since Marlene had gone silent when Niki told her that he was going to adopt you, before brusquely starting to order furniture and calling countless contractors that a new pup-friendly room be added to his house in Hof. He’s lucky to at least be considered a friend of his former mate, otherwise, he would be stumbling through his second round of parenting. He looks down at the newest addition to his pack. You. Four and a half. With burns covering an incredible amount of your body. Nearly 45% percent of your torso, completely mangling one of your legs, crawling up your neck and dancing across your jaw. Now lying in a medically-induced coma to conserve your energy. 

You wake up nearly two days later. Five days into Niki’s tenure as your legal sire. Unable to scream. Eyes fixed on Niki as your little chest heaves with the effort it takes to breathe. You pull at your IV and try to snap at a nurse who tries to stop you. But your eyes are still fixed on Niki, likely horrified by his burns. You were glancing at your own bandaged arms and body as if to gauge how you would one day look. 

There is a wild look in your eyes as you look at him. The way you tremble as the doctors try to explain everything. It hurts Niki’s heart, especially with the gasping noise you let out before they sedate you again when you’re still not responding well to anything. Niki wants to wrap you up in his arms and never let you go. You mumble something out as you drift away again, tears in the corners of your eyes. Foggy eyes on the extravagant bouquets of flowers on the tables beside your bed and across the room.

Where is my Dam? 

Early February 2024. Woking.

Your left leg was acting up again. It always did when you were stressed. The fire had mangled it— and that was putting it lightly. Not bad enough to amputate, because that would be too easy, and they didn’t want to send your body into even more shock. So you had your crispy, chicken-fried, useless leg. You could put some weight on it now, after nearly twenty years of intense therapy and correcting surgeries. But it was still incredibly weak. All twisted, mottled skin and a full knee replacement.

That’s what had made it so easy for him. That’s what had made it easy for him to chase you down as you tried to leave every situation that saw him near you. Easily able to keep pace with your shambling, stress-induced walk as you choked on his scent. 

Your upper thigh twinges. The needle pierces your skin all over again. That was the only reason you’d been able to walk away without experiencing a true heat from whatever drug he’d hit you with. The bad, mangled leg of yours. Your downfall and savior. 

The halls are winding, but you can vaguely follow the way to your office from previous talks. You call Lewis the moment you get to the room. There’s already a brand-new mini fridge sitting on your desk, likely from the accommodations you’d listed in the countless documents you’d had to sign when you got hired. 

There’s a few people unboxing your items and they look a bit shocked to see you back from what was supposed to be a much longer meeting.

“Ms Lauda—”

“Leave, please,” you whisper while pacing across the room, trying to calm yourself down. You can feel your scent-blocking, adhesive strips tingling. Your scent glands, especially the damaged ones, threatening to blister from the stress of what just happened. You were going to be sacked for certain. Not only had you yelled at the driver you were meant to work with, you’d also thrown an empty can at him. “I’d like some space.”

The workers, your new assistants, you realize, hurry out, not even catching your mumbled thanks as you tuck yourself into a corner where you can’t be seen from the door. So much different than Williams. So much more support. Lewis doesn’t pick up immediately, but just as you’re about to call again, his contact photo appears on your screen. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay—” Is the first thing you hear, like the protective older brother he’s always situated himself as in your life. “What room are you in? I still haves ways to get into the classified parts of the MTC—” 

“I’m going to fucking kill Lando Norris,” You growl into the phone, and Lewis lets out a relieved noise, before breaking off into a fit of laughter, his voice more distant as if he’s trying to muffle himself. “Don’t laugh! That fucking brat, I should box his goddamn ears, showing up nearly an hour late to what was supposed to be our initial meeting—” 

“Ah, yeah, sounds like Lando!” 

“Fuck off, Lewis,” You whine, and he has the audacity to laugh even harder, because your accent slips, as it always seems to do when you’re with your immediate pack. You can hear him shuffle a bit. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” You concede to him with a soft sigh. You hear the chortling barks of Roscoe in the background of Lewis’s call. “I’m gonna do my job. But I’m gonna hate it. Unless I get switched to Oscar.”

“Don’t sound too hopeful.” Lewis chides on the other side of the phone, and you hear the doorknob jiggle, followed by a soft knock. “Sounds like you have some work to do.” 

He hangs up before you can say something in response to him, leaving the gentle knocking on the door to slowly drive you insane. Likely Andrea or Zak, telling you that you were going to be let go for committing a minor assault against their star driver. 

And you're right, it is Zak. But he looks more concerned than angry with you, immediately putting his hands up in a placating manner when you open the door as if you’re the one with all the power and he’s not the CEO of McLaren Racing, your ultimate boss. Your boss’s boss. The one who bulldozed his way into getting you on the team because he’d seen your work to get at least a modicum of respect back to Williams, and, in his own words, got a good vibe from you.

(And maybe Niki had been in his ear a little bit about it, but when Niki Lauda spoke, people had a habit of listening rather closely to whatever he said.)

“Mr. Brown,” You start formally, leaning down in a way that is traditionally seen as submitting and a very, very formal way to apologize before he starts to squawk in surprise at it all. 

“Don’t– What are you submitting for— are you alright?!”

The last thing you expect is Zak fretting over you like you’re a pup. He’s gently squishing your cheeks with his hands, checking you over, and you can see his nose twitching, as if he’s checking your scent for any signs of distress. Only to look confused by how… clean, you smell.

“Are you— are you still hurt from everything?”

“No, I just,” You take a step backward, and hold up your hands just like he had just been doing for you a few seconds ago. “It’s easier to hide my designation when I smell like this.”

He just looks confused at your explanation but doesn’t seem to question it.

“And you… want to continue hiding it?”

“Preferably.”

Even as you say it, you can see a bit of pity in his eyes. You know his mate is an omega. He has a pup who’s an omega. Both of which he supports wholeheartedly. You’d seen all the articles. Part of you is jealous. Another part just wants everyone to stop caring about what your designation may be. Why should anyone care what you are? 

You’re proud of yourself, regardless of your designation. You’re not some prize to be won! You can stand on your own two feet, you can take care of yourself. You had more than shown that—

Zak is hugging you. Rumbling softly like any parent would do for a distressed pup.

“You don’t have to justify it. I just need to know so I can make sure that no one else is told, aside from our medical people.” He whispers, and you sag against him. Relief fills your mind. “What— what do people think you’ve presented as?”

“Alpha. Like Vati. They think I’m an Alpha.” 

“We can work with that,” Zak pulls away, looking at you. There’s only worry in his eyes. “Can I ask one more thing?”

“Yeah,” You sniffle, not realizing you’d starting to tear up as you look at him. “What is it?”

“Why…. did you throw an empty can of Red Bull at Lando? You’re not in trouble, I just want to know why.”

You flush, and Zak just starts to laugh. 

McLaren is much, much different than Williams.

Lando has been sitting in a chair while Oscar screams at him. Andrea has disappeared. It’s been ten minutes and all he wants to do is curl up and die and apologize for commenting on your voice and being late and not charging his phone and really, every other thing that he’d done wrong, ever.

Yes. He is technically the older one. No, he shouldn’t be acting like such a pup over this.  

Yes. He should know better than to comment on things that people can’t change or help about themselves.

Yes, Oscar, Lando was aware that you had survived a very traumatic house fire that nearly killed you. No, it’s not okay that he called you a robotic bitch. No, he didn’t read the email about the apparent triggers that you had from this event. Frankly, he wasn’t even aware that they had emailed those to him. That seemed like a bit much.

“I mean seriously, Lando! This is ridiculous! Fucking calling her that!” 

It feels like he’s being lectured by his Dam again, her words blending English into Flemish until he can’t tell what she’s saying, just that she’s pissed at him. Instead, it’s just Oscar’s accent getting thicker and thicker until Lando’s certain he’s never heard anyone sound so furious with him, and that’s really saying something. 

“I get it,” Lando whines, letting his head slip so that he can press his forehead against the table. And he does feel bad! Really! “I didn’t know she’d respond like that!”

“Wonderful excuse to be a fuckhead, champ,” Oscar drawls, eyes narrowed. His arms are folded. He looks unimpressed. He smells more, now than ever, of rotting oranges. Lando can imagine the maggots. “I’m shocked you didn’t comment on her designation as well.”

“She’s an alpha! And she smells so medicine-y,” Lando wrinkles his nose, lifting up his head enough to glare at the omega in front of him. Oscar’s face is a blank mask of annoyance, with a flicker of some other mystery emotion. But he can at least tell what he’s thinking because he can smell his displeasure from across the room. It’s all rotten oranges, burning rubber, and singed hair. “C’mon! I didn’t know it’d set her off that much, man!”

“Commenting on traumatic events tends to do that to people.”

“How was I supposed to know it was traumatic?!”

“Wow, you really didn’t read any of the emails,” Oscar lets out a low huff, sitting across from Lando in one of the plush office chairs. “We’ve been in talks with her for weeks!”

“You were in talks with her, maybe,” Lando says snidely, narrowing his gaze at the omega across from him, “I didn’t think I needed a new race engineer, yet here we are. But you seemed awfully interested when you heard she was looking for a new team.”

Oscar scoffs. His cheeks turn slightly pink. “No, I wasn’t. She’s a good friend. I thought she’d be a good fit for the team.”

“Oh, so this has nothing to do with the fact that you have such an obvious crush on her? I bet Logan even helped set you up,” Lando knows he’s been a dick again. But he’s frustrated. He’ll get lectured by his therapist for this later, and he’s okay with that. He just needs to make Oscar squirm a little for his high-and-mighty attitude. “You want her pups, I bet. Already have the first three named.”

“Fuck off,” Oscar snarls, and Lando decides to keep digging a bit more. “It’s not like that! Besides— I’m courting someone!”

An awkward silence settles between the two. Oscar’s flushed pink. And Lando starts to grin. All evil like, in Oscar’s opinion. Gleefully, in his own. 

"Oh, but it is!” Lando chimes, his voice all sing-songy. He’s in full older brother mode. He knows exactly what to do to push Oscar’s buttons now that his teammate has shown his weakness. He’s done this with his sisters. And Oscar’s probably used to being the one doing the tormenting, as his family’s oldest pup. “You like her!” And then, with a very dramatic gasp, “Oh, you’re probably courting her! No wonder you wanted her here!”

Without so much as a warning, the Australian driver leaps at him with a snarl the moment the words are out of his mouth. They’re both tussling on the ground, before it turns into the two of them in their canine forms, snapping and snarling at each other. This is when Andrea decides to make a reappearance, looking a bit startled to see a mousy-brown wolf and a dark-brown wolf rolling around on the floor of the conference room. Oscar is large for an omega in his canine form, but still smaller than Lando. Lando is wirey, not as bulky as many would expect an Alpha to be. It’s rather evenly matched, considering how often the two of them are training. 

One moment, Lando has Oscar pinned. Another, Oscar has him pinned. Snarling and biting and kicking until the door opens again, and now it’s Andrea, Zak, and yourself watching the two of them wrestle until you fearlessly walk into the fray and grab Oscar by one of his hind legs.

Oscar turns human again immediately, hitting the ground with a loud ‘oof’ while Lando scurries away, watching as you start to lecture the other driver as he stands up. Your tone is hushed, but it’s clear that this seems to be a common occurrence between the two of you. You’re leaning over him, and the rumblings of annoyance and displeasure are clear as day.

Lando can’t help but smirk as the other man makes fleeting eye contact with him as you sit on his side of the table, taking your place as his engineer, despite your obvious contempt for him. 

“Now, let's get to business…” Andrea sighs. You keep your eyes ahead. Hands folded neatly in front of you. Letting his words blur until you feel Oscar gently tugging on your arm. He looks concerned, and you smile tiredly at him. Only just remembering the promise of cuddling in his nest with him when this was all done. 

You don’t even care if you look or act nothing like the Alpha that Lando thinks you are. You just slump against Oscar with a grumpy half-whine as he hoists you over his shoulder. The other driver lets out a loud snort at that, and your friend only glares at him, about to say something else before you bring one of your hands to tap his cheek lightly.

“Just get to th’nest,” You mumble, leaning against him. Your leg aches. You don’t want to walk. “Wanna get th’blockers off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oscar sighs, glaring at Lando over his shoulder before walking past with you in his arms. You don’t care about how it looks. You’ll deal with it later. And before you know it, you’re curled in the world’s comfiest nest, all in shades of orange and black. With the comforting scent of sweet tangerines and charcoal. Oscar hands you a nice little bottle of micellar water to help get the sticky adhesive of the blockers off, much more gentle with your skin than you ever are with yourself. He’s even soaked cotton rounds to make it a bit easier to apply, gently rubbing them across your scarred glands to clear any remnants of the adhesive off of your skin.

The smells of mountain rain and fresh baked peach cobbler mix with Oscar’s scent as you stretch, rubbing your cheeks tiredly.

You let yourself relax then. Sinking deep into the soft pillows as Oscar comes to spoon you from behind. A commonplace action, and had been since he started to get more and more bold with you in his attempts to court you. 

You can hear Oscar start to Facetime someone, probably Logan. But you honestly don’t care all that much— he’s there, and you’ll give your friend a full debrief, of course, after you’ve fully rested. 

“Your leg acting up?”

Oscar nudges you, and you grumble, trying to press your face further into the plushness of the nest, voice muffled by pillows. “Who cares if it is?”

“I do.”

“So do I!” Logan chimes in from the phone, and you roll over enough to glare at him. “Did you take all your meds, mouse?”

“Unfortunately, yes. So I’m afraid you’ll just have to put me down at this point—”

You don’t even have time to respond as Oscar cuffs your ear. You let out a dramatic whine, actually letting yourself act on your instinctual noises. Nothing hurts, of course. Oscar’s always been gentle, making sure nothing actually hurts when he wrestles with you or cuffs your ears. 

“Did you have to get my bad ear?” You whine, looking accusingly at the Aussie who just grins down at you, cuffing the same ear once again. “I’m gonna tell Lewis.”

“He doesn’t scare me, and besides, he’d probably agree with me! All, ‘C’mon, Mousey, that’s not how your therapist said to cope with your trauma—”

“That’s a bit scary, how accurate that was,” You prop yourself up to glare at your dear friend, only to smile broadly at him. You can’t help it, really. He manages to make you smile, even when you feel like shit. And even when he cuffs your bad ear by mistake, after swearing he won’t do it again.

In truth, the ear looks almost melted. It’s usually carefully hidden by your personal stylist, with hair masterfully combed over it. The skin around it— luckily missing your scalp— was mottled and pink. What was left of your ear was little more than a small ridge of skin and cartilage at this point, and was much the same in your canine appearance, just more dramatic without all the fur. The upper half of your ear was utterly gone, along with most of the lobe. It was the ear you were deaf in. 

“Can it even hurt if you’re deaf?”

“Yeah! Doesn’t mean it’s gone numb to the feeling,” you pout, looking at him as he sets his chin on your shoulder. Logan giggles from FaceTime. He’s set up somewhere, Williams blue all around him that makes you avert your gaze but continue talking to him nonetheless. “Ugh. Logan, I almost killed Lando.”

“She threw a can of Red Bull at him,” Oscar clarifies, to his rather shocked-looking boyfriend and courting partner. To his credit, it takes a few seconds before Logan starts to cackle.  

“It was empty!” You protest back, but there’s a wide smile on your face as you hazard a glance at your former partner. “He was being a little bitch!”

“Should I be offended I didn’t get the same treatment my first day?” Logan’s voice crackles and his face is frozen on the screen with a mix of a confused look and smirk, before serenading both of you with a jumbled, robotic mess before the call abruptly ends. 

“Stupid wifi,” Oscar mumbles, pulling the phone away to text his boyfriend to see what happened. You just settle back into your side of the nest, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift off while Oscar’s comforting scent wafts over in you waves. You could just about fall asleep when there’s a gentle knock at the door, followed by Andrea poking his head in. 

He blinks at the two of you. You blink back at him, already knowing you won't be able to take a much-needed like you had originally planned.

“Ah! Ms Lauda— can I speak with you for a second?”

“Can I do it from here?” you try to press yourself deeper into Oscar’s nest. You’d need to find a place to make one here— a nice, private room. Somewhere you can easily reapply your scent blockers and can fully surrender to your instincts until you were comfortable with more people knowing about your designation. “Took off my blockers.”

“Of course. I just wanted to check in, make sure everything was alright after… how the meeting went.”

There’s a hearty pause. As if he can tell you’re thinking over your words carefully.

“It certainly… went.”

“Ah. And… no other comments?”

“I meant what I said. You baby Lando.” You shift slightly. Tiredly. Giving the team principal the trademark Lauda stare from where you’re comfortably curled into the nest. So soft, yet so harsh at the same time.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here to fix that,” Andrea smiles politely at you, and ducks out of the room without another word. You just settle deeper into Oscar’s nest, wondering what in the hell you’d gotten yourself into. The only thing on your mind when you finally manage to fall asleep is how much you miss your mother's fresh peach cobbler.

tags: @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @st0rmzi3 @poppyflower-22 @hiireadstuff @seonghwaexile @mrsmelinda

[i-cant-sing]

Dabi pours water/bleach (i think) on his head to wash out the black dye and reveal his identity.

Reader: Dad… dye washes out over time when you shower… and you’ve had jet black hair this entire time.

Dabi:…

Reader: Dad… have you not showered this entire time?

Dabi:…

Reader:… Dad answer me

100% but I think ever since daughter reader came into his life, he's been taking showers because... well, he wants to set good morals for you and also not be a total embarrassment to you.

I mean, imagine it's toddler reader's first day at school and Dabi is there to drop her off because of course he can't fucking miss your first day! That's just the beginning of a very spicy traumatic childhood, and he's not gonna let you have one!

So, Dabi is all nervous on the inside because of course everyone's fucking staring at him and he thinks it's because they either recognise him or are scared of him because he's ugly looking with all his burns and staples but in reality, everyone- moms, dads, teachers- they're all staring because wowoowowow who is this fine specimen of a man in a black fitted tee with sweatpants, bulging muscles (because this is evolution towards dad bod) and messy hair. There's just something about his rugged handsomeness, with a resting bitch face, a total bad boy vibe radiating off him.

And what's more attractive than a nonchalant bad boy??? A bad boy who's soft for his daughter🥺🥺🥺🥺

I mean, almost every adult feels something carnal inside them when they see Dabi bent down to pick you up, his muscles flexing, and a soft smile that's ONLY FOR YOU on his face as you giggle and kiss his nose and he returns the kiss on your cheeks, a tender look in his eyes as he wishes you well and hands you your pink school bag that looks extra small and cute in his rough hands🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Immediately, every parent there has made it their mission to be super nice and kind to you particularly because you clearly are your father's soft spot, so yes- they will manipulate you to be liked, no- at least ACKNOWLEDGED by Dabi.

They're all looking at Dabi with hearts in their eyes while Dabi just glares at them as a warning not to mess with you. On the inside, Dabi just wants to rush home so that he's not stared because he's very conscious and a little insecure of his appearance.

And then who is it that finally woos him over???

Pre school teacher Keigo Takami.

Okay maybe not "woo". More like "wears Dabi down enough and he only dates Keigo because you said that he was your favourite teacher".

Anyways, with a child in his life, Dabi decides its time to get a more stable job and leave the villainous life because he can't endanger you. I could see Dabi doing a lot of jobs- a professional chef, a mechanic, a race car driver, also a doctor (but not in this au, we already have platonic yandere Surgeon Dabi x reader x Lawyer Hawks), a farmer, lumberjack, firefighter(only cause of his quirk, not because he likes saving people) etc.

And now that he's got a stable income coming in, he's also gotta look sharp and nice for you. After all, he does want you to get into the best schools and be well mannered and groomed (minus a few times where he does actually want you to be a menace🥺 please do something evil😟). So, he's cleans up well, keeps himself well dressed and has you well dressed, and as far hair colour goes... professionals do his hair now! Complete with $$$ skincare and shit.

If Dabi was hot before, he's irresistible now.

[aihoshiino]

chapter 161 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 18

Aqua Hoshigan Status: For the future

Never has an OnK chapter gone from It's Hoshinover to We Are Oshi no Back quite as hard and fast as this one. I have issues with this chapter in terms of what it implies about the story's overall structure and the fact that it sort of ruins 153-4 by association but this chapter's back half is so fucking good and the chapter itself works so well in isolation that much like 153-4, I kind of uhhh don't care about the structural issues because the story's heart is, for the most part, not just intact but beating harder and more passionately than it has in a long time.

To get what I don't like out of the way, the story seems to have settled on Super Evil Serial Killer Mastermind Kamiki as his final form characterization with some helpful Tsukuyomi exposition to just straightforwardly Tell Us things the manga probably should have spent some of the last 70something chapters Showing Us about Hikaru. The basic idea of Hikaru being some sort of serial killer so dedicated to upholding Ai's legacy that he kills women with the potential to surpass her was more or less always where I expected his character to land and this settling of his character does at least preserve what I think is the most important thing: that he genuinely loved Ai and his bent towards villainy only came after her death.

What I don't love as much is that this chapter seems to continue leaning into Uber God Manipulator Mastermind Kamiki like last chapter. I already talked at length about my issues with this framing in my previous chapter review so all I'll reiterate here is that the story's attempt to frame Hikaru as being equally or even more culpable for the actions of Nino and Ryosuke fall entirely flat to me, especially when the manga itself does such a pisspoor job of actually explaining how or why Kamiki was able to control and/or predict their actions to the extent that he supposedly did. And ESPECIALLY especially given that Nino and Ryosuke seem to have already been dangerously obsessed with Ai by the time they approached him.

In general, Hikaru's character is honestly just so inconsistent at this point that making any sense of his actions feels fruitless. If I really dig into what's going on, I can infer that maybe he fell into the same trap as Aqua by overcompensating for his trauma-induced helplessness by becoming overly controlling and guess that his fucked up trauma response to Ai's death combined with those terrible words Kindaichi gave him at Airi's funeral lead him down he road he's traveling now. I can even extrapolate that Aqua showing him the DVD message in 153-4 pushed Hikaru to this extreme and now that he has nothing to lose, he's lashing out at his children too - though, it should be noted, that the manga still hasn't actually established what Hikaru's culpability is in Nino's attempt on Ruby's life, outside of Aqua saying "well you didn't use your psychic powers to perfectly predict nino's actions so it's on you".

But like - this is all stuff I'm having to infer and extrapolate and guess, reverse engineering logic from our end point in an attempt to create a stable foundation for this characterization. The manga has done such a poor job of properly establishing Hikaru both as an antagonistic force and as a consistent character that I feel like I'm trying to assemble a coherent image from two different puzzle sets with all the fucking corner pieces missing and that's with Crow Girl looking into the camera and Explaining Him to me.

And listen, I am a bitch who LOVES to infer things. One of my absolute favourite pieces of fiction of all time ever is Umineko no Naku Koro Ni, a mystery story that literally does not contain any straightforwardly explicit, textual confirmation of the culprit's identity or motives because it believes so strongly that you, the reader, are smart enough and empathetic enough to put in the time and effort necessary to understand it regardless and it deeply, deeply values being able to give you that experience. But OnK feels less like it's intentionally encouraging me to think hard and enjoy the process of putting my head and my heart to work - it feels like it's leaving its homework unfinished and letting the reader do the actual hard work of sewing up the internal logic.

I probably won't talk much more about Kamiki this chapter cos I'd just be saying all this shit over and over but I really just am struggling to understand from a perspective of authorial intent what the vibe is even supposed to be. Like I mentioned in a previous ask, if this is where Kamiki's arc is reaching its conclusion then it means that the Movie Arc was essentially a whole-ass waste of time in and out of universe. Blech. Hate that.

Also, before I move on, I don't want to leave this just implied - making Kamiki explicitly a CSA victim and then ending his arc on Aqua (and implicitly the narrative) dismissing him as being too broken/corrupted to be saved is a really major misstep that I think represents a huge black mark on OnK's handling of CSA as a topic. The idea of an eternal defilement or an unfixable core wrongness in the self is already something real life CSA victims struggle with in the process of unpacking their trauma and having our likable and supposedly morally superior protagonist espouse this unchallenged in a work as prominent and relevant as Oshi no Ko is irresponsible bordering on dangerous. It's incredibly disappointing that after all the care Aka and Mengo seemingly took in handling this topic that it was whiffed so badly at the last second.

ANYWAY!!! Now all the beef's been dealt with, we can cleanse our palettes and move onto everything else I liked which was… basically everything else in this chapter!

Admittedly, Aqua's overall arc is still suffering from us being kicked out of his head from like 123 onwards for no real apparent reason and while 150 was a welcome refresher on where he's at in this part of the story, it still feels a bit like the story is prioritizing preserving the surprise factor of its twists over making these surprises feel earned. Compare it to volume 1 - you are basically told exactly what is going to happen to Ai, especially in the manga when Saitou and Gotanda outright say as much - but her death is still incredibly impactful and upsetting. I think this chapter is very effective, but could've been a lot moreso if we'd spent more time in Aqua's head leading up to it.

THAT SAID… If the intention of keeping us out of his head was to recontextualize Aqua's behaviour across the past ten or so chapters in this new light, I don't hate it as much as I might have. I initially took issue with what felt like the story off-screening and not addressing the resolution to Aqua's suicidal ideation so whipping back around to prove that it was still very much present puts some particular Aqua moments over this past volume into a very different light. As some people pointed out, Aqua missing Kana's pitch - literally dropping the ball in responding to her feelings - and his wide-eyed look of alarm in 151 seemed very ominous omens for the success of her confession and that beat of him covering his face when Kana approves of his dream… very incheresting knowing Aqua was still struggling with 'love or revenge' at this point.

Most interesting of all to reconsider is Aqua breaking down in tears in Miyako's arms in 155 when she addresses him as her son for the first time. At the time it read like catharsis but now I can't help but wonder if this was Aqua grieving for something he desperately wants but thinks is out of his reach.

i do have to say though. i get the general vibe of this plan and think it works fine as the apex of aqua's self-sacrificial protectiveness for the people he loves but how is being the daughter of a serial killer somehow any less scandalous for her career than being the sister of someone who killed one dude. does aqua think they just won't notice that kamiki happens to be their biodad or something. wasn't that the whole point of the movie. goofy ass plan.

What really saves this whole scenario is the emotions at play, though. This really does feel like Aqua at his most Aqua in a really long while and this chapter has so much love and respect for his life as Aqua and the bonds he has formed as a result. The dreams Aqua lays out are so agonizingly simple, too - he wants to pursue the career he finds rewarding. He wants to date the girl he likes. He wants to accept Miyako as his mom and Himekawa as his brother and to make things right with Akane after hurting and using her. He wants to see Ruby achieve her dream and be there to support her when she does.

But Aqua's always considered his dreams impossible, hasn't he?

I fully admit; I got spoiled with the full page spread of Aqua stabbing himself way in advance of the chapter and initially hated it as a twist. But with the full chapter as context and the sheer weight of Aqua's longing to just fucking live and find joy, it's not just effective but absolutely gutwrenching. It is the synthesis of Aqua's series-long battle to choose love or revenge and it resonates perfectly because it has never been one or the other for him - Aqua's revenge has always been rooted in the fact that he loves others so wholly and completely and hates himself so utterly that he thinks sacrificing himself to preserve their futures is the only path for him to take. It's the culmination and final release of the suicidal ideation Aqua has been dealing with since he was four years old and like Ai's tragedy before him, there's a horrible sense that maybe there really was no other way this could've gone.

Aqua being the character who actually takes the knife also firmly cements him as Ai's narrative echo in the text which has me barkin and howlin because it's what I've been saying all this time. Not just that, but so many of Aqua's expressions in this chapter pointedly and deliberately echo Ai's after she was stabbed. Not just that, but Aqua's achingly simple dreams echo Ai's own heartrendingly simple regrets - all the two of them ever wanted was to be happy with the people they love.

This also reframes the story's prior establishment of Ruby as paralleling Ai and seems to place the twins in the position of echoing not Ai in her entirety but Ruby as 'Ai of B-Komachi' and Aqua as 'Ai Hoshino'. This was actually something I outlined in one of my very first meta posts on the series, but I think making it more specific to 'Ruby as Ai the idol' and 'Aqua as Ai the human', this actually gives Ruby's arc in relation to Ai a bit of breathing room. Don't get me wrong, everything I've said about her post-BH writing being underbaked and inconsistent is still the case, especially when it comes to how confused the story is on whether Ruby is her own idol or New And Improved Ai 2.0 but giving it less ground to cover helps in terms of her writing no longer being spread quite as thin.

Speaking of Ruby, that beat of her seeming to react or sense something is up the moment Aqua takes the stab. 'Something happened to my loved one far away and I just Feel It' is a trope I'm always a sucker for and I really dig it here.

"The public don't care about the truth, so let's tell them a lie" is such a crazy hard sentiment to go out on too. Holy fuck.

There go our boys…!!! Quite a few people predicted they might go over the edge when Aqua showed up in his Mephisto fit (Mefitsto) and I'm interested to see if we get any parallels to the ED's imagery in the next few chapters. Overall, though, I'm really excited for where things are going - I don't think Aqua will die, but I do have some theories about what might happen. I can't think of a more traditional misogi purification experience than the middle of the ocean in late December, after all…

No break next week! Woohoo! While the delay of episode 12 means we won't be getting them on the same day, that is the same week S2 of the anime will be concluding and Aka does like lining up his bombshells with the anime. So who knows what we'll see.

seriously tho aqua. everyone already knows kamiki is you and ruby's biodad. HOW IS THIS ANY BETTER THAN HER BEING THE DAUGHTER OF A SERIAL KILLER AS IT ALREADY STANDS

[avelanlorelay]

About Cardan and his mother

I was re-reading the comments on my fic Deniere Danse and most of them are against Lady Asha, which may be proof that she's just as hated by the fandom in the "parents" category as Madoc and Balekin (Or maybe it's bc of the plot I've created, sorry). So one unanimous question is: why does Cardan still allow her to stay in the brugh?

My pov: From Twk to Tpt we can see that Cardan is not as insensitive as he makes himself out to be, on the contrary, he has a lot of love to give (😭) (a side of him that probably only Nicasia had access to🙄). He's admitted to still liking his mother a little and if we look closely, that despite having a strong personality, Cardan is no longer a hateful person. After losing his entire family, he wouldn't throw out his mother, the second only person left of his blood, for bad things in the past. In Tpt we see how he's very happy with Jude and probably, thinks about the future instead of holding grudges about things from the past.

Okay, Cardan isn't the boy with the heart of stone, but why would he still like Lady Asha? Why didn't he lock her back up in the tower of oblivion like he did with Balekin? First of all it's obvious, she never committed any crime. But although the books say very little about their relationship (a shame because I've always been curious about it), I think there are some clues:

In the prologue to Tqn we see the discovery of Cardan's curse. It's said that Lady Asha doesn't seem to know how to hold a baby, but she hugs he when Eldred seems to be considering parting with the child and holds he tighter when she leaves. Perhaps she was just afraid of not having privileges, but it's the only gesture of affection we see from her.

Still in Tqn, Oriana tells Jude about Cardan's childhood:

"It wasn't as though she didn't dress him in velvets or furs; it's that she left them on until they grew ragged. Nor was it that she didn't feed him the most delectable cuts of meat and cake...."

Now, in Htkoelths, when he meets Aslog in the stables, despite being there because of her (bitch) Cardan thinks that if he called his mother she would beat Aslog up and throw her out. I found this passage strange bc Lady Asha is described as delicate and thin, yet Cardan knows that she would protect him from a much bigger and stronger woman. If he's so sure of this, has Lady Asha defended him before?

And finally, just a guess: when he travels to the mortal world in Tcp's time to save Balekin's mortal slave, Cardan travels on a giant moth owned by Lady Asha. It's said that the creature was personally tamed by her and he still remembers how, so he was probably there when it happened. Which means that perhaps Lady didn't leave him completely abandoned, there were moments that the two of them spent together, when she dressed him, fed him and perhaps took him for walks and played with him.

What does my monologue mean? That if we compare, Cardan seems to have more feelings for Lady Asha than for Eldred, because despite so many bad ones, he has good memories with her too. It's not just a blood bond.

It's sad and unfair, but Cardan has a much more forgiving heart than it seems.

There's probably something else too: guilt. If I'm not mistaken, in Twk's deleted scenes, when Lady Asha meets him to talk about Jude, it's said that Cardan didn't free her because he didn't think he had the power to, after all, Jude was the real High King.

Now, if we stop to think about it, Lady Asha had never committed a crime, (if we don't consider her to be the worst mother in the world), yet she probably spent about ten years trapped in the tower of oblivion, starving and cold, completely alone. Not even Balekin or Madoc suffered so much. Can we feel sorry for her for that? Idk, if you're a good person and can even like Madoc, that's fine, but I think it's well deserved. But not from Cardan's point of view, not least bc from his perspective it was his fault. Now, as High King, the best thing he can do to be fair is to reward her for all that time of suffering. So it's understandable that he lets her live in the palace and have everything she ever wanted.

Jude pov: I think that since she would like her mother to be alive and by her side and Cardan has that opportunity (which I would frankly pass up), she would never take it away from him, even for revenge. And like him, she's too happy to worry about the past and people who aren't worth it.

[lovemyavatar]

STAR GIRL

| Lo’ak x F!Avatar Reader |

summary: you’re lost, caught between worlds. what could possibly go wrong when a lonely forest boy offers some distraction?

warnings: mentions of grief and death, Neteyam is a lil bitch, pure Lo’ak fluff

dialogue in italics is Na’vi translated to English

chapter one chapter three

Chapter Two

Something pokes the bed you’re laying in, the entire structure swaying beneath you. Your face scrunches against the pain of sore muscles tensing.

Rustling overhead pulls you closer to the surface of consciousness. Your eyes are unusually heavy as you try and fail to pry them open. Your brow pinches with uncertainty. Typically, waking up in your human form isn’t difficult. The moment your Avatar falls asleep, you’re back.

A loud squawk and the deafening sound of large wings beating against the wind startles you. Your eyes pop open, a rough gasp leaving dry lips.

You blink once, twice, three times. Your gaze darts from side to side, pure confusion settling in. The cold metal of the link pod isn’t in front of you. Your arms wiggle at your sides, something rough scratching against your skin.

“You’re finally awake!” A small voice shouts beside you.

You lurch upright and instantly regret the action when the hammock beneath you rocks violently to the side. Your fingers clutch the edge with a vice grip. Your head jerks toward the voice, coming face to face with a child.

“I thought you’d never wake up!” A huge grin splits her face.

Your stomach rolls when the hammock shifts again at your aggressive movement. Instinctively, you look down, but quickly close your eyes at the sight of nothing but branches and vines below.

Slowly, your gaze returns to the girl perched on a nearby branch. You immediately recognize her as the same girl who visited you the night before in the Tsahik tent. She’d hidden behind her brother the whole time, so you hadn’t gotten a good look, but the intricately woven necklace she wears is a dead giveaway.

Dread tightens your chest. Something is wrong. You never came to in your human body. Somehow, you slept through the night in this hammock, and woke up still in your Avatar.

It shouldn’t be possible.

“Come on, there’s so much I want to show—”

“Tuk!” A strong voice scolds, the twisted vines supporting your weight vibrating with the force of his feet landing behind the girl.

Her ears flatten as he grips her shoulder gently, guiding her behind his legs. You blink up at him, eyes wide with alarm. Your heart slams in your chest, breath quickening with each passing moment.

Something is very, very wrong.

“Go back to your chores.” The man who brought you here the night before speaks lowly in Na’vi, eyes never leaving you.

A tremble wracks your entire body. You’re hyperventilating, but there’s no stopping it. Panic swells within you, filling you whole.

“But—”

“Now, Tuk. Unless you want dad to find out you were with the demon.”

The little girl pouts, lips pulling into a frown. She crosses her arms and sticks her tongue out in opposition before casting you one last glance and jumping down to a lower branch.

Neteyam turns back to you once he’s sure Tuk has made it onto solid ground. His stiff shoulders relax slightly at the sight of you doubled over, hand to your chest. You’re breathing quickly, and for a moment he wonders if you’ve somehow gotten into something toxic.

He regards you curiously, head tilting to the side and dipping to see your face. It’s contorted in pain or sorrow, he can’t tell. For a moment you’re stable, until you gasp out and flail your arms. The nivi (hammock) sways to the side.

He has no choice but to lunge forward, hand clasping around your forearm. He curses under his breath, not wanting to touch you but knowing his mother will kill him if you somehow fall to your death on his watch.

He yanks hard, your body frantically clambering onto the branch beside him. He instantly releases his hold and you crumble into a heap on the rough surface.

“Come, I will take you home.” He says, hoping it will break whatever spell has come over you.

Your eyes flick up to meet his, wide with unease. As you try to catch your breath, the pool of dread in your stomach whispers that you may not have a home to go back to.

A week has passed, and you still aren’t used to the new normal. Not even close.

You grunt with frustration and reach onto the tips of your toes, arm outstretched above you. For the last hour, you’ve been collecting as much yovo fruit for the lab as possible. Now that you’re able to roam Pandora freely, it’s become your job to sustain the food source.

At least, you’ve made it your job.

The last seven days have been extremely difficult. Transitioning into your new body, your new life, is the most challenging endeavor you’ve ever been forced into.

Admittedly, part of you had always wanted to be Na’vi. You wanted the freedom to explore the beauty of Pandora without restriction. Breathing the air, laying beneath the stars, all without returning to the cold, lifeless confines of the lab. It was always a dream. Something you fantasized about.

But abandoning your human body forever? The thought never crossed your mind.

A seizure. That’s what Meg said.

When you were caught in the storm, laying in a broken pile in the forest floor, something unexplainable happened. Your human body should’ve been safe in the link pod. The moment your Avatar fell unconscious, you should’ve woken up unharmed. But you didn’t.

You died.

Simple as it was, it still didn’t feel real. You’d seen it. Confirmed it for yourself as you hugged your own lifeless body with tears streaming down your face. One version of you was gone, buried six feet below the Pandoran earth just steps from the lab.

And yet, here you are. Reborn as something else. Someone else.

In a sense, you’ve been grieving. Though part of you now has exactly what it always wanted, it arrived at the expense of your human connections. Your human life.

It wasn’t much of a life from the outside. You lived and worked in a metal box, only witnessing the amazing world around you when there was time to boot up the link pods. But it was your life. And you loved it.

You just want to feel useful. That’s why you’ve been out here, collecting food for your colleagues. Or, former colleagues now. You can’t sleep for more than a few hours anyway, not unless you camp out outside the lab.

You’re too aware of everything that could be just beyond the trees to comfortably sleep outdoors. So, you’ve been staying in the lab for as long as your Avatar’s lungs can handle the oxygen rich air.

Your fingers finally manage to grab a piece of fruit. You jump down, a victorious grin pulling at your lips.

Something snaps from behind and you spin around quickly, fear licking up your throat. Instantly, your heartbeat doubles. Your eyes roam the nearby tree line, but see nothing out of the ordinary.

A hand presses against your chest, willing your heart to slow down. Just as you’re about to turn around and continue your efforts, a pair of large, yellow eyes come into view. Breath catches in your throat. Any progress you’ve made on your heartbeat is out the window as it slams against your ribs.

The Na’vi steps forward tentatively, now aware that you’ve see them. A glint against the light confirms they’re holding a bow, aimed directly at you. In a flash your hands come up beside your head in a show of surrender. You can only hope they know what the gesture means.

They emerge from the thick forest, eyes narrowed threateningly beside the taunt string of their bow. Your lips part, ready to speak Na’vi with a native for the first time to ensure they won’t shoot you.

Instead, they surprise you by quickly lowering the weapon. A lopsided grin takes over their face, demeanor instantly relaxing. Through the panic a surge of realization passes through you.

“What’s up, Star Girl?” The boy you recognize as Lo’ak greets you in perfect English.

Despite the way your heart still pounds uncomfortably, your lips can’t help but pull into a relieved smile. He seems friendly. “Pointing another arrow at me already?”

He chuckles lowly and lifts one arm through the bow. His eyes unabashedly rake down your form from head to toe, long fingers curling against the weapon now slung across his chest. Heat prickles at your skin under his pointed gaze. You take a moment to remind yourself that he isn’t checking you out, but most likely judging your clothing.

“What are you doing out here?” He takes a few slow steps toward you, as if to gauge your reaction.

You gesture to the basket of fruit that now lays overturned on the ground beside your feet. It was balanced on your hip as you collected fruit, before you were startled by his presence.

His eyes meet yours, instantly captivating. Your breath slows. Just like in the Tsahik tent several nights before, there’s something burning beneath his gaze. Some kind of intensity that demands your attention. Holds it captive until he’s ready to let you go.

He hums low in his throat, and your stomach flips. Without looking away, he slowly crouches down in front of you. Oh, Eywa. You tear your eyes away, finding something interesting in the sky as he starts collecting your discarded food.

Lo’ak stands to his full height, several inches above yours, and offers you the now full basket. You accept it gratefully, a thank you on the tip of your tongue when he surprises you by taking a piece of fruit from the top.

“Hey!” You can’t help the reaction, though part of you instantly regrets it.

No matter how drawn to him you feel, you don’t know him. He’s a stranger, and you’re an outsider. That makes you the enemy. He’s already pointed an arrow at you twice, simply because of who you are. You know you shouldn’t be scolding him, but the protest just spilled out.

“I’m sorry, did you need this?” He holds up the small purple fruit and inspects it for a moment before large yellow eyes flick back to yours.

“Kinda, yeah.” You deadpan, unsure what he’s doing.

He holds it out toward you. Your fingers reach for it, only for him to yank it back against his chest at the last second. You gape at him, mouth falling open in shock. He merely sends you a heart-stopping grin in return.

Slowly, he takes a few steps backward. Toward the dense forest. Your eyes widen, fingers tightening against the basket at your side. His eyes glitter with mischief as he gestures to the price of fruit.

“Come on, Star Girl. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

In a flash, he’s gone. You’re left standing there, frozen with wonder. Did he really just…?

Without giving it much more thought, you take off after him. Leaves and vines brush against your limbs as you break through the tree line. Your eyes land on his broad shoulders a few yards ahead and you tear into a sprint.

It takes some effort to keep your footing through the dense forest. Roots and diverse flora litter the ground, scraping against bare feet every so often. Your eyes track his graceful form as you race through the trees.

He veers off to the side, taking a quick turn to the right. His eyes, bright against the muted browns and greens of the forest, shine as they meet yours over his shoulder. You barely manage to catch the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he pushes forward and out of view.

A grin splits your face when you turn the corner and see that he isn’t too far away. Though you’re sure he’s going easy on you, catching him would still ignite a sense of pride within you.

There’s a small clearing just past the trees. He heads straight for it, and you don’t hesitate to follow. Smaller bush-like plants inhabit the space. He weaves through them easily. You aren’t nearly as coordinated and end up ramming into one of them.

Soft leaves scratch at your side, but that isn’t what captivates your attention. You instantly stagger to a halt at the sight of a lizard floating past your face. Wings, splayed out on its back like propellers, lift it into the air. Brilliant yellows and reds glow against the quickly eclipsing sun.

A few feet away, Lo’ak watches you curiously. The yovo fruit rests lightly in his palm, forgotten at the sight of your childlike wonder. Your chest heaves from the effort of the chase he’d just given, but you pay it no mind. Your full attention is on the small animal flying in circles in front of you.

Your eyes are wide, mouth agape as you track its every movement. Something churns in his stomach, but he quickly squashes the feeling. It’s intriguing to him, how you look at something he sees as normal with such regard.

“You’ve never seen a kenten (fan lizard) before?” He speaks lowly, as to not startle you.

Your gaze never wavers from the animal, voice light with admiration. “Not in person.”

Without warning, he rushes forward into the field. You gasp out in surprise and finally turn your gaze to him, just in time to see why he’s made the sudden movement. A dozen or more kenten emerge from the plants all at once.

A hand moves up to cover your lips as a joy-filled laugh bubbles in your chest. It’s almost hard to believe that the sight is real. You turn around a few times, completely surrounded by the amazing creatures.

Bioluminescence glitters against the darkened sky, illuminating their path as they fly up toward nearby trees. You’re transfixed, utterly entranced by the sight before you.

Off to the side, a proud grin pulls at Lo’ak’s lips.

“Can I show you something?” He breaks the silence only after the last kenten has disappeared from view.

His voice trembles slightly, nervousness tightening his stomach. He doesn’t want to push you too far, and end up losing your attention. You let your eyes fall from the tops of the trees, now dark as the lizards burrow into their leaves.

You meet his gaze, breath hitching. There’s something so intense about the way he looks at you. You fidget under the scrutiny, chewing on your bottom lip in thought.

You should go home. It’s late, sun barely peaking out past the shadow of eclipse. By the time you get back, it’ll be completely dark, and you still don’t trust yourself to stay safe all alone in the elements of Pandora.

But…you have to admit that you’re having fun with Lo’ak. More fun than you’ve had in years. In just this short time, he’s brought out a side of you long forgotten beneath the weight of your scientific duties. His whimsical nature has allowed you to be carefree.

He’s helped you—if only for a brief moment—forget about the troubles plaguing your everyday life. A wonder has been reignited within you, the lens with which you see the incredible beauty of the moon you call home.

Tentatively, you nod in agreement, ignoring the small voice in the back of your mind saying this might not be a good idea. He smiles triumphantly and takes a few steps to close the distance between you. He drops the piece of fruit he’d stolen into the basket you’re still holding and gestures for you to follow.

You go further into the forest than you’ve ever been before. Anxiety pulls at your chest. In all your years on Pandora, you’ve never set foot on Omatikaya land intentionally. Aside from the night you got lost in the storm about a week ago, you’d stayed far away.

It’s practically law. The rules are understood by all humans. Step onto their land, and you will die.

Your head is on a constant swivel as you hike through the trees. Lo’ak maintains a slow pace to make sure you can keep up, looking back occasionally to check that you’re still there. By the time you arrive at your destination, eclipse is in full effect. The world around you has come to life.

It’s more breathtaking than you could’ve ever imagined. Warm moisture collects in your eyes, but you’re quick to whisk it away. You never thought you’d have a chance to see any of this in person. Despite having an Avatar, you were never fully here. Not like this.

Lo’ak stops at the edge of a massive pond, turning watch your face as you take it all in. It’s roughly circular in shape, and teaming with life. Two trees stand tall in the center, curved branches twisting their way toward the edges. A wall of stones shelters the back side, a small waterfall cascading down the smooth surface. Vines and plant life entwine high above the clear water, almost blanketing the entire area.

Through the surface of the water, fish and other animals swim happily in their habitat. They’re glowing, just as the earth itself glows. Gorgeous colors across the spectrum pulse and glitter all around. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Topping this sight is a challenge that doesn’t seem possible within your lifetime.

Suddenly, your dumbfounded stupor is interrupted by a loud splash. Cold water splatters across your face and torso. You take a step back, free arm coming up to shield yourself from the impact.

“Lo’ak!” You chastise his laughing form as it emerges from the water.

“Come on, Star Girl.” He beckons you closer with a wave of his hand, water rippling at the surface with a gentle shimmer. He curses his own heart silently as it skips a beat at the sound of his name on your lips.

You instantly shake your head in opposition. There is no way you’re getting your clothes wet before having to walk all the way home. It’s already dark, and you’ll be freezing for the entire journey.

“What? Can’t swim?” His teasing grin only widens at your hesitation.

With a sigh, you glance over your shoulder. Toward the direction of the lab. Despite how amazing this has been, you know it can’t last forever. Duty begins to weigh you down once again.

“I really should be getting back.” Your voice lowers regretfully.

His smile falters for a split second before he pulls it taunt again. He swims to the edge of the pond and extends a hand toward you.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll walk you home. Can you just help me out?” His large eyes glitter against the moonlight as you step closer.

The second your hand slips into his, he yanks you down into the water. A surprised yelp is swallowed below the surface as you tumble into the pond. You’re submerged for only a few seconds before you break free with a gasp. The chilled water prickles at your skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Hey!” You splash water against his face. “Not cool!”

He laughs loudly, head twisting to the side to avoid your attack as much as possible. Through the annoyance at being wet, you can’t help but return his smile.

He treads water only a foot away. This close, you’re able to fully take him in for the first time. The freckles that dot his skin have come to life, glowing against the glistening droplets of water that trail down his face. His shoulders, broad and strong, poke out of the water every couple seconds as he keeps himself afloat.

The beads tied into his braids click together as he whisks water from his forehead. Your gaze dances across the area, noting how the blue lines running over his skin almost form a symmetrical pattern. His lips, top one fuller than the bottom, twitch into a smirk.

Slowly, he allows himself to slip into the water. You watch curiously as his expression gradually disappears until all you can see are his eyes. They burn a hole through you for a searing moment before they’re gone too.

You peer down into the crystal clear water, but lose sight of him as he swims away quickly. Not more than a second later, something brushes against your ankle.

A surprised yelp escapes before you can stop it. A hand comes up to cover your lips, embarrassment heating your cheeks. Almost a minute goes by without event. You’re about to give up, swim back to the edge and get out, when a gentle grip circles your calf.

There’s barely enough time to take a breath before you’re beneath the water. Your eyes don’t bother closing as you twist around, coming face to face with a grinning Lo’ak. Glowing fish swim around you both, paying no mind to your playing in their home.

He’s so close. Only inches away. His eyes freely roam your face, almost like he’s searching for something. You shove against his chest, a tiny smile breaking through your annoyed facade.

A gasp of air fills your lungs as you break through the surface. He’s not far behind. A few minutes later you’re perched at the edge of the water, knees pulled tightly to your chest. One of your arms wraps around them protectively, while the other leads a delicious yovo fruit toward your lips.

“So, Star Girl?” You break the comfortable silence that’s blanketed the two of you for several minutes.

“You’re from a star, aren’t you? The same one as my dad.” Lo’ak takes a bite of fruit beside you. He quickly wipes away a stream of juice as it glides down the side of his chin. Your eyes track the movement.

“I’ve never been to Earth.” Your voice drops with a tinge of sadness, gaze tearing away, instead flicking up toward the sky wistfully. “And I do have a real name.”

His head tilts curiously, large yellow eyes boring into your profile for a long moment. He decides against pushing the subject and chuckles lowly, reaching into your basket for another piece of fruit.

“You don’t have to remind me. The clan hasn’t stopped talking about you.” He leans back onto his free hand, exposing his toned chest and stomach.

You have to force your eyes away again. “Well, that’s comforting.”

Another comfortable silence fills the small space between you. Warm evening wind rustles the wet material of your clothing, but you don’t mind. The shiver you expected after being submerged never comes. It’s as if the air blankets you, protects you from feeling cold.

“What’s it like?” Lo’ak suddenly speaks up, adjusting his body so one of his legs is bent at the knee, while the other dangles into the waters edge. He’s facing you completely now, every bit of attention directed your way.

You know exactly what he’s asking. He wants to know what it’s like to be an Avatar. To be part human, but also part Na’vi. It’s probably an insane concept for him. The only reason he’s somewhat familiar with the idea is because his dad used to be one.

A heavy sigh weighs you down, eyes flicking up to meet his. You shift so that your position mirrors his, though your legs cross together.

“It’s like I exist between two worlds.” The statement couldn’t be any truer due to your current predicament. One he knows nothing about. “And I don’t really belong in either.”

Something tugs against his heart. He relates to that struggle in ways you’ll never know. He’s always been an outcast. Different than his siblings in every way. They’re perfect. Perfect children. Perfect soldiers. They do everything that’s expected of them.

But Lo’ak? All he does is screw things up.

“My whole clan thinks I’m a freak.” He lifts his right hand, showing you his fingers. “Demon blood. That’s all they see.”

Your gaze shifts from his hand to glowing yellow eyes. They pour into you with sincerity. He’s showing you a side of himself, a vulnerability that no one else gets to see. Your bottom lip finds a home between sharp teeth.

Without thinking, you take his hand in yours. His breath hitches. He almost pulls it back in surprise, but your hold tightens a fraction. He watches you curiously as your hand slides down to clutch his wrist. His eyes fall closed for a moment. Your fingers don’t even meet around the appendage.

Your other hand moves up to rest against his, palm ghosting against rough skin with every movement the two of you make. Your heart soars in your chest and you desperately try to keep your breathing steady. Tentatively, small fingers intertwine with his much larger digits.

His eyes flutter open, meeting an intensity he never imagined could reflect back toward him.

“Doesn’t look too bad to me.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, heated gaze matching his.

Before he even knows what’s happening, he’s leaning toward you, heavy lidded eyes flicking down to glossy lips.

“There you are, baby bro!”

He rips his hand from yours, the force of it knocking you forward. A breath later, Neteyam bounces around the corner, an easy smile on his face. It instantly falls as his eyes scan the area, posture stiffening at the sight of you.

“What is this? Disobeying dads orders already?” His tone has lost all playfulness, all familiarity when he realizes what’s going on.

Lo’ak’s head drops, ears flattening. His eyes pinch tightly with the effort of containing his anger. Leave it to perfect Neteyam to ruin another moment in his life.

His gaze flicks up to his older brother, narrowed in warning. “Just go and pretend you didn’t see us.”

“And let dad find out I knew you were with the vrrtep (demon)?” He finishes the insult with a scoff, and you seethe silently.

You aren’t supposed to know what he’s saying. Even still, it’s obvious he’s been mocking you at every possible opportunity. Under normal circumstances, you would never let it slide, but he is the oldest son of the Olo’eyktan. You have no choice but to take it in stride.

Lo’ak straightens beside you, jaw clenching. His lips part in protest, but Neteyam is quick to speak over him.

“Oh, no. No way. Come.” His judgmental gaze flicks harshly to you. “Both of you”

“Speak.”

Neytiri’s lethal glare pins you both in place as it jumps between you. You’re situated on the floor of the Sully family tent, the same spot you were none-too-gently dragged by Neteyam moments ago.

“I was hunting and ran into her. That’s it.” Lo’ak’s voice is cold, devoid of any of the emotions he showed you just minutes before.

“Neteyam?” The weight of his mother’s wrath is momentarily lifted as she looks to her oldest son.

Lo’ak’s teeth grind. Of course, she wouldn’t believe his word. Why would she when her favorite child is standing right there to confirm or deny? His gaze burns through his brother until their eyes lock. He silently demands, pleads, that he back him up for once.

His lips purse, chin lifting in deep thought. Hands clasp behind his back, shoulders rounding. “They were talking. Nothing more.”

Neytiri lets out a quick sigh, of relief or anger you aren’t sure. Her attention returns to Lo’ak and you straighten, fear licking up your spine. You know she would never hurt her own child. But you’re nothing to her. She despises you, actually, and you’re sure she thinks this whole thing is your fault.

“You are late. Neteyam has to leave his duties to get you. How does this look for son of Olo’eyktan? Hmm?” Her head tilts to the side, wide eyes boring into him scrutinizingly.

“I’m sorry.” The words are hallow, rehearsed. Insincere as if he’s said them thousands of times.

“And you. Trespassing on our land again.” Her glare penetrates you, a thick swallow scratching down your throat.

Panic grips your chest. Words jumble in your brain until you’re saying the worst combination possible. “Technically, the first time I was unconscious.”

Lo’ak’s head jerks toward you, a surprised breath fanning your profile. He can’t believe you’ve just spoken to his mom that way. He doesn’t know if you’re brave or stupid, but either way it’s something he would never dare. Even Neteyam covers his mouth in shock across the room.

Neytiri hisses, face contorting in pure rage. She advances on you, but before she makes it more than two steps the entrance of the tent flaps open with a new arrival.

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” Jake practically sprints to her side, cradling her shoulders gently to guide her away from you. He positions her to face him and peers down into her pinched expression.

“What’s going on here?” His voice is tender, soothing his mate instantly.

A fraction of tension releases.

She takes a deep breath, eyes closing for a long moment. When they open, they don’t burn nearly as bright. “Neteyam found them. Alone.”

His attention shifts to the two of you and he deflates, disappointment evident in the way his ears twitch. “What did we tell you, boy?”

A frown mares your face, stomach twisting with the knowledge that they’ve forbade him from seeing you. Your gaze falls to the floor, feeling smaller than ever before.

Lo’ak watches you crumble, heart clenching painfully. He doesn’t know why he cares so much. He just does. From the first moment he saw you, he’s been drawn to you. Something deeper ignited below the surface that day. Something darker. A sense of protectiveness so strong, it actually scares him.

A seed of hatred, of self-loathing, has been growing roots within him for years. Being the family disappointment will do that. But right now, in this moment, he’s never hated himself more.

He hates that he’s dragged you into this mess. Into his world of constant berating and lecturing. He’s used to it after withstanding the pressure almost daily for years. But you’re innocent. Inquisitive. You still look at the world with wonder.

He would never forgive himself if your light was dimmed because of his inability to do anything right.

“This demon is nothing but trouble.” Neytiri pushes out of Jake’s hold, stalking to the back of the tent with crossed arms.

“Honey, he got into plenty of trouble before she came around.” Jake throws his hands up as if to say what can we do?

Lo’ak’s fists clench in his lap.

“You will stay away from our son.” Neytiri turns suddenly, a long delicate finger pointed in your direction. She grunts with disgust, head twisting to regard her oldest child. “Neteyam, take her from here.”

He instantly nods in agreement, as if standing at the ready to follow any order given. His long legs put him at your side within seconds. Four fingers wrap around your bicep, hoisting you up harshly. A wince scrunches your face, feet stumbling to catch on the floor.

Lo’ak lurches to his feet, unable to stop himself at the sight of Neteyam’s tight grip.

“Bro, don’t touch her like that!” He slaps his brothers hand away from you. It releases instantly and you fall back a step, hand coming up to rub at the throbbing area.

“Hey!” Jake yells out, voice deep with authority.

Neteyam is quick to shove against Lo’ak’s shoulder, lips twisting into a frown. “Defending the vrrtep (demon) already?”

“Don’t call her that!” Both of Lo’ak’s hands smack against Neteyam’s chest, hard, sending him back a few steps.

He wastes no time in stalking forward, fist raised as if to punch his younger brother. Jake forces his way between them, a hand on each of their heaving chests.

“That’s enough!” His voice booms within the tent, putting an end to the foolishness immediately.

Neytiri looks on, eyes wide with horror, hands covering her open mouth. It’s as if she’s never seen her sons fight. As if they’ve never laid a hand on each other before this moment. A certain devestation wells behind her bright gaze.

It turns to you, narrowing into a deadly glare. “You will go away from this place! And never come back!”

Several long beats of stunned silence fall over the room. Your heart races, ramming against your ribs uncomfortably. Nothing but ragged breathing fills the space. You’re still trying to process what the hell just happened when the entrance of the tent flaps open again.

“What is the meaning of this shouting and yelling? They say my family has gone crazy!” Mo’at enters quickly, eyes wide and lips pulled into a firm line of displeasure.

She scans the area, grunting in aggravation when her attention passes over Neytiri. She bows her head respectfully to her mother, ears flattening.

“You.” Your back stiffens, eyes flicking toward the powerful woman hesitantly.

Arms wrap around your waist protectively, sure you’re about to be cast out or worse. Mo’at regards you carefully, head tilting from one side to the other. She approaches you slowly, fluid movements bringing her to your side in only a few strides.

Her chin tips upward as she unsheathes the dagger always dangling from her neck. She swiftly pokes the sharpened bone into your shoulder. You wince against the twinge of pain, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

Her eyes fall closed as she swipes fresh blood across a waiting tongue. After a moment of deliberation, they pop open, pupils blown wide.

“Eywa is strong within you.” She regards you with a controlled curiosity, now walking in circles around your deflated form.

Tension is steadily rising. It’s palpable against your skin as heavy stares bore into your very being. Several minutes go by. No one dares move a muscle as she performs a small ceremony around you, murmuring to herself and gesturing her hands smoothly.

She straightens suddenly, shoulders squared with decisiveness. “She will stay, and learn our ways.”

“Mother!” Neytiri is quick to protest, pained voice hiding none of her displeasure.

“Tsahik has been given a sign. It is done.” Mo’at shushes her with a dismissive wave.

Jake curls Neytiri into his arms, brow pinching with uncertainty. She glares at you defiantly, and you’re quick to glance away. Neteyam doesn’t look much happier, though he seems more concerned with his mother than anything else. Lo’ak simply peers up at you through dense lashes, a small smile curling the edge of his lips.

“Come, child.”

Before you can even form a coherent thought, Mo’at grips your elbow gently and guides you from the tent. At once, you’ve been invited into the clan as a guest. The Tsahik has given her blessing, something no Na’vi will take lightly. And yet, you haven’t been accepted. Not even close.

You have no idea where you’re going but, strangely, feel safe with Mo’at. You cast a fleeting glance over your shoulder as the woven flaps flutter closed. Tense voices roar to life the moment your presence is gone. Your ears twitch at the sound, trying but failing to pick out any words.

With a sigh, you��re resigned to following this new journey blindly, hoping you haven’t just walked into some kind of trap. The last week has been nothing short of a whirlwind, and you have a feeling it won’t be slowing down anytime soon.

taglist:

@bajadotcom

[journeyintofiction]

Request from anon: Overprotective Shuri where the reader gets kidnapped by Namor

Happy reading :)

I wake up with my head throbbing, my vision blurry, and confused. I try to sit up but feel a searing pain on my right side and crane my head down to see my shirt soaked in blood, and my arms were scratched. In trying to move back to my original position I groaned in pain, which alerted my captor to my sudden awareness.

“Well, well it is about time you woke from your little… nap”, I didn’t need to look over to know who was speaking. Yet upon looking at him I see him playing a game similar to chess by himself.

“Namor”, I say in a bored tone.

He looks at me carefully as if deciding how to approach me without having me lash out in response. “I am not intending on harming you, but your princess-”

I cut him off, “my queen.”

He smirks and continues, “... your queen has not granted me an audience after several attempts to set up a time. Our alliance is new and I am not pleased at the lack of responsiveness on Wakandas part.”

I scoff and turn my head away from him to look off into the distance before saying, “ Do you expect her to be chomping at the bit to see you? After all that has been done, after all YOU have done to her?” I chuckle and turn back to stare at him, “you have no shame.”

At my last comment he looked irritated and replied “An alliance is an alliance, both sides must uphold their end of the bargain regardless of the past discretion.” He shrugged his shoulders as if he was completely unbothered by all the death he caused. “What is it you surface dwellers say? “An eye for an eye.” You killed mine and I returned the favor.”

I look at him hard, “An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind.”

He looks away from me at that and realizes the chess piece most akin to a king has been backed into a corner. I take the opportunity to rub in his loss, “It seems you have backed yourself into a corner in your game, just as you have with the queen.”

He doesn’t respond verbally but just grunts.

I turn away once more and giggle to myself at the irony. Checkmate bitch.

In Wakanda

“Where IS she Griot?” came the frustrated voice of the queen. After having her entire personal circle search the palace, the market, and the city for Y/N, she was beginning to get agitated.

“She appears to be in Talokan and seems stable with minor injuries”, Griot replies.

Shuri remains unresponsive for a moment, “So Namor took her to Talokan as a pawn for me to come and speak with him?”

Nakia is the first to respond, “it would seem so, but I advise we act fast because Y/N has minor injuries now. However, those minor injuries will turn into serious injuries the longer it isn’t treated.” Everyone collectively hums in agreement and begins a plan of action meanwhile, Shuri is quiet and unmoving.

“I will go and get her immediately.” Shuri says as she turns around to suit up.

“My queen I don't think-” Okoye begins but is abruptly cut off by Shuri.

“Okoye, he has been denied my audience and resorted to drastic measures which will cause tensions to run higher than they already are. I think it is best that I go there alone.”

After mulling it over Nakia and Okoye agree and stress that Shuri must be careful. After agreeing with them, Shuri takes her leave and makes her way to the ocean shore line. As she walked there she kept repeating the mantra in her head that y/n is fine and will be in her arms tonight.

In Talokan

Apparently after sitting for hours the blood loss finally took a toll and I passed out, only to be violently woken by yelling. I quickly open my eyes and try to orient myself which is hard given the blood loss and general fatigue. Before I have the chance to properly see anything I hear Shuri call out “Y/N!”

My vision clears and I see Namor and Shuri glaring at each other and it was obvious they had exchanged words prior to me waking up. As I tried to get up I collapsed and nearly face planted, if it hadn’t been for Shuri being a few feet away to catch me.

“What did you do to her?” Shuri yells in anger at seeing me so drained and weak.

“We did what was necessary to get your attention, we took her but she was quite the fighter and refused to come quietly” Namor replied with a shrug.

Shuri looks at him with disdain, “So you beat my partner into submission?Are you asking for another war?”

At that Namor looks startled and looks at the two of us sharply and replies while pointing at me, “you would start a war for her”.

“She is my partner, who I intend on making my spouse, you would be an idiot to think I wouldn't raise hell for her.”

Before he can reply, I feel Shuri start moving and I see we are moving to the exit of the cave before I pass out once more.

In Wakanda

I wake to the sound of steady beeping and the faint smell incense burning. I turn my head and I am immediately hit with pain at the movement and moan.

I hear someone rush over to me and gently move my head back to a more neutral position. I squint my eyes open and see Okoye standing over me and Nakia sitting up in the chair beside my bed. Okoye and Nakia look worried, tired, and stressed.

“How do you feel? Are you in pain anywhere?” Okoye quickly asked before I could say anything.

I nod, “my head hurts and my side is throbbing.”

“You had a concussion and multiple lacerations on your right side” Okoye responded sounding upset.

All the events of the last 24 hours came flooding back and I remember my injuries, where I was taken, who took me, and getting rescued. But, anything after leaving that cave is a blank hole in my memory.

“What happened after Shuri came and got me?”

Nakia is the first to respond, “due to blood loss from your untreated injuries you passed out on the way here. Shuri took you to the lab and the three of us helped patch you up”.

“Where is she now?” I ask confused at her not being here.

“She stepped out a few minutes before you woke up to get food for you because Griot said you should wake up within the hour” Okoye stated with a small smile.

They still looked quite upset at the state I was in so I tried to cheer them up. “Don’t look so down guys, I’m a little beat up but I’m not dead…yet.”

They look at each other then look at me with an eyebrow raised and the three of us quietly chuckle.

“Has she woken yet-“ Shuri asks as she makes her way down the stairs. Her sentence dies off when she sees the three of us staring at her.

Okoye and Nakia mention they are required elsewhere and leave us alone to speak. After the door softly clicks shut she walks over to me takes my hand and looks like she is gonna cry.

“My love I’m fine, just a little worse for wear” I say and try to smile.

She shakes her head and quietly says “He took you from me as a way to get what he wanted. I promised to protect and be there for you and you were stolen right from our borders.”

“Well I’m fine now and I know he won’t try this again given that you both seemed to come to an agreement, albeit a tense one.”

She nods apprehensively and intertwines our fingers with her thumb rubbing circles on my hand. “I am NEVER letting you go any without me ever again.”

I roll my eyes at the proclamation and give an exasperated sigh, “what ever makes you feel better…wait, does that mean we shower together too?”

Shuri face palms, “good grief woman, why is your head always in the gutter.”

Note: to the Anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took me a few days to complete it. I have finals coming up so I have been busy, but please send in more requests and I will get them done as soon as I can :)

[triforce-of-mischief]

I'm a simple bitch sometimes: Perspective Flip of "Not Yet" to Warriors?

[Original fic here; no warnings apply for this, though it references warnings found in the other]

****

Warriors wasn't sure about leaving Legend alone, but he refused to let him join them inside the stable. The kid was triggered enough just from being near the doctor. Warriors could trust Legend's fear to keep him far away, at least.

Spoone addressed him and Wild first, then moved to Sky and Four. Sky's calm demonstration helped Four get through it as well, but the knight grew nauseous enough for Time to help him after Spoone had seen their eldest. Four was alone, clearly edging closer to panic even after it was over, and Warriors pointed Wind to Wild so he could comfort the smith. He bundled Four in his scarf, counting heads; only Twilight and Hyrule were left, then Warriors could check on Legend outside.

Legend, it seemed, wasn't so patient. Movement at the edge of the tent made Warriors look up, in time to see Legend poke his head inside. Before Warriors could warn him, Legend looked right at Hyrule, his face white with terror before he finally tore his eyes away, finding the captain instead. Legend choked, covering his mouth as he whirled and stumbled away from the tent.

Warriors, to put it lightly, was upset. He had told Legend to stay outside, they both knew what would happen if he saw Spoone-

What had made Legend do this?

Four whimpered, and Warriors looked down into the smith's pleading eyes.

Outside, they could hear that Legend had made himself sick with stress.

"Go help him," Warriors whispered, and Four wriggled free of his scarf and sprinted out of the stable.

Warriors followed, but he stalked to the cooking pot rather than where Legend had collapsed. A stranger was sitting there, slapping his knee with an unlit torch and laughing hysterically. Warriors stood over him and cleared his throat, but the man didn't even acknowledge him until he set a hand on his sword.

"What is it, then?" the stranger asked, still grinning as he wiped tears from his eyes.

"One of my brothers is very distressed. Do you know-" Warriors started, but the man laughed harder, nearly falling over as he continued to ignore him entirely.

Warriors grit his teeth and turned away, heading for the riverbank below the stable. He had seen Four taking Legend there to wash up, and they were still there when Warriors found them.

"Lege… I told you to stay outside the stable," Warriors sighed, not surprised when Legend flinched but didn't respond otherwise. “There’s a man by the cooking pot who’s laughing his head off. I don’t suppose he had anything to do with this?”

Legend rose unsteadily to his feet, only to be pulled right back down by Four, who whispered something to him. Warriors left without a word; he didn't any more confirmation.

The stranger's smirk froze as Warriors returned, this time with his sword fully unsheathed and pointed at his face.

"Tell me, this time. What did you say to my brother."

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part fifty-one: "The Devil's Wrath"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daredevil finally makes his appearance at the warehouse Backman’s men have been holding you at.

Or

The Devil unleashes hell on your captors--but they aren't the only ones the Devil is angry with…

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.6k

a/n: This installment is a part of the Big Angst arc. Forewarning, there is no comfort in the next handful of installments, not until you reach "The Aftermath" (Part 58) will there be comfort. This installment contains violence. You can find the entire list of installments for this series here.

“Fuck!” one of the men exclaimed.

You jumped in the metal chair when he slammed his fist into the crumbling brick wall, wincing at the harsh noise that broke the temporary silence in the dimly lit warehouse. Your split lip tugged painfully open at the gesture, another slow trickle of blood running down your chin. Arms hugging your chest tighter, your gaze further dropped down to the floor beside the metal table. There were a few stains of your blood coloring the cracked cement red.

“Are you sure you got the right journalist, McCormack?" he continued. "This is taking too goddamn long!”

“Relax, Vic,” the one with the scar that you had learned was named McCormack answered. “She’s the bitch who outed Figureroa with the little shit. I’m positive she fuckin’ alerted him with her little bathroom break before we left.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him shoot you a look and you cringed, shocked that they’d known exactly what you’d been doing in the bathroom. Though that explained why they'd mostly left you alone after initially shoving a gun in your face and hitting you a few times while demanding answers about Daredevil. You were lucky you hadn’t taken your phone with you–you’d have hand delivered them an unsuspecting Matt if you had.

“He’ll come,” McCormack continued. “And if he doesn’t, then we can continue to question her by whatever means necessary.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you continued to stare down at your feet, ignoring the way his eyes on you made your skin crawl. Your nails dug into your arms beneath your blouse, fighting down the slight tremor in your body. You didn’t want to know what they would do to you when it came to ‘whatever means necessary' after what they had already done.

Not Scar Face took a step towards you and you flinched back in the metal chair instinctively, your lip once again stinging as the split pulled. From however long you’d been trapped in this abandoned warehouse–a few hours judging by the fact the sun had set–you’d come to learn he seemed the least stable and level-headed of the group. He definitely terrified you.

“After, we can leave her with a bullet in her head,” he said, eyes boring into you. “As a message for him. If he don’t come for her, maybe he’ll come for the other one at the office. We can try ‘em all until we find the right reporter.”

You swallowed back the bile threatening to spill out of you at the thought of these men going after Katy next. You hoped that if Matt didn’t manage to save you, he’d at least manage to save your co-workers from these crazy assholes. And from what you had gathered quietly listening into their conversations and arguments, it was just the four of them. They appeared to work for Backman, though you had no idea under what capacity, even if you certainly could guess at what it was they did. It also appeared they were working off of Backman’s radar when they kidnapped you. One of them–you assumed McCormack because he seemed the most level-headed and intelligent of them all–had clearly made the connection between you and Daredevil. And with Matt’s increased harassment in whatever illegal things Wayland was doing, he’d managed to seriously piss off Heinrich Backman. So much so that the man wanted Daredevil dead.

And these four assholes were hoping to use you as bait to lure Matt out and kill him. They wanted to surprise Backman with Daredevil’s head and his suit, hoping to win his favor for taking out the vigilante who had quickly become a thorn in his side over the past couple of weeks. 

It seemed straightforward enough in theory; if you could find a way to take out these four men, manage to incapacitate them somehow–or, God forbid, kill all of them–Backman would be none the wiser. He had not been made aware of you specifically as far as you could tell, though that didn’t mean he couldn’t figure out the same link himself, especially if you kept digging into Wayland. Assuming, of course, that you made it out of here alive, you would have to heed Matt’s warnings and step back from your investigation into Wayland entirely. 

But the making it out of this rundown warehouse alive part had you pretty skeptical. You weren’t sure how much longer this McCormack was willing to keep these men from performing whatever form of torture Not Scar Face seemed itching to do already. And you’d felt you’d already mentally exhausted whatever options that were available to you for getting out of here.

You’d tried the air-headed reporter act, and were still keeping it up in the minimal times you did speak, but none of them either seemed to buy it or give a shit. They thought you had information on Daredevil, even if all you could tell them was the color of his suit. Honestly, you didn’t think they had any qualms with killing you. So, shortly after you’d been forced to remain in the uncomfortable metal chair, their interrogation of you briefly halted, you’d shut your mouth and focused on observing. It also appeared to piss them off significantly less if you didn't say anything at all.

You had been contemplating getting ahold of one of their guns, even if you weren’t entirely sure you could stomach killing someone, let alone four people. But you also weren’t that confident with a gun, and you knew any hesitation would result in yourself definitely getting shot. McCormack, you’d come to learn, was not the only armed man here. And even with a gun, you’d probably need to find a way to take them down one at a time because you certainly wouldn’t be able to shoot them all before one of them shot you. In your time stuck here though, you’d noticed at least two of the men always remained with their eyes on you; you’d never been left to just one man or entirely alone.

And of course you’d contemplated all of the usual things that one would consider if they were trapped in this situation: screaming for help, trying to run, attempting to overpower your captors, or begging for your life. With how loud they were often arguing with each other, you figured no one would hear you scream and you’d just end up getting shot. You’d never be able to run faster than they could shoot you, either, which was probably why they hadn’t bothered to tie you up. There was also no way in hell you could overpower even just one armed man, especially since you didn’t even know how to fight. And lastly, they’d probably get a laugh out of watching you beg for your life, and at the very least, you weren’t going to give them that.

No, you were currently left with three options: wait for Matt to come save you, hope police were able to find you, or keep your eyes open for a chance of any sort to escape before they started focusing on really hurting you.

Which meant you’d been stuck sitting in this metal chair silently panicking for who the hell knew how long. You were sure by now that Matt had gotten your message and he was probably out lurking on rooftops trying desperately to find you. You wanted to help, but there wasn’t much you could do. Even attempting to whisper out to him would draw attention to you, and attention wasn’t something you wanted right now.

“I can’t fucking stand around anymore,” Vic snapped, pushing off of the wall. “I’m going to sweep the perimeter again, see if there’s anything happening outside.”

“Don’t take too long,” McCormack called after him.

Out of your peripheral, you watched Vic make his way out of the nearby exit. The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse. 

“Might need to make a food run if we’re goin’ to be sitting on our asses any longer,” one of the men said. “Fuckin’ starving over here. This asshole is taking his sweet goddamn time.”

“He probably won’t care if we kill the bitch, McCormack,” Not Scar Face growled.

There was a noise a few feet away, a glint of light catching your eye. Not Scar Face was brandishing a hunting knife in his right hand, a hungry look on his face as he eyed you. You cowered further into the metal chair, the side of your jaw still aching from when he'd hit you a few times.

“What’s a couple of fingers?” he asked. “Just let me take a few and see if she has more to say.”

Instantly your heart jumped in your chest, nails biting further into your arms under your blouse. Swallowing hard, your eyes shifted to McCormack nearby. He looked bored and disinterested, especially considering Not Scar Face had a knife out.

“Why don’t we give it another fifteen minutes?” McCormack replied. “If he doesn’t show, then maybe you can take a finger or two. If you go too far and we kill her too soon, we don’t have bait or leverage for the little shit. And I know you like to take it too far.”

Fear shot through your veins like ice, your arms squeezing tighter around your chest. So that was why they hadn’t roughed you up too much yet–they were planning to kill you but they needed you alive to lure out Daredevil. But they were going to kill you. 

Panic flooded you; you weren’t going to get out of here alive. You were going to die here if Matt didn't show soon. Probably slow and painful if Not Scar Face had a say in anything.

Silence fell over the four of you as you fought hard to keep your trembling to a minimum. Not Scar Face still had his knife out, twirling it in his hands. You were intentionally not looking at him, but you could feel him staring at you. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, a sick feeling growing in your gut everytime the light glinted off that twirling knife in your peripheral.

“The fuck is takin’ Vic so long?” one of the other men called out. “He’s been outside for almost five minutes now.”

McCormack let out an annoyed huff, shifting on his feet nearby. “Go check it out, Antonov," he ordered. "He’s probably just taking a piss."

The man known as Antonov grumbled, making his way towards the exit. He took three steps before the lights went out, sending the entire warehouse into almost pitch black. Your heart sped up hopefully in your chest in the darkness–that had to be Matt.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Not Scar Face roared.

"Don't fucking shoot!" McCormack called out. "I'm not taking a bullet from one of you dumbasses! Not until we know where this fucker is!"

Your eyes darted around the blackness, searching hopefully for the infamous horned helmet. You couldn't see much of anything through the dark except the table just before you, though, but you knew Matt was here.

"Stop hiding, asshole!" Not Scar Face shouted into the darkened warehouse. 

A gloved hand abruptly covered your mouth and you briefly startled in the chair at the touch. Immediately you heard Matt's voice beside your ear, a flood of relief washing over you.

"Get under the table and stay there," he ordered in a harsh whisper.

You nodded quickly against his hold, your heart still racing in a mix of fear and hope. He removed his gloved hand and you immediately slipped under the table, shrinking yourself as much as you could. 

"You should never have touched the reporter," Daredevil’s gravelly and enraged voice echoed through the warehouse. “And I will certainly make sure each of you regret it.” 

A loud gunshot went off, a flash of light briefly lighting the warehouse. You curled further in on yourself, hoping you could manage to stay out of the way of stray bullets in the dark.

"Stop hiding and–argh!"

It sounded like Antonov who had been cut off by something very solidly slamming into him–Matt's billy clubs, you assumed. Enraged snarls filled the air and mixed with the sounds of Antonov’s pained screams and the repeated, solid thwack of something pummeling flesh and bone. You closed your eyes even though you couldn't see anything in the dark and tried to control your breathing. Another gunshot went off and you flinched at the loud bang as the noise vibrated through your skull. 

The warehouse went oddly quiet abruptly after, Antonov no longer screaming or groaning in pain. The silence sent a chill down your spine. Matt must have already beaten Antonov senseless and was zeroing in on who was next. 

"Backman wants you dead, devil," McCormack called out through the dark. "And I’m sure it won't take a genius for someone else to figure out your connection to this reporter again."

"Must be fuckin' that bitch, huh?" Not Scar Face’s voice rang out next, clearly taunting Matt. "She mean that much to you, devil man? Cause I'll admit, she don't seem like much, but I know she screams real nice and pretty!"

A cruel laugh reverberated around the warehouse, the sound raising the hair on the back of your neck. The laugh was cut short as a vicious growl rumbled through the dark and in seconds the laughter turned to loud shrieks. Your eyes tightened closed even further at the noise. You cringed at the screams echoing through the warehouse, knowing Matt was savagely beating the hell out of each one of these men–probably quite close to the brink of death from how it sounded to your ears. Though you found it difficult to drum up any sympathy for your captors and would-be killers.

"Your jaw is going to be wired shut when I'm through with you!" Daredevil’s deep voice roared above Not Scar Face’s screams.

Louder shrieks filled the room, a few gunshots breaking through the screams of sheer pain and the sound of the Devil’s fury. The screaming felt like it went on for minutes before the warehouse once again fell eerily silent.

Very slowly you opened your eyes, but everything around you was still black. You still couldn’t see anything. Exhaling a shuddering breath, you carefully sat upright just a bit beneath the table, listening closely for the sound of Matt. You couldn’t hear anything though. They had to still be in here though, there was no way McCormack had left without you hearing him, right?

A hand grabbed your shoulder and roughly yanked you out from under the table, a startled and terrified scream flying out of your mouth. You struggled against McCormack’s hold, one of your legs swinging out and hitting the leg of the table, the screech of metal across the cement floor ringing out loudly. Seconds later, his hand was gripping you by the throat, dragging you to your feet before the cold barrel of a gun was at your temple. The feel of it instantly cut off your scream. 

“I’ve got your girl, devil,” McCormack shouted into the black. “Got a gun to her head. Maybe if you come out and surrender yourself, I won’t put a hole in it.”

Your entire body was trembling, shaking from the fear as the gun pressed harder into your temple. Matt didn’t respond to McCormack’s taunt, though, which elicited an irritated noise from the man behind you.

“I swear I’ll kill her, you son of a bitch!” McCormack spat. “And if it ain’t me, it’ll be another of Backman’s men–or maybe the man himself when he realizes that she means something to you! And he’ll send her back to you in pieces , motherfucker!”

A noise the likes of which you’d never heard before sounded just behind you, one that sent your heart racing and chilled the blood in your veins. It was animalistic, feral, and dangerous–and it came from Matt as he roughly ripped McCormack’s arm away from your head, a bullet deafeningly flying out of the gun near your ear and thankfully aiming upwards towards the roof of the warehouse. Instinctively you ducked out of the way, racing towards the exit sign which was the only thing illuminated in the warehouse. McCormack’s agonized screams only came into your hearing when the ringing in your ears slowly began to dull. You shoved your hands into the door and pushed your way out of the building, your shoulders heaving as your breath came in hard, sharp pants.

Just outside the door you spotted Vic’s bloodied and battered body immobile, his face a disturbing mess–but you assumed Matt had still left him alive. Because he didn’t kill, and you had to believe he still hadn’t tonight. Though these men would most definitely be incapacitated for a long, long time.

Turning and fighting back yet another wave of nausea, you quickly made your way away from the body on the ground behind you and towards the empty parking lot with both hands thrown over your mouth. You couldn't believe how close you had repeatedly just come to dying tonight and if it hadn't been for Matt, you were certain you would have. 

Tears were streaming down your face as you doubled over, forcing yourself to take deep, calming breaths. It was only those four men who knew about you, you reminded yourself. And Matt had definitely dealt with them. They wouldn't be talking any time soon if they even somehow remembered tonight after what he had done to them. Which meant you should be safe for now as long as you stepped back from investigating Wayland and let Matt handle that part.

Running a hand across your forehead, you tried to will away the nauseous feeling still churning in your stomach. Your body was shaking a bit more violently from the increase in adrenaline during that fight now. Drawing in another deep breath, you held it for a few seconds before exhaling it long and slow. Movement out of the corner of your eye caused you to jump, shrieking in surprise for only a second before you realized it was Matt. His mouth was set in a firm line, his jaw clearly tensed. You were about to run towards him, wrap your arms around him and thank him profusely, but something about the rigid way he was carrying himself gave you pause. Something about him seemed off.

“You need to leave,” he told you firmly, a dark edge to his voice. “Police are on their way right now. I can hear the sirens. Go back to your apartment.”

Your brows furrowed together, your mind beginning to race. “Why? I can just tell the police what happened. Tell them you slipped out before they showed up.”

Matt shook his head roughly at you, his shoulders heaving lightly from his fight. “No, you can’t be here,” he snapped.

“That doesn’t–”

“ Go home !” Matt snarled forcefully, completely cutting you off.

Jumping backwards at his tone, your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn’t been expecting him to yell at you. He’d never done that before.

“If the police find you here,” Matt began in an irritated growl, “you’re connected to this. Backman will know. And he’s going to know that Daredevil was here, saving you yet again. So you can’t be here, do you hear me?”

Mouth going dry, you nodded quickly in response.

“Go to your apartment,” he ordered, that edge still in his voice. “Make up some excuse for the police about there being a mix up with what Katy called in. Then let your friend know you’re okay so she doesn’t keep harassing the police station.” He stepped towards you, his Daredevil suited form almost intimidating as he continued through gritted teeth, “You cannot be connected to this. Do you understand?”

Licking your lips nervously, your arms once again hugged themselves around your chest. “I left my phone at the office,” you said lamely. “I have no way to call…”

Matt’s head darted sharply to the side, the muscles jumping in his cheeks. A sharp, frustrated exhale burst from his nose as his hands balled into fists at his sides. He looked ready to hit something. You swallowed hard, your pulse beginning to race again. Why was he so angry at you?

“Fine,” he ground out, gaze still averted. “I will talk to Mahoney at the precinct and clear this mess up. And then I’ll be making a stop by Katy’s, let her know you’re safe and to change her story.” Matt’s head snapped back towards you, the red lenses in his helmet oddly darker tonight. “Go home and stay there. Now ,” he growled dangerously.

You nodded weakly in response. “Okay,” you whispered.

With an irritated grunt, Matt turned and stalked away from you, his body still tense and his hands still curled into fists. Your heart dropped to your feet as you watched him disappear. He hadn't offered a word of comfort. Not a single comforting touch. You'd expected him to be upset but…he seemed furious with you. 

You exhaled a shuddering breath before hurrying out of the parking lot and towards the vacant side street nearby. You tried to navigate your way through a few alleys and more side streets, attempting to orient yourself as to where in Hell’s Kitchen you were in correlation to your apartment. But as you walked, adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in your gut as your mind began to question Matt’s anger at you.

[youngpettyqueen]

for prompts, might I suggest a number 14 with Julian takin care of Kira, and a ‘it feels worse than it looks—no wait-‘ with Julian being a bad patient?

oh my god I finally fucking finished it.

I am SO SORRY this took so long I got hit with. the most violent writer's block ive had in a HOT minute and this had me fighting for my life. I dont even know how many times I wrote and rewrote this. I went through so many different ideas it was actually ridiculous. at one point I had something finished but it Was Not Good and I dont believe in posting writing I dont like so I scrapped it and started again

I keep waffling on whether or not I like this, but thats entirely because ive spent way too long staring at it. im sure in a few days ill actually really like it, cause I really like the dialogue, which was what I wrote out first. pulling myself out of my perfectionism, I do think I like this, and at the very least im proud of getting it down when it gave me so much trouble

again, im so sorry it took so long, but writer's block is a bitch and ive had a lot going on lately, so I hope you understand <3

for the readers- 14 on the list is "Stop pretending that any of this is ok. It's not." I did adjust that one a bit cause I was having trouble making it flow. but, without further ado, here's what I've got! 

Kira slides down with her back against the wall, grinding her teeth as she clutches at her wounded shoulder. The pain is still hot, the hole burned into her skin practically still smoking. She hisses as her palm makes contact with the sticky, raw flesh, but she still clamps down. 

“Anytime you wanna get over here, Julian!” She calls, her voice strained. 

“Doing my best, Major!” Julian calls from where he is, hunkered down behind some debris as a makeshift shield against the barrage of disruptor fire. 

This is, in eloquent terms, a right fucking mess. Getting into a fight with a bunch of Jem’Hadar soldiers is never a good thing, even when they’re prepared. When they’re not prepared, it’s even worse. And this time, they weren’t prepared. Because there weren’t supposed to be any Jem’Hadar on this planet. This was supposed to be a quick pit stop for the Defiant, replacing some whatsit that O’Brien said was damaged in their last firefight, but then there were Jem’Hadar soldiers and they’ve managed to land themselves in a whole different firefight. 

It really just hasn’t been a great week. 

Kira inches closer to the wall’s edge. Her grip on her phaser isn’t stable, but it’ll have to do. She takes a deep, steadying breath, and then she twists over so that she’s peering out from behind the corner. She spots the Jem’Hadar pinning them down, quick count tells here there’s 3 of them, and she snaps her phaser up to hit them with some fire of her own. The motion pulls at her injured shoulder in a way that makes her want to scream, but she bites down on it. 

Julian, bless him, takes the opportunity to lunge out from behind the debris. He scrambles across the gap, barely dodging the returning fire from the Jem’Hadar, and manages to throw himself down behind the security of the wall. He plasters himself up against the wall beside Kira, right as she ducks back behind cover as the Jem’Hadar’s fire intensifies. 

Kira looks at him. He looks at her. He’s breathing hard and heavy, his hair a mess and dirt and blood staining his face. She musters up a grin to tell him, “You’re late.”

Julian gives her a flat look as he turns to her. “Forgive me, it’s a bit difficult to make house calls in the middle of a battlefield,” He replies, sounding very, very tired. But then his eyes flick to her bloody hand, still clamped over her wounded shoulder, and she watches his expression shift as he clicks back into what’s affectionately referred to as doctor mode, “Let’s see that shoulder, then.” 

Kira moves her hand, letting Julian get a look at the wound. She winces as he pulls aside the burnt fabric, taking a deep breath in through her nose and resisting the reflex to jerk away. “How’s it look?” She asks, mostly just to distract herself. 

“Like it needs more than what I’ve got,” Julian replies, frowning, “The dermal regenerator I have will do for now, but this is deep. I’ll need to immobilize your arm,” He tells her, giving her an apologetic look, “If you move it too much, you’ll risk tearing it open again.”

“Just do what you have to,” Kira tells him, “Won’t be the first time I’ve had to shoot myself out with only one arm.” 

Julian nods, and returns his attention to her wound. “Right,” He pulls his kit up and rifles through it for a second. The first thing he pulls out is a hypospray, which he quickly sticks into her neck. Kira relaxes fractionally as the painkillers immediately start to work, dulling some of the burning in her shoulder. Then he’s pulling out the dermal regenerator, and bracing his hand against her shoulder again, “Try to hold still.” He advises.

Kira just gives a tight nod, already gritting her teeth and bracing herself. She feels the dermal regenerator start to work. The hypo helps, but it doesn’t take away that burning, itchy sort of feeling of muscle and nerves and skin stitching itself back together inch by inch. She clenches her fists tight, breathing hard through her nose as Julian works. 

“Sorry, I know this stings,” Julian says, “I’m doing the best I can. This regenerator wasn’t meant for a wound like this.” 

Kira grunts a wordless acknowledgement. If she says anything, it’s just going to be a string of curses. Instead, she focuses on keeping her ear on the sound of disruptor fire, making sure it isn’t getting closer. If the Jem’Hadar decide to come after them, she wants to be ready. 

“Done,” Julian pipes up. She looks over as he puts the regenerator back in his kit, taking the worst of the pain with it and leaving her with a dull ache, “That’s the hard part done. I’m going to move your arm now,” His hands are gentle, taking her arm and carefully easing it away from her side, “There we go. Alright, hold it there, please.” 

Kira does. Julian sits back, and unzips his jacket to get at his undershirt. “This will have to do,” He tells her, tearing a couple of strips from his undershirt, “These won’t be the most comfortable, but they’ll have to do. I’m out of bandages.” He leans back in, starting to bind her arm with the torn fabric.

“Sorry about your shirt.” She cracks weakly.

“I’ll get a new one.” He replies, without so much as a smile.

She hates how flat his voice is. Hates how… unlike him, it is. Quiet, with no bite. “C’mon, Julian, where’s that boyish optimism of yours?” She asks, “I could really use a hit of it right about now.”

Julian secures the bandage around her arm. “I must’ve dropped it when they started shooting at us,” He says, not meeting her eyes, “Do me a favour, Major. Don’t pretend any of this is ok,” He sits back again, still not meeting her eyes, all caught up in taking in his work, “Cause it’s really not.” He does look her in the eye, then. And he looks so… tired.

But then, he’s looked like that for a while, hasn’t he?

Kira gives him a smile. A sad, quiet little smile. “I never said any of this was ok,” She corrects, “I’m just… used to it, at this point.” Very, very used to it. Used to it in a way she hopes he never is. 

Julian considers that for a moment. His expression is hard to read- sad, maybe. Sympathetic. Then he sighs, and breaks eye contact. “Well, I suppose I’m getting used to it, too,” He scrubs a bloody hand through his hair, “We should get going. Can you walk?” He asks.

No time for sentiment, then. Kira nods. “It’s just the arm,” She assures him, “I can do a hell of a lot more than walk.”

“Good,” Julian starts to push himself up to stand, “Let’s-“ He doesn’t get far. He wobbles suddenly, his eyes widening slightly as he nearly topples right over. He barely manages to catch himself, bracing a hand against the wall before he can fall against it.

Kira quickly reaches out to steady him. “Julian?” She sits up, frowning, “What’s wrong?”

Julian frowns, confused. “I… don’t know,” He says, looking down, “I can’t feel my-“ He cuts off, suddenly, his eyes fixing on something, “Ah.”

Kira’s brow furrows. “Ah? What’s-“ She follows his gaze, and comes to the same abrupt halt as she sees just what he’s found, “Ah.” 

Julian has a substantial wound in his thigh. A chunk of his pant leg has been burned away, revealing a raw, painful-looking burn that’s steadily oozing blood down his leg. Kira’s eyes widen at the sight of it. That doesn’t look good. That really doesn’t look good.

“Well,” Julian says, “That’s not ideal.” And then he sways alarmingly, nearly crumpling right to the ground.

“Julian!” Kira lurches forward, manages to catch him by the arms. He grimaces as he eases himself down, taking his weight off his injured leg, “Damnit, Julian, what were you thinking ignoring this? Gimme that tricorder-“ She reaches for his medkit, not waiting for him as she rummages through it herself.

“I wasn’t ignoring it!” He exclaims, “I couldn’t feel it! Honest!” 

Kira finds the tricorder and pulls it out. “Don’t tell me they augmented the ability to feel pain out of you,” He shifts again, adjusting his position to give her a better angle to scan him, and it draws a painful hiss out of him, “Guess not.” She hums.

Julian manages a weak chuckle, the first one she’s gotten out of him all day. “Not as such,” He confirms, “I’ve just been- gah!” He grinds his molars as she pulls the burnt fabric away from the wound, “Preoccupied.” He growls.

Kira huffs softly as she reads the results on the tricorder. It’s not a fun wound. “So busy trying not to get shot that you didn’t realize you got shot?” She asks, arching a brow at him, “I’m almost impressed.”

“Only almost?” Julian asks, all mock indignation, “I’d hate to see what I’d have to do to actually impress you,” He mutters. His eyes drift down, then back up at her. He looks worried, “How bad is it?”

Kira puts the tricorder down. “How bad does it feel?” She dodges. 

“Pfft, this little thing?” He scoffs, gives a weak little wave that’s probably went to ‘wave off’ the pain, “It’s nothing. Just a scratch. It feels worse than it… no. No, wait, that’s not right,” He blinks, and she can almost see the gears in his head turning as he tries to figure out the order of the words, “I don’t mean to alarm you, Major, but I think the shock might be setting in.” He tells her.

Kira can’t help but roll her eyes. “No kidding,” She says, “This isn’t my first time, Julian. Hand me the regenerator, I’ll do what I can with it.” She holds her hand out expectantly.

Julian hands it over. “Now who’s being serious?” He asks.

Kira adjusts how she’s holding him, making sure she’s holding the burnt edges of his uniform away from his skin so that she doesn’t accidentally fuse any fabric to him. “Oh, so you can make jokes,” She takes the dermal regenerator and adjusts her hold on it, making sure it won’t slide out of her hand, which is slick with blood, “I thought you dropped that along with your optimism.” She gets the regenerator going, doing what she can with the wound.

Julian chuckles again, grins at her. “I told you, the shock’s setting in,” He replies, all charm, “I’ll say anything just to say anything. Apologies, but I’m going to be talking your ear off until we get out of here.” He warns.

Kira keeps her eyes on her work, keeps her hand braced on his thigh to hold him still. “As opposed to when you don’t talk my ear off.” She counters. After a few seconds, she can see that the burn’s healed as much as it’s going to. She switches the regenerator off and hands it back to him.

“Rude,” Julian huffs, taking the regenerator and putting it back in his medkit, “How’d the regenerator do? I don’t want to look.” He’s looking even as he says it, like he can’t help himself. 

“It’ll hold,” She tells him, not seeing any point in sugar-coating it. He would see right through her in a second, “For now. I’m gonna bandage it, just in case,” She adds. Now it’s her turn to get at her undershirt, tear it up for strips of fabric, “I liked this shirt, you know.” She informs him as she does.

“I suppose we’re even, then,” Julian cracks weakly, “Have I ever told you you’d make a great medic?” He asks.

There’s the Julian she knows. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” She tells him. Satisfied with her bandages, she gets them ready, “I do have one question for you, Doctor.” 

Julian frowns, confused. Yeah, the shock really has set in if he can’t see what she’s doing. “Go ahead.” He invites.

Kira starts wrapping his leg. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” She asks.

He looks even more confused. “What are my-“ She yanks the bandages tight before he can finish, and he cuts off with a pitched yelp, “Fuck!”

Maybe it’s a bit mean to chuckle, but Kira can’t help it. She doesn’t often get to hear him curse. “Oh, language,” She tuts as she finishes tying the bandages off, “There. Nice and tight. That oughta hold you together till we get out of here.” She gives his knee a pat. 

Julian pouts at her. “You enjoyed that.” He accuses. 

“I did no such thing,” Kira replies smoothly as she pulls his medkit closer to her and starts rifling through it, not bothering to ask him, “Want a hypo?” She offers.

“No,” Julian shakes his head, making her stop short and give him an incredulous look, “I’ve only got the one left. Save it for someone who needs it.” He reasons. 

Her look quickly flattens. “Don’t start with the heroics, Julian,” She advises, “You’re not gonna be treating any patients until after you’ve been treated. On the Defiant.” She doubts he can even stand on his own, let alone treat people.

“I can hold out till then,” He insists, “Someone else might-“

“Julian,” Kira cuts in, not giving him any room to argue, “Take the fucking hypo.” 

Julian’s brows shoot up and he looks a little stunned. Just for a moment, though, before he huffs a bit of a laugh. “Now who needs to watch their language,” He says, his tone light and teasing, “Alright, go ahead.” He nods.

Kira takes the hypo out of his kit. “Oh, thank you,” She replies, making sure her own tone savours strongly of sarcasm, “You’re a terrible patient, you know that?” 

There’s that grin again. All charm. “So Nurse Jabara keeps telling me.” He replies, like the pain in the ass he is.

“You should listen to her. She’s always right,” Kira sticks the hypo in his neck, and watches his shoulders instantly sink down a notch. She didn’t even realize how tense he was, “Better?” She asks. 

Julian takes a deep breath. Probably the first one he’s taken all day. “…Much,” He admits, with the decency to look a little sheepish, “Thank you, Major.” His smile’s a bit less charm now, a bit more sincere.

Kira finds herself smiling back. “Anytime,” She says. She shoots a quick look around, regaining her bearings a bit now that they’re both taken care of. She can still hear blasters firing, but not as close. They might’ve moved off somewhere else. Or they could be waiting, “We should probably get moving.” She suggests.

“Probably,” Julian agrees, “Just one problem, though. I don’t think I can walk.” He tells her.

Kira figured. “Can you limp?” She asks, “I’ve still got two good shoulders, both perfectly good for leaning on.” She offers, patting her shoulder for emphasis.

There’s that glint in his eye. First time she’s seen it today- stubborn determination, or, in another word, cocky. “I think I can manage that.” He says.

Kira grins. “Great,” She ducks in and gets her arm around his waist, pulling him in snug against her as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, “Alright, lean on me. Steady. And…” She pushes herself up, and brings him with her. He leans heavy into her side, and she tightens her hold on him to keep him steady, “Up we go. Ready?” She asks.

Julian takes a moment to find his balance, shifting most of his weight off of his injured leg and compensating on Kira’s shoulder. “As I can be,” He tells her with a nod, “Let’s go.”

And they’re off. Making quite the sight as they hobble back into the action, pressed hip to hip and clinging tight to each other. But, hey, they’re still kicking, and they’ve still got their phasers, so they’ll make do. They always do. 

[sarahsedserio]

Forgive me for deigning to take a Riordan book too seriously, but like, is it just me, or is everything in the preview so far indicating that:

1. Jason is what Nico wants

2. Will is what Nico has

3. Nico can't have what he wants

Why does Cupid, the god who once forced Nico to admit his feelings for a boy who he didn't even want to pursue anymore, the god who Nico justifiably never wants to face again, take the form of Will? And literally says THIS?

Nico spent that entire scene resisting having to face Cupid, and wishing he could see Jason instead.

Every instance of Nico's infatuation with Will in this book feels so much thinner than anything an actual shipper would write. And yeah, I get it, Rick's writing just sucks sometimes. But I'm gonna play the delusional bitch's advocate for a sec and ask like, what if Nico is literally actually still in love with Jason, and he doesn't want to admit it to himself OR will because he doesn't want to ruin the one stable thing he (or Will) has had in a very long time???!!! What if the thing he has to leave behind is his first romantic relationship, that isn't actually what's best for either of them anymore??????!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IF THEY REALLY DO FIND JASON IN TARTARUS SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY AND ALL THREE FINALLY FIND CONTENTMENT IN A POLYAMOROUS RELATIONSHIP WITH

[azucar-skull]

Shedding some light on my situation:

Yesterday, I opened up emergency commissions out of the blue with a very brief explanation on the current crisis at home. As promised, here are some more details on the situation.

Last Thanksgiving, I got disowned by half of my family on my mother's side after I exposed my abusers for what they are. Ever since I got home, it's one thing after another.

Recovery (physically from injuries too), chronic illness diagnosis, Grandpa having a hospital emergency (where I had to clean up his blood), Green Eyed Mask going on hiatus due to stress, finally finishing GEM...then my dad broke the TV.

It was so unlike him to be shouting at my mom for no reason, in my gut, I knew there was a bigger picture.

Dad getting upset, my aunts and uncles coming to visit more often, telling everyone to not say "Happy birthday" to Grandpa because he's too far gone, my abuela bringing out Grandpa's antiques from his time in military.

Last week, I was let out of class early and arrived home to everyone huddled in the kitchen with paperwork. While no one was looking, I saw that the paperwork was for Grandpa's will.

My grandpa is now 88 years old, the youngest sibling in his immediate family. His older brothers and father died at war, his sister and mother of old age. It was a given that this year is his last, he'll be lucky if he makes it to July.

A long anticipated death causes stress on the entire family. I've noticed that my body is out of balance, sobbing at random intervals all day even if I'm feeling fine. It's messing up my sleep, appetite, even my fucking periods which were already a bitch in the first place.

I avoided telling you guys because art is what kept me going. I would hide in my room and draw all day, the rest of the world fading. That's all I do now, hide.

But everyone else in my family is suffering too. My dad broke the TV 2 months ago and home is falling apart by the day. My brother opted to stealing food from the grocery store and living off of chicken tenders and fries from the deli. Mom is never seen, absorbed in her own work as much as I am. The house is a mess, the fridge is empty, bills piling up, riding pay check to paycheck.

It's not that we are poor or losing financial stability (I think), if we were I could turn to my community college for help but I'm not eligible. It's the fact that everyone is so down and busy that we forget the basics like food, long overdue haircuts, doctor appointments, taking care of the dogs, etc.

It's an "every man for themselves" kind of situation. And as a disabled person, I'm unable to work a stable job. So that's why I opened commissions. Money that I can hold of my own should there be a situation like now where I had to buy food the second I got my first order.

But this also means I am going to be more busy taking care of myself and my family. Comic production will be delayed a bit, and I unfortunately can't say for sure if Feral Casey AU will be ready by the end of May.

All I ask is for your support and patience. Reblogging my commission post helps a lot more than you think. And thank you again for everything.

Commission Post

[nights-at-crystarium]

January 9 is Vivi’s birthday \;w;/ The date’s cheeky, it’s when I reached ShB on him ingame. A year ago. JUST A YEAR. No other oc of mine had such an intense development process. I wanted to try writing a disaster, and, well....

Lemme have today as an excuse to ramble about his influences. Of course I didn’t merely lump these together, I kept realizing the likeness as time went on.

The concentration of unhinged blondies and literal idols is past the critical level, take cover, it’s gonna blow.

Spoiler warning for everything.

Anarchy Panty

Because his full name’s Vivien Fucksalot Rell x’D A good number of their tropes match perfectly.

This speech could as well be copypasted into his final battle with Emet:

Panty: You're right, I'm just a little bitch and I'm proud of it. But guess what, douchebag? That's not the point. News flash, I don't need special fucking powers to beat the shit out of you. You know why? Because I'm a bitch who doesn't give a fuck. You and your half-dead face can preach about hymens and demons and other weird words that supposedly mean shit, but that doesn't change the fact that if any of you fuckers get in my way, I'm gonna kick some twisted-ass ass. You hear me dick? I'm a hot bitch angel named Panty. And no matter what anyone says, I DO WHAT I FUCKING WANT!

Princess Ai

An edgy fashion icon that I'm still in love with. Brainstorming the visual styles for Vivi, I simply decided to indulge as hard as I can.

Howl

Howl gets his redemption arc, Vivi, uh.... Surprise, the entire ShB part of Fragments is his redemption arc of sorts. But he exists outside ShB as well. He’s not meant to be a goody two shoes. But hey, his drama queen moments are entertaining to watch.

Raha has a lot of Howl in his character too. With Vivi, he’s basically this, except he doesn’t swallow him.. Okay he does but in a different way *kicked*

Arataka Reigen

Because I’m physically incapable of writing a classic hero.

Vivi has a complicated relationship with his career and a pragmatic approach to most things in life. He also prefers words to violence, will fight only if that fails.

When confidence and persuasion carry so hard you don’t really need anything else. Vivi firmly believes in everything he says and does. He doesn’t derive any fucked up joy from being right, but he knows as a fact that he IS right.

Sakuma Ryuichi

Duality my beloved \o/ And dorkiness. Other than that, Ryuichi doesn’t have as much influence on his character, but the visuals?

I mean I literally use this shirt and necklace as an easter egg/homage. Gravitation triggered my queer awakening in the faraway 2006, might as well give it the acknowledgement it deserves.

And, lastly, the he.

What else do you expect from a character tailored for a ship \o/

Short. Sassy. Dorky. Gremlin. All of their direct likeness stems from ARR, while the more subtle parallels and extreme opposite values form later.

If Raha’s eccentric, Vivi takes that just a tad bit further, simply because he’s always been allowed to.

What Raha keeps repressed, buried deep down, Vivi embraces in full. He’s an unruly, effervescent spark of life, he’s meant to be Raha’s “manic pixie dream boy” according to tvtropes, to slowly lure him out of his shell and teach him confidence, the joy of living, and find a way to stop him from killing himself over and over again.

Words of praise and affirmation have no effect on them. Both are competent in some field, but never brag about it. While Raha has a severe imposter syndrome, Vivi knows he’s cool as a fact, which still doesn't mean he loves or values himself as he should. He just acknowledges and uses his status for his own benefit as openly as the world keeps using himself.

Destiny (affectionate) and destiny (derogatory).

Raha’s The Adult (tm) Vivi needs to stay somewhat stable. This’s the reason they don’t quite get along in ARR yet, Raha must go through that century of suffering that, despite all common sense, refines him into something delightful, Vivi must go through HW-SB to realize his priorities in life and frankly get fucked up enough to form a perfect chemistry with Exarch.

Raha has a moral compass that he may adjust at will, Vivi has none at all. How much more questionable would they be if they weren’t cute and charismatic :’D

They’re feisty and competitive towards each other, Raha especially so. Vivi has a red cloth effect on him. Forever wrestling for that imaginary control (yep, in bed too). On the emotional side, it’s forever “you matter, I don’t”. They’re mirrors of each other, reflecting some parts as they are, twisting others in most peculiar ways.

Vivi literally wouldn’t exist without Raha, both ic and ooc. So I daresay Raha has the most influence on his character, at the same time he’s his own guy enough to stay interesting. I’m so proud of him. I’m holding him by the scruff and helplessly shaking him in the air.

[shanethvarosa]

Void Post

I was a kid under the Clinton administration and all I can really know or recall is that my family personally was doing very well during same. I recall the culture of the 90s being more stable and normal and I think that’s why people romanticize them so much today.

But I also recall the 2000 presidential election. I was only 9, but kids my age were talking about it and saying what their parents told them about Al Gore, one girl told me he was going to start killing babies when he was in office. Even at 9 years old, I knew bitch was crazy.

Of course we all know Bush won that election and now, looking back on it, it seems banal in comparison to what we’re dealing with. We had 9/11, which was an absolute national tragedy, don’t get it twisted; but people saw this happen and made it their whole personality.

So we end up in wars based on nothing but racism and xenophobia and there was no real goal of protecting the world from a threat, but there was financial motive for many, many people in the American government. And what did the American people do in 2004, re-elect the same old.

When Obama came around, it was the first time in 8 years I as a young man or any of my friends and immediate family felt hope again. Obama was/is an intelligent, likable guy who was another career politician who knew what he was doing for the Democratic Party and for the people. Of course, I’m not delusional. He was far from perfect. Just like any American president.

Unfortunately, though, I do think that the larger American populace is genuinely far too racist to just accept our first black president and we see the results now 16 years later. His good and decent presidency gave rise to literal evil. The hatred in the hearts of these people who couldn’t handle him as president gave voice to Trump and people like him. Trump being an insane wealthy person can just run for the same office and see what happens and take really no L either way.

Then of course the DNC dropping all their balls. Left and right between not letting Sanders have the ticket, then Hillary Clinton being cold, unlikable, and having no real policies of her own - it really isn’t surprising Trump won that election. Not to mention, the everyone thought there was no way he was going to win, but that made more people comfortable testing their right to a third party vote, taking away votes from Clinton.

If we had just voted right in 2016, I would bet Trump would have just gone away. He tried, he failed; just like so many of his businesses, he’d just walk away from it. But then he had to fucking win and people somehow liked the presidency he had? Even though he ultimately mishandled the pandemic and the daily death tolls were like having a 9/11 every day for six months.

So we see this happen and finally get the god damn vote out in order to oust the man thinking we’d not have to hear from him again, but again the DNC fucks us over entirely. Instead of allowing a fresher face with good ideas to be the democratic nominee, they give it to Biden. A polarizing figure due to his general goofiness and association with the first black president.

He did some good work, but the American culture remains horrible and misguided because we didn’t have any progress in the last four years and so more people than not didn’t want a repeat of Biden’s administration. But I also can’t believe that the RNC actually put Trump up again. Make it make sense.

The absolute and blatant hypocrisy of it all - don’t vote for the 80 year old dementia patient, vote for the 78 year old dementia patient. Well the 80 year old stepped aside and we have a woman running for the presidency again and now we’re seeing that yes, the American populace would rather shoot themselves in the foot than have a woman as president. Why? Again, make it make sense.

I don’t even necessarily feel hopeless right now or that I want to give up. I don’t know that I believe in Project 2025 necessarily but I wouldn’t be surprised if some or all of it gets worked into law. As of right now it’s just a theory, a manifest. I believe Trump only wanted this to stay out of jail and won’t do any actual work in any way but that doesn’t mean the now-republican-run senate won’t. That doesn’t mean that this freaky little shithead Vance won’t do something horrible if Trump dies in office.

Ultimately, life and the world goes on, but the United States of America is finished.

[mxlabradorite]

Actually blogging? Groundbreaking.

2023 was a mess.

It was a character selection screen of a year, and I was stuck in that damn idle animation.

I had a lot of ideas that either didn't come to fruition, or did so in a lesser form than I wanted. Done is better than perfect, sure, but like...think of it this way.

You know the whole standby mode thing people talk about when they're talking about ADHD symptoms? Like, if you  have an appointment at 2, absolutely nothing will happen before then?

We spent the entire year waiting for word that yes, we could move. I was incapable of doing much of anything, because my to-do list always included stuff like "pack up these entire rooms" in anticipation of getting that go-ahead. That was too much for my post-Big Cleanout™ trauma brain. Prioritization? Time management? I don't know her.

Anyway, I thought I knew what fallow years were because uhhhh...look at post-migraine emergence 2019 through 2022.

But fucking hell, man. There was literally nothing for me to do but feel stuck and sit in that feeling and be furious because there was no utility to it. There was no upside. There was no lesson. Unless the lesson was "Bitch you thought," in which case, thanks, I've gotten that one hammered home real well a number of time over the years, we didn't need a refresh. To end on a high note, we did finally fucking get word that yes, my partner has permanent remote status, so yes, we can move. Cool cool cool. You know when they told us? Literally fifty weeks after he made the initial request. They slow walked that shit all fucking year while I ate my heart out trying (and failing, tbh) to wrestle my headspace into something even somewhat resembling stable and functional. We will be repairing the damage to many facets of our lives, individually and as a couple, for a long fucking time. These motherfuckers owe me a year. I know this is weird energy to star the year with but like. These motherfuckers owe me a year. Anyway, next year in Washington State.

[quinloki]

And now, the belated Blorbo Rankings One Piece Style Top 20 for June 2024.

In the rankings defense, I was trying to get more women on here so I switched how I vote but still. I was not expecting this.

Stable rankings: Arlong & Benn Beckman consistently going 1-2 is all we can ever depend upon.

People who fell off the rankings: Rayleigh, Thatch, Penguin, Vergo, Ace, & FUCKING MIHAWK HAS FINALLY LEFT MY RANKINGS!!!!!!

People still missing from the list: Buggy.

People new or returning to the list: Bell-Mere, Nojiko, Dr. Kureha, Laki, Wyper (has returned!), & Koala.

Those who moved UP since May: Zoro moved 11-spots from 19th, Vivi moved 13-spots from 16th & Nico Robin moved 16-spots from dead last. Not many moved up that were already on the list.

Those who dropped DOWN since May: Shanks dropped 2-spots from 3rd, Alvida dropped 2-spots from 4th, Borsi Baby dropped 4-spots from 5th, Marco dropped 4-spots from 6th, Trafalgar dropped 4-spots from 11th, Smoker dropped 4-spots from 14th, Sakazuki dropped 4-spots from 7th, Sir Crocodile dropped 5-spots from 9th, & Kid dropped 7-spots from 10th. Most people on the list who dropped did so by 4 places.

Actual Position Swaps: Vivi took Shanks long standing 3rd-place so Shanks took Borsi Baby's 5th-place. Borsi Baby ended up in Sir Crocodile's spot and he ended up in Smoker's old spot. Nico Robin usurped Alvida's hard earned 4th-place pushing Alvida into Marco's 6th. Marco ended up in Kid's spot and Kid ended up in Vergo's spot kicking him off the list entirely.

Bell-Mere took Sakazuki's 7th spot and he ended up in Trafalgar's old spot, so Traffy ended up in Penguin's spot eliminating his crewmate from the rankings. Zoro took 8th spot from Mihawk his mentor who is finally off my fucking list. Never figured out how he got on there and I hope he doesn't come back, he ain't a blorbo. And I don't like him as a character at all. And while Arlong and Beckman are my top blorbos based solely on attraction, my favorite character is actually Zoro so I'm glad he's moving up the ranks.

Nojiko took 12th spot which was Thatch thereby replacing him altogether and while I'm sad he only showed up for one ranking chart, I am glad to have the lady instead of the dead chef. Likewise, Dr. Kureha took 13th spot from Dark King Rayleigh and since he ain't a blorbo either, I am happy I got the young lady of 100-something as opposed to the old man of 70-something. =P

Laki took Vivi's old spot of 16th because she leapt up the rankings, Smoker dropped down into Ace's old spot of 18th, Wyper has returned (huzzah!) into Zoro's old spot because he moved up, and Koala made the list by taking Robin's old spot of dead last.

I am SO HAPPY to see Wyper back on my list because he has been on every Top 20 except for last month's. That was heartbreaking to witness.

Nico Robin jumped the most spots for someone already on the list (16-spots!) and Bell-Mere ranked the highest out of new/returning players (7th-place). Kid dropped the most spots for folks already here (7-spots) and of the people who fell off entirely, Mihawk fell the furthest as he was originally 8th position.

Karma bitch. Wyper has been a staple and he was booted off the list last month by Mihawk in 8th position and now Mihawk has been removed form 8th position by Zoro and Wyper came back in 19th.

Still no Buggy but we do have more women! Last month saw a grand total of THREE women and that was a huge deal because I'd been juggling 1-2 (Alvida & Vivi). Now we have a grand total of: EIGHT WOMEN!!!

Alvida, Vivi, Nico Robin, Nojiko, Laki, Bell-Mere, Dr. Kureha, & Koala.

And while the Fineapple dropped he is still in the top 10 (but somehow fell off the actual top 10). Based off last month's discussion, Zoro had also been a staple and fell off in April but returned in May but now we've lost Ace. Still waiting for the site to add Aramaki so I can have all 3 Admirals I like on the list.

Last time I stated I could live without 11 dudes to get 10 ladies onto the list. Of those 10 ladies I am still missing: Perona & Makino. Of the men I said I could afford to lose without having issues: I got rid of all but two Sakazuki & Smoker. And I even got Wyper back.

I managed to eliminate Vergo, Penguin, Rayleigh, and finally Mihawk. Sabo, Killer, Laboon, & Bepo have remained off the list in favor of the ladies. I'm not real attached to Makino so I'd be fine if I got Aramaki in place of her at some point. Not sure now who'd I'd sacrifice for Perona because in all fairness, I only slightly like her based on fanon. Haven't met her canon yet and that always affects rankings. Same with Koala, I haven't met her outside of folks' fics so I cannot say one way or the other how I feel about her. I love fanon Koala to pieces but the actual character could come and go right now.

All the other ladies I have encountered in the anime and I love them. Alvida is my girl, Vivi is my other girl. Nico Robin is who I relate to the most, Nojiko is awesome because of what she endured and did for her little sister. Laki had to fight her own culture, people, and leader for what she believed to be right and that is wicked hard. Bell-Mere gave her life for her daughters. Dr. Kureha adopted a kid and taught him everything she knew and then she had to let him go live his life and that's hard.

I've got two gals I love, one I relate to, two sisters (Laki was like a sister for that little girl whose name I forget), & 2 awesome moms. I'm content with my ladies. Makino & Perona don't need to make the list right now. Koala can come and go. I'd like Wyper to stay on my list and I'd like Aramaki to join at some point.

I would love for Buggy to show up and I wouldn't mind Ace returning. But we'll see how July goes.

I think when you meet Koala in canon you’ll like her. I her character in canon, personally, heart breaking as it is, it’s good writing imo.

I hope the WCI and Wano characters get added soon so you can get Aramaki on there xD he can take his personality and fly off a cliff for all I care, but I have to give the built in bondage utility of his Devil fruit a few points.

Him and Doffy both.

But yay for all the lovely ladies too \o/ a good and intriguing collection 🥰 I’m glad you seem to have enjoyed the results of your perspective shift.

(I like Perona’s canon personality, but her laugh kills me. I look forward to you getting caught up and meeting everyone \o/ )