#when slowly but surely communication from them comes less and less often
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stevethehairington · 1 year ago
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when a person gets a boyfriend or girlfriend and immediately puts every last shred of their attention and time and effort solely into said boyfriend or girlfriend and absolutely nothing and no one else — that is actually one of the shittiest things a person can do
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wileys-russo · 2 months ago
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Alessia, "I didn't cheat on you, it was just a dream babe!", mad alessia at training
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disloyal dreams II a.russo
"-are you going to be like this all day?" you sighed as you tried to start a conversation with the blonde beside you who shrugged, again refusing to give you any sort of verbal response.
"alessia. the silent treatment, really?" you repeated, eyes burning into the side of her head as she shrugged and you dragged your hands down your face exhaling heavily.
"i thought we were good at communication. we've been together for a year and a half!" you reminded, alessia dead silent as her fingers drummed against the steering wheel and she came to a stop at a red light.
"less, babe will you just tell me what i've done wrong? i can't fix it if i don't know what i did!" you groaned frustrated, the blonde only leaning forward and turning up the stereo louder making you wince.
"fine, be like this then." you grumbled with a shake of your head, crossing your arms and staring out the window, knowing her well enough that the striker when warranted could be incredibly stubborn.
though the problem you were having today is you weren't even sure where this grudge she had against you was coming from. you'd gone to bed and things were all fine and normal, the pair of you ordering in and falling asleep cuddled up together watching a movie in the living room as you often did.
you'd woken up first, slowly shaking the taller girl on top of you until she did too and the two of you had stumbled tiredly to bed. her long limbs entrapping you in her hold the moment your backs hit the mattress, eyes heavy and a few sleepy kisses exchanged, all seemed fine.
but then this morning you'd woken up to an empty bed, frowning right away as alessia was almost never the first one awake between you.
in fact over the time you'd been together even before you'd moved in with her whenever you slept over at alessia's you'd learned to set your alarm a half an hour earlier than either of you had to be up because it took that long to coax the sleepy blonde to actually get up.
your confusion only grew further when a quick search of the house showed it to be empty, your calls out for your girlfriend going unanswered both vocal and on the phone, a sense of worry beginning to settle in.
however right before it really hit its peak you heard keys in the front door, racing down the stairs and breathing out in relief when she stepped inside, body coated in a thin sheen of sweat and hair pulled back into a bun.
you tried to speak to her and draw her into a hug, mumbling ut you'd been worried sick and asking why she hadn't at least left a note or sent a text but all you got was a shrug and a grumble she needed a shower.
ever since then the most your girlfriend had said was maybe three words, the rest of her responses all grunts or hums as at first you thought maybe she hadn't slept well and was just tired.
though then it started to feel a lot more personal and as much as you'd asked and asked and asked, she wouldn't tell you just why she was so seemingly upset with you or what you'd done to earn such a stubborn silence.
pulling into the training grounds you tried again to ask if the two of you could talk, trying to angle that it wasn't healthy to go into training if she was in a bad head space but all that resulted in was a door closed in your face and a rap of her knuckles against your window a moment later, wordlessly telling you to hurry up.
despite the fact alessia could be one of the most sweet, kind and downright lovely human beings you'd ever had the pleasure to know let alone fall in love with, she still had her share of off day but normally she was quite good at hiding them from your teammates.
today however she didn't seem to care in the slightest, making no move to disguise the fact she wasn't talking to you and clearly was in a mood, the tension thick and uncomfortable as you stared at her longingly across the change rooms.
"mate. what did you do to that poor girl?" leah flopped herself down in her own cubby beside you as you sighed, alessia not even sparing you a glance as she laced her boots up and stormed out, ignoring both emily and lotte who tried to stop and speak with her clearly sensing she wasn't okay.
"nothing! well at least not that i can work out? i've been given the silent treatment all morning." you huffed with a roll of your eyes, wrestling to undo the tight knots in your boots and sending kyra a venemous glare across the room who was clearly the culprit.
but sensing maybe today was not the day to have pushed your buttons the australian was quick to shrink beneath your murderous stare, taking off out of the room within seconds flat.
"give it here." leah chuckled, having already undone your other boot as you shoved it at her and sunk down into your seat, stroppy look on your face and mouth turned downward into a sour pout.
"did you have an argument?" "no." "did you not do something you said you would?" "I don't think so?" "did you forget an anniversary? birthday? special date?" "definitely not." "did you..." leah trailed off, clearly trying to think of something to say.
"nah i've got nothing. good luck sunshine!" the blonde shrugged, pinching your cheek and handing you the now untangled boot. "leah!" you groaned, hoping for the older girl to at least have had perhaps some wisdom to offer.
throughout the day your confusion only grew when the stony silence continued, the two of you at least kept mostly separate for the majority of training, having grown embarrassed now by your shut down attempts to talk to alessia.
thankfully bar a few ill timed comments from some of your younger peers who hadn't yet learnt how to read a room everyone backed off the teasing you'd been worried about, most of them just as confused as you by the air of frustration and irritation radiating off the blonde striker.
"fucking hell less!" leah swore, barely able to duck out of the way of a poorly timed but incredibly powerful strike which rocketed past her ear and swooshed into the back of the goal.
you however were not so lucky, admittedly quite out of it most of the session as your brain ticked over and you overthought every little action and interaction you'd had with the blonde in the last twenty four hours.
it was this distraction which caused you to have zoned out on the sidelines, staring off into space and triple checking in your head every significant event and date to try and work out just why your girlfriend was so clearly off with you.
but you were grounded right back into reality when suddenly something hit you very hard and very fast right in the face, the unexpected ball knocking you on your ass as you felt something wet drip down your face and you started to feel a little woozy.
you watched as both your teammates and some of the staff crowded around you, seeing their mouths moving but unable to decipher what was being said due to the obnoxious ringing in your head.
the medics eventually arrived, shooing everyone away to give you some space and a collective slightly disgusted groan sounded as suddenly you lurched forward and emptied the contents of your breakfast onto the grass beside you.
you winced as a bright light was shone right in your eyes, trying to bat away the hand responsible as someone else grabbed your wrists and stopped you.
blinking a few times as finally the light went away and your hearing returned right in time to hear one word before you were helped to your feet and walked off the pitch.
concussion.
you sighed heavily but nodded as you laid down on one of the padded benches in the medic office, the lights dim and one of the trainee's running you through the concussion protocol you knew like the back of your hand.
with a heavy sigh you felt him squeeze your knee in a silent apology before ducking out to grab some paperwork, an incident report needing to be done as you covered your face with your hands and felt your heartbeat thump in your ears.
when you heard the door open again you assumed he'd returned and you might be cleared to leave, but to your surprise when you looked up there was a different person now looking down on you, your bag slung over her shoulder and car keys in hand.
you didn't expect her to say anything and you didn't have it in you for an argument, so with a grunt you pulled yourself into a seated position, her hands quick to steady you and you hated how good it felt to feel her touch even in such a minimal way.
"you cheated on me."
your head snapped up so fast you felt your neck throb and the headache settling behind your eyes pulse as you sat in a state of shock, sure you'd just heard her incorrectly.
"i-what?" you managed to croak out, the blonde fiddling with the strap of the bag as she nodded. "you cheated on me." she repeated and just like earlier you felt a horrendous sense of nausea settle in.
"i think i'm going to be sick." you began to panic, bile rising in your throat as you looked around desperately for a sick bag of some sort as alessia's hands settled on your cheeks and you tensed up.
"you cheated on me last night." she repeated in a tone so soft you almost didn't hear her, incredibly confused and now wondering just how hard you'd hit your head as you blinked.
"alessia. what? i-baby i would never ever chea-" you couldn't even get the words out until the blonde shook her head, one of her hands coming to cover your mouth, an odd look of guilt now present on her face which had you even more confused.
"in my dream, last night. you cheated on me in my dream, that's why i've been so off with you today..." the blonde bit her bottom lip with a wince as you paused, slowly moving her hands off of you as she shifted nervously.
"i didn't cheat on you." "no." "but you thought i did?" "kind of? i know it was a dream, but it felt really real!"
"alessia..." you trailed off in disbelief, the trainee from earlier taking one step inside as the pair of you looked at him and clearly sensing he might have been interrupting he quickly ducked back out of the room with a mumble you were free to go.
"i still think you should say sorry." the blonde seemed to regain her confidence as your jaw dropped and you looked at her in bewilderment. "for what?" you squeaked out, alessia sighing and shaking her head.
"for cheating on me." "i didn't cheat on you? it was just a dream babe!" you threw your hands up with a scoff and hissed, your head throbbing as your eyes squeezed shut.
"okay. well since you have a concussion, i'll forgive you anyway." alessia decided, stepping forward to stand in between your legs and giving you a smile as if she'd just done you a favour.
"you'll forgive me?" "yes. now baby we should really get you home, i've got your concussion plan and you have to come in tomorrow for a re-assessment." alessia nodded, patting your bag and holding our a hand to help you up as you stared at her with narrowed eyes.
"you'll forgive me. for ignoring me all day and making me feel like i've done the wrong thing? like i'm the the crazy one?" you stuttered out still in shock that this was the reason for her cold shoulder and off put behavior.
"hey! you can't use that." alessia snatched your phone out of your hand and slid it into your bag with a tut. "i need it." you held your hand out expectantly and rolled your eyes as your girlfriend had the audacity to laugh.
"for what?" she questioned as you smacked away her attempted helping hands and she frowned.
"because i need to write a note." "a note?" "yes alessia. a note that when my head isn't absolutely throbbing i am going to yell at you and then give you the silent treatment all day!"
"what! baby why? you cheated on me, and i forgave you?" "i cannot control my actions in a dream alessia, and so i didn't cheat on you!" "baby you shouldn't get so worked up, you'll make your headache worse." "dating you is a headache russo." "...so is now a bad time to ask for that apology?" "it was a dream alessia!"
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kamisama1kiss · 8 months ago
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Okay okay, hear me out…what if the reader was a ninja part of the team but they would also be involved in a prophecy where they end up dying to save their lover, I need the ninja reaction to when Master Wu tells them 🫶🏻
This is actually so sad, tho.... I love it! 🤭😝 I was a little stuck on writing, but I hope I was able to deliver what you wished for 😚🫶
~~~
What would be the ninjas reactions be as the prophecies says they're lover will die for them?
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~Lloyd Garmadon~
- Denial is a river in Egypt. Refusing to believe that they would die for the sake of his life.
- No matter how many times he convinces himself, he knows truly he can't do anything to stop it. Further pushing him into no limits of getting stronger to maybe, just maybe prevent it?
- Keeping a watching eye at you at all times to see if you're safe, more so in battles or training.
- Would try to convince you to do other tasks rather than join the team if he knew it could be risky for either you or himself.
- Consently tries to spend as much time with you so that when the time comes, he could make sure to not regret a moment.
- Would often spend time silently watching you just live and socialise with others, his heart falling into his stomach.
- Admiring you and everything about you as a person.
~Kai Smith~
- At first, he just laughed and shook his head. There was no way.
- After maybe a few hours or days, the gravity of it all dawned on him. He couldn't help but feeling so hopeless and useless to not be able to help or postpone it or anything for that matter.
- His mind of having a feature together with you was immediately crushed, all the plans of being able to hold you at night and talk into the long hours of the night.
- In the meantime, he changed a little for you as in allowing you to goof around with his hair as an example.
- Holding hands no matter where you walked to feel you close just to know you weren't gone. Not yet at least.
-Knowing he was absolutely broken after when Nya was gone, he would be just the same with just worse of completely letting guilt eat him up in silence. He would refuse to let anyone know how he felt.
As the hothead, he is the practice dummys would be all burnt to crisp
~Cole Brookstone~
- Again?
- Really? First, his own mother. Now, the one person he loves with the whole being of himself
- No matter how much he tried to collect himself, he could easily take it out on training.
- Would at some point start to distance himself from you so when the time came, the impact would be less painful.
- Didn't want to be like his father with absolutely neglecting everything when you we're gone, but anyhow, he tried to smile to everyone and act chill like he usually would.
- Often held his breath when holding you close, wishing for these types of moments to never end.
~Zane Julian~
- He was obvious to the fact that the one he loves could so easily die, but he could live on for many years on.
- Has already been over this with himself, but hearing it being sooner than expected shocked him.
- Acting no different than normally maybe a few occasional more hugs throughout the day, nothing too out of the ordinary.
- When he was alone, his way of grief was meditate. Maybe it could make the damage a little easier for his wires to handle?
- Occasionally turning off the emotions to just feel as if he could "breath" as it did get to his head at times more than he'd like to admit it ever did.
~Jay Walker~
- Immediately lost himself as he shook his head, refusing to belive what a dumb scroll had to say! It's dumb right?
- Spending every waking minute of his day with you by his side, alongside helping you with everything he could think of.
- Coping with occasionally stealing shirts with your smell on them to feel as if you mext to him, even though you are just a few doors down or so
- Would slowly communicate with others as he became more silent, which scared everyone. Everyone stood on their toes around him to not further upset him.
- He came in clutch and used every single excuse possible to man kind to have you for himself the first week or two after getting to know. He felt kind of pushy so he calmed down a little.
~Nya Smith~
- She genuinely just accepted it, what more could she say? The prophecy says so, she cannot deny it no matter how much this frustrated her.
- Checking up on you and acting for the most sake normal, as to not make you uncomfortable or worried for her sake.
- Used any or all frustration on training her powers in different ways, which was beneficial for her in the long right?
- Just like her brother, there was no communication from her side. Whenever the topic of prophecy popped up, she went silent and stood next to you, holding pinkys.
- Would cry to herself whenever everything got to her, just knowing you're gonna to eventually leave it snapped her multiple times. She would always refuse.
~~~
I've reached over 25 posts :00 and also over 50 followers!!! THANK YOU, EVERYONE 😭🙏🙏 I appreciate every single one of you so much
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taro-pdf · 6 months ago
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Humans are Space Oddities: Foster Human
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When humans went to space, they expected themselves to be one of the more advanced species, only to find that space was already very populated. To less advanced, they were predators, and to more advanced, savages. Space is vast, and eventually some humans were kept as novelties.
Guang was excited to foster a human. After all, it had read about how humans would fight anything, eat anything, and survive anything. And though Guang was not strong, it’s partner, Hei, was, and would keep it safe.
The human arrived disgruntled, but Guang was not perturbed. It had heard of their pack-bonding abilities, and was ready to be patient and gentle. It even made sure to pick one that knew the Universal Interplanetary Language, so they didn’t need to wait for translators to work. Guang moved and spoke slowly; they didn’t need anything to slow the communication process more. It bent down to eye level.
“Hello. My name is Guang, it/its, a light alien. I process slowly, so don’t speak too fast. I am glad that you arrived safely. You are called Fern, she/her, human, correct?”
The human flapped her hands, nervous, or maybe excited. “Human, correct?” she repeated, then spouted out, “Hei is a powerful space fae that was born on earth but left as its magic grew," she inhaled, obviously making an effort to slow her speech. Guang blinked. It appreciated her effort, but why was she telling it about its own partner? The human continued, “this is common for fae. Did you know space fae are understudied due to the fact that they are extremely powerful and hard to approach? It’s theorized their power comes from dark matter.”
“Right,” Guang replied, “well-”
“Light aliens are a species often used for service for the ultra wealthy,” the human interrupted. “They are treated as living lamps due to their ability to produce both bioluminescent and electrical light extremely efficiently, as well as their ability to stay still for long periods of time.” 
Humans did like to talk, but Guang was unsure if this is what they usually talked about. 
“That’s correct,” it replied. It sat down and held out its hand, which the human grabbed and studied. “I was also on a ship from hatching until Hei approached me and I was given to it as a gift. But it treated me as a being, and I learned to think of myself as a being as well.”
“I’m a being as well,” the human said, dropping Guang’s hand and turning to the door. Guang followed their line of sight to see Hei walking in. It had taken a smaller, humanoid form, as Guang had asked it to.
“Hello Fern,” it said, speaking its native tongue.
“Hello Fern,” Fern repeated in the same language, approaching Hei. It squinted at her.
“Pardon me, do you understand what I am saying?” it asked. The human didn’t reply. She gazed at Hei’s translucent wings, and it turned so she could touch them.
“She’s been repeating what I say as well,” Guang explained.
“Call the agency and ask. The human should have been told how to introduce itself.” Hei handed Guang a communicator. The human mumbled something about aerodynamics.
“In the broader universe, convergent evolution meant that wings…” Fern started to explain.
With the human telling bits of information in the background, Guang called the agency. It was referred to a specialist that told it that human neurology varied greatly. The human’s behavior was not worrisome, but it may socialize differently than typical humans. If that’s a problem, it could be returned. Guang assured them it was not a problem.
At the end of the fostering period, Hei and Guang had learned much about their visitor. They learned to avoid certain textures, loud noises, and flashing lights. They learned that the human could tell them about almost any alien they wished. They learned that not every human would fight anything, and definitely wouldn’t eat anything. 
“Fern,” Guang’s chest had been feeling tighter and tighter as the day to return her grew closer, “I was wondering if you would like to stay?”
Fern was outside tending to the various lower species that she had befriended during her time on Hei’s planet. She didn’t turn toward Guang, but she did repeat its words.
“Like to stay.”
“Right,” Guang agreed, “I don’t want to treat you as a belonging to borrow and return. Being once one myself, and knowing you so well… I want you to stay”
“Humans have a rich history on their planet. They fought each other in countless wars. Some wars were for resources, others were for freedom.”
“I didn’t know that.” Guang was silent for a bit.
“Humans want freedom. It’s in their DNA. I’d like to stay.” Fern smiled, and Guang smiled back. Humans were ferocious, tenacious, and violent, but they were also gentle. Fern was proof of that.
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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago
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The Hand That Feeds
Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader (physical attributes such as large breasts and alternative appearance described) Warnings: DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT. Mentions of child neglect, prostitution, substance abuse, death, murder. Dark and obsessive behaviour, attempted sexual assault, sub/dom dynamics, male masturbation, smut. Word count: ~3.7k
Summary: Ettore is used to having to take women by force - it's how he ended up on death row, and now a suicide mission in outer space. However, when a fellow crew member catches his eye and becomes the object of his twisted fantasies, he soon learns that the touch of a woman feels more satisfying when he's made to work for it. Based on this request.
Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.
Ettore screws his eyes shut. Strapped into the seat of the spaceship as it hurtles upwards, plunged suddenly into darkness when the lights fail, he feels trapped. It must have been twenty years, at least, since he has felt so vulnerable.
His earliest memory is sobbing as he is shut in the cupboard, the pitch blackness terrifying and too much to bear, but the sight of what he sees when he bursts out is so much worse.
The man on top of his mother, the noises they’re making, he feels strange, a combination of wanting to watch but also a churning in his tummy that makes him feel unwell. He retreats back into the dark, closing the door and hugs his knees to his chest until it all goes quiet again. 
Ettore soon learns it is better to enter a room head first - if he is able to see exactly what is happening then he knows quickly whether it’s safe to come out, or whether he needs to retreat. Not placing his entire body in the way reduces the likelihood of being grabbed, hit, shouted at.
There’s a different man each time, and every time they leave there’s always money on the bedside table of the small studio flat, and his mother is asleep. It’s then that he crawls into bed beside her, cuddling into her warmth, tracing his fingers over the marks that litter her inner elbow creases.
He doesn’t recall his mother ever having hugged him, when she is still like this is the only time he is able to get close to her, and he wraps his arms around her until the rumbling in his stomach gets too much to bear. He is always hungry.
His bare feet crunch against spilled Rice Krispies on the dirty kitchenette floor. Sometimes there is bread to eat, if he picks around the mold, sometimes there isn’t. He sees through the window that there is a place across the road that his mother goes to every few days. She always comes back with glass bottles that clink against each other in the plastic bag, but sometimes there is bread, and less often there are Rice Krispies. He likes those, though he often spills them.
The hunger pangs in his stomach grow so bad he begins to cry. His mother no longer feels warm when he cuddles against her. He is not sure when she last woke up, why she won’t wake up now. Maybe she is just really tired.
He can see the place where she goes to get food from the window, it is not very far, perhaps she’ll wake up by the time he gets back, and so he wanders out of the flat, not closing the door behind him, and walks across the road.
Ettore’s eyes light up the moment he sees the familiar blue box of Rice Krispies, clutching it tightly in both hands. It’s only then that he looks up into the horrified face of the woman standing over him, unable to comprehend why she’s looking at him like that, as she takes in the sight of the malnourished, barefoot child before her, wearing only a t-shirt and a dirty nappy.
There are a flurry of adults around him after that, and he’s taken to live somewhere else. He never sees his mother again. He hears the phrase “non verbal” used a lot, and learns that someone of his age should be able to speak. He doesn’t know how to, and so slowly he is taught how to communicate with words.
Even when Ettore has mastered the power of speech, he prefers not to use it. He finds watching people is far better than talking to them. Most people tend to talk a lot even when they have nothing to say. He prefers the quiet.
There are lots of other children his age at the facility he’s placed in, but slowly they leave, one by one, when adults come to look around. He never leaves though, he supposes it has something to do with the way he has overheard the staff describe his eyes as “haunted” and how strange it is that he has no interest in playing. Grown ups don’t want to share their homes with children that aren’t happy. Ettore doesn’t feel he has much at all to be happy about, when he curls his lips into a smile it feels strange against his face.
As Ettore grows older, he learns of what actually happened to him. His mother had been a heroin addict, she had prostituted herself to fund her habit, and he had been a victim of her extreme neglect. She had died of an overdose and he had laid beside her body for days, until his own hunger had gotten the better of him and he’d wandered into the local corner shop in search of food. He feels nothing upon finding this out, if anything he yearns for the simpler time of huddling against the warmth of his mother as she’d slept off her fix. No one will touch him now, he craves physical contact but doesn’t know how to ask for it.
He’s placed into a foster home when he’s a teenager, though it is a placement that’s short lived. The woman has a daughter, she’s a similar age to Ettore and he longs for her touch. He knows all too well from the way that she squirms under the intensity of his gaze and leaves the room whenever they are alone together that the feeling is not reciprocated.
To Ettore it does not matter. He always waited until his mother was asleep before cuddling her, he reasons that he can simply do the same here. And he does just that; waiting until night falls and the house is quiet, he sneaks into her room, laying down upon the bed beside her.
He breathes in deeply, a delicate floral scent filling his nostrils as he runs the tip of his nose over the softness of her hair. His fingertips creep beneath her pyjama top, and he exhales a shaky breath at how silky smooth her skin feels to touch.
It’s then that she wakes up and lets out a loud scream, he topples from the bed, startled by her outburst and her mother rushes into the room. That is Ettore’s first and only foster care placement, another term is now used to describe him; “maladaptive”.
But he takes away a valuable lesson from the situation - if he wishes to touch a woman then he needs to ensure she stays asleep.
He watches couples with resentment, knowing that no woman will ever kiss or caress him with any semblance of love, not willingly anyway. Women don’t want men that are haunted and maladaptive, but that’s fine with Ettore. If it’s not freely given then he knows precisely how to take it.
Ettore preys upon those that are fumbling with their keys in the lock as they try to return home, women under the influence who spend just a little too long on their phones while trying to get a cab, and the ones that walk hurriedly towards their cars in empty, darkened parking garages.
He moves slowly, carefully, his body only moving in sync with where his head is looking once he’s certain of the target he’s selected. He is unhurried in his movements, and so he goes utterly undetected until it’s too late.
It starts as simply knocking them out and then using their bodies however he sees fit, but it  rapidly escalates when he accidentally kills one of them, it happens twice more before he’s finally apprehended.
He doesn’t try to fight it, pleads guilty in court and is sent to prison. Even with good behaviour, his sentence is such that he’ll be elderly before he’s ever free. But any opportunity for eventual freedom is snuffed out when he gets into a scuffle with another prisoner.
Threats of solitary confinement hang heavily over him as he’s dragged away, and something inside of him snaps. He won’t go back to being locked away in the dark, he can’t. So he lashes out, and as he’s stomping upon the guard’s head he is reminded of the crunching of Rice Krispies beneath his feet from when he was a child.
The death penalty doesn’t exist within the United Kingdom’s judicial system, but he knows he’s being served a death sentence when he is given the news that he has been assigned to board a spaceship with other prisoners on a mission to extract alternative energy from a black hole. There is no coming back from that, he’s not foolish enough to believe otherwise, yet he readily accepts it. There is no other alternative for him, truthfully, there never has been.
When the lights eventually flicker back on and they are alerted they can unfasten their seatbelts, Ettore finally opens his eyes, looking at the prisoners that are seated around him. He’s surprised and intrigued to find there are women as well as men on board. He hasn’t encountered a woman since being sent to prison.
The scrubs they are given to wear are baggy and conceal much of their bodies, so to his disappointment he is unable to admire the feminine curves of the women on board - except one. She is shorter than he is, the remnants of a long since faded colour adorns the ends of her hair. Both her arms are full sleeved with tattoos. He wants to tear away her uniform and see what other artwork decorates her flesh. If he were a normal person, he’d strike up a conversation and ask, but Ettore is not one for words, so he simply stares, watching her every movement as a silent storm builds inside of him.
Though she is slenderly built, he can clearly see the way the baggy top half of her clothing curves over the ample swell of her breasts. His eyes linger there whenever he passes her in the corridor, picturing what it would be like to run his hands over them and squeeze their softness.
It’s these thoughts that are the cause of his every visit to The Box, the ship’s masturbatory aid. It’s used gratuitously by all crew mates, as sexual conduct between prisoners is prohibited on board, so he spills over his knuckles every chance he gets, imagining it’s inside of her. Would she claw at his shoulders and slap at him to get away, or simply lay still and take it?
Occasionally he deposits a sample into a plastic cup, taken away by Dibs, a supposed doctor on board who seems to be the main authority figure. She never fully explains what is to be done with his specimens, but once he has taken the reward he’s provided afterwards - usually a sedative - he cannot find it in himself to care.
He has heard whispers that she is conducting fertility experiments on the ship, attempting to artificially inseminate the female inmates. If that’s the case, he is thankful that his involvement is far less invasive than theirs must be, but ultimately it’s not his problem. He keeps to himself, ever watchful of those around him.
At least there is structure and routine; he goes to sleep and wakes up at the same time each day, participates in mandatory exercise regimes, eats regular meals and is assigned maintenance work duty.
Getting to know his own schedule means becoming familiar with other people’s, and that includes her’s. There is a sense of both excitement and comfort in knowing exactly where she is and exactly what she’s doing at all times.
The first time he encounters her coming out of the Box, he’s struck by how beautiful she is, pupils dilated, skin glowing with a light sheen of perspiration, her lips slightly parted as she attempts to calm her breathing. The heady aroma of her arousal lingers faintly as he goes in after her and he has never come harder in his life than he does on that day. He makes a point to go in after her every day after that.
If she were any other woman and these were any other circumstances, he’d have forced himself upon her by now, but they are in a confined space together and there’s no way for him to act upon his urges without there being almost immediate consequences for it. Every day it feels as though a coil inside of him is wound tighter, and every day he is left wondering if that will be the day when it finally snaps and he brings everything crashing down for both of them.
Despite his internalised conflict, she seems utterly unperplexed by him, which is confusing for Ettore. He is used to women regarding him with unease and disgust, so for her to be completely unphased by his presence is disarming. She is a criminal too though, he reasons, and for her to have been served what is effectively a death sentence she must have done something terrible. The thought makes her all the more alluring to him.
He is on cleaning duty today, tasked with scrubbing down the shower tiles. He enters the showers slowly, deliberately, unable to hear water running, so assumes that there’s no one in there.
But then he spots her, her hair wet and sticking to her bare shoulders, the tops of her breasts just about visible. She hasn’t seen him, yet. His eyes roam slowly over the greyscale body art that adorns her arms and thighs, wondering if there's more hidden beneath the towel that clings to her svelte figure. 
Absent-mindedly his fingers move over the triangular motif that's tattooed on his right forearm; though the scar is no longer visible he still feels the indentations of teeth. If he closes his eyes he still remembers the way that girl had fought, biting into his flesh as he'd wrapped his arm around her throat. He can never recall their faces, but he remembers the marks they left upon him - each one now covered by the same tattoo - a target so that he never forgets - a slash of a broken bottle against his bicep, acrylic nails gouging into his neck. They're never quite strong enough, though they fight to the end. He wonders if her ink serves the purpose of covering or reminding, what sinister deeds have led her down a path of such finality. He intends to find out.
Her head snaps up to look at him and he sucks in a harsh breath as she makes eye contact with him. She doesn’t scream or shy away, simply returns his unblinking stare and his fingers flex at his sides, mouth running dry as he considers whether he’ll need to silence her or not.
“Like what you see?” She whispers, letting the towel fall slowly away.
Ettore remains unblinking, though he feels shaken to his core on the inside. He drinks in the sight of her bare flesh, her full rounded breasts, the dip of her waist, her curvaceous hips, feeling his cock twitch in his scrubs.
What the fuck is she playing at?
“Fuckin’ cock tease,” he spits out, before turning and walking away to the Box.
He reaches his peak embarrassingly quickly, brow furrowed and jaw slack as sweat rolls down his temples.
Once the feeling of euphoria has worn off it is replaced by anger and confusion. Had she been trying to get him into trouble? Did she actually want him? Was she making a mockery of him?
His mood darkens at the thought and as his mind races after lights out that night, unable to find sleep. He slips out of his bunk and walks slowly, silently, along the corridor towards her cell.
He can see the outline of her body beneath the covers, and is suddenly unsure of what he came here to do. Torn between wanting to lunge for her, grab her by the throat and make her pay for her earlier indiscretion, or simply slip beneath the covers beside her and allow his hands to roam freely, he stands and does nothing, watching her.
“Come inside, if you want,” she calls out quietly to him in the darkness, making him startle, “bunkmates are all sleeping.”
Ettore hesitates, remaining rooted to the spot, unable to believe that a woman is actually inviting him into her space, that she wants to be near him.
“You gonna pussy out again like you did earlier?” She questions playfully.
He feels embarrassment flush his cheeks and allows it to propel him forward, over the threshold, into her space. He won’t let a woman get the better of him.
She shuffles back against the wall, lifting the blanket and patting the space beside her.
He hasn’t laid beside a woman since the night he was kicked out of his foster placement for getting into bed with the host’s teenage daughter, the only other times before that were when he huddled beside his passed out mother.
Ettore swallows thickly, not wanting to show weakness and quickly slips in beside her.
She smells of the ship’s standard issue soap, yet somehow on her flesh it has an utterly different scent, it’s sweet and intoxicating and has him longing to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He inhales deeply, feeling himself grow hard from her proximity and the warmth of her soft skin against his bare torso.
Apparently she feels it too, as she eagerly snakes a hand between them, palming at him through his shorts. 
A woman has never touched him like that before, not willingly. Usually he’s the one in control. It feels too much, too fast, bile rises in his throat and he jerks away from her, stalking silently back to his own cell, shame blooming hot and heavy in his chest as he feels tears burn beneath his eyelids.
What the fuck was that?
For the first time in Ettore’s life a woman had wanted to touch him, and he’d freaked out and run away. Does she not realise what he could do to her, what he’s capable of? He is supposed to inspire fear, not lust.
He wants to storm back to her cell and smash her head against the wall. She’s made him feel weak, inferior, yet despite that he can’t shake the feeling of her hand between his legs.
Unable to help himself, he waits for her as she exits the Box the next day, the telltale signs of her having just climaxed etched all over her features as she steps out. Her expression hardens when she sees him, rolling her eyes and side stepping him, until he grabs her wrist, stopping her from going anywhere.
“Let go of me, Ettore,” she says threateningly.
“How d’you know my name?” He asks, pulling her close so he can stare down into her eyes.
She smirks. “You’re not the only one that can skulk around the ship finding things out. Dibs left your file out the last time she had me up on the table, so I snooped. I know your name, your blood type, your sperm count–”
“Do you know what I’m serving time for?” He narrows his eyes as he asks this.
“No, I figure if we’re gonna explore whatever this is,” she gestures between them, “it’s better we don’t know that about each other.”
Ettore scoffs, quirking his lips as he eyes her carefully. “And what is this?”
She shrugs. “I dunno. Clearly you’re not comfortable letting me touch you…yet. So how about you touch me instead?”
He keeps a neutral expression, despite the surprise he feels once again that a woman would willingly let him touch her. “How would that work?”
“You’re about to use the Box, right? Take me in. Touch me while you touch yourself.”
Her words send an aching pulse straight to his balls and he nods, walking into the Box, not checking to see if she’s following. He knows she will be.
“Take it off, take it all off,” he orders quietly, gesturing to her clothes.
She pulls off her top and slips off her bottoms and his gaze rakes appreciatively over her form, only this time his hand slides into his trousers as he does so, his hand wrapping around his steadily hardening length.
Her lips are parted, eyes wide as she stares up at him, her breathing almost matching the intensity of his. Tentatively he leans down, inhaling her scent. The sweetness fills his nostrils and something inside of him snaps.
Pulling his erection free, he moves his fist over it in quick, aggressive strokes, biting at her pulsepoint, before moving his lips downwards towards her tits, pressing his face into their soft warmth, mouthing at them without restraint.
True to her word, she doesn’t touch him, keeping her hands balled into tight fists at her sides, though he can tell she is desperate to reach for him, her breaths erratic as she arches into his touch.
His stomach muscles contract, pressure building at the base of his spine as droplets of pre-cum help to guide his rapid, successive jerks of his cock.
Reaching between her legs, he groans at feeling how wet she is, a combination of her previous orgasm and how aroused she is from what’s currently happening between them.
He buries his face in her chest, sinking two fingers inside of her. There is no scratching, no slapping, no disassociating. She is soft and pliant against him, willing, and as often as he has fantasised about taking her by force, this feels better than anything he has ever experienced previously, better than anything he could have imagined.
As the pressure reaches its apex and he finally climaxes with a groan and a shudder, releasing white hot ropes of his seed across her lower belly, she reaches up with shaky, tentative hands to gently run her fingers through his hair.
“Good boy,” she coos, “did so well for me.”
He sighs, leaning over her, resting his head against the wall behind her. Next time he wants to sink inside of her, to feel what it’s like to be touched, wanted, needed. Because as haunted and maladapted as he is, as he opens his eyes and stares into hers he sees that she is too. Her darkness plays well with his, and in a cold and sterile environment Ettore has finally found the warmth he’s always craved.
Chapter two || Series masterlist
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isackwhy · 8 months ago
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still high but cooking. I SHARE COOK
isaacwhy x chubby! reader hc’s sfw
(small mentions of ED)
sfw
AS SOMEONE W EXPERIENCE
gym rats love us
as much as we want to deny it bc of insecurities they love us
so pls don’t be worried about that w him. i get it but he’ll reassure u each time that it doesn’t matter to him
plus i’m pretty sure yumi was talking about the new gamersupps girl who was chubby like the new design or whatever and that isaac liked it. which he didn’t deny
i need to re-find that podcast if anyone knows LMK
if ur a content creator and get the occasional hate on ur body and it gets to it isaac is immediately distracting you
telling u it’s bullshit
“some days they get me. other days they don’t.”
“yeah? fuck them. you’re hot.”
the first few times he asks if u want to go to the gym u say no out of fear and bc in ur head he was saying u needed to go
he assured u that’s not what he meant and that he just wanted to spend time w u anywhere :)
if u guys were bffs beforehand he knows every little warning sign that ur getting insecure about ur body
even if u aren’t he learns quickly
he notices how ur suddenly counting calories or eating less or staying in pjs and not wanting to be intimate
u feel bad. feeling like it might just be repetitive at this point for him
“you always help me when i feel like shit, right? everytime i stress about a video or feel like it’ll be shit you help me. and that’s kinda often. why wouldn’t i help you?” is what he says everytime u feel bad
obsessed w ur thighs
always grabbing onto them, laying them across his legs
love handles? he puts them to use 👍🏻 ykyk
if ur like me u don’t like whoever ur dating to touch ur tummy while ur cuddling. like it’ll remind them it’s there
this man will kiss ur stomach the first time it happens and honest to god u kinda hate it but he’s whispering such sweet things u can’t stop him
“you’re so pretty. so so pretty.”
“alright alright stop please.”
“not till you believe me.”
u hate when u smile bc of ur double chin that always makes an appearance but isaac has a whole folder labeled “y/n’s smile” so pls take a breath
“i’d look better in that if i was someone else,” u point to the somewhat fitting dress on ur screen
“if u don’t buy that right now i might have a stroke, babe.”
u buy it. well. he buys it. it comes in the mail and u we’re not leaving the house that day
ur known to his community and when rumors start to swirl that u guys might be dated, there was also hate that came w it
“isaac would never date someone like that.” a comment reads
that’s a fear of urs ofc but….he’s currently laying next to u and not some other random person so
soft launching until u just give in and hard launch
u guys were already all over each others stories and social medias but after u guys start dating and want to slowly reveal it u guys post a picture of each other every month on the date of ur anniversary w out any context
it’s fun lowkey
will always back u up
the boys and him make sure they don’t fat jokes around u
u told them it’s fine bc it’s a thing between them but isaac could see how uncomfy u got w then sometimes
when he can tell ur mental state is affecting how u see how u look he won’t talk about the gym around u and makes sure the boys don’t either
just the little things
he tried to give u hoodies but u refuse bc ur scared they won’t fit u
he has oversized hoodies and looks at u like ur crazy
“this will fit you babe,” he shakes the black hoodie in front of u as u shiver from the breeze in his backyard
“no. no. i’m fine.”
“lifts ur arms up—“
“wha—“
“lift!”
u comply. the hoodie fits.
“told u.”
nsfw >:)
u didn’t wanna show him ur body the first time around
u left ur oversized hoodie on, isaacs hands snaked under it to hold ur boobs
body worship bruh
kisses every part of u, leaving marks and little bites along ur thighs
u also made him leave the lights off until recently
“i wanna see you properly baby,” he says between the kisses of a heavy makeout
you pout, “isy—“
“you’re gorgeous. you’re amazing and i want to see all of it,” he says, attacking your neck in kisses
how could u not give in honestly
at this point the hoodie is gone everything and u try and use ur arms to cover urself but he won’t let you nope nope nope
fucks u in front of a mirror everytime u feel like shit
“look how pretty, hm? u can’t see what i see? i’ll make sure you do. don’t worry, hun.”
he said that while holding eye contact w u and u nearly lost it there
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ashtheketchum · 6 months ago
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●Let me help you●
Tumblr media
Daryl Dixon X GN.Reader
Era: Season 9, Bridge Camp
A/N: I saw a few posts where some people weren't comfortable reading Daryl smuts because they were primarily for female readers, so I wanted to write something that would be for both genders
Summary: Daryl had to look after the prisoners all day to make sure they worked properly on the bridge and didn't attack anyone. Sometimes he had to intervene brutally to keep things calm. You, his partner, wanted to help him relax a little.
Warnings: +18 CONTENT, GENDER NEUTRAL Reader, blowjob, handjob, slight praise kink, cum swallowing
Words: 1.3k
Masterlist!
_____________________________
PoV (Y/N):
After we captured Negan, we ordered his workers to work on the bridge that connected our communities. Rick was in charge of everything and since Daryl, my boyfriend, was his right-hand man, he helped Rick as often as he could. And of course, as Daryl's partner, I went with him. We had our own tent where we could retreat whenever we needed a break. None of the workers knew about our relationship, we didn't trust them and we didn't want to risk anything bad happening.
While Daryl kept watch and did the physical work, I, along with Enid, took care of the injured or sick people. But since I had less to do today, I was able to stay in the tent and be bored. I was kind of glad that I just had to do some small things today, but in return it meant that Daryl had more work. Sometimes it was really hard for me not to interfere, because the workers really didn't treat Daryl well.
Today was another hard day for Daryl, which is why I set myself the goal of giving him a good night. I was still afraid of sex, but I could give him pleasure in other ways. So while I was lying in our tent bed, I thought of a plan to convince him. I was so deep in thought that at first I didn't even notice him coming into the tent. "Hey… wha´ is in yar pretty lil´ head?" I heard his rough, but also tired, voice ask. Flinching, I looked up at him and a loving smile crept onto my lips. Shaking my head, I stood up and kissed him gently, which immediately made the archer hum in surprise, but he kissed me back.
"For wha was tha´?" "Can't I show my boyfriend a little love?" I asked him and tilted my head slightly. Daryl just nodded slightly and sighed loudly. He laid his head on my shoulder. "Yah, yah… 'm sorry, ´was a hard day…" He then murmured quietly. And I believed him. A few of Negan's people had started a bit of stress again and Daryl had to sort out this stress on his own. I felt sorry for him and wanted to delay my little plan to tomorrow morning, but when I felt his lips gently kiss my skin, I couldn't hold back any longer.
"I have a surprise for you…" I murmured quietly and slowly pushed him away from me. The redneck just grumbled in confusion, but let me push him into bed. As tired as he was, I could probably do anything with him now and it wouldn't bother him. "You work so hard for us… every day…" My voice was quiet, almost a whisper. Daryl only made a quiet, short sound before he nodded slightly and looked up at me. In his eyes, besides the tiredness, I could always see his love for me. He could never hide his love for me from me and he hated that he had to hide it now. But my safety was always his priority.
"Wha's yar plan?" The archer asked me quietly. Grinning, I kissed his nose gently before sinking to my knees. I spread his knees gently so that I could sit between them. With one hand I stroked his crotch a little, with the other I stroked his stomach gently. "I just wanna make you feel good…" I then answered his question. Daryl immediately understood what I meant, because we had already played through this scenario often enough. Not exactly as it was now, but we had already satisfied each other several times, because we both still felt very insecure about sex. But it was enough for us, so why complain?
I let my hand, which was stroking his stomach, wander to his belt and then slowly unbuckled it. Daryl lifted his pelvis a little so that I could slowly pull down his pants and boxer shorts. His penis wasn't hard yet, but it was already big. Humoring quietly, I spat into my hand and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. The archer immediately took a sharp breath, his breath only coming out trembling. The longer I massaged his shaft, the harder it became and the more drops of pre-cum flowed out of his tip. I spread them out with my thumb so that I could now move my hand up and down even more easily.
As I looked up at him, I bit my lower lip slightly. Normally Daryl wasn't so sensitive when I was satisfying him, but now it was different. Even though I hadn't put him in my mouth yet, Daryl was already breathing in and out loudly and his legs were shaking a little more. He must really be exhausted if he was already so sensitive, but somehow I liked that. Now Daryl's cock was completely hard and I could no longer hold back my desire to put his cock in my mouth. So I slowly took his tip into my mouth and sucked on it gently. "H-hahh~…! (Y/N)~…!" God, it turned me on so much when he moaned my name. Especially when he whimpered so softly. It motivated me to put more of his cock in my mouth and suck on it gently. However, my gentle sucking quickly turned into a strong sucking and Daryl bit his lower lip hard to keep from making another sound.
I moved my head up and down faster and faster, letting my cheeks hollow to get some more friction, which made Daryl gasp again. He put his hand on my head to determine my speed, but he always made sure not to hurt me or force me to do anything. Moaning softly, I pressed my tongue against his tip, my moaning made my tongue vibrate slightly and Daryl took a sharp breath. "God, yar killin' me~…" The archer murmured softly as I moved my head faster. Daryl's penis kept twitching and more and more drops of pre-cum flowed out of his tip, which made me suspect that he would come soon. "Shit~…! 'm gonna cum~…" And his words confirmed my suspicion. I briefly lean away from Daryl to look up at him. I gently cup his testicles with my hand. "You're doing such a good job outside there, Daryl…~" I whispered quietly, as I saw his cock twitch. "You deserve all this, and more~…" Daryl had never received many compliments back then, so I gave him as many as I could. Not just when satisfying him, but also in a normal day in general. Daryl was always so sensitive with them, but I never stopped. Suddenly Daryl grabbed my head and pushed me back onto his cock.
Humming loudly, my eyes rolled back, but I enjoyed the fact that he was now becoming a little more dominant. Although Daryl was tired and exhausted, he pushed into me and brought himself to his orgasm. A few of his sperm went into my mouth, but Daryl pulled his cock out of me and squirted the rest onto my face. I swallowed the seeds that were in my mouth. "Fuck~…" Breathing heavily, Daryl stroked away the semen that were on my face before reaching for a cloth and wiping my face properly. "Thanks… I really needed tha´…" Daryl then thanked me and pulled me up to him. Grinning, I sat on his lap and kissed him passionately, our tongues found each other straight away. Moaning, I stroked his head before I let go of him. "Everything for the love of my life…" "Ya're sappy…" Even though Daryl rolled his eyes, I could see him getting shy and blushing a little.
Amused, I climbed back into the tent bed and watched Daryl getting ready to lie down next to me to sleep.
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cazzyf1 · 4 months ago
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The other day on my tiktok I created a simple post about how James Hunt is more than just the Playboy persona that is associated with him. This flew over someone's head who commented about how he was a Playboy. I responded explaining the point of the video but instead they doubled down saying that James didn't care about F1 only about partying.
So today I went through some of my books and gathered a load of quotes to show the James Hunt that most people do not know about, the one outside of the Playboy perception. I've posted it on tiktok but figured I'll upload it here as well so the true James Hunt can reach more people and slowly we can dismantle the reputation 'Rush' gave him ❤️
TW: Depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms/addictions
When you think of James Hunt you think of the 'playboy'. The guy who partied, drank lots, took drugs and slept with lots of women. Its true he did that, and a lot but to dismiss him as just that is wrong. He was a good driver, a person who tried his best, a kind man who cared for human & animal rights.
The next few slides I've compiled quotes from a few books and website to show what kind of person he actually was and what he went through in life and that less people will dismiss him as just a Playboy.
James Hunt's first marriage was rocky because James was already very involved in his addictions and he knew he didn't love Susy because he felt that he wasn't capable of love. But he felt responsible for her and wanted to look after her. Here is his own opinion from his book ->
"It was really THE problem. I thought that marriage was what I wanted and needed to give me a nice stable and quiet home life, but in fact it wasn't and the key mistake was mine. I really wanted to go racing on my own, and it wasn't much fun for Susy to sit at home and wait for me all that time. It was also a terrible hassle for her to come racing because race meetings were probably the most relaxing time in my schedule. The rest of the time you tend to be leaping on aeroplanes once a day and that made it even worse because it's bad enough organizing one person to get on an aeroplane. Organizing two gets to be twice as much hassle. It got to the point where it was a problem for Susy to come travelling and a hell of a deal for her to stay at home. It was making life miserable in the extreme for her and since I felt responsible for her it was making me miserable too. So we had agreed to split up and then Richard Burton came along and solved all the problems. We had had an immensely successful marriage because I learnt an awful lot about myself and life and I think Susy did too. We all ended up happy, anyway, which is more than can be said for a lot of marriages" - p14 Against All Odds
Much is said about James Hunt and the ladies he kept company, and without knowing anything about James you might assume the worst, but here's some quotes about what he was actually like with the ladies ->
"I don't usually have sex before a race because I am very definitely concentrating -I find that it is the communication between two people that makes it worth- while, and before a race I am pretty uncommunicative. However, if say I have an hour or so to spare before dinner on the night before a race then I can enjoy the physical release. But I will only do it with someone who is fully understanding" - p15 Against All Odds
"He was always attentive to his partners needs. Indeed much of his satisfaction came from giving pleasure. The only problem, some of them confessed, was that his desire to please often out-stripped their needs" - p264 James Hunt: The Biography
"I was sure he was gay, because he never made a move on me for so long" - p278 Jane Birbeck, long time partner, James Hunt: The Biography
"He missed the actual skirmish - he was inside getting drinks at the bar - but had to be forcibly restrained from going after the policeman who hit his girlfriend" - p284 James Hunt: The Biography
James Hunt had many affairs in his time, because he had become an addict to many things including women (more on this later) He was aware of his and it plagued James that he couldn't control it ->
"One evening she returned to their London home to find James in tears. He was tormented by feelings of guilt caused by his lust for other women. He confessed the full extent of his unfaithfulness, that it was unfair to her and that for her sake they couldn't remain a couple. It wasn't that he was bored with her, but that his desire for other women was insatiable and uncontrollable. He held Jane in his arms and they both wept" - p320
One thing that helped James in his life time was his love for animals especially his pet dog Oscar. Here are some quotes about his love for animals and how far he would go to help protect them ->
"I think in a way Oscar was the child James never had at that stage. He was a remarkable dog, no question, but James thought a lot about animals and their requirements and was very concerned about their needs. He gave Oscar the very best treatment and also was keenly intrested in the welfare of other dogs. He would look at a dog, wonder if it's owner was treating it well and bringing it up properly and if the dog was getting everything out of life that it could" - p281
"Before he came to know James better, the journalist Nigel Roebuck was pleasantly surprised by an incident involvinged stray dog. It was late in the evening after a Grand Prix and tha teams were packing up to leave when James, while talking to Roebuck, saw the dog wandering around the paddock, shiver-ing and obviously very hungry. Roebuck, also sensitive to the needs of an animal in distress, went with James to several of the team motorhomes where they got food and fed the dog. But that wasn't the end of it as far as James was concerned. He insisted that they should take the dog up to the race control centre.
Roebuck: 'He took the dog in there and would not leave until he was sure it would be looked after. James actually made this official sign a piece of paper saying he would take care of the dog and see that it was housed and properly cared for. I was very impressed with this. James was probably one of only a handful of people on this entire planet who would even give that sort of thing a second thought." - p281
"He also thought the wild animals residing on his estate should be left alone. If vermin had to be controlled it should be done in the most humane way possible, and he strongly dissaproved of blood sports. The very thought of fox hunting he found horrible and he vowed not to allow it on his property" - p308
James was also incredibly caring towards the young people in his life such as his sons and his younger siblings. Here’s an extract from his first GF about James and his siblings ->
".. the way he expressed his concern for the emotional youngest members of his family:
He really enjoyed looking after them, and just seeing the way the behaved with his little brothers and sisters you knew was instinctive in him. He was always going to be a good father.
One evening he invited her home where he was babysitting Jo Jo, Dave and Tim. When James had tucked them in he left Ping to read them a bedtime story. When Ping came downstairs James asked her if she had helped them say their prayers. When I said no, James said: "Right. You've missed out hugely there. Come on, we'd better go and do it." So they did. His attitude was that he was taught to do that by his parents and it simply had to be done.'
But he also practised what he preached, and he believed in the power of prayer. In the troubled years to come James would pray to God for strength and help, and he eventually passed on the bedtime prayer ritual to his own two boys, to whom he became completely devoted.
During his time with Ping he had talked about having children, and she thinks fatherhood earlier in his life would have prevented James from sinking into his period of decadence.
I felt so sorry for him then because I knew underneath it wasn't the real James doing this. I think he was trying to make life happy, the wrong way. If he had settled down earlier, had a more normal home life with children of his own when he was younger, one could have seen a totally different James.' - p26
James Hunt cared for human rights especially taking a stand against the Apartheids in South Africa. The Apartheids in short was a system of racial segregation. In protest most sports were not going to South Africa but Formula One still was, and James Hunt made it clear his thoughts
->
“We were once covering the South African Grand Prix during the days of apartheid. All of a sudden, and for no particular reason, he launched into an attack on apartheid.
“It was nothing to do with the Grand Prix, nor would it do British-South African relations any good. Our producer pushed a piece of paper across saying: ‘Talk about the race!’
“And then James blurted out on air: ‘Thank God we’re not actually there!”
But simply calling out Apartheid on the air wasn’t enough for Hunt. He sought to have his race commentaries blocked from being broadcast in South Africa, but was unsuccessful.
When that didn’t work, he instead — and secretly — gave financial support from his income as a race broadcaster to groups struggling to end Apartheid in South Africa."
"His deeply compassionate and loving nature was something that, unfortunately, wasn't adequately conveyed to the public, who only ever heard about the sensational side of James Hunt" - p282 John Watson
As mentioned earlier James Hunt was an addict. His playboy lifestyle was his addictions and this is all rooted back to the fact that James Hunt had depression which grew stronger and stronger. He relied on his additions to get rid of his depression which meant he kept doing more and more. Here are some quotes about his struggle with it and eventually how he overcame it ->
"At home James became increasingly introverted, uncommunicative and reclusive. He gave up golf and spent more and more of his time in the aviary tending his budgies. While the parties continued he would often leave the guests to Sarah and closet himself in the aviary for hours on end.
It became obvious that James was very troubled, but only Sarah and his closest friends knew the full extent of the anguish and despair James suffered during his bouts with what he called his 'dippers'.
Black dog' was the term Winston Churchill used for the recurring 'depressions which afflicted him throughout his life. Bubbles Horsley thinks James was 'born with a "black dog" on his shoulder. His racing pushed the "dog" away far enough so that it was no longer visible. But underneath that wonderful joie de vivre, the laughter and enjoying life, he was given to black moods. He was fearful of them and maybe it was that fear that drove him on. Perhaps without it he would never have been World Champion.
'And I think after the initial "honeymoon" of retirement from racing the black dog came and sat on his shoulder and wouldnt go away. So he became more fearful and sought distraction in various ways, through sex and drink and drugs and rock and roll, as it were." - p323
"At home Sarah watched her husband's condition worsen and desperately sought to help him. She thought his depressiond might partly be due to a chemical imbalance that James was born with, a theory that James explored himself. Then, too, to keep his dippers at bay he consumed too much alcohol and marijuana, both of which can temporarily bring relief but over the long term on have depressive effects.
Like others, Sarah felt that another reason for his 'dippers' might have been because he cut off his emotions early in his life and never learned how to open up to people, or to need them. He was essentially a lonely man and his inability to form close relationships made him despair. His depressions further deadened his feelings, and when he was unable to respond emotionally to marriage and children he grew progressively more despondent.
Sarah: 'He was at war with himself. His depressions became Intolerable and towards the end he stopped trying to fight them coming on because he knew they would take over for two days or week. His face would go black and he would take to his bed and stay there, even on Christmas Day. He'd gone to bed two days beforehand and we had Christmas stockings for the boys. I said, Come on, Beast, the boys are waiting." And he said, "Beast, i can't do it." And he was crying" - p333
"When James felt a "dipper" coming on he would go on two- or three-day benders, mostly drinking vodka. He would just keep going and going, which was always a bit terrifying, and after these deep, dark blank days he would suffer real self-loathing. He could forget his trouble with drink, but it always came back.
For many years trying to get rid of his depression was his major concern, which is why he got the budgerigars. He thought it would be such a huge amount of effort that it would distract him and they became an obsession rather than a hobby. He would sit in the aviary for hours, but he would come back still in the grip of gloom. And for a long time he was so down it was very hard to even converse with him." - p326
"He tried different treatments acupuncture, Chinese herbal medicine and looked into every possible theory. He went to different healers, therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists, psychoanalysts, the lot, to try and find the root of his depression. And in the end he cracked it" - p337
"He began to become more diet-conscious and to eat healthy foods. He also consumed information, in books and magazines, on overcoming addictions, and sought more professional help.
He knew he should stop smoking cigarettes and reduce his marijuana consumption, and he told some friends he thought he might be an alcoholic. He worried that his need for women was another form of addiction and feared he might contract AIDS and infect someone else.
John Hogan: 'So he stopped it all. Straightened himself out by absolute willpower. The strength of character of the man enabled him to get out of it. He cut out the cigarettes, the dope and drugs. the booze and the womanising and his sense of priorities became more well-balanced.' - p338
As he started healing himself of his addictions he became serious about F1 again. He always cared for the sport, doing everything he could to race when he was younger and now though he was retired he still commentated and took part in other ways to stay close to the sport ->
"James became serious about strengthening his position in the media side of Formula 1 racing. He took on an internationally syndicated newspaper column and spent many hours gathering information for it. Working with a journalist he applied himself conscientiously to making sure that every word was written to his satisfaction" - p338
James started to heal his relationships as well, becoming an amazing parent to his two boys and finally meeting a woman who helped him feel loved and be able to love after so long of not being able to ->
"The boys were real handfuls to look after but he was awfully good with them and he really fathered and mothered them extremely well. He was always up early in the morning cooking their breakfast and then the four of us would go off salmon fishing. James would fish properly and I would fool around fishing with the youngsters. And then in the evening we used to settle down and he would tell them stories." - p343
A letter James sent to his girlfriend Helen:
"I went to the parents' 50th in a totally negative frame of mind, feeling very much an outsider and wanting the floor to swallow me up. As the day went on, although I remained 'out- side', I could see and feel lots of generous, undemanding love around me. Something changed for me there with my family. Everyone was exuding love and I saw the wonder of it and want to be part of it, but firstly with you.
I realise now that the feeling of not being loved as a child made me close up to any incoming love projected onto me. I do see that I cannot live on without love. You brought it home to me when you pointed out how well I'm doing with the boys. Well I have had to work at that and I've got better at it and I have to do it with you. You are the girl of my dreams. Without you I have no future. I want to make you happy and continue to do so until I die.
All my love for the love of my life,
James"
- p350
Finally James was happy. He was healed from his addictions, in a healthy relationship, had two lovely sons and a job he loved. And best of all he was able to be open with Helen ->
"James confessed to Helen that he was unable to be faithful to anyone in the past because sex was for him just another addiction and he needed women to get his highs. He disliked social gatherings and only had parties or went to them to pick up women. Helen was willing to forgive and forget what went on before, but told him she wouldn't tolerate it in their relationship and he agreed to be faithful to her." - p350
Helen went away on a girls holiday before her and James were going to start trying for children. James proposed to her over the phone on the holiday to which she said yes. But she would never see her finance because he passed away from a heart attack. Unfortunately the previous life he lead caught up to him.
Thank you for reading all of this and I hope you now know more about James Hunt than you already did! It's sad that James is best known now for his unhealthy coping mechanisms for his depression, especially with the film 'Rush' romanticising it. But even if just one person reads all of this it means one more person knows the truth of James Hunt and that makes it worth it ❤️
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wisteria-lodge · 2 months ago
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"He starts acting more like his mother, and this works well for him. I honestly think Draco takes after Narcissa much more than he takes after Lucius, it just takes him a second to figure that out"
Wait really? What does it mean? Like if Draco doesn't do things in a showy way it will all work put for him/it makes him have a higher chance of succeeding? Or does it mean that he does best if he works behind the shadows type?
"But in Book 6 there's a rupture between Draco and Lucius" Is it because of this that when Lucius called out to Draco during the battle who didn't come until only Narcissa called for him?
"Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle are *quite* committed to keeping Draco Malfoy in one piece" hmm I kinda don't agree with this because they usually let Draco get beat up right? Or maybe I'm remembering incorrectly?
I'm catching up on your metas I really love them so much
~ re. this meta about how Lucius and Narcissa use power ~
Yeah, Draco is not the most... effective character, for most of the series. Generally his plans backfire, or just don't work at all. Taking Neville's Remembrall gets Harry on the quidditch team, luring Harry out for a duel and snitching about Norbert gets *Draco* in trouble... he's not able to get Buckbeak executed or Hagrid fired, the Inquisitorial Squad doesn't really make a difference, even other Slytherins get sick of how often he does impressions of Harry fainting or whatever. The Support Cedric Diggory/Potter Stinks badges... I'll give him that one. But that's also him being unusually subtle/sneaky (trying to stay under the radar because he's scared of Moody.)
I would say that when Draco plays it subtle, sneaky, and patient - things do work out a lot better for him. He starts getting effective in Book 6, and I don't even hate the poisoned mead/cursed necklace plan. I mean *morally* obviously it's not great, but as a tactic it's kinda brilliant. It reminds me of The Great Escape:
"Perhaps we're being too clever. If we stop all the breakouts, it may only convince the goons that we must be tunneling."
If Draco throws out all these showy attempts (that Dumbledore calls "desperate" and "feeble")... well, then Dumbledore is much less likely to suspect that Draco has additionally spent the all year essentially building a tunnel. He's using both his parent's strategies simultaneously: cursed artifacts, poison, imperiusing someone into helping - that's all Lucius. It's in-your-face, and soaks up a lot of attention. BUT - slowly and carefully fixing the Vanishing Cabinet so people can sneak in... that's all Narcissa. And so is the way he's made sure no one is paying attention.
(I mean, except Harry, but at this point everyone has sort of accepted that Harry is going to be unreasonably obsessed with Draco no matter what he does.)
We also see this pattern with Draco's passive resistance in Book 7, not identifying Harry & co. when he has the chance. That's also a very *Narcissa* move. We even get little moments in Book 7 where he's actively being coached in his mom's don't-attract-attention strategy:
The hilarity mounted; Draco Malfoy looked in terror at his father, who was staring down into his own lap, then caught his mother’s eye. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, then resumed her own deadpan stare at the opposite wall.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The moment where Draco doesn't go to his father when Lucius calls for him is a movie-only moment, but it fits. Draco spends Book 6 pulling away from his communities - the Slytherins, the quidditch team, the Death Eaters. He's realized that he doesn't want what they're selling. And pulling away from the Death Eaters *does* include Lucius and Severus (who he doesn't know is a spy.) Instead, Draco seems to spend a lot more time alone, with his mother (I just can't believe Bellatrix was the one giving him occlumency lessons, that is such a Narcissa move) and with Moaning Myrtle.
~ re. this meta about the Malfoys during the first war ~
I mean... Crabbe and Goyle aren't very *good* at keeping Draco in one piece, but they do try, and whenever someone is beating up Draco, Crabbe and Goyle are right next to him fighting someone else. They also get a shout out for being some of the only people Draco actually trusts during Book 6, and they stand guard for him, even when polyjuiced into 11 year old girls.
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Tango started sneezing about twenty minutes after leaving the lab. By the time they reached the city's outskirts, six hours later, he was a sniffling mess, eyes burning and nose running, throat tight. Every part of his skin not covered in scales was covered in rashes. On top of that, his legs felt like jelly, there was a sharp pain tearing his sides open, every step hurt his feet and his lungs felt like they were on fire.
"Maybe we should stop for a bit," Torchy suggested, concerned. The little dragon was flying around Tango's head since his touch irritated Tango's skin even more.
"We should... get somewhere less... open... first." Tango was gasping, every breath a struggle.
But he refused to stop. It was just allergies and a lack of exercise, it would all calm down once his body got used to being outside the lab's sterile walls. The best thing to do was to keep pushing, keep, walking, force his body to adapt. He would survive allergies, he would survive being unfit. He wasn't sure he would survive what wandered around out here, beyond the city limits, where laws barely applied and civilisation ended.
Sometimes, when the scientists in the lab worked late, they'd come into Tango's room at night and he'd light a little fire in the middle and they'd sit around telling scary stories. He was told it was a human tradition older than time. Far too often, those stories included werewolves who refused to abide by the palace's laws, vampires who were so consumed by their bloodlust they'd lost all their humanity, human-born sirens who had forsaken community in favour of luring travellers away from their paths.
Cub had once sworn up and down that a garden faerie had tried to gouge out his eyes, killing every plant in a ten-foot radius in the process, and to this day he still didn't know how he'd escaped intact.
Doc had then scoffed and claimed it was all hearsay, but the tale had stuck with Tango. He was rather fond of his eyes, and preferred not to risk losing them.
"I can keep going," he said to Torchy. "I can... I'll be fine."
They had barely walked another hour before Tango was forced to stop by his feet - which were dragging on the floor - hooking on a rock, sending him plummetting with a yelp.
"Tango!" Torchy gasped, swooping down to join him on the ground.
"I'm- I'm fine," Tango assured him, running a hand across Torchy's scales. "I'm fine."
Tango allowed himself twenty seconds of rest - he counted each one - before pushing himself back to his feet.
"Just a little further," he told himself.
He could see a small copse of trees in the distance. If he could just make it that far, he'd be fine. It was close. Just a little further.
When, after a few seconds, it became clear his feet weren't moving any time soon, he sighed and sank into a crouch, absently itching his arm.
"I'm fine," he whispered, staring at the trees, like repeating it will make it true.
He shook his head, shaking that thought out of it. He was fine. This was just a normal bodily reaction, and it would pass. It wasn't like he was dying or anything. He was fine. He just needed a few more seconds to rest. Then he'd be able to command his legs to move again, and he could keep going.
He was fine.
That was when he heard the voice: "Hello! What do we have here?"
Tango leapt to his feet, twisting around and staggering back and falling onto his butt as he yelled, "Hagagah!"
Hovering in front of him was a garden faerie with pink hair and eyes, and a dress made out of a brown leaf that seemed to be clinging to life by the fingertips - leaftips? The creature was a little more than three inches tall, his hair short and messy.
"What're you doing all the way out here?" he asked, flying a little closer to Tango's face.
Tango squeaked. "Please don't steal my eyes!"
"Steal your eyes?" the faerie chuckled. "Why would I do that?"
"I don't know!"
The creature laughed again. "I'm Zedaph. What are you?" He spoke the question slowly, drawing out each word.
"Don't you mean who?" Tango couldn't help but ask.
"Nope!" Zedaph flew a few laps around Tango, faster than he could follow. "I've never seen anything like you before!"
"I'm Tango."
"RIght. Aaand, what's a Tango?"
"Well, me, obviously!"
"Right! Of course, why didn't I think of that?" He was laughing again.
Zedaph's voice was strange, quiet and high-pitched and buzzy, and he spoke English like his mouth wasn't meant to ever have any of these sounds in it. And yet, every single sound came out clear and amost easy. Sure, he spoke slowly, drawing out most of his words, but he never faltered and stuttered, only paused and hesitated now and then.
"And this is-" Tango paused to sneeze. "-Torchy."
Torchy landed on Tango's head, peering at Zedaph through the flames. Zedaph grinnged at the little dragon.
"Very nice to meet ya, Torchy!"
"Of course it is," Torchy muttered, getting comfortable on his perch.
Zedaph's grin faded and his tiny features twisted into a frown as he looked at Tango.
"Hey, you don't look too good," he noted.
"I'm fine," Tango insisted again. Then immediately was wracked by a sneezing and coughing fit, barely managing to find time in between to breathe. When he emerged, his throat hurt more than ever, his eyes itched like they were full of powder and his chest burned. He leaned over his knees, which were pressed against his chest, and panted for breath.
"Yes, I can see that." Even when he was concerned, his voice seemed to carry a laugh, like he couldn't help but find a joke in every detail. "Hey, I think I know something that could help!"
And, before Tango could say a word, the little faerie flew off.
"Well, that was... weird," Tango said to Torchy, who merely grumbled. He'd been thrown off Tango's head during the coughing fit, and was instead curling up on the rock that had sent Tango crashing to the ground minutes ago. Tango poked him. "Don't get too - ACHOO - comfortable. We need to get moving again. Just cause this faerie didn't steal our eyes, doesn't mean the next one won't."
"He's fetching something!" Torchy protested, like he was settling down for any reason that wasn't bedtime. "We should wait for him!"
"He's probably fetching a swarm to pick us apart piece by piece. We can't just hang around here." He glanced up at the trees. They just had to make it to there.
"Just a little further," Tango pleaded.
"Give me ten minutes," Torchy insisted. Seconds later, he was fast asleep.
"Oh you-" Tango reached out to grab the dragon by his tail to shake him awake, but was interrupted by Zedaph's voice.
"Here we are!"
Tango looked up to see the faerie flying over, his wings struggling to lift both his own body weight, and the small glass vial he was clinging to.
The vial was a good inch taller than Zedaph, and filled with a dark purple liquid. Tango didn't know where he'd gotten it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"What's this?" he asked instead, holding out a hand to let Zedaph drop the vial and land, giving his poor wings a rest.
"Medicine!" Zedaph looked proud of himself. "It should fix you right up!"
Tango frowned, looking at the liquid sceptically. "You want me to... drink it."
"No, I want you to pour it on your toes. Yes, I want you to drink it!"
Tango sighed, lifting the vial with his other hand so that Zedaph could stay where he was. He sniffed the medicine. It smelled... bad. Fake. Human.
He sighed. What did he have to lose, at this point? After only a second's hesitation, he downed the whole thing in one gulp, trying to get it out of his mouth as quickly as possible. Zedaph flew off his hand as his entire body jerked involuntarily at the taste of the stuff.
It tasted, somehow, even worse than it smelled. Like every piece of artificial food he'd been given over the centuries rolled into one disgusting mixture. Tango shuddered and hurried to pull a flask of water from his bag to wash away the taste, first rinsing his mouth and spitting out the water, than swallowing to clear his throat, as well.
"It's not that bad!" Zedaph protested in that strange, laughing voice of his.
"It definitely is that bad." Tango coughed. He didn't feel remotely different, better or otherwise. If anything, the swallowing had made his sore throat worse. "And it didn't even work!"
"Well, give it time!"
Tango huffed and started trying to get up again, but Zedaph flew right into his face.
"No, no, stay down until it kicks in!"
"I need to keep moving."
"We can keep moving in about twenty minutes. You might fall again if you get up now."
"I'll be fine."
"Tango."
Tango sighed. Closed his eyes. Took a deep breath that was sliced to pieces by another coughing fit. Wiped his runny nose. And leaned back onto his elbows.
Zedaph stayed with him, chatting away about something Tango paid no mind to. He was too busy trying to breath without coughing his guts up to listen to a word that was said.
Until finally, slowly, the pain lessened. His throat opened up entirely, all pain vanishing, and his nose dried up and stopped running. When he breathed, it was without the constant scratching he'd been dealing with all day, and he didn't even nearly cough.
Tango let out a jubilant, incredulous laugh. It had worked! It had really worked!
"That sounds promising." Zedaph flew back up to his face. "Feeling better?"
"Loads. How did you do that?"
"Secrets of the trade, my friend."
When Tango stood up, the only shakiness came from the exhaustion of walking for a full day. When he crouched down to wake Torchy, he didn't nearly collapse at all. Somehow, in twenty minutes, Zedaph had fixed him completely.
The faerie accompanied them when they started moving again, Torchy flapping along sleepily beside Tango's head.
The excitement was short-lived, however, because halfway to the trees, without any change in the weather, Tango was suddenly freezing. With shivering hands, he grabbed the coat that was still draped over the bag and pulled it on. Both Torchy and Zedaph watched him, confused.
Torchy settled on Tango's head, leaning forward so his face was upside down in Tango's vision. "Tango?"
Dragon's weren't built to be cold, and Tango was no exception. He could feel himself weakening by the second.
Zedaph went to land on Tango's hand, but quickly shot back up into the air.
"Holy moly! You're boiling!"
"N- no?" Tango frowned. "I'm freezing! Hence the coat, genius!"
He just had to make it to the trees. He could collapse there, when he wasn't so in the open. Just a little further.
"Maybe you should sit down," Zedaph suggested.
Tango shook his head, then stumbled, losing his balance. The whole world had tipped, leaning wildly to the right for a second.
"Maybe you should listen," Torchy told him, his claws clinging into Tango's scalp to stay on. He was still upside down.
"Just a little further," Tango muttered, his words slurring together. "Juss a lil-"
A figure appeared at the treeline, all the wrong shapes and sizes, built all wrong. It seemed to watch them, though it was impossible to tell properly from so far.
Zedaph spotted the figure at the same time as Tango, announced, "I'll go get help!" then zipped off at top speed towards the figure.
Tango took one step after him, then another, then went careening wildly forwards, just barely catching himself before he splatted. Torchy shrieked as he was flung off Tango's head, flinging out his wings to stay in the air.
Just a little further.
The next step had him falling to his knees. The world was still dancing circles around him, and now its corners were fading away to blackness.
He struggled to get back to his feet, but the best he could do was one foot before falling to the side as the world gave another sickening jolt. He stomach turned, and he leaned over and emptied its meagre contents onto the ground.
He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name, then two someones, as his vision faded completley to black.
The last thing he heard was a feminine voice gasping, "I'm sorey I took so long!"
Then everything stopped.
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melkyt · 1 month ago
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You know a modern au that would hit with the angst and I eat up everytime?
17~ 18 year old Luffy working way to many jobs under the table, not all of them always paying him but he always does it with a smile and works constantly, so he is dead tired most of the time but doesn't let it show.
He needs this money to helo his brothers or his friends, Luffy who tries to help anyone he can even if he is going through this
Law who meets this Luffy, but doesnt notice that the kid is tired, he just assumes that its just another brat that never qorked a day in his life,
Maybe Luffy is coming hom from Sanji's who is only rich in name and the big empty house he can't afford if it wasnt paid off.
Still that means he is n the more well off neighborhoods with a gated community.
Law who is there as a tutor or on-call doctor for those that can afford it just assumes Luffy is yet another rich brat. Them running into each other ans hanging out on their daily walks.
Luffy who doesn't say anything about himself and lets Law assume whatever he wants.
While Law slowly tells what his life is like and that he is working this late to pay of college and medical bills
Luffy says he can relate but doesn't elaborate and they reach the station before Law can question it. Luffy never gets on the bus/train so Law did also assume he lived in the neighboorhood but the more they got to know each other, the less likely that seemed.
Law getting curious and prying without actually. That slow journey of Law finding out that Luffy is preatty much homeless, and surviving as best he can on the streets
There is some drama as Luffy isnt about to make Law worry. He likes that Law doesnt look at him like some other who pitty him, or try to help when there isnt anything they can do that he isnt already doing. So he likes their talks and goes back even if he doesnt have a reason to be there. Luffy dodging all of Law's questions with really bad lies
Until Law pretends to go home and tails Luffy to a bar, Makino's bar where he often crashes after hanging out between jobs.
Law being concerned about this kid, maybe it reminds him when he was in the same situation. Law trying to help only to make things worse for Luffy.
Them arguing that its nit Law's business and Luffy would have asked for help if he needed it! Luffy daying sure he might like Traffy alot but thats why he's not going to be a burden
The silence heavy around the bar.
Luffy swearing and leaving because he has to go to work, telling Law not to follow him.
Law who is not just going to give up like that, but also not sure what to say, sending cryptic messages that ask Luffy to meet him at some spot.
Luffy who works two shifts that night, and gets the message way too late, and it rains. He checks his phone only to see a message from Law
"Ill be waiting as long as it takes"
Luffy running to meet him, there us a dramatic confession. They are both soaked and the kiss is messy and they dont know what this is but that they are going to try.
Then Law ofc gets sick and thats how Luffy finds out where he lives, and starts crashing there and eventually they start dating without actually putting a name to the relationship.
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wolfjackle-creates · 2 years ago
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WIP Wednesday
So I'll be sharing a snippet from a different fic today! If I share anymore of Bring Me Home, I may as well just post the entire first chapter. (Which, I will be looking for a new job and hopefully moving in 2 months or so, so I'll probably try and start posting after that. Get another chapter or two written in the meantime.)
This fic is also from a prompt that was submitted by @regonold to @stealingyourbones. I did part of a collab fill previously, but the idea has been living in my mind rent free and I couldn't help but want to take it on more fully. I've written 5.5k and this snippet is just under 900 words.
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The formal gardens beyond the iron gate filled Danny with dread. Vlad’s mansion had looked like this, too. But Jazz had promised him, over and over again, that the Waynes were nothing like the Fruit Loop while begging him to come. Besides, he’d spent weeks making sure his schedule was clear and making deals to prevent any interruptions. No backing out now. With a sigh, he pressed the button for the intercom.
“Good evening, may I ask your business?” asked a man with a British accent.
“Um, yeah. Good evening.” Why was it so much harder to communicate with other people as human Danny than ghost Phantom? “Um, I’m Danny. Jazz’s brother?”
“Ah, yes. Of course. We’ve been expecting you. Follow the drive up to the house and welcome.”
Motors activated and the gates slowly opened. Danny started the trek up the long driveway. His anxiety wasn’t relived when he saw the manor with it’s dark stone facade and literal tower. If it was made of lighter stones, it could have been a copy of Vlad’s castle.
“This is for Jazz,” he muttered under his breath as he walked up the stairs. Before he could knock on the doors, they opened and Jazz ran out to hug him.
“Danny! Thank you so much for coming! How’ve you been? I know you’re busy, but you need to call me more often.”
Danny hugged her back tightly. “Sorry, Jazz. You know how I lose track of time. So where’s this famous Jason?”
A man stepped forward and started speaking, but hanging off his back was a ghost. The ghost of the dead Robin, to be exact. Shit.
At least the position of the ghost meant he appeared to be looking at probably-Jason. Even if he didn’t hear a word the man said. To make it worse, Robin realized he could see him and was sending out help-me trills.
Danny had to bite hard on his tongue to keep from vocalizing his own comforting chirps.
He was so focused on Robin that he almost didn’t notice probably-Jason holding out his hand to shake. Laughing self-consciously, he took it. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
The other man hesitated a moment and asked, “Is everything all right?”
But all Danny could focus on was Robin hanging off Jason’s shoulders and sending out happy-sad-helpless feelings. Danny relaxed the hold he had on his ghost self and tried to sense what was going on. But he had to reassure the human, too. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But wow, was Jason not. Where had he come into contact with such weird ectoplasm? It seemed to twist every emotion into anger and fear and violence.
Even worse was Robin. He was barely perceptible even to Danny’s enhanced senses.
Of course, Jazz was liminal enough to realize he was doing something. Quietly, she chirped a question.
Danny just shook his head and pulled back his power. “Later,” he murmured.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said back, just as quietly.
Louder, Danny said, “Sorry. I just have bad memories about large manors like this. Has Jazz told you about Vlad?”
“He’s come up a time or two. With the black hair and blue eyes, someone will probably make an adoption joke at you before the night is over. But I’ll stab them if they do.”
Danny's laugh would have been much less forced had he not just felt the twisted anger inside probably-Jason. “Just don’t hit anything vital,” he said, hoping it sounded like a joke.
Robin rolled his eyes—and how could he do that so obviously with a mask on?—and tried to pull on Jason to lead him inside.
“Well, it might be summer, but Gotham is never warm. Come on in and I’ll introduce you to everyone,” said Jason.
Jazz grabbed his hand as they made their way inside where they were greeted warmly by an elderly gentleman.
“You must be Mr. Danny. Welcome to the Manor. I’m Alfred. Dinner will be served in one hour and please let me know if you need anything. Your sister stated you didn’t have any dietary restrictions?”
“What’s that?” Danny was trying not to stare at Robin who was now hugging the older man. Before Alfred could repeat himself, however, Danny’s brain caught up to the human conversation. “Oh, uh, no. I don’t. Jazz is right.”
“Very good. Can I take your coat and bag?”
Danny did shrug off his backpack, but only so he could also take off his coat. “Can I keep the bag? I don’t feel comfortable without it on me.”
“Very well.” Alfred hung the coat up on a rack right next to the door. “Master Jason, be sure to show him where the bathroom is on your way to join the others. Mr. Danny, there are plenty of drinks in the sitting room where everyone is relaxing should you need a refreshment.” And he finally had confirmation that this was Jason!
“’Course I will, Alfie.”
“Thanks,” said Danny, though he was more focused on the desperate chirps Robin was sending out.
I’m here-notice me-I love you.
Looks like he was breaking his promise to Jazz to not do any ghostly business tonight. Of course Jazz’s boyfriend would be haunted by a ghost that needed help. Why was he even surprised?
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As far as I know, there hasn't been a lot of requests for a tag list on this one. @addie-lover-of-stories is the only one I noticed. But let me know and I'll start one!
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chaotic-archaeologist · 1 year ago
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got a question for ya regarding sex and online safety.
Background; I am an adulty adult. I have been able to and have voted in more than 3 elections. [I know you take interactions with minors seriously]. I am also ace and autistic. as a result I have never felt the urge to date and I normally don't mind having friends close by.
However, I also just moved for the 4th time since 2019 and would like to meet people.
So I downloaded Grindr. already got my first dickpic lol. I have also been chatting with a fellow who I like and would like to be friends with and I also wouldn't mind exploring my kinks with people... but I have never had to worry about safe online sexy stuff before so I don't know the basics beyond normal internet safety.
What do I do‽‽‽
Okay first, thanks for clarifying the adulty part. This is an awesome question, and here's the advice/steps that I personally follow for situations like this.
Have your first meeting in a public place. Go for coffee or ice cream or lunch or dinner or whatever. But don't meet them alone. This way, if you get uncomfortable with anything that's happening, they're much less likely to continue with that behavior after you attempt to extricate yourself.
Make sure there are no expectations. Plan not to have sex on the first date/meet up. Grindr often tends to ignore this rule since it's very hookup centric, but you're absolutely within your rights to insist on taking things as slowly as you want to.
Don't rely on the other person for transportation. If you choose to meet someone, get yourself there and plan to get yourself back. Walk, bike, drive, public transportation, unicycle, it's all good. But there's much less room for pressure if you're not depending on them for a ride home. This segues nicely into my next point:
Do not tell them where you live. At least, not right now. Plenty of people on Grindr are willing to "host" meaning you can come to their place. That's fine for them, but I err on the side of never giving anyone my address until I've had a thorough chance to assess their character and meet them a few times.
Tell someone where you will be. Let someone who cares about you know that you're going out, where you'll be, and what time you expect to return. Establish a time to check in when you're going home/if you choose to extend the meeting. There are also apps like Noonlight that can function similarly.
Be careful about what you consume. If you're going to enjoy and mind alternating substances, be very, very careful. This goes for anything from getting drinks at a bar to any and all of the recreational drugs on the market.
Be prepared for a little bit of awkwardness. Meeting someone in person is often very different than chatting online. If the conversation is awkward or halting, that's okay. Give it a little time (but also don't be afraid to trust your gut if it's telling you something is wrong).
Communicate clearly. If you have any needs—which can range from an allergy, not being able to stand for long periods of time, needing them to speak loudly so you can hear them, safety concerns—the best way to get those met is to be upfront. You don't need to disclose the reason why you need something if it makes you uncomfortable, just state what you need. People worth spending time with will respect that. The same thing goes for your wants.
Use protection. Maybe this isn't applicable for you specifically, but I think it belongs on this list. Condoms. Dental dams. Gloves. Someone on an app telling you they're negative for any number of things is not an actual guarantee they're not lying to you. Not wanting to use protection (not just for anal/vaginal intercourse, but for oral sex as well) is a huge red flag. Decide in advance what your boundaries are and stick to them.
If it sucks, hit da bricks. Fundamentally, you owe this person nothing. There is no consequence for saying "you know what, I'm not feeling this and I'm going to leave." Be as polite as you want to, but put yourself first.
At the end of the day, the only thing you have control over is you. How you react, where you meet this person, what you do—that's what you control. Hopefully any meet ups will be fun and relatively safe, but just in case, set yourself up for success by maintaining what control you can.
From one adult to another, these are all suggestions rather than rules. Many people on Grindr choose not to follow various ones, and that's fine. Take some time to think about what you're comfortable with and make your decisions accordingly.
Also, best practice for someone sending an unsolicited dick pic (if you don't want them) is just to block that person. But sending a return picture like this one is a hilarious option.
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-Reid
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weenwrites · 4 months ago
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hello hope youre having a good day!! would you mind writing romantic scenarios for ultra magnus and bulkhead (separately) getting stuck in a storm in an area out of communication range while on recon with the reader?
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Out in the Rain
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Summary - Rainy days are always better spent under the cover of shade with a friend. Characters - Bulkhead Content - Fluff Category - Scenarios Trigger Warnings - None
✎ A/N: Sorry this took a long time for me to write! And since this has been sitting in my drafts for too long I've decided to just submit this with only Bulkhead.
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Reconnaissance missions were almost always dull and boring. Drive around, look for any Decepticon activity, come back and report to base. Although it lasted for at least a couple hours, it felt like days whenever there wasn’t anything to report. Luckily for Bulkhead, whenever Y/N tagged along, recon missions became less drab and dull, they became more bearable with their company. And he couldn’t be any more thankful for their company on this mission in particular.
There had been nothing to report, and dark gray clouds began rolling in from above, bringing with them what looked to be heavy rainfall. Now Bulkhead did of course enjoy the great outdoors and what wonders Earth had to offer, and while Earth’s rain wasn’t anything like the acid rain on Cybertron it was still just as horrible, because huge gray clouds like those often entertained the possibility of bringing hail or lightning with them.
“The rain seems to be getting worse, Bulk.” Y/N remarks, noticing as his rear view mirrors adjust to see them in the reflection. “We might have a storm coming—”
“Whoah!” He made a sharp turn to the right, narrowly avoiding the lightning that nearly smote him. “You alright?” He queried after feeling their body slam into him.
“Yeah, don’t worry about me Bulk, we need to worry about getting back to base.”
“Right! Getting back to base, I’ll call them.” Bulkhead replied, driving on even as hail began to pelt him relentlessly. “Bulkhead to base, do you read me?”
There was no reply from the other end of the line, there would be only silence if there was no hail raining down from the skies, or the crackle and boom of lightning outside.
“Hello? Base, do you read me?” He repeated, hoping for a response. “Scrap, the clouds must be interfering with the signal…”
“Well what next, then?”
“We find some shelter until this storm passes.”
He swerved off-road, down a patchy dirt road and toward a grove of trees.
"We shouldn't stay under a tree, we could get struck." Y/N warned.
"Don't plan to." Bulkhead replies, slowly swerving along the road through the rain, "I'm just checking where this leads us."
Y/N slowly nodded, watching the greenery pass by as the two of them continued down the road. It didn't take long for them to arrive at a
"Thunderstorms on Earth are a whole lot less worse than they are on Cybertron."
"Bet they must be horrible on a planet made completely out of metal, huh?"
He chuckled, "yeah, it was pretty common to see a couple of bots get struck all at once, or even drop dead cus' of a single bolt."
"Yeesh... And the acid rain?"
"The acid rain back home could eat through metal like water eats through paper! Smaller bots couldn't even survive a day out in rain like this..."
"Man, that sounds unbearable..." They mumbled, finding it a bit baffling to imagine a planet where acid rain was lethal, "Would you say that the rain storms here aren't as bad?"
"Yeah, they're definitely way less worse..." He chuckled, "you know, the first time it rained here, the whole team freaked out. We didn't know that it rained water so we stayed under shelter until it passed. It was only when Fowler came along, that we learned that it was harmless."
"And you didn't see for yourself that the rain was completely safe given the fact that nothing was corroding during the rain?"
"Well--well, we all assumed that the native life must've adapted to be immune to the rain." He argued as they only laughed.
"Yeah, sure you did!" They smiled, "sure you just thought everyone adapted to it rather than noticing that everything was perfectly fine during and after the rainstorm."
"I wasn't the only one who thought that! You should've seen the way Bumblebee shook when he made it inside just before the rain touched him for the first time."
"Ah, really now?"
"Why are you saying it like that?"
"No reason, don't mind me," they snickered, "but do go on about Bee, tell me what happened."
"Well when it happened, it was his first official mission on Earth..."
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paingoes · 6 months ago
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Destroyer - Battleship
(Masterlist)
(Content: physical violence)
================
Delta sat cross-legged in the command center. He took deep, slow breaths to recenter himself. He’d been given permission to. He still had not made up his mind, but the better answer loomed dangerous and sharp.
It was time soon enough. Delta’s eyes flickered around through the window. Even on a good day, when he was most willing, it would’ve been difficult. Their mothership was drifting slowly, but drifting nonetheless. The target - the battleship - trudged forward like an old and wounded animal. Its guns had been tucked safely away, giving it the impression of something tame and docile.
Simon helped him up the stairs to the main control panel. The platform for the pilot and co-pilots was elevated slightly; it allowed for the best view of their surroundings. The rest of the room was lowered. There the engineers handled the internals of the ship, communications, and rear surveillance from their monitors. The engineers were in the room now, but they were forced to weave in between the number of advisors and admirals who had come to watch the light show. Galatea had been running circles around them recently. They wanted their pound of flesh. Paris was hanging around them, jittery, amped. 
The rebel ship was the target. It belonged to Galatea. It had no emblem. It was painted black, almost invisible against the dark void of space it floated in. But it was a Galatea ship. 
Simon nudged him forward again, a bit closer to the window. Delta made his choice then. It did not bring him much relief. The collar clicked off.
Delta wondered if he could make himself faint on purpose. He’d never tried it. At full power, it didn’t seem like a very safe thing to attempt. He closed his eyes, really pretending to think about it. If he focused in, he was sure he would somewhat grasp the shape of the two bodies and be able to work with them. It did not come automatically to him. He didn’t try.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Simon, “I can’t see it.”
“What?” Simon said. He’d heard him fine.
“I can’t see it,” Delta repeated. He cringed, just a little bit. He was sorry to put Simon in this position. He even felt sorry for Paris. If there were less people around, it would’ve been easier. But he’d already committed to it. He wouldn’t down a Galatea ship. 
Simon looked at him with absolute scorn. “Try harder.”
Delta shook his head. The collar clicked off. He heard Paris approaching from behind him, the light jangles of his jewelry filling up the air.
“What’s up?” There was a small note of irritation to his voice.
“Says he can’t do it,” Simon didn’t hide his frustration.
“What?” Paris said. Delta swore he could just hear him freeze over sometimes. He realized with alarm that the question had been directed at him. Paris moved to his side, only on the periphery of his vision. He forced himself to keep looking forward into space.
“I can’t,” Delta said. He didn’t elaborate any further. He knew if he gave a more clear answer, they’d try to work around it, prolonging the whole thing. 
Paris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Delta looked down, bowing his head in apology. The punch caught him completely off guard. 
Ouch. He knocked into Simon by accident, but not for long. Paris gripped his shirt, throwing him to the ground. He landed on the stairs, their corners cutting roughly into his forearms before he fell the rest of the way down. He reeled in shock. He thought he’d at least have a few hours to prepare himself. He thought Paris would at least wait until they were alone. A sharp kick to his stomach cut off his own thoughts, bringing him back to the present. 
Paris’s anger was explosive. He was not ranting the way he often did in private, but the beating was just as violent. Actually, Delta was pretty sure it was worse. Paris delivered a kick to his shins, then did it repeatedly. He had to put a hand to his mouth to keep from making noise, which he did not usually resort to. He caught a glimpse of Simon, whose expression was unsympathetic. He did not look at the other people gathered there, not if he didn’t have to. Another kick, this time to the ribs. He was getting a little alarmed at how long this was going on.
 He tried to sit up. Paris gripped his hair, slamming his head back onto the ground. He was directly on top of him now. Another punch in the mouth. His sharp teeth cut against his own skin, drawing blood. All the violence was starting to blend together. It just kept going. 
He felt the coolness of the rings just before the grip around his neck tightened.
“Alright, Your Highness, that’s enough,” an unknown voice called faintly. The grip did not loosen even a little bit. Delta had been so focused on his own pain. He’d tried not to look at Paris directly. From the position they were in now, he had little choice. There was such cold fury in his eyes. The pupils were too dilated. 
“That’s enough.” The voice repeated. Delta’s vision was beginning to black out. His body jerked involuntarily, trying to get air.
“Enough.” 
Finally, one of the admirals stepped forward, yanking the prince upward by the scruff. Simon joined a second later, both of them fighting to restrain him. Paris had to be lifted off the ground before he could be dragged away. 
Delta rolled over, gasping and coughing. He spit blood out onto the floor, too delirious to even worry about the mess. His chest heaved up and down, taking in as much oxygen as it possibly could. 
Simon reappeared at his side, rubbing circles into his back. Delta got a few concerned looks from the advisors there, which is how he knew it’d been bad. He wheezed. They tried to remove him from the room quickly, but there was a lot of difficulty in getting him to walk afterwards. He had to lean heavily on Simon for support.
Dr.Martino put ice on his face straight away. He was concerned about the bleeding. He always got so mad whenever Paris hit Delta in the head. Everything else was more or less fair game. While Martino was there, Simon couldn’t baby Delta as much as he wanted to. The shock of the beating seemed to have evaporated whatever anger he might’ve had.
There wasn’t much else to do for him. Paris was always careful not to break bones, usually careful enough not to break the skin. It was all just blunt trauma, only designed to cause pain. Dr.Martino wasn’t going to give him anything to numb it. That would defeat the point. They let him rest though, which he was grateful enough for. 
Simon lingered in the room after the others had left. He dimmed the light, mostly obscuring his expression. Delta could have sworn it was guilt. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
“Do you need me to get you anything?” Simon asked.
“No, sir.” Delta managed to talk around the blood. His head ached. 
“Okay. Get some rest, honey.”
“Yes, sir.” He closed his eyes. 
Thousands of miles away, the battleship floated on without any knowledge of the fate they’d just been spared.
~~~
Tags: @catnykit@indigoviolet311@snakebites-and-ink@vivulapom@defire @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckcapitalismasshole
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chapinii · 1 year ago
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Q!Fit is used to loss. He's used to meeting people he knows won't be sticking around, used to putting on a brave face when they inevitably disappear or are killed beyond the point of respawn. It's collateral damage, part of the day job. Nothing new in the toxic landscape of 2B2T. There's no time to explore any kind of feelings towards anybody else, he's learnt over time that attachments are more often than not futile. Care about something, someone, and it may well be used against you.
His time on Quesadilla island has been different, however. This time he doesn't have that threat, he shouldn't have that threat. This was supposed to be just another mission, a vacation even. Gathering player data is an easy job. The players in question, however, he never imagined himself getting so close to.
Fit never saw himself as a father, in fact, he was lucky to have made it to the age he was now. He was so sure he'd die by the sword. A mercenary, stalking in the shadows of a lava-cast wasteland, both hunter and prey, wearing a bandana around his face to shield himself from the TNT dust which never seemed to settle around him. And now he ties that same bandana around the neck of a boy, his son, an egg so fragile and yet so much like himself. Though a lump still held in his throat when he looked for too long at the boy who played so innocently in the open air, he found solace in knowing that Ramon, unlike him, would grow up surrounded by trust. Against all expectation he'd found himself in a place where (however fucked up behind the scenes it may be) community is everything, and where within it, people are allowed to just Be. He could allow this distraction, his son wouldn't affect the mission too much. His guard was finally, slowly, being let down.
And then along came this strange, slightly unhinged and wonderful man, whose wide excited eyes looked at him with so much admiration and unwavering loyalty. He wasn't used to being seen as human. He hated how easy it felt to push down the guilt of being perceived as such. This vulnerability was new to him, but after keeping so much internalised over the years, he welcomed it. The notion of love was an alien concept back there, where the desires for chaos and destruction were almost carnal in nature. This feeling towards Pac was unlike any other he'd ever felt, a soft and tender mutual understanding of one another. He knew as much about Pac as Pac did about him, and they enjoyed keeping it that way. Even as they were forced to fight against each-other, Fit had taken pride in his roommate's skill and precision in combat, and, even as that competition amped up, he knew all too well the measures that must be taken to survive, and vowed to protect him all the same. Now they were back on the island he enjoyed being the one to stand back for once, he'd admire as Pac would run on ahead with all sorts of plans for the two of them, and bask in the fofoca he would return with for their morning crew.
Of course, the bated breath that still held in his throat was yet to disperse. He'd been the one to help break Pac and Mike out of prison. He sat with Mike and reassured him when Pac was kidnapped. Through Tazercraft he'd come to understand the concept of soulmates, someone you share a bond with throughout your life, platonic or not. He'd also come to know the true meaning of 'saudades', the deep feeling of longing and melancholy that comes with missing something or someone. He didn't want to admit it was something he'd felt all throughout his life. Living on the island had prepared him and Pac for those types of situations, and God knows 2B2T had whacked the mindset into him tenfold. But it didn't make this time hurt any less. Fit had finally set a date with Pac for Friday, albeit a somewhat rearranged one. They were so caught up in everything, in each-other. Things finally seemed to have been looking up for them, and then everything was ripped apart once more. Fit resented not having kept his guard up, for letting himself slip, and not being able to protect Pac before it was too late. He was gone.
That was why taking things slow was so important, he had told Ramon. You can't rush into these things, lest you lose everything for good.
Fit is used to loss. It's all part of the day job.
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