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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 2 months ago

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Over the Limit

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

summary: In a town divided between two rival street racing crews, you’re caught between your cousin’s crew, the Sinners and Jenna, a mysterious girl from the Vipers who’s more than just a pretty face. Both of you need something from each other, but as the stakes rise, you’re left wondering: what makes your heart race more— the thrill of the competition or the girl who’s impossible to ignore?

word count: 6.7k

A very special thank you to @ortegalvr for giving me the very much needed nudge to start moving my work to Tumblr. And to @cobaltperun for being so patient and thoroughly answering all my questions, essentially giving me (a Tumblr noob) a dummies guide to Tumblr. Appreciate you both!

————

Why is it that some of the best feel goods in life can just as easily kill you if you indulge in it too much?

Alcohol, drugs, illegal driving... love?

Fortunately for you, you only indulge in only one of those.

There's just something so satisfying about watching your car pick up speed; watching the little arm on the speed gauge reach it's full potential. If cars are able to reach those speeds then they should, it's a fact of the matter. And when you're surrounded by cars all your life and the only reason you have a livelihood is because of those three thousand pounds of steel, you're bound to make some fun out of it.

You push down on the accelerator with more pressure, reaching speeds of almost 180 km/hour when you see the flashing blue and red lights in the rear view mirror.

The feds.

"Took them longer than usual." you thought out loud.

Now there could be two reasons they're after you. The obvious, speeding. But then there's also the fact that you stole the beauty you're driving from the town's richest neighbourhood, Summer Valley.

Of course stealing it is not enough for you, so you made some tweaks here and there in the garage so this ride could be even more illegal than it already is, and now you're selling it to an off the grid buyer.

Escaping the police wasn't something new, it's become routinely. You'd be more concerned if the cops weren't on your tail during a delivery.

You make a sharp turn right into a short alleyway marking the start of this high speed chase.

Being the exceptional mechanic that you are, your work on this car has given it a larger than usual turn radius which allowed the turn to be much smoother, giving you a good head start.

"Why are these fuckers in the middle of road!" You yelled panickily, upon seeing the herd of people in front of you.

You don't know when people decided to ditch the sidewalks and walk in the middle of the road, but clearly, you missed the memo. You were forced to sound the horn a few times, and luckily the pedestrians were responsive and didn't cause you to lose your lead on the cop, but it may have alerted them—if you were lucky enough to lose them in the first place.

Once you finally got out of the alleyway, your phone started ringing, stealing your focus from the dark road in front of you to glance down at your phone for a millisecond.

Anton. Your cousin.

Anton Y/l/n. Your older cousin of three years. He was an impulsive firecracker that has the tendency to rope you into his shenanigans, not deliberately of course. Despite his flaws he'd do anything for family. You like to joke around and call him Dom Toretto, and those jokes have only gotten worse after he buzzed his head after an unfortunate grease spillage accident that was entirely his and your fault.

That five letter name is the most anxiety inducing noun known to man in your books and everytime you answer the older guy's call, you feel as if your gambling your mental health. He could either be calling to tell you about a huge car gig that he scored for you both or that he owes a million dollar debt.

You legit never know.

You groan and answer the call, putting it on speaker and tossing the phone to the passenger seat.

"What now?" you yell over the sounds of acceleration and police sirens.

"Come to Chester and Dan's lane." He says straight to the point, not questioning the noises he hears on your end of the phone. "After your delivery of course." At this point he's used to his little cousin getting chased down by the cops too.

"What's happening at Chester and Dan?" You ask looking at the side view mirror, squinting at the piercing blue and red flashes.

"Sinners are doing a couple rounds before the big race tomorrow. Join us, it'll be fun."

You sigh at your cousin's billionth attempt to get you acquainted with the Sinners. He's been trying ever since he first started as a general member of the club to now, the leader of the street race club.

"We'll see, I'm kind of in the middle of something," you shout over the sound of the tires screeching from a sharp turn you just made.

"Ugh! I'm not gullible like the other fucks in your life. Don't 'we'll see' me thinking it'll keep me satisfied and off your back for a while."

"I'm busy."

"Just step on the gas you pussy, going past two hundred won't kill you."

With a roll of your eyes, you think that you've entertained Anton's wishes enough and hung up the phone with the determination to lose the cops and deliver the 1969 Ford Mustang you're driving in one piece.

Twenty minutes later, a handful full of sharp turns later and momentarily stopping to let a group of duckling cross the street, you were finally at your destination.

"Car looks good to me," the off the grid buyer who introduced himself as John said with an approving nod after surveying the vintage black vehicle for quite some time.

You let out a breath. You've made your fair share of deliveries over the years, and just like Anton's calls, you never know the type of customer you're gonna get.

Some customers complain about the price of parts, or a scratch on the car that doesn't exist or they go back on their word and attempt to haggle the price to something ridiculous.

"Nice work kid," John says handing you the promised amount you both settled on a couple weeks prior. You didn't have to count the stash of cash to know that all of it was there.

"Finally," you sigh, smiling at the wad of cash in your hands and running your thumb along the bills, walking towards the direction of home.

Suddenly a car pulls up. "Give me the cash or give me your life. Your choice." Before you can register the words, you're met with the barrel of a pistol pointed at you through an unrolled passenger side window.

You knew you weren't a fighter nor were you confrontational. Even though you grew up in the tougher parts of the town, your brain is what got you out of your predicaments. If you were a fighter you wouldn't be spending your life stealing, fixing and selling cars.

Laughter interrupted you from handing over the cash. Confused, you focus on the face holding the glock, and all previous thoughts disappeared and was now replaced with relief and anger.

"What the fuck Anton!" you angrily say, hopping into the passenger seat of the car next to your laughing cousin.

You knew better than to question the fact that your cousin had a gun. When you're the leader of a street race club, you need protection. Especially when all the other club owners own a gun, and fights always break out.

"You should've seen your face," he slips out in his fit of laughter, beginning to drive off as his cousin settles in his car.

"I thought you were street smart, you know better than to walk around this time flaunting your cash."

"I can handle myself, but yeah I should've been more careful. I was just a little excited finally getting paid," You admit, recalling the rut you've recently been in and the struggles you and your mother have recently been facing to make ends meet.

Anton acknowledges the response, "You know you could always ask me for help?

"My mom wouldn't take it."

Anton let's out a loud sigh, "No offense dude, but I don't get your mom's deal. She acts as if I'm the reason our dads are dead."

You wince at the mention of your dead fathers. Sometimes you wonder how Anton could talk about this stuff so easily. "You just resemble Uncle so much, and to be fair you are following the same path as him."

Anton's father and yours, who were brothers, founded the Sinner's Race Club. Anton's dad had always been your father's right-hand man in races, often riding in the passenger seat.�� During a high-stakes race meant to settle a territory dispute, the brakes on your father's car failed, and both men were pronounced dead at the scene.

Since then, your mom understandably kept you away from cars, Anton, and anything related to the race club. She forbade you from getting a driver's license and doesn't even know you have one. Hiding it wasn't difficult, though, given that your family has more pressing expenses than a car.

"Alright, we're here," Your cousin announces, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I still think you should show up tomorrow. Sleep on it."

You step out of the car, once Anton puts the money you made from your sale in a spare backpack he had. So your mom wouldn't ask questions.

"How was your shift?" your mom asks from the couch as you walk through the door.

"Fine, just sore from lifting all those boxes," you lie smoothly.

"Hmm, get to bed early tonight."

As you head toward your room, her voice calls out again. "Oh, and Y/n," she says, making you turn back. "That better not have been Anton dropping you off."

You stay silent and head to bed, unsure of what tomorrow will bring.

————

"How the hell does your mom not catch on? She really thinks some warehouse gig's got you pullin' in forty grand at a time?"

You wipe the sweat of your brow, while you grab a car wrench. "She doesn't know I make that much, I help pay the rent and get food on our table. The rest I save."

"Smart. So, what's the big plan? Get outta Brimstone? Buy yourself a mansion in Summer Valley?" Mason sneers condescendingly.

This morning, you woke up to a text from Anton that convinced you to at least help prep the cars for tonight's big race, even if you don't plan on showing up. Now, you find yourself at the Brimstone Sinner's garage, the garage where you do your car modifications which sits at the edge of Sinner territory.

The place is buzzing with other club members scattered around, working on various cars. You, Anton, and—unfortunately—Mason, a friend of Anton's, who somehow wormed his way into the conversation, are huddled by the main cars, making sure they're in prime condition for the race.

"Ay! Stop distracting my best mechanic!" Anton shouts over the hood of the car to Mason.

Before you knew it you were rolling under the car via the creeper to work on the underside of the car. As you were finishing up you suddenly heard the garage go dead silent, but you didn't know why since your view was limited.

You hear Anton break the silence, "You got some fucking nerve walking into my garage asshat."

As you were lying on your back you could see about one foot from the ground up. You couldn't see who it was, but you could tell where they were from. The grey Dior dunks paired with the most unfashionable pants ever told you everything you needed to know.

Someone from Summer Valley is here.

Then came the laugh. That short, arrogant chuckle, the kind that practically exhaled wealth. Privilege. The very thing you despised.

"Just wanted to see you pussies before you lose all your dignity��oh and your garage. I'm already imagining what I'm gonna do with the place," the voice laughs again.

The conversation around you fades as your mind fixates on a single phrase. Lose the garage? Your hand curls into a tight fist, knuckles turning white. Did your dumbass cousin actually gamble the garage for tonight's race?

You try to focus your hearing, trying to see if anyone else is upset by the fact. But it's silent, they're unfazed, indifferent to the fact that Anton—the club's supposed leader—might have just wagered the club's most valuable asset. Property. You let out a sharp exhale. This is exactly what you couldn't stand about racers. They're all thrill-seeking junkies who only care about going fast. Does no one else here realize the gravity of losing this garage?

Anton snaps you back to reality. "Percy you ain't riding tonight if you're dead. Now get the fuck out before you catch a bullet."

Percy.

Leader of the Summer Valley Vipers. Just another privileged trust fund brat, bored one summer, who saw that the kids on the wrong side of the tracks had a race club and wanted in. So formed his own club. For the Vipers, racing was a hobby. For anyone from Brimstone? It was survival.

Once the obnoxious figure in those ridiculous pants left the garage, you rolled out from under the car, wiping grease from your hands. A quick glance around told you that everyone had already returned to their tasks, like the tense exchange with the Viper hadn't even happened.

Jaw clenched, you stomped over to Anton and gave him a firm nudge—just hard enough to make your frustration clear. "What the hell, Ant?"

Anton, mid-conversation with Madison—one of the club's members—turned to face you, exhaling a cloud of smoke. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"What? Seriously?" you snap. "What was Pissy going on about, losing the garage?"

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh before flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Relax, Y/n. It's just to raise the stakes, nothing serious."

"Nothing serious?" you say, mirroring his words once again. "This is my fucking livelihood, I can't live without this garage Ant? Where else am I going to fix cars?!"

Anton calmy takes one last drag, puts out his cigarette, and gestures for you to follow him outside of the garage, away from the rest of the club members.

Once you were outside Anton wasted no time in getting to the point.

"I'm only gonna say this once, Y/n. Don't ever talk to me like that in front of my people again. I run this crew."

His gaze softened slightly as he added, "I know we're family, but out here, I gotta be their leader. You get me?"

You nod understanding the politics of running a club like this. It wasn't simple and it wasn't like Anton was being rude to you.

"Now kid, listen to me very closely." Anton starts, his eyes narrowing, words firm.

You hated when he called you "kid," and Anton damn well knew it. He was only three years older, but you decided to bite your tongue this time, sensing he had something important to say.

"You don't take risks," he said, his voice steady.

You opened your mouth to cut him off, but he quickly held up a hand, his words rushing out before you could get a word in. "—hold on, let me finish! I know you think stealing cars, making illegal mods, and dodging the feds is risky—and yeah, it is... for most people. But not for you. You're too good at it. It's not a risk when you know you're always gonna pull it off. You're in your comfort zone. You don't even flinch anymore."

You crossed your arms, shaking your head. "I don't need the gamble, Ant. Why would I put myself in a position to lose something—everything?"

"But why wouldn't you?" Anton fires back passionately.

For a moment neither of you say anything.

"That's the problem, Y/n," he said finally, his voice low. "You don't take real risks anymore because you're afraid to lose. But sometimes... you gotta lose something to really win. You know what I'm saying?"

You frowned, not fully understanding. "What's that even supposed to mean? I'm not trying to play some high-stakes game just for the thrill of it."

"That's not what I'm talking about, kid. I'm saying there's more to life than just getting by. You can't just keep doing the same shit because it's easy and familiar. You gotta challenge yourself, push yourself outta that comfort zone. That's where the real reward is."

You shifted uncomfortably, not liking where the conversation was headed. "So what, you want me to throw myself into danger for no reason? What are you really getting at, Ant?"

His gaze stayed steady, not backing down. "I'm talking about the garage. Everything we've built. If you keep playing it safe, we'll stay small. But if we take some risks? We could grow this into something huge, we could run the city, Y/n."

His words hung in the air, heavy. You hesitated, feeling the pressure. "And what's the catch?"

A slow smirk crept onto his face as he leaned in. "The catch is, we go all in, or we lose it all."

Your head shook slightly, confused and uneasy. Anton sounded insane right now, with all this talk of taking over the city. "I don't know," you muttered, your voice wavering.

"I'm not saying you have to. Maybe this," he said, gesturing around the garage and the cars. "...isn't your thing, and that's fine. But you've got to find what is. What's your purpose, your drive Y/n/n? What makes your heart race? What's worth risking everything for?"

————

"Just get home safe, and grab me a pack of cigarettes on your way," your mom says, her tone casual. You exhale, relieved she let you leave without too many questions.

After your talk with Anton, and spending hours tuning up cars for the race, you head home, but your mind lingers on what your cousin said earlier. His words hit deeper than you care to admit—he was right. You've been stuck in your comfort zone for far too long, and you can't even remember the last time you did something that pushed your boundaries.

So, here you are, lying to your mom about getting called in for a late night shift when in reality, you're on your way to the race between the Sinners and Vipers.

Anton was practically beaming when you told him you were finally coming to the race. He couldn't wait to give you a ride to the track.

"Took me, what—six years? Finally got you to show up," Anton shakes his head, laughing as you slide into the passenger seat.

You ignore his teasing, cutting straight to the point. "You nervous?"

"Nah, fuck no. Pussy's a trash driver—he's got nothing on me."

Your eyes widen. "Wait, this is a title race?"

You didn't realize the leaders of both clubs were squaring off tonight. A title race meant more than bragging rights—both sides were gambling big, this race could mean life or death for both clubs.

You were about to ask what else Anton had on the line besides the garage, but the car suddenly surged forward, the burst of speed nearly throwing you out of your seat.

"What the hell! Slow down!" you shout, gripping the armrest tightly.

"Relax, I'm not even hitting two hundred yet—"

The older driver begins to roll his windows up, a sign that he wants to go even faster. The world outside blurred as the engine roared, drowning out the sound of your pulse hammering in your ears.

"Anton. Stop." Your voice is steady, firmer than ever leaving no room for argument.

The driver sighs, gradually slowing the car down to legal road limits. "You need to get over it eventually Y/n."

Those were the last words said for the remainder of the ride, you didn't want to argue with your cousin before he has one of the biggest races of his life. He knew why you were antsy with the going beyond a certain speed limit. He knew. Of course, he knew. The crash. The speed. The helplessness you felt back then. You gritted your teeth, willing yourself not to dwell on it, not to bring it up again.

You finally pull into the track, and your eyes widen in awe. It's like you were stepping onto the movie set of Fast and Furious. The area is packed with custom cars, their paint jobs gleaming under the glow of neon lights and street lamps, unique to fit the personality of each driver. Engines roar and rev, filling the air with a pulse that matches the energy of the crowd. People are everywhere—leaning against cars, laughing, shouting over the music blasting from speakers.

The race course itself stretches down a wide, abandoned road, littered with warehouses and graffiti-covered walls. Smoke drifts in the air from burning rubber, and the smell of gasoline is thick. You can feel the intensity of the competition buzzing in the air. This wasn't just a race—it was a spectacle, alive with adrenaline and danger.

Anton slowly turns into beneath a large abandoned overpass that you've often heard was a hotspot for racers and ragers. You pan your eyes across the windshield and immediately spot the rival race crews: a sea of black jackets to the right and a wall of red to the left, each group eyeing each other with the tension only moments from snapping.

You were so caught up in the moment you didn't even notice Anton turn the volume up as he played I Don't Fuck with You by Big Sean while rolling past the Viper's crew. Typical Anton—always stirring the pot. The Vipers glared but didn't act, clearly aware of who you were. You both look at each other and laugh as you join the rest of your crew a bit further into the underpass.

As your cousin parks the car he grabs something from the back seat and tosses it onto your lap—a black leather jacket.

You stared at it for a moment. The design was unmistakable. A large, detailed skull with flames rising behind it, symbolizing both danger and speed. The club's name, Sinners, arched above the skull in bold gothic, tattoo-style font. The club your father founded. The legacy you never wanted.

Your chest tightened as you ran your fingers over the smooth leather. Putting it on would be more than just an outfit choice—it would be an open declaration of association. Your mom would kill you if she ever found out.

Sensing your hesitation, Anton laughed. "Relax, I can see the steam coming out of your head from here. You don't have to wear it, alright? Just throw it over your shoulder or something. People need to know who you're with, that's all."

With that, you both stepped out of the car, and the cheers erupted. They were loud, wild, and unmistakably for Anton—he was their leader. But as the energy surged through the crowd, you couldn't help but wonder if a few of those cheers were meant for you. After all, it was your first time showing up to a race.

As you slipped into the crowd, a few familiar faces greeted you with nods and casual grins, clearly surprised to see you here. You exchanged small talk with some of the members, their conversations a mix of race gossip, bets, and tales of past victories. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, but as the minutes ticked by, you felt the need to break away, the noise and energy overwhelming you.

Stepping out from the cluster of people, you wandered toward the edge of the underpass, taking in the scene. The place was massive—graffiti-streaked pillars towering above, just like the one you were leaning against.

You took this moment to observe the Vipers. You've always had the displeasure of seeing the odd one or two while you were out doing your runs, but this is the first time you've seen the entire crew together. Your eyes land on a certain member. Percy. The only one that had a leader patch on the right sleeve of his jacket, an absurd attempt to assert dominance. You laugh at how lame this guy is. Anton exudes leader, he didn't need a patch on his sleeve reminding everyone he is one.

As you continue making your observations about the Vipers, from the corner of your eye, you noticed movement—someone else seeking the same kind of quiet as you. You glanced over, and there she was, leaning against the opposite side of the same pillar as you. The roar of engines and the blaring music made it easy to miss each other until now.

She was alone, her red jacket slung casually over her arm, a cigarette between her fingers. The contrast of her dark hair against the dim lighting made her stand out even more, and for a moment, she hadn't noticed you.

You tried not to stare, but there was something magnetic about her presence—like the calm before a storm. She flicked her eyes in your direction and froze, her gaze locking onto yours as if she wasn't expecting company either.

She glanced up at the black jacket draped over your shoulder, then at her own red one, casually slung over her arm. With a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk, she broke the silence.

"Guess neither of us is feeling the uniform tonight, huh?" she said, flicking ash from her cigarette, her voice low and surprisingly soft.

Of course her voice had to be the sexiest thing you've ever heard. You remained silent, not because you wanted to, but you didn't know how to respond. This is the first time you've ever spoken to a Viper—a hot Viper at that. You didn't know how to interact with a pretty girl, let alone someone who should be your sworn rival.

"Didn't think anyone else would find this spot," she sighs, not sure if she was saying it to you or outloud to herself.

You pushed off the pillar slightly, offering a small shrug. "Needed a breather."

She smirked, exhaling smoke slowly. "Yeah? Thought you Sinners thrived on chaos."

You glanced at the jacket hanging over your shoulder, then back at her. "Guess I'm not like the others." You weren't going to explain to a stranger that you technically aren't a Sinner but you also are.

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Clearly." There was a pause, then she gave you a once-over, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "So, what's a Sinner doing hiding out here, away from the action?"

You crossed your arms, feeling the pull of the conversation. "Could ask you the same thing. Vipers don't usually stray from their pack."

She let out a soft laugh, the sound almost lost in the night air. "Maybe I needed a break from all the posturing. You know how it is."

Posturing. What an interesting way to put it you thought to yourself. She wasn't wrong, but it was an oddly honest thing to bring up barely thirty seconds into the conversation. As intrigued as you are, you're also cautious.

You glanced her over in return, taking in her outfit—black combat boots, short black shorts, and a plain white tee, almost identical to the one you were wearing. It was shocking to see a girl from Summer Valley dressed so simply. But the simplicity suited her. She didn't need to be extravagant to stand out, if it wasn't for the jacket on her arm, you would've totally mistaken her for a flag girl, the ones who countdown the race. You've always heard that they're the most beautiful girls on the track, but clearly it wasn't the case tonight.

Your eyes met again, and something unspoken hung in the air between you. Two people from rival crews, both stepping away from the world that defined them.

She held your gaze. You didn't know what it was behind those intense brown eyes. Hatred, curiosity, attraction, a cry for help? You couldn't tell, but you also didn't want to define it. Defining it may mean having to look away. And you didn't want that. Maybe she didn't either, you doubt she would force herself to stay here with you if she didn't want to.

The universe however, had other plans. The voice of one of the flag girls crackled through the megaphone, cutting through the tension. "The big day is finally here!" The rest of her corny speech faded into the background as your focus remained on the girl in front of you. She tore her eyes from yours, sighed, and glanced back at her club.

"I have to go. See you around, Greaser."

"Greaser?" you echoed, raising a brow.

She smirked, giving you a slow, deliberate once-over before turning away.

As much as you wanted to watch her walk away, curiosity tugged at you, pulling your gaze down. You glanced at yourself and chuckled softly—faded blue jeans, white tee, and a black leather jacket. Yeah, you did kind of look like a greaser tonight.

But then you saw it. A grease stain on your shirt. You chuckled softly. So that's why.

You decided it was time to head back to your group. You return a bit more upbeat than when you'd left. As you approached, you noticed Anton climbing into the car you'd been working on earlier with the crew gathered around, wishing him luck before the race. That's when he spotted you at the edge of the crowd and waved you over. The group parted, and soon you were standing face to face with Anton.

"You look happy. Having fun?" he shouted over the roar of his engine and Percy's nearby.

"It's been pretty cool," you replied with a shrug, nodding along—though it wasn't the race itself you were enjoying, but who it had brought here.

Anton hummed in approval before dapping you up and pulling you into a quick hug. "I'll see you in a bit," he grinned, hyping up his team one last time before sliding into the driver's seat, Mason settling into the passenger side.

As Anton shut his door, your eyes drifted to the car next to his. You watched Percy with his crew, their energy almost a mirror of your own. But then you saw something that left you utterly confused.

The mystery girl. She was on her tiptoes, arms wrapped around Percy's neck in a hug that felt way too intimate for your liking.

Is she his girl? Disgusting. More thoughts crept in, but you quickly shut it down. She was a Viper, and you'd only talked to her for ten minutes. You didn't get to feel some type of way about it. She was just...intriguing. Nothing more.

You shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts. Focus on the race, focus on Anton. You told yourself.

You take a step back and settle in a spot between Madison and Hunter as the flag girls strutted to the front of the starting line, their boots clicking against the asphalt. One girl raised a checkered flag high, her red lips curled into a seductive smile as she glanced at both drivers. The other girl held the megaphone to her lips.

"Racers, are you ready?!" Her voice echoed across the lot, the engines revving in response.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!" Time seemed to slow. The crowd held its breath, and for a split second all that existed was the hum of engines, the gleam of metal, and the flashing lights.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, the flag girl swung the checkered flag down, and the cars exploded off the line.

Anton's car launched forward, while Percy's stayed right on his tail, neck and neck. The crowd erupted into cheers, the sheer speed of the cars leaving only a blur of metal behind them as they tore down the street.

With the cars gone you had nothing left to distract you from your thoughts. What were you genuinely doing here, you ask yourself.

Your eyes wandered back to the spot where you had last seen her. That girl—the one who had slipped into your mind with just a few words and a lingering look. Now, with Percy racing down the track, she stood with another Viper. This one was taller, with short hair, and they were both laughing, completely at ease with each other.

You laugh in disbelief shaking your head. This didn't seem like posturing to you, she seemed like she had fit right in. But again you catch yourself thinking, why were you even upset? She never said she hated her crew, she never said anything that implied she was like you, and now you wonder if you interpreted your interaction with her to something you wanted it to be rather than what it actually was.

The thought crept in, unwelcome. Maybe you were projecting your own loneliness, your desire to feel seen, onto someone who didn't even feel the same way. Someone who was just passing time in a moment. She was a Viper, fully a part of this world, while you were just an outsider passing through.

You turned to Madison and Hunter. "I'm gonna grab a drink. You guys want anything?"

They shook their heads, and you made your way to one of the cars stocked with drinks in the trunk. You opted for a soda rather than a beer.

You leaned against the car, slowly sipping your soda and trying to clear your head. The night had taken a strange turn—what started as excitement was now muddy with emotions you weren't sure how to handle. The hum of conversation and the occasional laughter from nearby crews were the only sounds cutting through the noise in your mind.

Then, suddenly, the atmosphere shifted.

It was subtle at first, a ripple of unease passing through the crowd. You heard hushed whispers and saw people glancing toward the far end of the lot. Then, like a wave crashing down, the sound of sirens pierced the night.

"Cops!" someone yelled, and the panic spread like wildfire.

People scrambled in every direction, grabbing their things and sprinting for their cars. Engines roared to life, and tires screeched as racers and spectators alike tried to escape before the police descended on the scene.

You tossed your soda to the ground, adrenaline surging through you as you looked around for Madison and Hunter, but they were already sprinting towards the opposite direction with the rest of the crew. You turned to follow, but something made you stop.

She wasn't moving.

In the chaos, you spotted her standing in the middle of the lot, frozen, her eyes wide but not making any attempt to run. She wasn't panicked—she looked more...indifferent, like the flashing red and blue lights didn't mean anything to her.

Without thinking, you darted towards her. Your heart pounded in your chest as you weaved through the fleeing crowd, the sound of sirens growing louder by the second. When you reached her, you didn't hesitate—you grabbed her arm and pulled her.

"Come on!" you shouted over the noise, but she barely reacted, her feet stumbling as you dragged her away from the open lot.

You didn't stop until you reached the mouth of a narrow alleyway between two buildings. You pulled her into the shadows, pressing your back against the wall as you caught your breath. She was in front of you, calm in a way that made no sense considering the chaos unfolding behind you.

She gazed at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she was catching her breath. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

You shot her a look, exasperated. "You're welcome."

The distant sound of police radios crackled through the air as you both stood in silence, waiting for the madness to pass.

"You really should be more careful," you said, trying to break the silence. "It's not safe out there, especially with the cops around."

She shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I guess I'm just used to it. But I appreciate the concern."

You couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and curiosity. "So, what do you usually do in moments like this? Just... stand around?"

Her laughter was light, almost melodic. "Well, not exactly. Usually, I'd just blend in and keep my head down. But you've thrown a bit of a wrench in that plan."

"Is that a bad thing?" you asked, intrigued.

"Not necessarily," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But it's definitely unexpected."

You took a step closer, feeling the distance between you narrow. "And here I thought I was just being a good Samaritan."

"Good Samaritan, huh?" She raised an eyebrow, playful yet cautious. "Seems like you might be getting in over your head, then."

"Maybe I like the thrill," you shot back, trying to keep the mood light. But beneath the banter, you both knew the stakes were higher than either of you wanted to admit.

"Well, be careful what you wish for," she said softly, her expression shifting momentarily to something more serious. "Not everything is as exciting as it seems."

You paused, trying to decipher her words. There was a depth to her that hinted at more than she was letting on. But before you could ask, she turned her gaze back to the alley,

Your phone suddenly dinged, breaking the tension. You glanced at it and saw a message from Mason.

"Seems like the cops cut the race short. Your crew lives to see another day."

You chuckled, but she didn't respond, just watching you with her doe eyes. You thought about what it would be like to give in.

But just then, the light caught her wrist, glinting off the expensive bracelet she wore. The sight of it sent a jolt through you—a stark reminder that she was from Summer Valley, a Viper, and probably a handful you couldn't handle.

The realization hit hard, and you felt a rush of uncertainty. She was part of a world you didn't want to dive into, no matter how intriguing she might be.

You decide to walk off, out of the alley.

"Hey! Where are you going?" she called out, jogging to catch up.

"Home. The cops seem to be gone," you replied, keeping your tone light, words short.

The brown-eyed girl looked confused, she thought you were building a connection. Now you were suddenly dismissive, leaving without a word, and you could see her trying to process it.

"...Wait, um..." she stammered, hesitating as if searching for the right words.

You turned back, sensing the moment hanging between you. You had a feeling you knew what she was going to say, and a knot formed in your stomach.

You took a step back, breaking the spell. "I really should go," you said, your voice firm, not giving her a chance to speak. You turned away, leaving her standing there, a mixture of confusion and disappointment on her face.

With that, you turned and walked deeper into the night. You could feel her watching you, but you kept moving, the weight of your decision heavy in your chest. But telling her your name would mean chaos.

As you navigated the alley, Anton's words echoed in your mind. "Maybe this isn't your thing, and that's fine. But you've got to find what is. What's your purpose, your drive? What makes your heart race? What's worth risking everything for?"

You were sure it wasn't her. As much as you felt a connection, you couldn't get further involved with the race world. She was just a pretty girl you met, and seemed to have some semblance of intellectuality. You know how this ends and its not pretty. You had responsibilities waiting at home—your mom counting on you, the weight of family expectations pressing down like a heavy fog. You had to figure things out on your own, even if it meant leaving her behind.

You can't just be the calculated person that you are and then immediately start taking risks because your cousin told you to. This was your nature. Careful.

Still, a part of you wondered if the real risk was not in chasing the girl but in denying yourself the chance to discover what could truly make your heart race.

next chapter

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traumxrei-archive · 2 years ago

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What if Ortho get a cute little kid crush on us (real or just a set-up lol) and it's because of that that Idia starts crushing on us too? Goes from "stay away from my brother" to "oh no, we're competing for the same person"

HELPPP but ortho's oblivious about it. he just thinks that it's great that idia's also becoming friends with one of his best friends meanwhile idia is having a level five mental breakdown bc oh my god he had a crush on the normie that he thought was going to take way ortho but actually you were a decent person who was willing to play pvp games with him even though you lost—

at first, idia was suspicious of your intentions. because...to be honest, no one had ever tried to befriend ortho with pure intentions. (he couldn't count the amount of times he had an alert on his tablet and rushed over to find someone stun-gunned next to where ortho was. seriously, it was way too many times.) and idia had a bit of a protective streak when it came to ortho. okay, he had a lot of a protective streak, but that was besides the point !!

it wasn't like ortho needed help picking out his friends. he had equipped ortho with an interface that had a built in heart rate monitor, and surely with having the literal internet in his mind, it was easy to differentiate the mob characters from the friendly npcs.

and even so, friendly npcs stayed friendly npcs because he scared them away. he wasn't really trying to, it was just people found him...too depressing. hell, even idia found himself too depressing at times, so he couldn't blame them. all the affection points ortho gained were balanced by the negative points that idia gained.

but what he couldn't understand was how you took his presence in stride. he remembered the first time he walked in to you and ortho huddled on the floor of his room. he had tried to turn around and leave, but ortho had spotted him. and he couldn't just leave, because in scenarios like this if he left it would look like he was running away. he played enough rpgs to know at least that much.

so he stood there as ortho introduced you as his friend. friend. friend. not an npc, not a mob, but a friend—

idia was about to pass out. he snuck a glance at you only to find you staring at him. he immediately looked away, scolding himself because that was a mistake only an absolute noob would make. he clearly didn't have enough AP to try and deal with you now, plus he would attract ortho's aggro if he was discorteous toward you in front of him. so idia bided his time.

okay, so idia was both forgetful and a coward, both un-protagonist-like traits, but he still had them! this was the reason why he liked playing rouge or magician characters in his rpgs. but, okay, he was getting off topic.

it's just that you were...nice. you were nice to him, and he could see how happy ortho was whenever you two were together. his room became a place you visited often, and idia had gotten used to you. just a little bit.

(do not remind him of the first time ortho left you in his room together. idia had felt like he was about to explore. his brain was lagging behind and you were staring at him expectantly. he had said a couple of jilted sentences to you and now his social skill was on cooldown. but no, idia wasn't going to talk about that or remember it)

and he found that you weren't as normie as you looked. you liked anime and mangas, which was already a death flag avoided for your future in idia's eyes. if anything else went wrong, you could get isekai'd, you claimed, and idia had seconded your opinion. but he would've probably been reincarnated as a canon fodder character. you immediately told him that even if he was canon fodder, he could easily break the system.

(idia wouldn't admit it, but he found you extremely based for around 0.8 seconds before he regained his sanity. he wasn't supposed to like you. or get along with you.)

and you weren't that bad at the pvps that he showed you. you showed a lot of promise. your movements in-game were clumsy, but you had a pretty good reaction time. and you always voiced out creative strats that gave idia goosebumps.

over time, he even got you hooked into one of his favorite rpg gacha games. and whenever ortho left you two alone, you would proudly show him your levels and characters you had accumulated. idia would only snort, because you had barely scratched the surface of the game, but then you would launch a pillow at his head, so he learned to hide his gloating from you.

ortho was delighted by this progression. he exclaimed that it was nice that they could all hang out together now, and play three-player games that idia had been saving for years. (the three of did do that one weekend. they spent the entire time playing those games until even idia's back started hurting. but he was having such a great time that he couldn't stop.)

it was all fine and well until idia started noticing how you came up to him in the rare times he went outside. to be fair, he was grateful to have someone to hide behind whenever ortho wasn't there, but his heart was beating too damn fast.

like that time when you went into the mystery shop to get his box of snacks for him because it was rush hour. it was so....so pog, that he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter—

wait...was he playing too many otome games, or did his heart just flutter at the sight of you....?

oh no.

oh no, this was bad, this was nightmare level, death flag raising type of bad, because...you were supposed to be ortho's friend. you weren't supposed to be his irl, 3D, not-virtual-reality c-word ! (c-word. cru— no, idia couldn't bring himself to say it, it made it all more real)

and now he can't get that affection bar out of the his periphery, nor can he get the sparkles and roses out of his eyes whenever he saw you. he was playing to the rng gods that he would pick the correct dialogue options that led to the good ending. after all, he wouldn't mind you being his official player two.

— okay, that's it from me ^^ such a cute concept and i ended up writing a lot more than expected haha— i just love the idea of idia going from strangers to acquaintances to friends to gaming buddies to c-word. idk i love writing idia sm,,,and the addition of ortho being the oblivious but supportive younger brother is the cherry on top sjfkjdsfk

#/trau replies #/anonnie #ortho my bb boy /p #idia my baby girl #love the shrouds #ortho shroud #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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odditycircus-2002 · 5 months ago

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A/N: I enjoyed writing that latest request with Hanzo Hasashi Scorpion and Quan-chi's daughter reader insert. I wanted to expand upon their relationship within the events of Mortal Kombat 11, but unfortunately, I ran out of space in the last post here. So have this one instead!

Widow

When Grandmaster Hasashi was alerted by the revival of the Cyber Lin-Kuei due to the Time Disruption, he rushed to join the Lin Kuei's Grandmaster in destroying the Cyber LIn-Kuei production before they could attack the revived Shirai Ryu. Before departing, you gave Hanzo a passionate kiss and wished him the best of luck, opting to stay behind to fortify the Compound's defenses. Hanzo promises you that he will return alive.

To your relief, your husband returned to you in one piece, bruises aside, of course. Hanzo tightly embraced you, as he usually does whenever he can return to his home, grateful that you and your clan were there to greet him.

While treating Hanzo for his minor wounds and preparing some tea, your husband caught you up on everything that happened. Including Sub-Zero's former disciple, Frost, becoming cyberized; Noob Saibot's revival; freeing Cyrax from his enslavement program; Sektor's defeat; the destruction of Sektor's factory.

Hanzo noticed your look of apprehension at hearing his old enemies' revival. He gently asked, in a low voice, if you were anxious about the possibility of Quan-chi's revival. You nodded in answer.

"I do not regret taking part in the Necromancer's death... He's taken so much from you, your clan, your family. Quan-chi was never family, nor did he treat me as such... So wh-what if-if he returns and takes our home?" By then, Y/N's eyes stung from tears that threatened to spill. Hanzo frowns at your distress, although your blatant love for the Shirai Ryu touches him deeply. Your husband then gently cups your face so you focus on him completely. "Then we'll kill him again. We did it once and succeeded because of the clan and you. Whatever may happen, know that I and the clan will stand by you. Your enemies are now our enemies." Hanzo's heart began to melt when he saw traces of your radiant smile. You then wrap your arms around the Grandmaster's neck, with the latter followed by kissing your forehead.

When you heard the sound of thunder within the Fire Gardens, you joined your husband in welcoming Raiden and his ally's refuge within the gardens. All too soon after The Thunder God shared news about the Elder gods, including Kronika being Shinnok's mother and the state of Outworld forces, Hanzo had to depart once again. This time, seek Kharon in the Sea of Blood so the Ferryman may hopefully tell them the location of Kronika's Keep. And again, you both exchanged your goodbyes, and your husband promised to return to you. If only you knew what happened next, you would've savored the taste of your husband's lips and warmth more.

Instead, Sub-Zero returns with news that Hanzo has found Kharon's location. When you approach The Lin Kuei's Grandmaster, he assures you that your husband is still alive before you could even ask. While this helped somewhat assuage your anxieties, something in you told you this wouldn't be the case for long. Meanwhile, to keep yourself from going stir-crazy, you keep yourself busy by switching between acting as the best hostess to Raiden and his allies, fortifying the Shirai Ryu's defenses, or playing your shamisen. Granted, you played the instrument so hard that you snapped the strings and nearly took your eye out.

You were walking beside Lui Kang and Sub-Zero, confirming that the Shirai Ryu were ready for battle, when Hanzo reappeared. Although the Hanzo that appeared before you wasn't your husband, but Scorpion. You grabbed your Shamisen from your back, ready to fight if needed.

When Scorpion told you that Hanzo was dead, you immediately denied that your husband couldn't be gone.

"So I have taken Quan-chi's daughter as a bride..."

Scorpion whispers under his breath in disbelief. Meanwhile, Y/N's ears rang in her ear as the news of Hanzo's demise started to sink in. Y/N didn't feel Sub-Zero gently pushing you back behind him nor his sympathetic look. The former demoness held her face in her hands, but no tears spilled; instead, the heartbreak within her gave way to the fiery rage that blazed within.

You commanded Sub-Zero to stand aside, pushing him back with you, now, long claws with hellfire in your eyes, as you began to transform right before Scorpion into your more demonic form, bony armor, and everything. Yet, because of your blind rage, Scorpion defeated you, with Sub-Zero following soon after.

"Know that I am truly sorry for your loss."

When you regained consciousness, you found Raiden attacking Scorpion with Shinnok's amulet. Without any thought, you played your instrument to push back Raiden, who easily overpowered you and broke your instrument in half. When Raiden raised his amulet to electrocute Scorpion again, you used your body to take the Thunder God's lightning to the back. Hearing your screams of agony urged Lui Kang to finally step in between you and the furious Raiden.

Thankfully, the Shaolin monk gets through to Raiden, who finally puts down Shinnok's amulet. The Thunder God then goes to you and the Scorpion to heal the both of you. Raiden profusely apologizes as he helps you up off the ground.

The vengeful specter looks at you in surprise, questioning why you didn't just let Raiden finish him off. You took a deep breath before answering that you love your Hanzo and accepted him even with his past, which included Scorpion. This takes the wraith aback at your confession, leaving him without a doubt that you loved his future self.

Scorpion then told you the message that his future self wanted to tell you.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't return."

As you hang your head and will yourself not to cry, Scorpion vows that he will honor his future self's vows to you, for you are Shirai Ryu. You thanked Scorpion for his kind words before leaving to go cry in a corner and allowing yourself to briefly grieve.

Your grief, however, did not prevent you from fighting beside Scorpion and Sub-Zero to protect Kharon as his fleets ferried the armies they carried. You used your abilities to disable the Cybernized Lin Kuei, short-circuiting their systems and tossing them into the sea of blood. You also let yourself go a bit nuts at one point by tearing one Cyborg's spine out and using it as a makeshift whip to decapitate another cyborg.

You and Scorpion continued to stick close to each other when all of you finally arrived at Kronika's shores, all while leading the Shirai Ryu through the endless demon hordes. With your abilities, you ripped through waves of demons, sending shockwaves with your instrument that cut through the enemies' flesh. You used magic to fight and your demonic form to rip and tear through even more demons, decapitating five at a time with a flick of your tail alone. Scorpion even used your back's dorsal spines as a diving board to dive into a group of demons, swinging his flaming kunai as he became a fiery twister.

Yet you, Scorpion, and all of your allies save for Lui Kang, fall prey to Kronika's power as she reverses time, thus undoing all your progress. All isn't lost, though, if Lui Kang succeeds in killing Kronika and restarting history. In Lui Kang's new era, while you may not end up with Hanzo Hasashi, he will ensure you will have little ties to Quan-chi.

However, if you manage to gain control of the Hourglass, it will be up to you to decide how to rewrite history.

When you first gain the Hourglass, you immediately think about reviving your Hanzo, but then your mind turns to Scorpion. A tragic figure made by wicked God and his Arch Sorcerer because, in their twisted logic, Death is the legacy of Life. Thanks to your late husband, you knew that was not true. Although you love him dearly, when you restart time, you ensure that Hanzo never loses his family and clan to Quan-chi. Now, his clan has joined forces with the Lin Kuei, led by Grandmaster Kuai Liang, to defend Earthrealm. Meanwhile, you became the Netherrealm's Ruler, having overthrown Quan-chi and Shinnok, where you keep watch over the Netherealm's denizens and the damned. Every so often, you would return to Earthrealm to take part in their festivities in celebration of life and the life of those who have long since passed. In your New Era, you sought to teach the realms the gift of life, the good and bad.

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igglemouse · 6 months ago

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Amanita Succubari is a fungi that is pretty toxic, in certain doses, of course. If you're down for a really bad and trippy trip, take a nibble of it, that's all it takes, just a nibble and...you know, I could go for one right now. I wonder if one of the many protection spells that guard my being would prevent it from melting my mind too much...

The plan was to gather a few, stuff em in my bag, and wander around Windenburg with the intention of picking up whatever else there is to pick up. Herbs, rocks, fungi, just whatever?

This is all part of my morning routine which was part of my dream of being the world's best gatherer. Okay, yeah, that's not my dream. I really don't have one outside of making it to the next day I suppose and hoping tomorrow is better than today.

Thing's are not that bad but...

Let's not get into my situation right now, it's too personal, it's too much of a sob story for you all to even care about? Maybe it's too cliche? Is that how you use that word? Maybe it's just a little boring and yes, even more boring than watching me chip away at rocks hoping to find gold.

Spoiler alert. I don't. I'm the exact opposite of lucky.

I guess I'm not too unlucky because after all, I'm alive. That does count for something, especially with the kind of life I've had to live. Yeah, again, let's not get into that. The important thing is I make it back home and thankfully I avoid all the nosy neighbors who enjoy watching me go about my morning routine for whatever reason.

Collecting gems and making jewelry is the only way I know how to make simoleons, for now, or rather it is the most comfy way to do it. I'm sure I could find a regular nine to five but honestly I don't think I can handle a mundane job so for now, until I need more simoleons or something, this will be the source of my income.

I'm a complete noob at it and most of what I create is actually very bad but I do have faith that in time I'll improve.

You know what? I'm just now realizing that you all don't even know who I am? After all this time I've yet to introduce myself so ummm, here I go.

Welcome to the life of Gracelyn Matlock, yes, Matlock. That surname might sound familiar to you, it might not, I hope not, because I tell you the amount of trouble I've found from simply telling people that I'm a Matlock, the last known surviving one at that, astonishes me.

Some people really do hold grudges and I'm speaking of the generational variety. Hate that runs so deep that my children, should I have any, will have a basket full of insults before they can even speak.

Why? Well, we Matlock's are a very magical family.

Watcher, what are they even putting on networks nowadays? Anyways...

You might not believe in magic but I do have proof. See? Do you see! Sparkles! What's the spell called? I don't know, sparkles? Yeah, I just short of wriggle my fingers and ta-da, SPARKLIES!

Any ways or rather, long story short. My family, my parents to be exact, did their best to use their power to subjugate and control any and everyone they ran into pretty much and their bad actions has basically banned me from the magical realm. Despite me having nothing to do with it I've been told I'm far too much of a risk and so here I am, sparkling up my fingers with just a pinch of success.

If magic runs through my bloodlines it has likely skipped right over me.

So what you see here is just a normal girl. Mainly, at least.

Sure, I can do a few tricks but they never amount to much. Obviously so since here I am in a humble little house eating mac and cheese that came right out of a box for dinner.

If I were some powerful spellcaster I would at least feast on steak every night. I'd poof it into existence or something.

Despite it all I believe it is for the best. The no magic thing I mean. It allows me to be free and it gives me a chance to be normal.

Like for instance, I get to head over to the bluffs on a perfect lukewarm day and just sift through the pool and enjoy the world around me. Appreciate the water on my skin, the clouds drifting by, even the mosquitos buzzing about in frustration as they realize I might appear a perfect feast to them but they can't partake.

I've been told that when you have magical ability it is harder to appreciate the natural world. I don't really understand why that is but...again, maybe that is for the better?

So I have no issue just floating and letting the day pass me by.

And pass me by it does...

Before I knew it the sun had fully retired and the once orange sky had given way to a deep and calming blue.

Despite the soothing vibe that came with night it also dragged in a chill. Well, more than a chill as snow, speckles of it really but snow all the same, started falling from the sky.

That's Windenburg for you, I guess.

I should have fled home. After all, it was chilly enough to nag at me and late enough to remind me that I should be in bed and yet...

And yet this castle, a reminder of times past, nabbed my attention. It was a little while off from the bluffs, a long ways off, actually, but it stood so stern in the distance that it touched my curiosity and pulled my feet, step by step, nearer.

It was Chevalier Castle. The place my friend, my dear friend Valerie, told me about. Warned me about even.

But standing before it didn't scare me. It was just a castle, after all. Whatever happened here happened long ago, but now? Now it was just an empty place. Maybe I'd adventure through it sometime?

Not tonight though...

Episode List - Next

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #gracelyn matlock

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kurlau · 1 month ago

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EPIC GUEST DESIGN❗️❗️❗️

You might wanna click for better quality

Other notes:

-His hair is usually tucked into his jumper to make use of mobility + to make sure nobody yanks it

-He has long ass hair for a guy

-Friendship bracelet w/ Noob :) (the ‘N’ to symbolize ‘Noob’ got torn off

-Personal headcanon that whenever he uses his ‘focus’ ability or when he is alerted that he’s being indicated Noob somehow hides then with some wings or smth.Idk.He just protects them from indicators

-Big ass scar is from somebody he trusted + the reason he can’t really speak well

-On his phone he has silly pictures of his friends so he can blackmail them (in a friendly banter way)

#the robloxia until dawn #tr;ud #kurl au #trud #guest #tr;ud guest #guest trud #roblox fanart #roblox #roblox art #noob #<<< he’s drawn there okay shhh #ref sheet

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parkcivconfess · 1 month ago

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👢 anon back swinging with the angst fellas!!

(bit coming is based off of my Minecraft mechanic lore idea: Potions are addictive. Most, only minorly; netherwart isn't incredibly addictive or anything. The truly addictive bits of those are the power in them. The slightly more dangerous ones are the ones brewed with fermented spider eyes. Harming, Slowness, Weakness, Invisibility. Those ones work a little more like alcohol than drugs. But everyone knows the most dangerous ones of all are the ones that can help. Regen, healing, resistance...there are horror stories of the withdrawal symptoms from PvP hungry players who eat mostly golden apples. It's a common cautionary tale across many servers to take it slow with the effects that make you feel immortal.)

Seawatt is afraid of dying, of being forgotten like the rest of his layer. That's why he learned brewing stand jumps; resistance made the sharp sting of battles bite a little less, regen could help with the pain as he gently reset dislocated joints from miscalculated jumps, and healing soothed any other superficial wounds on top of that. It worked well, especially when the Old Man got frustrated with the questions of the people and decided to wipe the very memory of the Fighter Layer; the invasive shudder of the command blocks were blocked by the swirl of resistance settling in his skin, fresh from a recent jump. It cradled him, made him feel safe...

He didn't have any more brewing stands on the Fighter Layer. He was nauseous from nerves at the lack of his safety blanket, the protection he had carried from the moment he had reluctantly stepped into the Parkour Temple. Seawatt felt so cold without the warmth of a potion buzzing in his veins, so tired without the buzz of regen keeping him up and alert.

He was sick and tired. He spent most of his days curled up in the corner of his childhood home, waiting for Evbo the Noob Champion to come back with another disk, shivering. He was too dizzy to risk leaving the house, vision blurring too far to consider making any jumps to alleviate his boredom.

(Later, after Evbo returns from the Amethyst course, conflict in his eyes and crystals buried in his skin, Seawatt's shaky hands will try to be gentle as he pulls out shard after shard from his hands, his feet, his chest from where he panicked and shoved himself against a full block. Evbo will frown, and ask him if he's alright. Seawatt will laugh it off, excuse the cold air of the night settling in. Evbo's frown will deepen, but he won't press for details, instead offering Seawatt to have his blankets. He's used to the bitter cold of the Void near the Noob layer, he'll reason, and he has his hoodie. Seawatt will be too nauseous and cold to deny the respite for long. His night won't be quite as freezing, but still his heart will feel icy and hollow. Evbo knows his plan, right? And yet he still cared. But even the blanket doesn't do much when the frost he feels is in his blood, not caked on his skin, and as Evbo starts to drift off, Seawatt wraps both blankets tight enough around himself that he could barely feel his cold skin, so he could pretend that the pressure was the warmth of resistance blunting any blows he took.)

(If he had his brewing stands, Evbo wouldn't be bandaged, something deep inside of Seawatt mourns. His skin would've stitched together under the comforting hum of healing, and his hands wouldn't look so mangled. But Seawatt has no brewing stands.)

(Seawatt had no brewing stands, and he died without the safety high of resistance cradling him. It was one of his last thoughts, alongside the regret and guilt and fear and hatred.)

- 👢 anon (as said at the start :3)

hi this actually destroyed me. also see'watt is DEFFF addicted to the comfort of healing potions. ik it look at him

#♪ pkciv #♪ pvp #* seawatt #* seavbo #* evbo

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buttonbuckfarm · 2 months ago

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hey! Sorry if this is a bad time for asks, I was just really curious about your turkeys and had some questions about how they are raised. How much space do they need, and how do you make sure they aren’t eaten by wild animals? Is it different than raising other animals? Also, is there a distinction between turkeys who are raised for meat and turkeys who aren’t? Thanks, I’m kind of a noob when it comes to birds

never a bad time for asks, it just might take me ages to get to ya lol

my birds free range around maybe a half acre of land? technically they have access to more but the brush gets really thick and dense so they aren’t particularly motivated to a spread out, and in general they don’t like to get too far from their food/water/coop area unless they’re finding a hiding spot for nesting. turkeys are pretty big birds and they like to roost as high as they can, so access to vertical space is something to consider (mine have a willow grove that they perch in, but building some perches is just fine also).

predators are a pretty wide topic. it depends on where you live and what your predator pressure is like. I used to live in a suburb and the only problem we ever had was a raccoon that was wayy too acclimated to the presence of people. now we have eagles, hawks, mountain lions, coyotes, raccoons, opossums… basically everything. the main problem I have is that hens will completely fuck off and hide and be very difficult to find, and then if I can’t get them in the coop at night something will eventually eat them, but if they aren’t free ranging, that’s not necessarily a problem. I’m looking into getting them ankle tag trackers for next season, lol. aerial predators can be a serious problem; a friend of mine has had eagles go for full size turkey toms. I don’t leave babies / poults out without a person around until they’re big enough to not be an easy target for ravens or other overhead birds (they stay in a covered dog run until they’re larger). for the amount of raptors I see everywhere, we’ve done surprisingly well to avoid aerial predator problems. for one, we have over a dozen geese that scream their heads off at any bird going overhead too close, so that might help. but they also have access to the willow grove and the rabbit shed to be under cover, and they will alert each other if they notice something overhead. cooping them up to roost at night is absolutely essential, unless you have the ability to built like 20 foot roosts that aren’t climable and they all use them. not much different from protecting chickens; they’re bigger, but still prey animals.

then this last bit is kind of a layered question that I love talking about lol. I raise heritage turkeys. If you buy turkey meat at the grocery store, you’re getting broad breasted turkey. they are fundamentally genetically the same - there’s only one species / breed of turkey - but their physical structure is verrrryyy different. heritage turkeys are built more similarly to wild turkeys, though bred with a wide range of color variations. broad breasted turkeys are, like broiler chickens, bred to produce the most meat the most efficiently. they might have the poorest welfare of any meat animal. like chickens, they’re bred to produce an excess of meat on their breast. they cannot move well because they have too much meat on their bodies; heritage and wild turkeys are a lot of bone with less meat layers on. broad breasted turkeys cannot live very long as they were bred to be killed as soon as they’re at harvest weight and do not have much longevity. even before that, they will topple over from the weight of the meat on their breasts and break their own toes and be unable to walk. their growth is exponential to an unsustainable point. they are incapable of breeding themselves and have to be artificially inseminated.

heritage turkeys are for more robust, healthy, and long-lived. they can also be raised for meat, but you’re going to get half as much meat if that, and it’ll take longer to reach butcher weight. so they’re a LOT more expensive to buy, hence why it’s pretty rare to find people raising heritage turkeys for meat. some people are doing it for the sake of more humane and ethical turkey meat production, but it’s just not popular when the alternative is cheaper and gets you more food. here’s one of my previous hens, Adelaide (RIP my lil lady, love you always) and a broad breasted turkey about the same age as her.

feel free to let me know if you have any other questions, I love an opportunity to go off about turkeys.

#turkeys #heritage turkey #broad breasted turkey #info #resources

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platinumrosetail · 2 years ago

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I have a request

Can I request yandere JTTW Macaqa and sun x long losy doughter reader

Like the reader was kidnap as a baby and was sent to the future.

But a spell sent her back to the past

And Mac see her woyh the group and is like my baby back

And he confutd sun about it.

And when they spend time they find out in the future she beIN takes care of by a family that want her .

And then some how she gets take back to the future. And Mac and sun trying to get her back. Sorry if you can't read some of this. I am at work and we are so busy

Oooh! I don’t know how long I can make it so I hope it’s all right if I make it 7 paragraphs but if I can make it longer then that’s great! Just giving you a heads up basically.

Warning: noob author, female reader, yandere platonic characters, and others.

Characters: sun wukong, macaque + a little bit of the jttw group.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were adopted by the dbk family when they had found you at their door.

Reason why dbk had taken you in is because he was reminded of the time him and sun was sworn brothers so he decided to take care of you with his family as he also remembered the panic sun and macaque over something and this was the reason why as you have the features of both simians.

It was when you were playing with one of redson’s inventions that you were brought to the past, he told you to not but considering your monkey mischief nature and being a baby and not understanding what danger is you still played with it.

You had met the group while they set up camp for rest as it’ll be a while before they reach a village or any sort of civilization, Tripitaka and bai long ma was the one that found as the two was settling everything for the camp while the rest went and gather supplies for the night, you were in the small; or large grass to you, and was whimpering which made the two hear you and check on you.

Tripitaka didn’t know what to do as this never happened before but decided that the two would wait for the others and decide what should happen with you, though he does notice that you share similarities with sun but also not completely.

Pigsy was back first considering how lazy he was and only got what he could hold that wasn’t considered heavy for him but when he saw you he freaked out and screamed which caused sun and sandy to come running back, that scream though alerted you which startled and scared you so much you started to cry.

When sun saw you he couldn’t believe his eyes and hears, he thought it was a dream to see you again and was so happy to see that you were ok but started to think that maybe he was dreaming, though that thought stopped when his master had handed you to him when Tripitaka noticed his disciple’s eyes being on you with what looked like tears plus the expression being of shock and happiness, more happiness than he ever saw sun show.

Sun had made a clone and had it quickly find macaque, his mate, so he could see his little cub again after so long of missing you and trying to find you.

When macaque was brought to the group by the clone of his mate, he was brought to tears at finding you sleeping while holding onto your papa’s finger, he had missed you and been trying to find you everywhere he could with his hearing and other abilities he share with sun.

Reason why he didn’t know you had returned was because his thoughts were too loud as he was concentrating on finding you to hear about how you were with his mate.

(I heard that macaque could hear the past, present, and future so correct me if I’m wrong or misunderstood something about that.)

You had spend two weeks with them before you suddenly disappeared again back to dbk’s home. The two spent centuries searching for you and ended up on bad terms because of your second disappearance before finding you another century with redson.

For you it had be a few days since you were gone but it still worried the three who had adopted you into their family. When sun and macaque had both showed up at their doorsteps deman-wishing to see you after so long of you being apart from your biological fathers, the two family had a long discussion in which you would come and visit the dbk family once or so a week and that they were free to come and visit as well once or so a week.

And with that sun and macaque finally found you and they weren’t going to let you go missing from their embrace again, plus with mk and Bai he as new additions, it’ll be hard for you to go missing or get kidnapped away from them.

(A/n: I hope you like what I did with it!! Also hope you like the idea of dbk adopting the reader too, anyway hope y’all have a wonderful day/evening/night!! 😁)

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zukadiary · 11 months ago

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Kazuki Sora taidan diary 〜 2024.2.11

(also kind of a Boiled Doyle on the Toil Trail / Frozen Holiday write up)

I've now woken up eight times in a world where Kazuka Sora is an OG (changing that number daily, as I've been trying to write this for six days), and the sense of having somehow slipped into a severely incorrect timeline is getting progressively stronger. Coupled bizarrely with that is deep, deep gratitude that, despite everything that's happened in the last four years, and especially in the last five months, she got a gut-wrenchingly, absolutely devastatingly beautiful taidan. I can't say perfect, because perfect would have been after a well deserved top star run. But barring that, I never dreamed it would get this close.

Long post incoming.

I have to set the stage...

Once upon a time in 2013, Asaka Manato, then nibante in Ouki Kaname's Soragumi, got her turn starring in Brilliant Dreams +NEXT, a multi-part Sky Stage series where you got to like, do some stuff of your choice with other people in your troupe. She decided to recreate some of her favorite revue choreography, and a friend alerted me that one episode was dedicated to the infamous Rosso scene from Takarazuka's Dream Kingdom (which, as you can see in the linked post, completely short circuited noob me from a decade ago). Maasama was still a good 2+ years from winning me over at the time, and I think I reluctantly watched it with some level of offense that she touched a Komu thing. As I'm sitting in front of my computer rolling my eyes, out comes this tiny thing in capri pants, mismatched socks, suspenders, and thick glasses: ken-4 Kazuki Sora, here to report on the situation in the rehearsal room.

She spent her airtime cracking jokes, tripping on her tongue, riding on Susshi's shoulders, and generally acting like Soragumi's annoying kid brother. I thought she was funny.

Another friend told me she thought she was tracked. I absolutely did not believe her.

Then, against a fair amount of adversity, she got the 100th anniversary Rose of Versailles shinko lead, and my eyes widened a bit. The next time I found myself in Japan, I was gifted a 9th row seat to what coincidentally happened to be her first ginkyou crossing in PHOENIX Takarazuka! I'd been spending the show curiously scanning the stage for her, and when I witnessed the gap between reporter and performer, my jaw hit the floor.

Afterwards, my kangeki companion asked if I was interested in anyone in the troupe. I said Kazuki Sora. She recoiled and said "but she's so short."

***

Something that I noticed during this taidan trip is that covid-era fans met a wildly different Sora than I know. Growing up in 2010s Soragumi was uniquely rough. I'm not even talking about ::hand waves:: the present circumstances and what may or may not have lead up to them; I mean they persisted with a level of star saturation through the dawn of the pandemic that had kinda crazy consequences for the otokoyaku track. Not only was the track itself overcrowded, but the troupe also held onto a number of non-tracked upperclassmen to whom they seemed unwaveringly committed to casting in juicy roles. I remember when things seemed so untenable that Soragumi fans were universally on pins and needles waiting for what felt like an inevitable big transfer out, and I remember freezing in shock on the side of the road when instead they transferred Serika Toa in.

Here's some analysis for perspective:

Kiki is the third oldest top of all time, and spent more time as nibante alone than Tamaki Ryou took to get from debut to top.

Lord knows how long Soragumi will be in this state of flux, but if they come out of it and Kiki gets a normal number of shows, AND Sakuragi Minato is next, Zun could immediately overtake Kiki for third place

Speaking of Zun, her first two-city lead was in 2020. Looking at her top star douki, Rei Makoto's and Yuzuka Rei's were in 2017, and Tsukishiro Kanato's was in 2018.

Rukaze Hikaru's first bow lead was in 2019, two years later than her other tracked douki, Akatsuki Chisei (four if you count A-EN).

Slightly more invisible but just as devastating, the lessened exposure on stage between leads has likely resulted in lower fan club numbers and less overall popularity.

...and back to Sora. Hundreds of us filled Hibiya Park this past weekend, but Sora spent her early Takarazuka career so buried that, despite being a triple threat on stage and an utter delight off, her fan base was small enough that at ken-7 they let me, not yet even a club member, accompany my friend to demachi where I became the third attendee. For years, Sora was, frustratingly, an in-person only watch. I'd go to Japan, memorize her positions, miss the rest of the show for following her with my opera glasses, and pop in the DVD at home only to find her always just off screen. A Motion was one of the most fun times I've had in a Takarazuka theater, and on the DVD during my favorite Sora SOLO, the camera is on Sorahane Riku wordlessly dancing.

I was floored when she got Anita. I was livid that she could give THAT PERFORMANCE and immediately afterwards be cast as an ensemble soldier in Red River (although she was so good in Citrus Breeze that after 5 years of deluding myself that I "couldn't betray my beloved Yukigumi like that" ((ironic, right?)) I finally caved and joined club). I stress dreamed multiple times about the impending bow announcement before she got Hustle Mates. I cried when she finally came down the stairs between two musumeyaku in Ocean's Eleven at ken-10, in which she played Linus, a role that felt like a big break even though it had previously always gone to ken-6s. FINALLY, the massive Ocean's taidan relieved a little pressure, and I felt a tangible thrill when suddenly she was all over the Aqua Vitae shonichi digest, something that had never happened before.

That's where we left off in February 2020, when the Diamond Princess docked in Yokohama, and my therapist didn't know what I was talking about when I said I was giving myself a stomachache watching live case numbers ahead of my scheduled trip, and I canceled my flight, and I put my freshly printed pack of homemade Suleiman postcards under my bed, and I didn't see her for 4 years 4 months and 3 days.

***

It's hard to talk about Sora's taidan announcement and not come off as biased and overly dramatic, given that she's my girl. But in 11 years of countless taidan announcements, I've never come close to being as blindsided by one as I was with hers. The vibe I've gotten is that fans, siennes, and patrons alike were all properly shocked.

I'd spent the better part of a decade internally screaming for Takarazuka to act like they recognize her undeniable talent. Frustratingly, it finally started happening during covid. While I was living under the impression that Hustle Mates was a genuine miracle, she got an unimaginable second lead... then, thanks to the breathing room in her new Yukigumi home, a third... and then a fourth. Having been burned for so long, I've always firmly been team I-don't-think-Sora-is-going-to-make-top, but despite that, I was actually starting to believe it could—dare I say would—happen. I wasn't even certain the people murmuring on twitter that she might leapfrog Aasa were completely delusional. I went into Hyperbolic Chart, my looooong awaited reunion, excited to assess Kasumi Sana as her potential future partner. I enthusiastically bought all her postcards for future writing, because the last time I'd seen her, she, at ken-10, didn't have postcards.

Two days after that I found myself again frozen in shock on the side of the road.

Two days after that.... yeah.

***

Somehow, despite 11 years of knowing how this works, of weathering various taidans with friends, of crying in bathrooms until they started cleaning the theater at taidans that weren't even technically mine, I was also completely blindsided by the taidan experience itself.

Part of it was definitely the time skip, from years of intimate Sora fandom to nothing to a couple of A-seki (she's the it girl now!) for a lead I wouldn't have chosen with a troupe I barely recognize anymore to bye, she's gone. Part of it was being thrown back into this after 4+ years of pandemic-dulled emotions, followed by the exhaustion of Takarazuka's crisis era. Part of it was lowered expectations from the largely uninspired and under funded lineup of forgettable shows churned out by tired directors of dubious morality. Part of it was the disaster-shortened Mura run, the self-preserving dissociation fueled by the pain and disbelief that there was a dinner show and I wasn't at it, followed by a month and a half stretch of work so busy it was still going while I sat at the ANA gate for my 1am flight.

But I got here and squeezed into one of those red seats and then all at once I was an unsealed vacuum, cracked wide open, and Doyle and Frozen Holiday rushed in and filled the airless void till it burst.

Boiled Doyle on the Toil Trail

I've been down on Yukigumi.

Yukigumi has been my home troupe for the vast majority of my fandom. I had the fancy Swarovski crystal Yukigumi bag charms, the whole Yukigumi getup from Sports Day '14, Yukigumi albums, Yukigumi chopsticks, etc etc etc. I literally didn't join Sora club for years because I couldn't imagine being pulled out of Yukigumi. But while I was locked out of the country, the march of time took my favorite top star and the vast majority of my emotional support upperclassmen. The pandemic spit Yukigumi out in a state that just made me reeeeeeeeally sad. So I stopped watching them. That's the exact moment they picked to put Sora there.

I hate to admit it, but I still haven't totally caught up on her Yukigumi time.

Which is probably the main reason this show caught me SO off guard... even having watched AND enjoyed the Mura livestream. Sora is best watched in person, after all.

Doyle—a silly take on Arthur Conan Doyle's life, and how he used a magic pen to write Sherlock Holmes by accident, thus setting into motion a runaway series of events—is not only a fun and joyful show, it's a masterpiece of casting. The top 4 were at their absolute peak, and it was a thrill to watch.

I've been watching Ayakaze Sakina since her shinjin kouen days, and my write-ups over the years probably betray my rollercoaster hot and cold journey through her career. I really liked Doyle as a lead for her though. She essentially plays a big idiot wifeguy with a dream, an imaginary best friend, and little conviction; she was very funny and charming. If you were one of the lucky few who managed to see On the 20th Century, think that guy but earnestly the main character vs. dude with main character syndrome. The older I get, the more I have a soft spot for shows where the top combi has "ecstatically celebrating at least their tenth wedding anniversary" energy, and this was one of those.

...Thanks in large part to Yumeshiro Aya, who is absolutely everything. She may be boosted by consistently reminding me of Shirahane Yuri since her partial lead in the 103s Bunkasai, but she also has a very particular type of girlboss energy that I don't feel like I've seen in quite a while. It isn't wearing the proverbial pants energy (a la early TamaChapi), but it is overwhelming I got this energy. I find her to be the absolute embodiment of a top musumeyaku, in that she understands the assignment (making the top star better), while perching on the edge of the backseat just enough that she doesn't overpower Saki, but she's still a knockout in her own right. She probably exudes an extra dose of this energy as Louisa Doyle, who plays a very similar role in her husband's life and writing career. I could not be more thrilled that Aya isn't retiring yet.

Asami Jun plays the aforementioned imaginary friend/magic pen-generated apparition, who happens to be Sherlock Holmes. Some people I've talked to seem a little disappointed in her stage time, but I really felt like this was also peak Aasa. She seems to have broken through a layer of ceiling and gotten really comfortable leaning into her c***y unique energy, which, though I can picture it being polarizing, really does it for me. I sure as hell have never seen an interpretation of Sherlock Holmes REMOTELY like Aasa's, but I was enjoying the Aasa of it all so much that I really didn't care.

When I saw that Sora was playing the editor of Strand Magazine, I was somewhat disappointedly imagining a role like Lestrade (not to invoke another Sherlock), the sort of there-but-not character that has dominated her Takarazuka career since she started getting named roles. My first surprise was how good of a role this was in general, and then how well suited it was to her. She gets to be aloof and handsome, but also incredibly upbeat and funny at times. Her little coworkers at her utterly failing magazine are obsessed with her (which is the mood of the century), and there is a cute little meta moment where Doyle threatens to stop writing Sherlock and Sora tries to quit her job, only to be restrained physically by said coworkers (which is the mood of the moment). Everything from the set of her off-gray permed wig to her 4 or so different plaid suits to her opening solo number was absolutely perfect (not as perfect as it was gonna be later!!!!!).

FROZEN HOLIDAY

It's weird watching a Christmas show in February

I rapidly stopped caring

Speaking of rollercoasters of hot and cold, Noguchi used to be my most hated revue director, hands down. Circa 2017-18, after being deeply personally burned by Super Voyager (and deeply personally confused by Beautiful Garden), the tension I felt while awaiting show announcements hoping I wouldn't have to watch another Noguchi was intense. Noguchi revues being something people covet nowadays still feels unfamiliar, but I count myself among people.

He turned it around for me with the Takarazuka equivalent of winning the grocery store ingredients episode of Project Runway: Delicieux, a covid-budget masterpiece of public domain music and foam macarons (incidentally, also a goodbye to Sora of sorts, as it was her last Soragumi revue). I officially owe him my life after what he did for her in Frozen Holiday.

Firstly, going into my 11th year of watching live Yukigumi, I've never seen Saki shine brighter. While ostensibly a Christmas spectacular, Frozen Holiday was also meant to celebrate Yukigumi's 100th anniversary. Despite the aforementioned rollercoaster, I'm so glad that the top star for the anniversary was someone who has not spent a day outside of Yukigumi in her sienne life, who I've been watching since before my first trip to Japan. And I think the joy of it really showed on her. Aya was an angel, so visually perfect in her snow queen dress that I believed she was destined to be top musumeyaku of Yukigumi from birth. Aasa continued to out-Aasa herself; the wave of feral energy she set off during the first livestream was well earned.

But... remember the disembodied arm just off the TV screen? The utter SHOCK I experienced when they treated her like a friggin' nibante...

Nanami Hiroki, who pulled top star numbers and probably had double our last day crowd at her average Hoshigumi ochakai, and Miya Rurika, who needed a simulcast for her last ochakai, didn't even get the final revue treatment that Sora did.

The disbelief that they did so good by her, the disbelief that I missed the transition, the disbelief that she was really leaving, shattered me.

In addition to general prominence throughout the revue, she gets a whole white-clad taidan number, complete with lyrics designed to blind her fans with saltwater, and one of the best bits of dancing I've seen out of her. After a seemingly impossible quick change, she rejoins the troupe for a very chuuzume-esque anniversary number (assuming the Christmas kyakusekiori is the real chuuzume), and that might actually be my favorite bit of dancing in the whole show. She co-leads the Noguchi-signature boyband number with Aasa, which I forgive because it's them and it's also T.M. REVOLUTION. She even gets a spotlight moment alone with Saki during the kuroenbi. And through all of it, she was so, so good. Good does not even begin to describe Kazuki Sora.

I felt like I cried for 48 hours straight.

***

I didn't manage to get myself actually into the theater for senshuuraku, but I did end up with two Hibiya cinema tickets. When I tried to pass one off onto one of the fellow jilted Sora Club members trying her luck outside of Chanter, I got pounced on by an old lady while those in their white wear were moaning about the cinema not being good enough. I was too tired and nervous to tell her I'd prefer to sit next to someone in club, so she got it. She and I ended up crying the hardest of everyone in the cinema by far. Thanks, old lady <3.

***

One thing that struck me was how desperately, frightfully grateful I was that Sora retired from Yukigumi. Sure, if she hadn't, her taidan would have probably just been canceled... but I don't even mean that. The anniversary aspect of Frozen Holiday was beautiful, and filled me with a joy and nostalgia I wasn't prepared for. It was my first kyakusekiori since 2019, and after Sora ran by me, I was blessed to find myself next to Kujou Asu, someone I adore enough to be in her club in an alternate universe. It was my first iride since 2019, and I had the privilege of seeing off one of my favorite musumeyaku, Sara Anna, as well. The way the troupe members talked about Sora, and what she gave them, and how thrilled they were that she joined them, made my heart swell. As genuinely mad as I was when they broke up KikiSora, I could see that Yukigumi gave her the space to blossom.

The farewell dinner was even entirely gluten free by complete accident, down to the fancy manju omiyage with mountain yam flour dough.

***

Five onsen dips, a massive weeb shopping spree a lifetime in the making, and one extremely bizarre Komu show later, I'm on the plane home, finally not crying on command.

But not having a runaway fave for the first time in ten years feels really desolate. I miss her so much.

#takarazuka #reviews #Boiled Doyle on the toil trail #Kazuki Sora #taidan 24

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