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allronix · 3 years

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Carth and Force Sensitivity (crossposted from Reddit r/kotor)

This is for @k-she-rambles:

Okay, so while we're shooting the bantha crap over on KOTOR fan theories, u/134340Goat mentioned my all time favorite "Have you been chewing spice?!" fan theory when it comes to KOTOR: Is Carth Force Sensitive?

So this one starts with a story. I mentioned my brother in law, who is pretty much Keeper of the Jedi Archives. Seriously, he's an English teacher and my sister is a librarian. They met at a sci fi convention and their first date was Phantom Menace. We're taking not just geeks, but geeks who can throw the damn bookshelf at you. Brother in law bought KOTOR on the day it launched and turned it into a week long binge watch at his house. And because brother in law is that kind of geek, he's translating the characters into the West End D6 system. I'm watching him do a playthrough, and he's got Canderous and Zaalbar at Ajunta Pal's tomb.

Allronix: Huh. That's odd. Why aren't commenting on anything when Ajunta is speaking?

Bro in law: Oh. They can't even see Ajunta. You have to be Force Sensitive to see a Force Ghost The stronger your Sensitivity, the better you can see it.

Allronix: Really? Then how come Carth can see it?

Bro in law (gets the "holy shit, I gotta confirm this" look): Really?! He just sees something out the corner of his eye or something?

Allronix: No, he sees Ajunta just fine. Understands what the dude's saying too.

Bro in law instantly rolls back to his last save, swaps Zaalbar for Carth, and sees the bit in question.

Bro in law: Oh. Dear. (Goes over to make some quick scribbles on Carth's character sheet)

Okay, so maybe that was a lore fail. I didn't really think about it too much until I hit that False Level Up glitch and ran around with Carth and Mission as Sentinels. Now, while I couldn't really see Mission as a Sensitive, that little bit with my bro in law nagged at me. And became a "once you see it you can't unsee it." Apologies to TV Tropes, where some of these were my additions to the Wild Mass Guess entry on this topic.

Any one of these on its own is pretty easy to blow off. After all, man is career military, and knows All this Shit is Weird. I also like to think of Sensitivity as a spectrum and not a switch. If all life is connected by the Force, then all life would be Sensitive to some degree or another. It’s just a matter of to what degree. It’s only as the list gets longer and longer does the case start looking damning...

What are the odds of surviving that attack on the Endar Spire, getting to the escape pods, sharing the last escape pod with the mindwiped Sith Lord, piloting through the chaos, landing in what passes for the "good" part of town, remaining uninjured, pulling the badly injured mindwiped Sith Lord from the wreck, evading Sith detection while all this is going on, and just happening to find a dump of an apartment where the landlord's not asking questions? That is one amazing string of coincidences and good luck. Get that many in Star Wars, and it's definitely The Force sticking its nose in things.

Piloting the escape pod to land in the Upper City, piloting the Hawk through the Sith Blockade of Taris, the random Sith patrols, the escape from the Leviathan, and the fleet around Lehon along with the crash landing that left the ship easily repairable. Now, compare to Atton who we know to be an excellent pilot and drawing on The Force who still manages to crash the ship at least three times.

He's a scary good judge of character if you're interacting with other NPCs. If you watch him with other NPC characters, he's got a pretty good compass as to which characters are being helpful and which ones are full of shit. The only one he calls incorrectly is Rukil, who is probably also an untrained Sensitive (the age, the "marked" comments) and half senile, which is probably throwing him.

Related to that, his distrust and wariness about something not adding up with the PC, the Jedi Council feeding the party a line of bull, that things just aren't adding up. And on all of it? Dead on. He's 100% right about the Player Character, he just expected something a little less crazy than "that's Darth freaking Revan."

If you play Female Revan, then Carth's the one who gets fried in the torture cages on the Leviathan. Saul comments how strange it is that Carth takes so much punishment and still remains conscious. Now, this is a low level thing, but in lore, Force Sensitives have drawn on it to keep them alive or conscious under duress. Explicitly, the first sign we got that Leia was a Sensitive when she withstood the Imperial torture droid.

Another of his scary ass judge of character feats? In the comics, Zayne (who is on the run from the Jedi, who framed him for the murder of his classmates) has a vision that Mandalorians are coming for Serroco. Saul? Laughs it off, throws Zayne in the brig. Zayne's own friends don't even believe him. Carth gets one of those creepy hunches and starts calling in "duck and cover" sirens as far as he can broadcast, which sends seventeen cities and millions of people heading for shelter. It saves their lives and Carth is called a hero for it. Armed with another hunch, he disobeys Saul (remember this is before Saul nukes Telos) and lets Zayne "escape" from custody. Mind you, not even the Jedi or his party members believed Zayne. Carth did.

Carth makes a lot of creepy weird offhand predictions about the future. He says he knows on some level he'll be there when Saul dies. That certainly pans out. He makes an offhand prediction that the Jedi have set the party up to take a fall. Right again. He tells a female PC that she'll have to make a choice soon, one she can't walk away from. And then we get the temple top. He even blurts out that "I sensed you would have to make a choice soon, and that was it*, I can feel it!"* If you specify a LS Female Revan, his recording for T3-M4 says he's had a hunch Revan would leave without warning. Again, spot on.

Specify a LS male Revan, and Carth will remark to Bastila that seeing the Exile reminds him "there are worse things to lose." The only other people who can see just how screwed up the Exile is are the Jedi Masters, Chodo Habat, and the Force Sensitive party members.

Specify a LS female Revan, and Carth will insist that he would know if Revan were dead (again, scary ass intuition) and that there's an "emptiness" where she used to be. Now, remember one of the things about a broken Force Bond? It would simply be "empty, a wound."

You know how your party members in KOTOR 2 feel upset or even horrified as they realize they feel compelled to protect Exile and can't being themselves to leave, even when said actions are kicking puppies? And how they swing wildly from being crazy, almost stalker level possessive of them to being scared out of their wits and clamming up when you try to pry anything out of them? And the more potent (and untapped) their Force Sensitivity, the more they get hammered with the effect? (Mira and Atton in particular) Yeah. Now, Carth's "I don't wanna talk" looks a bit different, doesn't it? It could also account for that romance arc, especially if you roll a DSF Revan and go for that "everyone dies" ending.

Again, Ajunta Pal. Seeing a Force Ghost? Yeah. Some degree of Sensitivity needed. Understanding what he's saying? Yeah. Takes a bit more than that. And Carth makes a weirdly insightful comment about the Dark Side on top of it.

Notice that this a wall o text argument already, and I'm now just getting to the "Yeah, his kid is able to throw around mid-level Dark Side powers and packing a red lightsaber." Given the jawline and the muleheaded attitude, no way Morgana was fooling around with the pizza delivery boy. That's definitely Carth's kid, and that's definitely Force Sensitivity. Now, while it can skip a generation (see Theron Shan), it tends to run pretty heavy in families.

Lastly? Gee. He comes from a planet settled by and heavily populated by descendants of Force Sensitives who failed their training. I'm also willing to bet some bastard children of Jedi get passed off as "foundlings" and "orphans" and dumped there, too. Jedi are forbidden attachments, but not sworn to celibacy, so...yeah, bastard kids are gonna happen. There's probably a Jedi or two in that family tree. It's circumstantial evidence at best, but it still supports the case.

Now, any arguments I missed? Counterarguments?

And the million credit question: If there's a character who gets to break this news to poor Flyboy, who do you think would actually take that on? How do you think Carth would take that kind of news? And what, if anything, would come of it?

I kinda figure Jolee might be the only one nuts enough to poke that with a stick...I also kinda figure "Sentinel" would fit best. Consular? Hell no. He hired Mical for that. Guardian works with the feats, but the whole "ferreting out deceit and injustice?" Yeah. That's Carth.

#KOTOR #Carth #fandom meta #Carth Onasi

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

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how to be a heartbreaker: rule three - rafe cameron

Rafe Cameron’s privileged upbringing has let him get away with far too much, for far too long. Between his tormenting of the pogues, running his mouth without consequence, and arrogant attitude, it’s time someone knocked him down a peg. Breaking his bones didn’t work, but maybe you can break his heart.

co-authored with my love, freya @rekrappeter

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader, unrequited!JJ x reader

warnings: angst, starting a relationship under false pretences, drinking and drug use, implied smut hehe

word count: 4.4k

a/n: this one is my personal fave hehe, you’ll see what i mean when you get to the end. please please please leave us feedback, freya and i read every comment and cry hehe

“And if that doesn’t work?” you questioned, eyes solely on JJ. He moved from standing next to the chalkboard to flaking on the couch beside you. He had an arm resting on the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing your shoulder. He had just gone through rule number two and you were starting to think that there was no way this could work. It sounded too cliche, too romcom teen movie.

JJ sighed, sitting up slightly, “It’s going to work, trust me.”

“Trust you?” Pope asked, “You haven’t even thought this plan through.”

“We actually spent hours going through these rules,” John B pouted.

“Any time JJ spent trying to find a word to rhyme with attached doesn’t count,” Kie quipped.

“Listen, babe,” JJ turned his body to you, your legs brushing as you looked at him nervously, “You trust me, don’t you.”

Despite the inner voice in your head that sounded suspiciously like Pope telling you otherwise, you did. “I do,” you told him softly.

He grinned, sharp canine teeth on display, “Once you’ve got his attention, you have to take it a step further.”

Your brows furrowed, a step further? Ever your protector, Pope piped up, “What do you mean a step further, JJ?”

“You know,” he trailed off dramatically, “You have to look him in the eyes and plant one on him.”

Sighing in relief that was what he meant by a step further, before freezing and stuttering out, “y-you want me to kiss him?” You gagged a little at the thought of putting your lips on Rafe’s. How did JJ expect you to kiss Rafe Cameron, your friends’ biggest bully without immediately vomiting after.

“That’s disgusting, JJ!” Kie called out, arms crossed over her chest, “You can’t seriously be asking y/n to kiss him.”

“If there’s no action, this will be a very short plan, it won’t work without the kiss.”

You glanced around the room at the prying eyes, waiting for your answer. You thought back to your previous late night adventures, some more questionable than others, and if you were comparing them to Rafe, looks wise, you concluded that you were getting somewhat of an upgrade. “I-I guess,” you replied hesitantly, wondering if it was too late to back out, but JJ’s brilliant grin at your words kept you silent. He clapped his hands together in excitement, muttering a quick ‘perfect!’ before continuing.

“Rule number three: leave them at the door, wanting more”

There was tension in the air as you lounged around John B’s living room. You were glaring at JJ, Kie was glaring at the new addition of Sarah Cameron, and Pope was glaring at the scholarship application brochure in his hand.

You, of course, were still pissed at JJ for his outburst at the club the other day. You didn’t understand why he was so mad at you when all you were doing was furthering his stupid little plan. Briefly, you allowed your mind to wonder if part of his frustration was related to jealousy, but you quickly killed that thought. You had loved JJ your entire life, and you were sure he had some inkling of that fact. Not to mention he was so transparent he was almost see through, unable to keep a secret if you paid him a million dollars. If he had any feelings toward you, you would have already known.

The tension between Sarah and Kie was a little more hostile and you knew you didn’t have the whole story. It was something to do with Kie’s kook year, you knew that. You also knew there was something about a birthday party Kie had to find out about on instagram and something about the cops being called. It wasn’t really your business, and honestly their issues kind of overshadowed yours and JJs, which you were grateful for because you didn’t need the pogues sticking their noses in your business. Especially Pope, he would have a lot to say if he knew you and JJ were arguing because of your antics with Rafe.

Pope’s tension made the least sense. He was the smartest guy you knew, and if any one of you was going to get off the island, it was Pope through the scholarship he was currently glaring at.

Wanting to break up the awkward tension, you were never one for awkward silences, you opened your mouth without a clear idea of what you were going to say when the silence was broken by Sarah first.

“So, y/n...” you looked over at her in shock. Honestly, you weren’t even sure she knew your name despite having been clinging to John B for the past few days like a koala on a tree.

“Sarah...” you replied back in the same tone, dragging the last syllable of her name out. You weren’t entirely fond of having her here either, but you weren’t going to be as hostile as Kie.

“I didn’t know you were such good friends with Rafe,” she spoke and you almost choked on your own spit.

“I- what? We’re- we’re not,” you stumbled through your words, confused at the sudden interrogation.

“Well he wants to know if he can have your number,” she shrugged a shoulder at you, trying, and failing, to look disinterested.

“Hell yes!” JJ shouted, clearly forgetting that the plan was supposed to stay between the five of you.

“Shut up, JJ” you glared at him, still having not entirely forgiven him yet. “Sure, Sarah, that would be okay.”

“Why the sudden interest in my brother?” Sarah asked suspiciously, despite her own issues with him, he was still her brother after all.

Suddenly in a panic, you struggled to come up with a good enough reason, so you blurted the first thing that came to mind - “I dunno, I'm bored and he’s hot.” Pope definitely choked on his own spit, and JJ shot you a funny look, his brows furrowing together.

“You think he’s hot?” You weren’t sure if JJ was just playing along for the sake of Sarah or if he really was annoyed that you found Rafe attractive.

“Well, yeah,” you replied, unsure of how to defend yourself, “He might be kind of an asshole, but any girl with eyes can see he’s attractive. Kie back me up here.” Kie gave you a look that read ‘what the hell’ and shook her head. Rolling your eyes, you just sighed and shrugged. “Are we going to watch a movie or not? I brought maltesers.”

Settling deeper into the couch, you grabbed the throw blanket that had ended up on the ground and covered your cold legs with it as John B messed around with the tv. You groaned when some cheesy action flick appeared on the screen, turning your head to glare at John B, “I thought we were going to watch Disney?”

“You were outvoted,” he shrugged and sat beside Sarah, throwing his arm around her. You rolled your eyes at him, ripping open the bag of chocolates and tossing a couple in your mouth. You rolled your eyes for a second time when JJ’s hand stretched out his hand between the two of you on the couch.

“Get your own maltesers,” you told him with a glare, holding the bag a little closer to your chest.

The movie passed by without much excitement on your behalf, b-level action movies weren’t really your thing and you thought you were about to watch Tangled or something. You noticed JJ wasn’t really paying attention to the movie either, he looked like he was deep in thought for once in his life. Annoyingly, he kept turning his head to look at you, that same unreadable expression on his face. You decided if he did it one more time you were going to kick him, but the next time he turned to look at you, he scooted over until there was no space between your bodies.

“Do you really think he’s hot?” JJ whispered, his breathing tickling your ear.

“Who? Shia Labeouf?” You asked, eying the actor on the tv screen.

“What? No I don’t care if you think Shia La-whoever is hot.” JJ replied tensely. His tone caused you to look at him again.

“Well, who do you care if I think they’re hot?”

“Obviously Rafe, stupid.” He snapped back. You couldn’t understand what he was so bothered for.

“Don’t call me stupid, and whoever I think is hot is really my business anyway, not yours.” You were starting to get annoyed again.

“Thinking Rafe Cameron is hot is stupid, y/n. He’s the enemy!” He whispered harshly back at you. Your eyes flickered toward Sarah to make sure she hadn’t heard him. “Maybe Kie would have been better at this plan.”

Your jaw dropped, and before you could think better of it you punched him in the arm as hard as you can, a satisfied smile gracing your features when he whined. “Stop being a dick, you’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“As your best friend, I’m just looking out for you,” he grumbled, rubbing his arm where you hit him.

“I’m a big girl, J, I can take care of myself.” You replied.

“Can you two lovebirds stop arguing?” John B called from across the living room, earning a distasteful glare from JJ.

Your stomach dropped at the disgust you thought you saw in JJ’s eyes, but you were saved from any self-deprecating thoughts by your phone buzzing in your pocket.

unknown number: hey

unknown number: shit sorry this is rafe, sarah gave me your number

“Well that didn’t take long,” you whispered to JJ, pretending like your earlier conversation didn’t exist. You shoved your phone in his face, smiling a little when he grabbed your wrist to pull back your phone so that he could read.

“You’ve got him right where we want him,” he replied back, not nearly as excited as you thought he would be.

“Do you still want to continue with this?” You asked softly, hoping he would call the whole thing off because you didn’t think you had the courage to tell him you weren’t sure you could do it.

“Of course, I didn’t waste my entire Sunday coming up with the rules for nothing,” he replies back, with a bit more life to him.

Looking at him warily, your thumbs hesitated over the keyboard of your phone, you didn’t know how to respond, should you go with flirty? Disinterested? Sighing you eventually just gave up and replied simply:

you: hey

rafe cameron: are you busy later?

Scrunching your nose up at the text, you wondered if this was his lame attempt at a booty call or something.

you: depends what time

rafe cameron: i’ll pick you up at 7, text me your address

You weren’t sure if you should show JJ the message, it’s not that you were thinking about hiding it from him, you just didn’t want him to go off on you again. When JJ’s upset with you, it’s truly exhausting. That thought reminds you of how angry he was last time when you didn’t ‘keep him in the loop’ or whatever, so you turn your phone to him again. You nibbled on your bottom lip, watching his eyes read the message. His stare flickered to your face, vague of any emotion.

“It’s six now, you better go,” he whispered to you, not wanting to let the others hear him.

“But we’re watching the movie,” your brows furrowed close together.

“Rafe Cameron wants to take you on a date, I wouldn’t keep him waiting,” when the words left JJ’s mouth, he turned his focus back to the small television in John B’s living room and that was the end of the conversation. Sighing, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes to heaven, and stood up from the couch, allowing the blanket to fall from your knees to the floor, earning the attention of Kie.

“Where ya going?” she hissed, wrapping her fingers around your wrist.

“I have a hot date,” you stuck your tongue out, climbing over Pope’s legs that were spread across the floor. You ignored your friends’ questions, knowing JJ would fill them in once Sarah left the room, you didn’t want to disclose in front of her that you were going on a date with her brother, with the aim of breaking his heart.

Standing in front of your closet, it occurred to you that you didn’t know what to wear on a date with a kook. For some reason, you didn’t think ripped cut-off jean shorts and an off-the-shoulder crop top would be the most appropriate. Sighing you wondered why you were so concerned at all, it’s not like this was an actual date with a guy you were actually interested in. Rafe Cameron’s good qualities started and ended with his appearance. Finally deciding on a simple sundress, you figured you wouldn’t look too out of place wherever he ended up taking you. You took the time to braid your hair and throw on a little makeup, not wanting to look like you tried too hard.

You had finished getting ready right about the time your phone buzzed with a text from Rafe letting you know he was there. Shaking the nerves off, you quickly answered the door, feeling more than a little subconscious as his eyes took in the modest state of your home. You weren’t the poorest of the poor in the cut, but you knew your entryway couldn’t even possibly begin to compare to that of Tannyhill.

“Hey,” you said simply, twisting your wrists nervously as his critical glare fell on you, eyes slowly roaming your figure up and down.

“Hey,” he parroted back, moving to follow you as you led him out the front door and locked it behind you.

“So, where are we going tonight?” you hummed, stepping down off your porch and following Rafe to his truck. “Let me guess, some fancy expensive restaurant on the coast.”

Rafe looked over his shoulder at you, a smirk resting on his lips, “You’re not that lucky” he teased, absentmindedly reaching back to clasp your hands together. He’s been longing to touch you since he last saw you, and the electricity from your touch sent him soaring.

Your heart beat a little bit faster in your chest, unwelcome thoughts betraying you again as his larger hand engulfed yours. Biting your lip, you let him lead you to the truck before he opened the door for you and helped you make the step up inside. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, eyes scanning the few belongings inside. There was gum in one of the cupholders, a blue iphone cord attached to the media center. You caught a glimpse of a photograph tucked into the sunvisor of the driver side and wondered briefly who would be contained within it.

As he entered the other side of the truck, it occurred to you that the interior smelled like him, a distinct mix of laundry detergent and something you could only describe as soothing. As he started the truck, his last spotify playlist started to play and you smiled a little bit at his eclectic taste in music.

“You gonna rip on me for my playlist?” he asked, a ghost of a smile on his face as he took in your reaction.

You mimed zipping your lips, “my lips are sealed.” He chuckled, throwing the truck into reverse and driving off. You sat in silence for a while before it began to feel awkward, “So if we’re not going to some fancy restaurant, where are you taking me? McDonalds?”

He laughed out loud this time, “Do I look like the kind of guy that takes a girl on a first date to McDonalds?”

You pretended to think before shrugging, “I dunno, I don’t know what you’re into.”

“You could find out,” he smirked at you and you were grateful his attention was on the road rather than your facial expression as it took you a solid five seconds to recover from his remark. Willing the intrusive thoughts away again, you had to keep reminding yourself that you were talking to Rafe Cameron, public enemy numero uno, and you were on a mission to break his heart.

“You’re not gonna tell me, are you?” You asked, ignoring his remark.

He shook his head and replied, “nope,” lips making a popping sound as he enunciated the ‘p’. You just huffed and sat back in your seat arms crossed. Looking out the window, you didn’t like surprises ordinarily, and you especially didn’t think you’d enjoy a surprise from Rafe. You were half certain he was going to kill you and dump your body in the woods somewhere.

Rafe took the opportunity to look at you as you pouted slightly, eyes focused on the blurring landscape out the passenger side window. He couldn’t explain why he was suddenly so drawn to you, sure he’d always thought you were attractive, and he loved to use you to get under Maybank’s skin, but he’d never thought about you the way he was now. Truthfully he always thought you and JJ had some sort of thing going on, that was why he had picked at that thread so often when it came to the pogues. And now, you were in his truck and going on a date with him. You, a pogue. He almost thought it was too easy to get you to agree to go out with him, wondered if it was some kind of trick, but he didn’t think you were the type of person to do that.

It didn’t take much longer to arrive at your destination, and you were confused when you stopped in some random field, Rafe having backed his truck up to where a sheet was pinned between two trees.

“What? What’s going on here?” You asked him confusedly, a little worried that he was actually planning on murdering you, and was going to roll your body up in the sheet or something.

He just chuckled at your expression, telling you to ‘stay put’, and you watched as he went to the back and rolled up the truck bed cover. You tried to crane your neck to see whether he was grabbing his murder toolkit, but you couldn’t quite see from your position. You waited another few seconds, seeing only his face and broad shoulders in the rearview mirror as he moved things about in the back of the truck. Finally, he appeared on the other side of your door and opened it for you, offering you a hand and helping you out.

As he led you to the back, you gasped seeing the back of the truck outfitted with what looked to be a very soft comforter and a few fluffy pillows. At one end of the truck bed sat a yeti cooler, filled with what looked like pop and snacks. It was then that you also spotted the mini projector and your mind put two and two together, realizing Rafe had put together a little drive in movie for just the two of you.

“Did you do all this for me?” You asked softly, brain trying and failing to reconcile the Rafe who would put this all together with the Rafe who had literally just beat your friends to a pulp and spoke about you so vulgarly.

“Well I actually did it for another girl, but she cancelled and you were next on my list,” he sassed back, causing a small smile to cross your face. This time you didn’t have to pull on some happy memory in order to fake it, the smile happened all on its own. “C’mon I’ll help you up,” he offered you his arm.

“Don’t you dare look up my dress,” you warned him, taking his arm and allowing him to help you up into the bed of his truck. His other hand lingered on your waist as he assisted you. You situated yourself against the pillows, watching him dig around in the cooler before tossing you a pop and a bag of maltesers. Your grin widened at the sight of the red bag, before you looked back at him asking, “how did you know maltesers was my movie snack?”

“A little bird,” he shrugged, and you realized it had to have been Sarah. The thought gave you a little guilt as you remembered her suspicious gaze and realized she was right to be suspicious of you.

Settling in beside you with his own pop and snack, he sat close enough that you could almost feel his warmth, but not close enough to actually touch you. After he pressed a couple of buttons on his phone, the familiar beginning of the Little Mermaid began to project on the screen

You couldn't believe that Sarah had remembered your argument with the pogues over which Disney movie was the best, and even more than that you couldn't believe that Rafe had asked her about it. You just blinked stupidly at him, and he responded with a small smile at your dumbfounded look.

As the movie played, you found yourself shifting closer until you were resting against his side, your head on his shoulder. He didn’t make a single move the entire movie, his arm just awkwardly laying there, and you had to admit you were surprised. Based on the way he acted and the way he spoke, you had assumed he would have been pushing the limits throughout the entire movie, but he had been nothing but respectful. Again you were feeling uncertain about whether you could actually go through with this plan, but a different pair of blue eyes, those belonging to your best friend, appeared in your mind and you remembered how they had looked with one swollen almost shut.

Deciding to up the charm a little, you poked him and whispered, “you can put your arm around me, I won’t bite... unless you ask me too.” His laugh was slightly strangled as he shifted his arm to wrap comfortably around his shoulders.

During the scene where Ariel and Eric are on the boat as Sebastian and the other sea creatures serenade the two of them to the tune of “Kiss the Girl” you noticed Rafe out of your peripheral vision watching your reaction and occasionally dropping his gaze to your lips. Feeling a surge of confidence, you lifted your head from his shoulder and pressed your lips to his briefly. It felt like nothing ever had before, electric and sweet. As you pulled away, you witnessed his eyes remain shut and, smirking softly to yourself, you laid your head back down against his shoulder.

After the movie was over, he helped you get down and drove you back home before walking you to your door. “I had a good time tonight,” you said shyly, looking up at Rafe through your eyelashes. His taller figure engulfed your own as he grabbed your waist and pressed your lips together as you had done during the movie. Lost in the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up on the tips of your toes to deepen it. His body pressed you into your own front door as he began to trail kisses down towards your neck, nudging your jaw with his nose to push your head to the side and allow him to suck a bruising mark on the juncture of your shoulder.

Who were you and what were you doing right now? That was Rafe Cameron pressing you into the door and claiming your lips with his. You hated him so much, didn’t you? But your body was betraying you, leaning into his hot touch and kiss.

Gasping, you pushed him away from you, the physical distance allowing your clouded thoughts to part and reason to break through. Breathing heavily and heart racing in your chest, you briefly pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, “goodnight,” before slipping into your house and pressing your back against the door. Thirty seconds passed and you realized enemy status be damned, you were attracted to Rafe Cameron and you didn’t want the night to end yet.

Throwing open the door, prepared to chase after him, you were surprised to find him leaning against your door frame, body weight held up by his thick arm. Smirking cockily at you for a moment, you just stood there and stared.

“I-”. Before you were able to get a word out, he was wrapping an arm around your waist and pushing you into your house. You let him lead you in, pressing you against the door to shut it behind you, and kissing you with a passion you hadn’t felt before. You made out like this for a few minutes, bodies pressed flush together, tongues exploring each other's mouths before you lightly shoved him and pushed yourself off the door.

Reconnecting your lips again, you let your hands wander his body, stopping to squeeze his ass the way you had been day dreaming of that day on the golf course. Chuckling a little into the kiss, he responded by squeezing your left breast before trailing his hand down to grip your waist. You began to walk backwards, leading him to your room without ever breaking the kiss.

You squealed as he tossed you onto your own bed, before his warm body covered your own on top of the comforter. His arm wrapped around your back, lifting your body forward so that your head fell back against your pillows. Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down for another passionate kiss. His hand gripped the bottom of your sundress, slowly pushing the material up your body and caressing the skin he revealed beneath. Your own hands made quick work of the buttons on his button down before sliding under the material to push it off his chest.

You weren’t thinking of the plan, or the implications of your actions, or even the reactions of your best friends as you let him rid you of your clothes, hands and mouth touching and tasting you everywhere. You didn’t think of the look that would inevitably cross JJ’s face as Rafe entered you slowly, groaning lowly above you at the sensation. You didn’t even think about how this was probably just Rafe’s endgame to his earlier flirtations - an attempt to bed you and he was successful. No, instead you spent the night thinking about how good Rafe Cameron was making you feel, damn everything else.

Tag list: htbah taglist (link to add yourself to the google form in the series masterlist!): @solllaris @drewswannabegirl @starrystarkey93 @httpstarkey @sweetlysilent @drewstarkey @dontjinx-it @ultranikilove @spencereidbasis @meaganjm @starlightstarkey @thortheestallion @jiaraendgame @idocarealot @tempestuousjj @pink-meringues @dpaccione @arianabrashierstuff @softstarkey @loveylangdon @xenagzb @teenwaywardasgardian @prejudic3 @nxsmss @canibeoneofthepogues @outerbanksbro @obx-direction-sos @nqbmf @digniteas @annedub @colorful-queen-of-the-roses @yesp0ny @loveniallandharryonedirection @fantasticpsychicfanfish @girls-breaking-hearts @beautyandthebleh @casper17 @mozz-are-lla @parkershoco @unfortunatekiwitrash @loverofmineluke @slutforjjmaybank @skiesofthesketchy @httpstarkey @sugarcoatedcalum @amorisxx @trinnwazheree @stargazingstarkey @obx-saltlife @juliarose21 @hyperactive2411 @sophiesshitshow @mcarignan @pizzapizza-Kira

rodeo rafe babies who said they were interested:

@royalmerchant @outerbankslut @honeyycheek @jellyfishbeansontoast @ilovejjmaybank @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @https-luna @butgilinsky @rae131415

diverdcwn everything taglist:

@velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @bricksatanakinswindow @jellyfishbeansontoast @sunwardsss @rudyypankow @im-a-stranger-thing @alexa-playafricabytoto @maybankfullkook @sortagaysortahigh @socialwriter @bluesiderudy @anxietyandtacos @diverrdown @stargazingstarkey

(if the tags dont work again im deactivating)

#rafe obx #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #freyby writes #diverdcwn writes #htbah

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

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Treat Your S(h)elf: Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging by Sebastian Junger (2016)

“Humans don’t mind hardship, in fact they thrive on it; what they mind is not feeling necessary. Modern society has perfected the art of making people not feel necessary. It's time for that to end.”

- Sebastian Junger, Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging

The phenomenon of tribal solidarity is the subject of Sebastian Junger’s enthralling book, Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging. Junger offers a rich but unevenly researched patchwork of history, psychology, and anthropology to explore the deep appeal of the tribal culture throughout history. The result is less of a tour de force book that I would have expected from the likes of Sebastian Junger than an interesting and thought provoking read. Certainly it should be read by anyone interested in the human condition.

As a British ex-military veteran and a fan of Junger’s other books I naturally found it fascinating.The memory of my most recent tour in Afghanistan was still raw upon my return to Britain. Although the book really focuses on returning American army servicemen and their integration back into the American ‘tribe’ there were several themes that I and many others who had seen war could readily identify with.

“Tribe” is not a typical Junger book. He doesn’t tell one knockout story, as he did in the “The Perfect Storm,” which made him rich and famous, or as he did in “War,” which — along with his documentaries “Restrepo” and “Korengal” — established him as one of the world’s most mesmerising chroniclers of the Afghanistan war. Rather, he gives us an extended-play version of an article he wrote for for Vanity Fair — one that’s part ethnography, part history, part social science primer, part cri de coeur. Junger previously served as a war correspondent for Vanity Fair, embedding for long stretches at remote American outposts in Afghanistan’s frightful Korengal valley. This experience may help explain his interest in the intimate bonds that define tribal societies as well as the despair that can come from being wrenched out of a situation that makes those bonds necessary.

Junger’s premise is simple: Modern civilisation may be awesome, giving us unimaginable autonomy and material bounty. But it has also deprived us of the psychologically invaluable sense of community and interdependence that we hominids enjoyed for millions of years. It is only during moments of great adversity that we come together and enjoy that kind of fellowship — which may explain why, paradoxically, we thrive during those moments. (In the six months after Sept. 11, Junger writes, the murder rate in New York dropped by 40 percent, and the suicide rate by 20 percent.)

“I do miss something from the war,” Bosnian journalist Nidzara Ahmetasevic tells Sebastian Junger halfway through the book. Ahmetasevic is talking about the wartime closeness she shared with friends in a basement bomb shelter in besieged Sarajevo. “The love that we shared was enormous,” Ahmetasevic says. “I missed being close to people, I missed being loved in that way.”

The sentiment lies at the heart of Tribe, a book offering a surprising thesis about the ways humans have traded communal belonging for excessive safety.

Junger gets a considerable amount done in a quick 133 pages: Tribe posits a reason why white settlers found life among Native American tribes appealing, theorises about false PTSD claims among returned U.S. veterans, and conveys the author’s equality-minded view of how heroic behaviour varies between genders — all in addition to remarks on hitchhiking, attachment parenting, Junger’s dad’s opinion of military service, and more. It’s an awful lot of ground to cover in such a short book, and it’s inevitable that Tribe would either feel inchoate and sketched or else aggravatingly dense. Because Junger is an adventurous storyteller (rather than, say, an academic theoretician), he opts for the former.

It’s not necessarily a good thing. The book’s lightness makes it accessible, an easy entry point to weighty subject matter. But its concision can make Tribe feel breezy even as it discusses life and death — if not sometimes confusing.

As a former anthropology major, Mr. Junger takes a special interest in tribal life. He notes that a striking number of American colonists ran off to join Native American societies, but the reverse was almost never true. He describes the structure and values of hunter-gatherer groups, including the ones that lasted well into the 20th century, like the !Kung in the Kalahari.

Unfortunately, these parts of the book are also the dullest and most problematic. There’s a numbingly familiar quality to much of the social science research he cites. It is not exactly news that nations with large income disparities are less happy than those without them, or that group cooperation increases levels of oxytocin, the bonding hormone. He notes, for example, that American mothers in the 1970s had a level of skin-to-skin contact with their babies that traditional societies would consider criminally low. Fair enough. I wonder, though, if he realises that in saying this he’s crashing open the gate for every helicopter parenting (or attachment-parenting) demagogue out there? And that parents who actually have to go to work for a living - and therefore can’t have their babies pinned to their chests all day long for three years straight - will read these words and start rolling the eyes back in disbelief.

Though Junger cautions against romanticising tribal cultures, he sometimes does exactly that, and in ways that can be annoying. Tribe aptly opens with Benjamin Franklin’s observation, decades before the American Revolution, that more than a few English settlers were “escaping into the woods” to join Indian society. Franklin noticed that emigration seemed to go from the civilised to the tribal, but rarely the other way around. White captives of the American Indians, for instance, often did not wish to be repatriated to colonial society. At this distance, it is simply astonishing that so many frontiersmen would have cast off the relative comforts of civilisation in favour an “empire wilderness” rife with Stone Age tribes that, as Junger notes, “had barely changed in 15,000 years.”

The small but significant flow of white men — they were mostly men — into the tree-line sat uncomfortably with those who stayed behind. Without indulging the modern temptation to romanticise what was a blood-soaked way of life, Junger hazards an explanation for the appeal of tribal culture. Western society was a diverse and dynamic but deeply alienating place. (Plus ça change…) This stood in stark contrast to native life, which was essentially classless and egalitarian. The “intensely communal nature of an Indian tribe” provided a high degree of autonomy — as long as it didn’t threaten the defence of the tribe, which was punishable by death — as well as a sense of belonging. Tribe is then essentially a critique of modern civilisation, beginning with Junger’s observation of the inexorable appeal of Native American way of life to early settlers (“The intensely communal nature of an Indian tribe held an appeal that the material benefits of Western civilisation couldn’t necessary compete with”).

“The question for Western society isn’t so much why tribal life might be so appealing - it seems obvious on the face of it - but why Western society is so unappealing.” Junger is making a provocative point, but he is no provocateur. He swiftly justifies this jarring idea:

On a material level it is clearly more comfortable and protected from the hardships of the natural world. But as societies become more affluent they tend to require more, rather than less, time and commitment by the individual, and it’s possible that many people feel that affluence and safety simply aren’t a good trade for freedom.

All of these points have been covered in other, heavier books. Jared Diamond’s The World Until Yesterday examines traditional tribal lifestyles’ usefulness in the present day. The entanglement of war with human closeness and purpose is the focus of Chris Hedges’s War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning. (Both Hedges and Junger include the same anecdote, in fact, about a teenage couple in besieged Sarajevo, that dies, sniper-shot, on the banks of the Miljacka River.) Junger also briefly mentions the work of seminal disaster researcher Charles Fritz, noting that Fritz could find almost no examples of mass panic during large-scale disasters. This plays into his overarching point that difficult experiences can be unifying rather than shattering. The exact same studies by Fritz and fellow researchers — and that exact same, crucial point — are detailed in Rebecca Solnit’s brilliant A Paradise Built in Hell.

Junger uses these insights towards another point. “Because modern society has almost completely eliminated trauma and violence from everyday life, anyone who does suffer these things is deemed to be extraordinarily unfortunate,” he writes. “This gives people access to sympathy and resources but also creates an identity of victimhood that can delay recovery.” This is an important observation. It, too, resonates quite closely with previous work - in this case Harvard psychiatrist Judith Lewis Herman’s seminal book Trauma and Recovery, which remarks that “to hold traumatic reality in consciousness requires a social context that affirms and protects the victim and that joins victim and witness in a common alliance.”

At best what Junger tries to achieve, then, is to assemble parts of all those books into one slim volume. So much the better for the busy reader. Unfortunately, Junger’s quick look at violence, trauma, and modern anomie also omits important information from other books, and as a result ends up on shaky ground, failing to consider counterpoints or bring its own arguments to a close.

Junger in the second half of the book proceeds through an examination of how disastrous or violent circumstances can create similar human closeness, and includes a discussion of how our society’s distancing itself from such harsh conditions has inadvertently sharpened those events’ capacity to traumatise the people who endure them.

War is hell, so this scourge of loneliness may seem the inevitable price for those who fight in them. The second half of Tribe insists that this impression is gravely mistaken. “Studies from around the world show that recovery from war is heavily influenced by the society one belongs to,” Junger observes. Iroquois warriors, for instance, did not have to contend with much alienation because the line between warfare and normal Indian society was vanishingly thin. This is not to deny that the Iroquois were traumatised by combat, but it was generally acute PTSD, limited in duration and distress. Their trauma was ameliorated by the fact that the trauma was shared by the entire tribe.

War, then, for all of its brutality and ugliness, satisfies some of our deepest evolutionary yearnings for connectedness. Platoons are like tribes. They give soldiers a chance to demonstrate their valour and loyalty, to work cooperatively, to show utter selflessness.

Is it any wonder that so many of them say they miss the action when they come home?

Part of the takeaway from this book is that regarding military service as a source of permanent psychiatric disability is incorrect for most (American) soldiers. Junger includes a lengthy discussion of how the U.S. Veterans Administration mishandles former soldiers’ mental health issues, and how America’s cultural misunderstanding of war plays into that deleterious milieu. The information isn’t wrong per se, but what it has to do with the rest of the romanticising of foregone tribal way of life, etc., or why that necessitates anything more than the 2015 Vanity Fair article from which the book sprung is never quite made clear. Worse, Junger says that the low rate of combat engagement among U.S. soldiers means their diagnoses of post-traumatic stress disorder often aren’t real - but he fails to consider that some soldiers develop PTSD from military sexual trauma, or from other adverse experiences outside of combat or before their enlistment.

Worse, he seems to misunderstand the diagnosis entirely. Here, as in the Vanity Fair article, Junger describes his own bout with what he calls “classic short-term PTSD,” departing from this insight to further dissect trauma and the ways modern society misunderstands it. The problem is, there really is no such thing as “short-term PTSD.” It sounds like what Junger had was post-traumatic stress, a weeks - or months - long psychological adaptation to adverse events (in his case, exposure to war) that typically resolves on its own.

Although psychological care can sometimes be relevant, most mental health professionals don’t regard this as an illness. (Tellingly, Junger’s approach to his diagnosis involved little more than an acquaintance’s ad hoc comment at “a family picnic.”) Post-traumatic stress disorder is only diagnosable after three to six months, does not often go away on its own, and can endure for a lifetime if untreated. The implication that Junger’s case is typical PTSD is misleading - and to some extent, calls his conclusions into question.

The problems in his argument go even deeper. “In Bosnia — as it is now — we don’t trust each other anymore; we became really bad people,” Ahmetasevic tells Junger. “We didn’t learn the lesson of the war, which is how important it is to share everything you have with human beings close to you.” Junger’s thesis is that other cultures (the “Stone-Age tribes” white settlers once joined) did learn that lesson. But he assumes that violence is innate to humans and necessary for human closeness, never parsing evidence that it is not. And he doesn’t examine what this Bosnian journalist means by “really bad,” and how becoming so after the war might have arisen directly from the painful, long-lasting effects of the severe trauma Junger doesn’t quite seem to believe in.

If there is any doubt on this point, consider the alarming rates of PTSD among our warrior class, and the desire among many of them to return to war — a subject on which Junger has been at the leading edge of the public discussion. When combat vets return home, the alienation and aimlessness of modern society aggravates their psychological traumas and prompts them to yearn for the brotherhood of combat. It’s not for nothing that a recent book on post-traumatic stress is entitled The Evil Hours.

Many soldiers actually miss war. “Adversity,” he writes, “often leads people to depend more on one another, and that closeness can produce a kind of nostalgia for the hard times.” Soldiers go from a close-knit group in which everyone has a purpose to a society in highly individualised lifestyles are “deeply brutalising to the human spirit.” Soldiers who come home to situations in which there is no social support from family and community are more likely to suffer PTSD than others.

Thanking veterans for their service aggravates the problem, in Junger’s opinion. “If anything, these token acts only deepen the chasm between the military and the civilian population by highlighting the fact that some people serve their country but the vast majority don’t.” Tickets to games and other such perquisites can incentivise veterans to see themselves as victims, making their reintegration into society much more difficult.

What they really need is the one thing that will make them feel like valuable members of society: jobs. In their tribe-like military units, they each had a specific function without which the group could not perform. The worst thing that can happen to them when they return is to feel useless, marginalised. The suicide rate in America mirrors the unemployment rate, Junger points out. The best protection against devastating depression is meaningful work.

“Ex-combatants shouldn’t be seen - or be encouraged to see themselves - as victims,” writes Junger. Lifelong disability payments for PTSD, which is treatable and usually not chronic, actually debilitate veterans, Junger claims. In war, the passivity of victimhood can be deadly, he explains. Turning veterans into victims when they return is not only confusing but also destructive because it erases their sense of self. Instead of sympathy, “veterans need to feel that they’re just as necessary and productive back in society as they were on the battlefield.”

Of course much of this book is really around the American experience of war and the experiences of American veterans returning home. So some points don’t quite stick with either British or European experiences. For example neither British or other European societies thank veterans for their service as a matter of course. Of course there are special days to commemorate major war events and even an armed forces day but on a general day to day basis one doesn’t go up to a military person to thank them for their service probably because British and European servicemen and their service don’t enjoy a privileged standing. Respected and admired yes, but not deified. How British and other European countries take care of their returning veterans is hard to detail as the experience varies in terms of disability allowances and other measures. Certainly a misunderstanding of mental trauma or PTSD of returning veterans has led sometimes to a criminal mismanaging of taking care of those most affected. Again, it varies from country to country.

Contemporary America is a considerably less consolidated society than it used to be. Cultural diffusion and economic stratification have increased the isolation felt by those who have borne the heat and burden of battle. I won’t a forget photograph shown to me by an older brother who had served with distinction in Iraq. He made a few American friends from the US soldiers serving there alongside and one day he was shown something that captured the dark humour and cynicism of war. The photo captured a graffito scribbled on a wall in Ramadi, Iraq, that read: “America is not at war. The Marine Corps is at war. America is at the mall.”

Multiple studies demonstrate that “a person’s chance of getting chronic PTSD is in great part a function of their experiences before going to war.” The relationship between combat and trauma seems to be a murky one. For instance, “combat veterans are, statistically, no more likely to kill themselves than veterans who were never under fire.” Junger says that even a significant number of Peace Corps volunteers report suffering severe depression after their return home, especially if their host country was in a state of emergency when they did. In Junger’s telling, particular burdens endured by socially disadvantaged Americans - from a poor educational background to chaotic broken family life - can make a candidate especially susceptible to PTSD. Indeed, these risk factors “are nearly as predictive of PTSD as the severity of the trauma itself.”

The decline of social order and solidarity has contributed to a loss of what researchers call “social resilience.” This has simultaneously supplied more potential candidates for PTSD and impaired society’s ability to help them recover. The United States must place a premium on boosting its levels of social resilience. Americans should no longer be content to simply thank veterans for their service; sporting events are not places of healing. Nor should they seek to outsource the responsibility to the federal government. The solution lies closer to home, in the mediating institutions of civil society — from families to churches to community and professional associations. I think this echoes the views of quite a few veterans in my experience with them.

More sensitively and perhaps controversially, ex-combatants shouldn’t be regarded, or encouraged to regard themselves, as victims. This I also agree with. America is still a tremendously affluent country, Junger writes, that can afford to perpetually care for a victim class of veterans dependent on government largesse, “but the vets can’t.” They have generally performed exemplary service for which they should be honoured, and they must know that their service is not over.

Next, Junger says, veterans (like most social animals) depend upon a sense of purpose that begins with a job and a position in society. Here the “hire vets” initiatives and retraining programs are necessary but insufficient. The traditional means of securing social resilience has been egalitarian social provision. Individualist America may blanch at that notion, but it should at least act to build a more open economy and inclusive culture where individuals can reliably advance by merit and develop social capital.

Not being an American I don’t wish to speak out of turn but as a veteran and especially in speaking with other British and foreign veterans I think Junger is on the right path. Victimhood and a lack of purpose are the unseen enemy that the returning veteran will continue to fight when he or she comes home.

To all this I would also that - arguably perhaps in America especially - a revival of national cohesion is needed if - as a nation that pays lip service to honour the sacrifices of its servicemen - it is to arrest the full savagery of battlefield trauma. This will require what Edmund Burke called “a revolution in sentiments, manners and moral opinions.”

One clue about how to achieve this can be found in the early pages of Tribe, when Junger tells an affecting anecdote about his father. Not long after the end of the Vietnam War, the author had received a Selective Service registration form in the mail, in case the United States government ever needed to conscript him into the military. When he announced that, if drafted, he would refuse to serve on political grounds, his father’s reaction caught him off guard. Although sternly opposed to the war in Indo-China, Junger’s father insisted that American soldiers had “saved the world” from fascism during World War II and many never came home. Junger writes;

“‘You don’t owe your country nothing,’ I remember him telling me. ‘You owe it something, and depending on what happens, you might owe it your life.’” This did not oblige anyone to enlist in an unjust war - “in his opinion, protesting an immoral war was just as honorable and necessary as fighting a moral one” - but it did mean that the country had just claims on its citizens, and refusing to sign a registration form constituted a dereliction of duty.

Year after year, Americans hear arguments for taking the stink out of their sulphurous political rhetoric. It would be better for congressional productivity. It would be better for our international dignity. It would be better for their national literacy, their local advocacy, their general civility and the future etiquette of their children. But the one argument I had not heard, until reading Junger’s book is that they should clean up their act for the sake of their returning troops.

Junger never makes this point explicitly. What he writes, simply, is this: After months of combat, during which “soldiers all but ignore differences of race, religion and politics within their platoon,” they return to the United States to find “a society that is basically at war with itself. People speak with incredible contempt about - depending on their views - the rich, the poor, the educated, the foreign-born, the president or the entire U.S. government.” Soldiers go from a world in which they’re united, interconnected and indispensable to one in which they’re isolated, without purpose, and bombarded with images of politicians and civilians screaming at one another on TV and cable.

It’s a formula for deep despair. “Today’s veterans often come home to find that, although they’re willing to die for their country,” he writes, “they’re not sure how to live for it.”

With that, Mr. Junger has raised one of the most provocative ideas for bitterly divided Americans to grapple with without mentioning a single political candidate, or even a president, by name.

In this age of social and economic fragmentation, many of America’s disadvantaged fellow citizens have begun to chafe against an elite class - left and right - that often behaves as if it were exempted from the national compact. Junger only hints at the necessary leap beyond a social-psychological view to a political-economic analysis. He writes, "As great a sacrifice as soldiers make, American workers arguably make a greater one…. [w]orking in industries that have a mortality rate equivalent to most units in the US military." He suggests, "It may be worth considering whether middle-class American life - for all its material good fortune - has lost some essential sense of unity that might otherwise discourage alienated men from turning apocalyptically violent."

Nobody then should be surprised if the ranks of disaffected citizens – not least those who have borne arms in our name and in their defence - ultimately decide that the sensibility of the tribe is superior to their own.

As a proud Brit who is guilty at times of poking fun at America but borne out of sincere fondness and respect for America I do sincerely hope during these turbulent times that they are capable of coming together and recognising their tribal identity is to be Americans first and other labels (liberal or conservative or red state or blue state) whilst not inconsequential are not important enough to undermine the primary American tribal identity. They did it so marvellously after 9/11, but that feeling as we all know soon dissipated. It can’t afford to be a house divided from within when there are predatory wolves pawing at the door (I’m looking at you Russia and China). Junger correctly writes America is a strong nation, “The only one who can destroy us, is, well, us…..which means that the ultimate terrorist strategy would be to just leave us alone.”

Tribe is an important, thought-provoking book that encourages Americans to see its veterans and American society in a fresh light. Policymakers of all political stripes would do well to consider Junger’s arguments, for as long as they fail to fully integrate returning soldiers, everyone will continue to pay a high toll for their incredible service and sacrifice.

Junger’s “Tribe” even if it was written in 2016, remains relevant and serves as an important wake-up call. Let’s hope we all don’t sleep through the alarm. But this too brief and too scattershot book with an important message won’t get us all the way there. There is an old South African Zulu proverb, ‘If you want to go fast, go on your own. If you want to go further, go together’. It’s up to all of us.

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so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed · 3 years

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With the year coming to an end, here is everything I’ve written in 2020. I had quite a productive year, and wrote some fics I’m very proud of. I’ve also met wonderful new people and I’m going to participate in the big bang next year, as well as hopefully join more fests! Thank you to everyone who has helped me create these 12 fics!

March:

🤴 with no way out and a long way down Larry, 31k, T, written for the @hlroyaltyfest

Prince Harry is ten when he receives his soulmark.

May:

✈️ driving down a one way road (to something better) Zouis, 26k, T, written for the @wallsficfest

“I’m at the airport.” It’s followed by a bitter laugh. “I’m - I’m literally at the airport, hiding away in the toilets to make a phone call. They’re probably going to barge in here in a minute, thinking I’m doing something illegal, but I didn’t know what else to do Lou.” He sounds desperate, wild, nothing that Louis is used to associating with Zayn. “My flight leaves in an hour, and I wasn’t gonna do this, but, I didn’t know what else to do.”

Louis frowns. “What do you mean, love?”

“Can I - Can I please come and stay with you?” It’s barely more than a whisper, and Louis honestly isn’t sure if he’s heard it right, but the lack of an immediate response on his part makes Zayn’s breath come out all shaky and Louis won’t stand for that.

“Yes,” he decides, repeats it, in a softer but no less certain voice, when he knows Zayn is about to protest. “Yes. Of course. I’ll be there, yeah? I’ll come pick you up. When will you get here? What airport?”

---

When Zayn breaks up with his boyfriend, he needs a place to stay. Louis wouldn't be Louis if he didn't immediately open his doors to him. Never mind the fact that he's been in love with him for two years. That's not important, right?

July:

🏥 my love will never leave you Larry, 10k, T, written for the @wordplayfics challenge week 1

In a world where memories are used as currency, Louis will do anything it takes for Harry to get better.

🗝 sadness is a little boy looking out the window Ziam, 6k, T, written for the @wordplayfics challenge week 2

Liam is twelve when he receives the key. It’s given to him on his birthday, in a red velvet box, and something about the weight of the box in his palm gives him pause, makes him hold his breath when he unwraps the bow around it.

The bronze key looks innocuous, but Liam knows better. He’s grown up with the stories, as many people have. Has been told about the keys, and that most people except for an unlucky few got one at birth. Some were immediately gifted to them by their parents, others had been kept away from them until such a time that they were deemed responsible enough to understand what it meant.

Because this kind of key, it doesn’t just open any door.

It reveals what you need most, when you need it most, and it can only be used once.

✨ it’s time to find your wings again Larry, 12k, T, written for the @wordplayfics challenge week 3

The first reports are dismissed, as tall tales or folklore. As mental illness, poor Bathilda, she’d gone loopy. As people simply getting scared in the dark woods and seeing things, making things up. Magic isn’t real. Mythological creatures aren't real.

But then the first one is caught. A faun, that little Meg from around the corner swears has attacked her in the woods, and everyone comes to the marketplace to see the faun be hanged for its crimes. Louis doesn’t want to go, but at the same time, he finds himself unable to stay away. Not when this proves what he’s wanted to believe all along, that magic is real.

Louis is twenty when he starts working at the prison. His fascination for supernatural creatures had turned into something most closely resembling loathing over the years, due to the many stories of their evildoing, and although he still doesn’t believe in hanging them for their crimes, he does believe in keeping the town safe. In making sure that his siblings get to grow up without fear of being kidnapped or hurt. As the oldest son, it feels like his duty to make sure that no creature in the wide area will ever pose a threat to anyone.

🍛 it’s a long shot just to beat these odds Ziam, 14k, T, written for the @wordplayfics challenge week 4

Zayn: how many years in prison would I get for murdering a popstar???

He scrapes the plates clean, resists the urge to kick the trash can, his breathing still feeling shallow and high in his chest. He wants a cigarette. And a cuddle from Louis. But a text is the most he can realistically ask for now, and luckily Louis doesn’t leave him hanging.

Louis: ?????

Okay, so it isn’t that helpful, but Zayn knows his anxiety well enough that just distracting his mind is usually enough to keep from having an actual attack. It doesn’t matter that the subject he’s discussing is the one thing his brain is actually panicking about, just trying to formulate words into a text is helping.

Zayn: I served him raw chicken. RAW. And he was kind enough to want to try and eat it too. I could have killed him!!!

That would’ve made headlines for sure. FORMER BOYBANDER GETS POISONED ON FIRST DATE, more on the ten p.m. news.

Louis: well that’s one way of making sure he’s not going to go on any of the other dates. Bit drastic though mate.

August:

💌 if you’re lost just look for me Larry, 9k, T, written for the @wordplayfics challenge week 5

Let your dreams set sail.

Louis blinks at the sticky note, sitting casually in between a flyer advertising an upcoming gig for one of the many bands on campus (the heavy metal graphics implying that the music is not to Louis’ taste) and an ad for a yoga club (Louis is going to have to give that one a miss too). It’s small, barely noticeable unless you’re paying attention, just tucked away as though it’s been left there for Louis to find.

He snorts. “Let your dreams set sail. What a fucking joke.”

Louis' first year of college is everything he had hoped for it to be.

It’s why it’s so hard to swallow that his second year is everything but.

A fic where motivational quotes, no matter how cheesy, might just make everything better after all.

💐 the birth of love like a force of nature Ziam, 22k, T, written for the @ziamfantasyfest

After moving into a new house, Liam decides to introduce himself to the neighbours. The next thing he knows, he’s tied to a chair and threatened by a small army of fairies.

October:

👻 these days I watch you from afar Larry, 666 words, T, written for the @1dtrickortreatfest

“Are you talking to me?”

The boy blinks, blue eyes thoughtful as he cocks his head. “Yeah?”

“You can see me?”

🎃 love me like we don’t have tomorrow Ziam, 666 words, T, written for the @1dtrickortreatfest

"Are you going to see him again?" Louis asks. He’s sitting on a ruined wall, inspecting his long, dark nails. Talons, Zayn thinks. He nods.

“How many years in a row is this?”

Zayn glances at his best mate, doing up the buttons on his coat. “Dunno,” he says, even though he can recall, with perfect clarity, all the times he’s met up with Liam. Every Halloween that he’s spent with him.

"And he still doesn't know?"

☠️ be the end of me Zouis, 666 words, T, written for the @1dtrickortreatfest

"Who are you?" Louis asks, and Zayn can tell that he already knows. He's tense, poised for a flight from the inevitable.

Zayn still answers. "Death."

December:

🎄 room for your love underneath this tree Larry, 11k, T, written for the @1dchristmasfest

“IwannameetHarryStyles,” Daisy mumbles, and Louis blinks.

“What?”

“She says she wants to meet Harry Styles.” Phoebe pipes up, and Louis blinks again, absently switches the camera to himself because he knows that his followers will want to catch his baffled expression.

“You-” he starts, and then stops himself, because he did tell her she could ask for anything she wanted, and how can he go back on his word and tell her that he doesn’t actually have the power to make that happen?

Because Harry Styles is -- he’s next level kind of famous. Louis has two million subscribers on his YouTube, but Harry has eighteen times as many followers on his Twitter alone. He’s had three number one hits in the last year, and his last album had charted at the top spot for a record breaking 27 weeks. He’s a singer, actor and philanthropist, and there is no way in hell that Louis can get him to come meet Daisy for Christmas.

So of course he laughs, even if it’s a little bit breathless, and nods at her. “One Harry Styles for Christmas, coming right up.”

#hlcreators #1dsource #hljournal #larry #my fic post #my fics #2020 in writing #fic masterpost

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Text

Shake On It

This is an older original work I wrote for a writing prompt given to me on a writing discord I’m on. I really liked it!

Ironically it also pertains to the Christian mythos and such, but is in no way affiliated with Obey Me lmao

Prompt: traveling bible salesman, death of a family member and bouns round- a time machine.

Hope y’all like! I might add to this later on. I got a lot of fanfics and original projects I’m working on as it lol.

Down on your luck? At the end of your rope? Sister's funeral not going as planned?

We've all been there.

Perhaps I can offer you a hand? Promise it's worth it.

Thin smiles and fake condolences. It was all really one could expect under the circumstances, really. You and your sister hadn’t-well- weren’t the most well-received individuals on your family tree. But she deserved better than this, some stale flowers and a note. You had stormed from the viewing room near tears, the only two relatives who had shown looking after you. They had been less than tactful in saying that no one else was coming. Not even your parents were there. So, instead of watching over your twin’s ashes, you sat crying next to the funeral home's rusty dumpster.

How fitting.

Did no one care that familial blood had been spilt? A cold body and no leads and they just shrug it off? You sniff, lips trembling around an unlit cigarette, numb and lost as to what to do next.

“Need a light?” Reedy fingers flick out beneath your nose and pluck the stick from your slack lips.

You jerk your chin up in shock, more surprised that you hadn’t heard them approaching. “Oi!” Your eyes squint as they snap up toward the setting sun. Your uninvited visitor is perfectly shadowed by the low light. They tisk, ignoring you in favor of sniffing your cheap smoke before flicking it to the ground as if it had personally offended them.

“I swear,” they scoff, fumbling in their pockets. Their soft accent is unrecognizable to your ear. “On a day like this. You deserve better, no?” Their hand stops at their chest with a soft gasp. “Ah! Here we are, here we are!” The stranger’s silhouette produces something from an unseen pocket with a grant flourish, offering it out to you.

“A lolli?” You take it from them in a daze, twirling the bright yellow candy between your fingers. You eye them quizzically. It seemed like an odd practice for a funeral home to do. You knew they hadn’t been at the wake. Their form was taller and lankier than the few guests or staff that had been milling about. Did they work in the back with the bodies, perhaps? Out on their 15? You eye their scuffed oxfords and old mud clinging to their khaki pants.

The stranger chuckles, an oddly deep one for their stature. “But of course! Better for you in the long run. Believe you me, lungs full of ash are quite unpleasant.” You stare blankly up at them. What? “Might I join you for a tick? You look like you could use some company.” They continue nodding their head toward the empty space beside you.

“Can’t stop you.” You sigh popping the sickly yellow lolli into your mouth. The flavor catches you off guard. Hands flying up flap uselessly at your burning cheeks. You gag, only swallowing down your initial shock. Chili and lemon? Who the hell…

“Shock to the system huh?” They laugh at your teary-eyed glare. “I find a bit of contrast clears the mind.”

“I guess.” You cough as you thump your chest hard. Wiping at your teary eyes, you get a better look at them. You were correct in your assumption that you had never seen this person till now.

They smile at you patiently, knowing exactly what you were doing. They seemed normal enough. Unkempt hair and thick glasses. Gangly knees draw close to their chest. A rumpled white button-up tent like on their frame. Sleeves pushed up to show off their knobby elbows. Their tawny skin was spattered with freckles, crossing from high cheekbone to high cheekbone. The freckles were interrupted in their smooth transition across their face by a jagged edge on the wide bridge of their nose. From a distance, the crook of their nose wouldn’t have been noticeable. But this close, you recognize the look of a break long since healed. Its off-centered placement only emphasizes their lopsided grin. Their teeth, though, are surprisingly flawless. Their canines flash predatorily off of the security lights as the sun finally sets.

“My condolences.” They cut through your musing, popping a candy in their mouth as well. “I assume you are part of the party inside?” You follow their pointed finger to the door.

“Yes.” You nod and readjust your posture, mind back on your sorrows. They hum noncommittally, finger tapping their nose deep in thought. “It’s my sister- was- my sister.” You explain. “Her landlord found her last week in her bathroom. Coroner says the wounds were self-inflicted.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Not in a million years.” You scowl. You were gonna make it big together, if for no other reason than to thumb your noses at the family that threw you aside. Didn’t know how yet, but you thought you had all the time in the world to figure it out. “We had a plan. Leaving all our work unfinished? It isn’t like her.” They nod, letting the silence draw out between you. The cicadas filling the emptiness.

“What are you planning now?” they ask. The words tickle in your ear, temping thoughts you had long since buried. You knew what you wanted. You wanted revenge, to find and destroy whoever took her away from you. To take your family to task and prove to them that you both had been worth a damn.

“Therapy and a potted plant.” You lie easily, resting your back on the chain link fence. They laugh loudly head thrown back from the power of it. It grates at you.

“Oh, my dear~” They wipe at their eyes, chortling. “I haven’t had a laugh like that in a millennium.” They clear their throat after a bit, brushing at some imaginary dust on their arm. “No need to lie to me. Such peace is not in human nature.” You bristle, wanting to argue, but something holds your tongue. “Perhaps I might have what you seek?” They pull an old briefcase out from behind them. You gape, brows threatening to disappear into your hairline.

It all clicks, as sudden as a blown light bulb. The clothes and glasses. The aversion to smoking. The pushiness. Unbelievable. “You aren’t-no. No!” It was your turn to laugh, the sound bouncing around the back alley. “A freakin’ Bible salesman!?” You lose it, slapping their knee while clutching your stomach and gasping in the sour air. “Oh my God! What, did you get lost on your way to a 60’s convention?”

“Yes, yes. It is quite out of vogue in these times, isn’t it? We had to take a more hands-on approach in recent years. The old lore just doesn’t hold up like it used to.” Their chuckle patting the case, thumbs popping the locks. “But I assure you my book is just what you need.” You stop laughing. A little nagging feeling in the back of your head finally starting to take over.

“Listen- with all due respect."

“Please,” they snap, their tone turning sharp and businesslike. “Lying just insults both of us here.” They hand you the case, nodding at you to open it. “Give it a look. I know you want to.” They lean close then, placing a hand on top of yours. The shadows of the overhead light elongate the digits. Candy sweet breath tickles the fine hairs on your face. “And if the book doesn’t entice you, perhaps a deal might?”

You pop the lid.

The sole occupant of the case lounges on an ornate cushion. The rich blue velvet is inlaid with silver thread and beads, the ornate geometric stitching painstakingly done by some poor sod years ago. Frankly, it looked like a lot of flash and theatrics for a rather ugly book. The leather bound cover is bereft of any discernible writing or art. Despite its apparent age, the paper within is crisp. It's bone white color contrasts harshly with the gold ink used on it.

“I can’t read this.” You look up confused by the random string of symbols and letters. The Bible salesman shrugs, picking at a cuticle.

“You sure? Try again.” Their nonchalant demeanor befuddles you.

“Yes, I’m sure. What kind of mor-'' You glance down at the book again, the leather warming in your palm despite the cool night air. The symbols are the same but it all seems so familiar to you now. Book of The Dawnstar.

“Is this a joke?” You already know the answer. The unnatural warmth and pulsing from the book bring the nerves in your stomach to a sickening curl, tipping you off. But, you don't want to say the word. Magic was a stupid fairy tale made for the big screen.

“Does it feel like a joke?” They ask, lips curling.

“What do you want?” You shut the book with a snap, placing it back in its case. You weren't liking where this was going, but were intrigued all the same.

“Well~ I thought it was self-explanatory.” They take the book back out, fingers going over the front’s cover in odd swirls and dips. Your eyes follow the trail left by their fingers. “Striking deals used to be so much easier, I swear.” They point at you, then at themselves. “I can feel the rage. It called me here. You want answers; more importantly to me, you want revenge. I can help. All you need to do is make a deal with me. You know the saying.”

“For-for real?” You can hardly believe it. This is a prank-or a fever dream. It’s the only explanation. No demon or devils, or stupid magic bullshit. Someone would find you soon, passed out from the stress back here.

“Dream or not, what would it hurt to try?”

“What would it hurt!” you laugh in disbelief. “You know in Bible school they say not to make deals with devils.”

“Pfft.” They wave off the comment. “I’m wounded! Half those fools get the language twisted anyway. Devil, Satan, and my name are not interchangeable . I’m not some low level sprite begging for souls.”

“Why come to me then?” you ask. They shrug, fingers slowing to a stop over their book. “Wouldn’t some--I don’t know--Christian soul be tastier or something?” You begin to panic. The look of exasperation you get in return stops you from losing it completely.

“Is that what they teach these days? Heh, Gabriel must be ringing his halo. But if those stupid little superstitions are whats stopping you from what we both know you desire, let me rectify that.” They rise to their feet, far more elegantly then their appearance would lead you to believe was possible. A haze covers them, the shadows around you seemingly clinging to their body as they turn. “A formal introduction then. Dawnstar, Lucifer. The light bringer, rebel, and protector of those under my eyes.” They bow, baggy clothes replaced with elegant robes of navy. All gangly awkwardness gone in the wake of sheer power. “And you are exactly the entertainment I’m looking for.”

“Entertainment?” You sputter, sinking back as far as you can into the fence behind you. You were sure if you should be insulted or not by the notion. “So you don’t want my soul?”

Lucifer rolls two of their many eyes. “I have bigger, quite frankly purer souls, for that. But they are all rather boring to follow around till they croak. Besides, despite what sweet old pastor Dale says, I am empathetic--to a certain degree. You are right in your assumption that your twin did not take her own life. So I’m offering you a chance to meddle.”

You ponder over the words, mind racing as your spirit soars. This was impossible. “So I can-- what, like wish her back? A soul for a soul?” You rise to your feet, knees shaking as the heavy gaze of the fallen angel bares into you.

“Ugh. Figured you’d say something like that,” Lucifer groans, rolling their neck. “And the answer is no.”

“What? Why!” you snap, heart seizing. You jab a finger at their chest. The cold radiating off of them stops you from getting any closer. “You said you would help!”

They step back, smirking as you rub at your frostbitten finger. “Live and learn, I guess?” Lucifer turns, looking up into the bug-infested sky. “You humans always try that martyr shtick. ‘Oh, trade me for them, please!’. Turns into a never ending headache I’m contractually obligated to help with. Plus, it’s rather boring.”

You sputter. “Excuse me?” Lucifer looks at you, blinking coyly.

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, such clichés get grating every couple of centuries. You, my girl, just have the misfortune of being in one of those centuries. Try something more creative. Make me work for it.”

“Seriously?” You throw your hands up exasperatedly.

“As serious as your great aunt's coming heart attack.” They reply deadpan.

“Fine!” You purse your lips, not evening wanting to think about that last statement. “Help me prevent it.” You fume, all the little thoughts and wishes since the day you got the call boiling over. “I wanna look that fucker in the eyes before they can get to her. I want them to pay for even thinking they could take her from me!”

Lucifer grins, cold dead eyes warming over like coals on an open flame. “Oh yes, now that I will do. Time distortion is such a pain to undo. By the time they catch on, Michael will be up to their necks in timelines to untangle to get to you.” They unfurl a long clawed hand from beneath their robes. You see a symbol glowing, hot and white, on the skeletal palm. “Is that what you truly want?”

“Yes.” You nod, your throat clicking dryly as you approach them again. You hand inches from theirs before stopping. “Can you do that?”

Their smile is all teeth. “With ease. I look forward to watching the mess you make.”

#Vladdy original works #be gentle with me #lol

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kuramirocket · 3 years

Text

MEXICALI, Mexico — Lucía Laguna carries her fate tattooed on her face — from the corner of her mouth to her chin, black lines surf across her coppery skin — the tribal art honoring her people will also serve an important function later on.

“After my death, it will be guide me to my ancestors. With the tattoo, they will recognize me and can take me where they are," she said, as she talks on the banks of the Colorado River.

But under the merciless sun, Laguna, 51, worries about the fate of the river and its impact on the Cucapá, her Indigenous people. A searing drought is exacerbating the deadly heat in a region that long ago saw its river flow diminished, after almost a century of U.S. engineering projects.

"Cucapá means people from the river, that's why we are fighting for it," she said, pointing to a decrease in the river's flow she is seeing every year. “We cling to the river and fight because it gives us water so that the fish can arrive and we can earn our livelihood. But it is a fight that seems that we will never win," she said, disheartened.

Mexico is experiencing the worst drought in three decades. NASA images from the recently released Landsat 8 satellite showed the extremely low levels of the Villa Victoria dam, one of the capital's main water reservoirs.

According to meteorologists, three quarters of the country suffers from drought; in 16 of the 32 states, it affects their entire territory. Thus, 60 large reservoirs, especially in the north and the center, are below 25 percent of capacity.

"Over the past 70 years, the temperature in Mexico has a clear and conclusive increasing trend. In the last decade, it increased very rapidly and that rise is even higher than the average for the planet," Jorge Zavala Hidalgo, general coordinator of the National Meteorological Service, said.

Rainfall has always fluctuated, he explained, but now the rain is concentrated in fewer days. "And that is bad because we all want it to rain — but nobody wants it to flood, especially the farmers, because that destroys the crops. That is why we are studying everything that is happening."

The increase in temperature especially affects the forests, which go from being a paradise of greenery to time bombs for fire risks. As of May 5, 562 forest fires had been registered, 27 percent more than in 2020. And the burned area grew 69 percent, reaching almost 900,000 acres.

"There is more drought and therefore the vegetation is waiting for someone to arrive, light a leaf and from there, the fire begins," said César Robles, deputy manager of the Fire Management Center of Mexico's National Forestry Commission. "The area affected by fires is directly correlated with the increase in temperature and the decrease in rainfall."

An area resident, Imelda Guerra Hurtado, 43, pointed to the barren lands of El Zanjón, an arid, semi-desert enclave that reaches the banks of the Colorado River delta.

She remembers her grandparents taking her fishing — and points to areas that used to have water.

"Sometimes we feel that we are dying of thirst. Although many deny it, the climate has changed," she said. "We have always lived off the fish in the river, since I can remember. Now we can only fish once a year and it is our main livelihood."

U.S. engineering and their consequences

The Cucapá are one of the five native tribes of Baja California, and they descend from the Yuman people. According to official data, there are now only between 350 and 400 members of the Cucapá people but, in the 19th century, Western colonizers documented between 5,000 and 6,000 nomads who organized into clans.

"You have to understand that these Indigenous people see the entire region, both the part of Mexico and the United States, as their territory. In their traditions, it is remembered that they received a lot of water and, little by little, they were running out of that flow," said Osvel Hinojosa-Huerta, director of the Coastal Solutions Program at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology.

The history of the Colorado River, and the problems it suffers today, is an ode to progress and engineering that tried to tame nature. It is the most important water system in northwestern Mexico. It is essential for farming in a semi-desert region.

In the 19th century, the river reached Mexico with a wild power of about 42,000 cubic feet per second. At the beginning of the 20th century, however, the United States began struggling to convert the arid regions of the Southwest to arable land, thus undertaking engineering works to divert water to the Imperial Valley of California.

"From 1922, everything started badly," Hinojosa-Huerta said. The United States did a study to divide the water from the Colorado River and, coincidentally, it was the 10 wettest years in the basin." Thus, a distribution was made on paper that included more water (16 percent) than there actually is. And then the reservoirs began to be built.

Treaties, dams — and then climate change

In 1936, the Hoover Dam was inaugurated, between Nevada and Arizona, which lowered the flow to 164 cubic meters per second for Mexico. In 1944, a bilateral treaty was signed that guaranteed Mexico about 1.8 million cubic meters of water per year, but most of it goes to agriculture.

The agreement did not consider the rights of the Cucapá people and their ancestral relationship with the river. But it affected their traditional ceremonies, causing a shortage of fruits and grains, and the trees and shrubs used to make houses, boats and clothing. "Nobody asked us anything," Guerra said.

In 1966, the Glen Canyon Dam in Arizona was erected, and the river's flow decreased to 8 cubic meters per second. But what no one seemed to count on, between treaties and dams, was climate change.

"In Mexicali, it has never rained," Hinojosa-Huerta said, "the flow that reaches the region and that supports agriculture comes from snowfall 2,600 kilometers [1,600 miles] in the Rockies."

It all depends on precipitation in Wyoming and Colorado, but since 2002 snowfall has been below average, depleting the river and resulting in a "desolating panorama," he said.

Years of warmer temperatures, a failed rainy season last summer and low snow cover have combined to cause Mexico's Baja California rivers to decline.

Hell on Earth

But heat also kills. In 2019 there were at least eight deaths in Mexicali associated with high temperatures; in 2020, they were 83.

"People cannot live with those temperatures, that is, people die", Zavala said, "although they are used to the heat, even small increases break the threshold for the human body to survive."

On Aug. 14, 2020, Mexicali registered 122 degrees Fahrenheit, breaking the record of 121 that dated from August 1981.

Froilán Meza Rivera, a veteran journalist and writer from northern Mexico, consulted the archives of the Secretariat of Hydraulic Resources. It appears that in July 1966, in Riíto, a Mexicali community, a thermometer reached an unprecedented figure of 140 degrees Fahrenheit. And that was its limit: the mercury rose to the top and could not measure any more.

It would be the highest figure in the world: according to the World Meteorological Organization, the highest recorded temperature is 134 degrees Fahrenheit on July 10, 1913, in California's Death Valley.

The region is exposed to the worst possible scenarios in terms of a climate emergency, according to Roberto Sánchez Rodríguez, an academic from the Colegio de la Frontera Norte. "Governments have mismanaged resources, and that is why there is less water available," he said.

Fishing

Since 1993, the fishing territory of the Cucapá has been included in the Upper Gulf of California and the Colorado River Delta Biosphere Reserve, which has a surface area of 2.3 million acres. This protected area was created to preserve the flora and fauna, such as the vaquita porpoises and the totoaba, which are at the brink of extinction.

"We abide by the rules, we know that species have to be protected because we are an Indigenous people, we use the nets and equipment that the government asks of us and we do not go out when it's not our turn," said Rubén Flores, captain of a panga, a boat used for traditional fishing.

An earthquake in 2010 also affected fishing. "It left us huge cracks that got bigger, and that doesn't allow us to fish like before," said Hilda Hurtado Valenzuela, 68, president of the Sociedad Cooperativa Pueblo Indígena Cucapá, one of the associations that groups together the people who are still fishing.

Sitting on a plastic chair near the patio of her home in El Indiviso, a semi-desert piece of land, she said she likes to get away from the sun. For a long time, she has not seen the sun as a source of life but as a tough enemy who takes out her tribe, destroys the river and forces them to forces them to do their chores and work at night during the harshest moments of summer.

"Unbearable"

"The heat here is unbearable, we have never experienced this. There are even people living on the streets who die because they cannot stand the temperatures," Valenzuela said. "And it also affects the animals because less water arrives from the river and the fish breed with the mixture of fresh water and salt, so there are fewer and fewer fish."

The townspeople insist that they do not fish the totoaba, whose swim bladder is considered a delicacy in the Asian market for its supposed medicinal and aphrodisiac properties (when it reaches China it costs $55,000 or $60,000).

But the intense demand leads to fishing with professional nets, thus also trapping the vaquitas and leaving them on the brink of extinction.

Various environmental and journalistic investigations have pointed to the Dragon Cartel, a criminal network with Mexican, American, Chinese and other intermediaries who conspire to exploit and fish the totoaba in that region.

Flores said that just by looking at the sky, he knows what the weather will be like. That's why he shakes his head disapprovingly every time he sees the relentless sun.

"Something strange is happening here. It is as if the sun lasts longer, so the fish do not like that heat. They are born less and weigh less." It used to take them two days to fish for curvina, now it takes them a whole week, he said, looking at the river.

The intense drought also has affected the fish's reproduction, so they must go further and further out, with poorly prepared boats, with small engines and without much fuel.

"We comply with everything, but the people of the surrounding towns also fish and don't (comply) —and many times we're punished for that, said Paco, a veteran fisherman with more than 25 years of experience.

"And we must also be careful because the narco is there, they follow our routes through the area and they fish in order to hide tons of drugs underneath. We tell the police, but nobody does anything," said Paco, whose last name is being withheld for fear of retaliation.

"I want the river to stay"

Lucia Laguna considers herself a guardian of the Cucapá, keeping alive their language, customs and traditional clothing to preserve them. Her memory is one of the most important reservoirs of the Cucapá past.

Kneeling on the banks of the Colorado River, she touches the dark water with special devotion while reciting an ancient song. Two little girls are with her.

"My tata [grandfather] fishes because without that we cannot eat. I too would like to be a fisherman, because I really like the river and being here," Marleny Sáenz, 10, said.

"I want the river to stay, to have our traditions," she said. "I like to sing because it is part of me, I feel very proud to be part of this town."

It is a ritual that they used to celebrate on the banks of the river. From time immemorial they burned the cachanilla, a wild plant with a fresh aroma, while chanting their songs so that the fishermen would be lucky in their long expeditions at sea.

"It is about opening paths, so that everything goes well," Laguna said.

"We are paying the consequences of the pollution of other people. The people of the cities have to understand that we are affected by what they do. They do not live alone in the world," she said sadly, touching the water and singing to the river.

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Note

Hey I’ve got a request. Was wondering if you could write about the reader finding out she has endometriosis and has to have surgery to remove it and then is scared to talk to Niall about maybe never being able to have a baby. Don’t know if this makes sense but it’s something I’m going through the now xx

sincerely appreciate your patience anon, i hope you like this and are feeling good atm :) <3

NOTE: endometriosis (en-doe-me-tree-O-sis) is a disorder where the tissue lining the inside of the uterus grows on the outside. It can occur in various stages (mininal, mild, moderate, and severe) and can result in excruciating abdominal/pelvic pain during and off menstruation and also infertility.

Dream - N. Horan Imagine

Niall was an old-fashioned man. Despite being born and growing up surrounded by media platforms of all fashions, he was classic in a nutshell. He was one very few would come to know today, who met his wife in person, rather than Tinder. Their first date ended with a hug neither of them wanted to leave, and not his bedroom she would try creeping out of the following morning. The big day took place in an Ireland cathedral; the very same cathedral Niall’s brother was married to his wife.

Amidst your honeymoon, Niall brought up his life plan to you. Of course, it had not been the first time you heard the whole “white-picket-fence, soft cottage” spiel. This was, however, the first time you teared up listening to it. You played it off like the trembling of your lip and quaver of your voice when you said “that sounds perfect” were all from joy. And Niall bought the fib on the spot, pulling your body against his chest and cheering through the whole new caliber of excitement he’s never claimed to reach before.

Today marks precisely a year from that, which Niall had recited many times to be the moment he wanted to “begin trying.” Unfortunately, your period struck you (quite painfully) last week, which made asking for a raincheck impossible. Rather, tonight was when you had to inform him of your decision. You tried everything you could to lighten the blow of the news while he was cleaning up his things at the studio. You cleaned the house yourself, top to bottom through your unwanted pain. You made his favorite meal (which you had decided weeks in advance to make) but elevated the dish with the little amount of culinary skill you possessed. You even went as far as to light a few candles and douse yourself with a perfume you owned that drove him wild.

You wanted the night to end like it usually did, but you knew within you that a little part of Niall’s heart was going to break along with this idea he has fantasized over for years. The moment you laid both of the plates on the table, the front door swung open to reveal Niall with a box of sundry items from the studio, and a guitar case pressed to his back.

“Hey, love is that…” He peered into the kitchen to eye the dishes and take in the familiar aroma of both the meal and your perfume. “I thought we were going out tonight, I wanted to treat you.” He nearly whines, while you just let a small smile overtake your lips.

“You always treat me, Ni. I just wanted tonight to be more…intimate.” The failure to find a better word left you inwardly cringing. But Niall made sure to let you see the rise of his eyebrows and darkening of his eyes clear in the dim light. The candle’s flame did well to flick across his bearded jaw and present his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. With a firm not, he stepped out of the kitchen to go put his things away in your bedroom, while you stood there with a sigh.

You were certain at the doctor’s office. All week long at work, you were drowning your qualms in affirmatory thoughts that this was the best route. But seeing Niall’s blue eyes cast his gaze on you like you were practically glowing with fertility made a hand of yours come up to scrub your face. It made each doubt swamp your insides and impossible to dispel. “Ready to eat, petal?” You drop your hand and glance up when Niall’s frame was back in the kitchen and turned away as he scrubbed his hands in the sink.

“Mhm.” The two of you sat down and began eating with one hand. Your other was locked with his across the table. Soon after the first bite, Niall was moaning in satisfaction over the flavor.

“Damn this is good, baby! Gonna have to pass this recipe on to the family…what’d you do to it?”

The word family made you freeze and let your fork slip from your now shaky hand and clatter onto the tile below.

“Love? Are you alrigh’?” His brows were furrowed in an instant as he squeezed your hand. You reciprocated the action and looked up at him with a blurry shield coating both of your eyes.

“Um…Ni I need to…tell you something.” Your voice was straining through your teeth as it came out in various cracks. His eyes scan your apprehensive figure up and down in concern, and he gave your hand another squeeze as a cue to continue. “You know how I’ve been having painful…periods. You know how they’ve been hurting more than usual?” Niall nods, still looking unsure at your current state. You’ve vocalized plenty of times during your time of the month for close to a year now of how your insides felt to Niall.

At first, it was a mild increase of aches, something you brushed off along with Niall because you were certain it was normal. But as the months went on, it slowly built into anticipation of pure agony when the week from hell began. You were taking pain medication as though it were candy and have had to call out from work more than you would like to admit due to the anguish your abdomen suffered. These previous months, though, you’ve noticed the pain’s prominence at a new level entirely, and how it is present even without your period happening.

“Well…I went to the clinic a couple of weeks ago for tests, and they came back a few days ago. Do you know what endometriosis is?”

Niall felt guilty for not being well-versed with the topic. And you were expecting him to shake his head before he even did. You give a brief explanation of the diagnosis the doctor had given you a few days ago over the phone and let him sit for a few moments to soak in the new information.

“So…what does this mean?” throughout the conversation his hand never left your grasp. It was as tight as ever in your hold.

“Well…my two options were suffering or surgery. I chose the latter…” Niall nods. “But that’s not what the problem is.” He looks up from his plate into your eyes. His blues were wide and afraid of what information could follow up the good news of your pain finally coming to an end. “A possible symptom of endometriosis is infertility. But it’s also a risk factor of surgery. So, I don’t know if I can have kids now or be able to after surgery. My mom was diagnosed with it after having me…the doctor’s told her she only had a twenty percent chance and they thought she was going to lose me within the first trimester.”

Niall remained silent in his chair for a few moments. When he finally found the courage to speak up, he managed to let a single word out. “Oh…”

“Honey, I know you’ve had this big plan in your head. And I know you wanted so badly for the next part to start tonight, but Niall…I can’t live in pain any longer. I don’t know how good my chances are and I don’t know how much they could increase or decline if it does happen. But I don’t want to risk it and get our hopes up…” Your voice broke off in a whisper towards the end, as tears slid down your face in substitution of an explanation you felt guilty giving. “Chances are, I could be more fertile post-surgery but…”

“But you also couldn’t,” Niall concludes. Your streaming eyes look down at your plate of barely touched food as you send him a half-hearted nod from the table. You suck in a sharp breath and bring your hands up to your face immediately after, your grip leaving him to cover your red face dripping with searing tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, petal why are you apologizing—”

“Because you wanted this for so long Ni! This was like your biggest dream in the world and I am sitting here crushing it! You don’t deserve this…you don’t deserve me—”

“Stop. Stop right now, don’t even go there.” Niall orders, leaving your voice to drop. He shakes his head as you lift yours to look at him. His hand slides across the table, face-up, and ready to take yours again. When you finally did, the warmth of his grip trapped yours and brought them to the middle of the table once again.

“When I was sixteen my biggest dream was t’ make music. When I was twenty-two and met the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen in my life, my dream changed to making her fall in love with me. For months before I finally popped the question I was dreaming of scenarios in my head of which time and place would be the best to do it.” You stayed silent but felt your insides warming at all of this information. How he could still adore you with his whole heart when it felt like only moments ago you had broken it, was beyond you. “I never planned to be put in a band and go solo afterward with no words spoken. More importantly, I never planned to meet you or propose to you three years after. Things like this creep up on us and we can’t help them. Yes, I did want to have kids of my own but…I do want your health to be a top priority also.”

“Really? Y-you’re not mad?”

“Of course, I’m not mad, love. It’s a little upsetting but shit, it’s the 21st century there are a million ways to have a kid at this point. I don’t care how we have them I just want to have them with you and while you’re healthy.” More tears fall from your eyes, ones which Niall does not hesitate to lean over and brush away with his free hand.

“Oh, and uh…” you sniffle. “we can still have sex and stuff before the surgery, ya know.” You croak, leaving Niall to lightly chuckle from across the table.

“Good to know.”

you can click HERE for my masterlist full of more niall things!

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ghostfacesvalentine · 5 years

Text

Back so soon? ( Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader )

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Warnings: A lil mention of nsfw, some cursing, not much tbh.

Type: One shot

Request: billy loomix x reader and they've been dating for months now and she keeps almost telling him i love you and the waiting for it gets on his nerves until he finally says it first? thank you!!!

Word Count: 1,622

Prompt: Billy says I love you first.

Notes: I hope you enjoyed this! I had fun, still a lil insecure in my writing but this is all for fun! Billy makes me soft UWU

You’ve been dating Billy for several months, it hadn’t even felt like a long time, the excitement was still vibrant.

You could say you were still stiff in the honeymoon phase, you’d spend plentiful time together, going out on movie dates, laying out on the grass near a lake at the park, going out to eat or just walking around various stores, whatever you felt like doing.

Billy was always making sure you were satisfied to say the least, learning to pick up on your body language, when you were uncomfortable, when you were annoyed, when you were scared, when something made you feel good, when something made you laugh, he was always watching you intently on your reactions.

Expressing your love was quite the challenge for you, you had little to no experience in the dating scene, while Billy had plentiful more than you, which only made you more nervous.

You were a newbie at this, but something about Billy captivated you, the way he seemed to always step in when you needed him most, always making sure you were safe, he was a bit of a helicopter boyfriend, but you didn’t mind.

Actually you were growing to like it, a lot.

You were feeling significantly less lonely with Billy around, but you were still nervous. Surely he must’ve picked up on you inexperience, or maybe he didn’t.

Sometimes he’d pull you in for a kiss, which you would happily partake in, but when he seemed to crave more, your body would shut down. You were attracted to Billy, you knew you were, but you also knew you were dreadfully anxious, never letting him get more than two or three kisses out of you in one sitting.

The most you’ve ever gotten carried away was one night when your parents weren’t home, Billy came over, you both hid away in your room, watching horror movies under your blankets and pillows, when Billy kissed your cheek.

You turned to him and pressed your lips against his, he then took the liberty to hoist you slowly onto his lap, you barely started parting your lips until it was too much for you, shaking, your breathing getting cut short rather quickly.

Billy took note of this then turning you over and laying you on your back and slowly laying himself next to you while sighing softly apologizing for his overstepping, but you slid up with your back against the headboard assuring him he didn’t do anything wrong.

He didn’t argue with your attempt to soothe him, but he still never tried to make a move on you again, instead allowing you to take the lead.

Which was a terrible idea, but you were too embarrassed to admit what you were feeling and why you were behaving in this manner.

Tonight you had a date with Billy, he suggested a nice place to get some Thai food, which you were excited for, well anything he suggested seemed like the a fun thing to do.

Neither of you were ever much for the elegant dates, Billy told you not to worry about dressing up, it would just be one of your casual dates, which you followed his suggestions, dressing yourself in a cozy outfit, you peaked in the mirror fixing some of your loose strands of hair and shifting your shirt around to look and feel comfortable.

As you heard a car pull up in your driveway, you peaked through your blinds, seeing your boyfriends familiar car. You then pulled away and made your way towards your door, Billy met you halfway, greeting you with a soft squeeze.

He kissed your forehead as he usually did, looking down to you as you looked up to him, his lips formed into a small smile, never looking away from you, like he wanted to remember this moment and every moment always.

Endless hours of laughter, soft touches, subtle kisses, all came to end where it first began, right at path to your doorstep. You dreaded these moments of silence, knowing it should be filled with I love yous, all replaced with the serenity of the night and sometimes if you were brave, comments of how much fun you had.

Tonight was no different, Billy locked his fingers with yours, looking to you as you came to a stopping point, he would occasionally wait for you to say something, sometimes you would, sometimes you wouldn’t.

You couldn’t help it, you were nervous. You really liked Billy, hell, you loved him, you may not have as much experience in dating, but you gather up some kind of grip as to how you felt.

There you both stood, under the blanket of the night with twinkling stars to be seen in the distance if you focused long enough, small winds breezing their way through, evidence they were there were displayed through Billy’s moving strands of hair swaying soothingly.

You could tell he was anticipating something, you knew exactly what he was waiting for, and though it felt right, you just couldn’t bring yourself to give it to him, much less talk to him about it.

What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he thought you were moving too soon? So many what ifs disheveled in your mind.

“I had fun.” You broke the silence with words neither you or him wanted to hear. Billy smiled to you in a defeated manner, followed by nodding as he looked down to the pavement. You felt your stomach churn at his reaction “Yeah, I did too.” He replied in a soft tone, he was conflicted, not knowing whether to lay it all out on the table or just wait until you’re more comfortable.

He chose to wait, kissing your forehead softly, you held your breath as he did so, maybe you could just drop it then, but he didn’t even wait, instead he whispered a goodnight, then following the path back to his car.

You stood there for a minute, arguing with yourself internally to go after him, but the thinking it’d be better to save it for a different occasion.

Was it a big deal? Maybe not, but it was for you.

A few hours had passed, you were in your room, knees brought up to your chest, you kept replaying what just happened, wondering if he was upset with you. Did you mess up? Probably.

You were so frustrated with yourself.

Sitting there listening to the radio shoo away the dead silence, you told yourself you’d make yourself admit how you felt tomorrow. No more running, avoiding or hiding this. What if something happened to you or him? And he’d never know how you felt because you were too insecure to admit it.

If he didn’t feel the same way, then you could just cut it off right there, which that made you nervous of course you didn’t want to end it with Billy, never in a million years.

It was then you heard some rustling in the trees, which frightened you at first, a pair of hands then gripped onto the frame of your window, it was Billy.

You let out a sigh of relief, not knowing how to react, you were in your pj’s, fresh face, ready to go to bed, Billy however was still in what he was wearing earlier, a white t shirt, presumably the same jeans and shoes.

“(Y/N)” He breathed out, a dorky smile came across his face, it was then that you craved to tell him you loved him. “Billy.” You responded with a soft giggle, swinging your legs over to the other side of the bed, you shuffled over to him, pulling him in through the small window (in comparison to his size, you could easily slide in and out the frame, he, however needed some help.)

You brought your index finger towards your lips, hushing him from making too much noise, your folks were scattered around the downstairs. You leaped over towards your door, locking it to avoid anyone interrupting your unexpected guest.

Billy seemed to be beaming, only to see you, you looked back to him “What are you doing here Billy, back so soon?” You grinned deviously, teasing him was one of favorite things to do.

“You know I can’t get enough of you.” He chuckled quietly, matching your volume level. Your cheeks then warmed up “Billy.” You whined in a careful tone.

“(Y/N).” He interrupted, walking forward to lead you towards the end of your bed, as the back of your legs hit the end, you had no other option than to sit down, looking up to him.

Confusion was written all across your face as he got down to your level, bringing himself to both of his knees, looking at you directly, his dark brown eyes mesmerizing you as always, you didn’t even notice he took both of your hands in his.

He was rubbing small circles across the back part of hands, while keeping his gaze on you. “(Y/N.) I don’t want to overstep, but I can’t keep it from you, I love you.”

There was then a pause.

You looked at Billy and though he didn’t explicitly show it, he was nervous, not knowing what you would say or how you’d interact, but it didn’t take long for you to breathe a sigh of relief, you leaned in to kiss him, to which he immediately kissed back, wrapping his arms around you.

You felt your heart thumping against your chest, you were sure his was as well, although it was only a few seconds, it felt like a sweet forever moment.

“Billy-” you whispered out of breath “I love you too.”

#Billy Loomis #Billy Loomis x Reader #Billy Loomis One shot #Billy Loomis Imagine

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hopeaterart · 3 years

Text

I’m gonna be there Chapter 17

Do not be fooled by the fact that this is a breather chapter between two major events: there’s a lot going on here. (If someone correctly guesses who Kakyoin is talking about when he mentions someone nice working for Dio, I will make them a drawing of their choice.)

“WAKEY WAKEY, COWBOY MAN!” SPLASH!

Hol Horse woke up with a yell, his wrist restrained behind him and his ankles tied to the front legs of a chair. He slowly looked around. Miss Holly and Polnareff were there, the blond woman standing up in front of him and the frenchman leaning on a wall, a tall girl with goggles on her head standing next to him. There was also a short man standing behind Holly, a bucket in his hands.

“So, Hol Horse, is it?” The short man asked, tilting his head to the side as he came closer. “I want you to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat here and now.”

The cowboy laughed nervously. “You’re bluffin-”

“He’s not.”

“I’m not.”

“So now that we’ve established that my husband would not hesitate to get rid of you,” Holly started, narrowing her eyes. “Maybe you’ll be willing to answer a few questions-”

“SIS! I’M BACK! AND I BROUGHT DONUTS!” A cheerful voice sounded out in the house, making Holly flinch in surprise.

“I- Alright, Joey!” Holly yelled back. “I’m busy with something right now! If Joriko needs help with her homework, can you help her?”

“Sure thing!” Holly nodded to herself, turning back toward the cow-boy.

“As I was saying, I have a few questions for you. They’re about Dio.”

““L- look, I dunno where Dio came from, or what he has against you people, aight?” Hol Horse started, brows furrowed. “All I know is that he’s payin’ me a huge amount of money to kill ya and yer son.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were working with the scumbag that killed my little sister!” Polnareff snapped.

Hol Horse looked confused for a moment, but all it took was the girl next to him cracking her knuckles to get him to spill. “I- I didn’ wanna work with him at first. I have standards, for Christ’ sake!” He momentarily snapped, Holly narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“Then why were you working with him?”

“Because my Emperor isn’t really good on it’s own.” He started, shrugging. “But works almost perfectly in conjunction with Hanged Man. If we had both been inside, the fight would’ve gone differently, and we would already be collecting our reward.”

“Wrong: if you had won that fight, I would’ve killed the both of you with a kitchen knife upon coming back home, especially if I had found my wife dishonored.” The short man hissed.

“... Okay, who are you?”

“Kujo Sadao.”

“As in the jazz musician!?”

“I am the jazz musician.” He deadpanned. “And I’d like you to focus on the ‘married to Holly and father of Jotaro’ part.”

Holly was about to add something, when suddenly: “MOM! WE’RE BACK! ” Another voice sounded out this one much deeper, Holly sighing this time.

“I- I’m a little busy right now, Jotaro. Your uncle brought back donuts, if you’re hungry.” She yelled back.

“Can we order pizza for dinner? Noriaki-kun wants pizza.”

“I do want pizza!” Kakyoin added from the other end of the house.

“I want pizza too.” Polnareff admitted, both Sadao and the tall girl nodding.

“Alright, order pizza then!”

“Remember, no mushrooms! I can’t eat that shit.” Sadao yelled, Jotaro answering affirmatively.

“So...” Hol Horse started, gesturing with his head to the younger woman in the room. “Who are you?”

“Kujo Jojimi, Jotaro’s cousin.” She answered blankly, Hol Horse nodding.

“Alright... family’s way bigger than I thought.” He muttered under his breath. “If I had known, I would’ve asked for something bigger...”

Holly suddenly raised her head, turning toward Hol Horse. “How much is Dio paying you for our heads?”

“Uh? I... about fifty grand each. American dollars”

“What do you think of five hundred thousand to leave us alone, then? American dollars, of course.” The woman proposed, baffling the cowboy.

“Uh, Holly?” Sadao hesitantly started. “You do know that five hundred thousand dollars is roughly five million yens, right?”

“And we can pay for it.” Holly reassured him. “At worst, I’ll convince papa we need some money.”

“Lady.” Hol Horse finally spoke up. “If you give me 5 hundred thousand, I’ll help you kill the fuckin’ vampire.”

“... Well, that’s settled!” Holly cheerfully declared, clapping her hands together and turning toward Sadao. “Dear, could you untie him?”

Sadao nodded, untying the cowboy and helping him stand up. “Alright, thanks, but...” Hol Horse started awkwardly just as he rubbed his wrist. “Where am I gonna be sleepin’?”

And just like that, Sadao’s urge to run the cowboy over with his car was back.

“Alright, so...” Sadao started, visibly tired. “Jojimi and Joriko will go back to their house with Hol Horse.” He started. “They’re going to call Daisuke to stay with them to make sure he” the musician pointed at the cowboy “doesn’t try anything. As for here, Polnareff-san will stay in the living room, and Joey can stay in the first guest room. As for Kakyoin-kun, he will go back in the second guest room. Any question?”

“Yeah- how come I have to stay in the living room?” Polnareff asked, frowning. “I mean, when your nieces were living there, you set up your office to let Kakyoin have some private space. Why can’t I have that!?”

“You can leave whenever you want. I can’t.” Kakyoin told him, shrugging.

“Also, I’m pretty sure my sister considers you to be her second child at this point...” Joey muttered under his breath.

“Well, I’m not leaving anytime soon!” Polnareff declared. “The Kujos have freed me from my brainwashing and Holly helped me take revenge for Sherry! The least I can do is help them defend themselves against Dio!”

Holly smiled. “Thank you, Jean-Pierre.”

“Uh... we’re gonna go pack our things.” Jojimi told the rest of the family, who all nodded as she and Joriko started to exit the room. “Hol Horse-san? Please go wait by the door.”

“Of course, little lady.” The cowboy stated, starting to get up before having his wrist grabbed. He turned, toward the person, who turned out to be Sadao. “What?”

“I just want to make things clear.” Sadao started, raising up and dragging Hol Horse to his eye level. “If so much as a whisper of a hair out of place on either of niece’s head reaches my ears? I will fucking ruin your life, and make sure you regret ever stepping foot in Japan, and you will forever fear the name Kujo Sadao. Understood?”

“... So bein’ terrifying runs in the family, eh?”

“Yes, and I’m serious. Hurt my nieces, and I’ll do to you what I did to the rests of my agents.” Sadao bluntly told the cowboy, letting him go and then sitting back down.

“What... happened to the rest of his agents?” Hol Horse asked, turning toward Jotaro as the delinquent got up.

“Google it up, shitlord. I’m going outside for a smoke.” Jotaro told his parents as he left the room, shrugging his school coat off. He normally kept it on as log as possible for comfort, but the temperature was getting too high for him.

He groaned as he came into the backyard, the temperature somehow higher outside. Why the hell was it so hot!? They were in the middle of December! He groaned, sitting down and lighting himself a cigarette, trying to process everything that had happened in the last few weeks. He didn’t notice Kakyoin he came to sit down next to him, the redhead sighing. “God, it feels like an oven in here.”

Jotaro nodded. “Yeah.” He turned toward the sun, covering his eyes. “Is it normal for the temperature to rise when the sun looks bright?”

“The sun is supposed to be... bright...” The redhead trailed off, looking at the courtyard with a frown. Something seemed... off.

Kakyoin gasped in realization, tapping Jotaro on the shoulder. The delinquent turned toward him, frowning. “What?”

“That spot over there...” He pointed at a tree in the garden. “Is it me or are the shadows wrong?”

Jotaro squinted, before his eyes widened in realization. He groaned. “Yeah, no shit, that tree wasn’t even there before-” He picked up a rock on the ground, standing up as he did so. “I can see you, bitch!” He then threw the rock, and the very air shattered like glass.

Kakyoin sighed in relief when the sun lessened in brightness, the sudden heatwave going away with it. “Looks like the user of the Sun Stand was out and about. Oh well, third Stand user to be taken out in a day. Should take a while for others to show up, so I’m not going to complain.”

“How many?”

“... uh?”

“How many are there left? Of Dio’s henchmen.” Jotaro asked, sitting back down and looking at Kakyoin.

The redhead sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t remember seeing most of these people. I- I think he’s just hiring bounty hunters, right now. No point in sending his best underlings when we haven’t done anything to hinder him, after all.”

“Yeah, but it’s starting.” Jotaro stated with slight panic in his tone. “You... you said it yourself: the mother of the guy Polnareff killed today is really close to Dio.” He buried his face in his hands. “I... I’m scared.”

Kakyoin blinked, before gently taking one of Jotaro’s hand away from his face, the taller boy turning to look at him. “It’ll be okay. Don’t ask me how I know, it’s just- I just know, you guys make me feel safe. As for Dio’s henchmen...” The redhead seemed deep in thought for a moment “I think the rest of the Tarot might show up, and I think I remember... nine plus one. There’s ten people that work close to Dio. Maybe a few more people that are with him for the same reason Polnareff and I were. There’s also someone else who lives with him, but I’m not sure. The few times I’ve interacted with him stand out in my memory, but it’s because he’s... nice.”

“Wait. Dio attracts kind people?” Jotaro frowned in confusion. “I thought only, like, evil and fucked up people would work for him.”

Kakyoin shrugged. “I mean, something was definitely fucked up about that guy. I thought he was faking it, first time he helped me.”

“Was he?”

“Well, I ended up walking on him having sex with Dio, so take a guess.” Kakyoin deadpanned. Jotaro hummed, looking at his hand still in the redhead’s before sighing.

“What... what did Dio do to you for you to want to kill him?” The redhead froze, an expression of pure terror on his face. “You- you don’t have to tell me, it’s just-”

“I... he hurt me.” Kakyoin choked out. “He abducted me from my life, my parents, stripped me of all power over myself, made me feel powerless, used me for his own twisted amusement.” The redhead’s laughed at that, but it sounded more like sobbing. “I want him to suffer- I need him to suffer. I want to hold his less than worthless life in my hands and twist until it breaks!” He snapped.

Kakyoin then gasped, and sent an hesitant look at Jotaro, as if he was afraid of his reaction. But the taller teenager just nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. You should be the one who gets to kill him.”

“... what?”

“I don’t want to kill anyone, mom doesn’t like violence- she doesn’t hate it either, she’s just... neutral toward it- and I’m pretty sure that if my life wasn’t in danger, dad wouldn’t give a fuck.” Jotaro explained, shrugging. “If anyone should get the satisfaction of killing that bastard it’s you, Noriaki-kun.”

Kakyoin sighed, a small smile on his lips as he put his head on Jotaro’s shoulder. “Thank you, Jotaro-kun.”

Dio took his hand off the crystal ball, the Stand that was supposed to belong to Jonathan retracting back inside of wherever Stands lived. “And there you have it. Your son was killed by Jean-Pierre Polnareff, and Holly Joestar. As for Hol Horse, he has betrayed us.”

The bloody old woman growled. “How dare they... my perfect son... and with dirty tricks like that... I must avenge him!�� She snapped. Dio raised a consterned eyebrow.

“You want to go after the Joestar now? After they took out every member of the Tarot order you sent after them?” Well, almost all of them. Gray Fly got taken out before he could make it to Japan in a plane crash, ironically enough.

“It doesn’t matter! I, Enya, SHALL KILL THEM ALL!” The old woman exclaimed as she ran off, the vampire calculating her chances in his head. She might have easily been able to take them down before, but now? As it now was, Enya stood no chance. Dio sighed. What a shame, she had been quite useful to him...

“Lord Dio?” The blond vampire turned toward the voice, smiling as Jude came into view, wrapped in a blanket. The purple-haired boy was good with technology (those times were so advanced, technologically speaking, that Dio had to admit to himself there was no way he could catch up alone), had info on a... infuriating organization that seemed to be after him, and was a good lay.

“Come here, dollface.” The slender man approached Dio, settling down next to him and cuddling up at his arm, the vampire carding his claws through the choppy hair. “I need you to call one of my bounty hunters...”

“You’re still watching them?”

“Well, someone has to keep an eye on them, and since Joseph is kept out of that particular loop...”

“... Okay? Say, Viola? Wouldn’t it be easier to just... help them in person, instead of spying on them?”

“I know, Ros. I just... it’s been so long, I don’t know if I can. I suppose I could get Hills or Nicole to go check on them in person, since they’re already in the country...”

“Aren’t they busy tracking down the Arrow that bloodsucking joto hid over there?”

“Urgh, you’re right... do you have any ideas?”

“Uh... yeah: we go to the Kujo house, you drop me there, you give them a lie, and promptly fuck off while I help them fend off bicho’s bounty hunters. Thoughts?”

“No. Out of everyone, you’re the one I want to put in danger the least-”

Riing~ Riing~ Rii-

“Yes hello?”

“... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...”

“Really? Which one?”

“... ...”

“... Oh. I see. Thank you.” click. “It seems there’s been a change of plan, and you’re coming with me.”

“Wait- we’re actually going to help-”

“Yes. Start packing your baggage, Rosaura: we’re going to Japan!”

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

captain. james. conrad.

why did you just make me so thirsty for some pilot!reader x Captain James Conrad, anon??

don’t worry i’m still a loki slut i just wanted to try this baby out. i’d love to hear your thoughts?

also sorry no read more tag, i’m on mobile :(

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You’ve helped him out before, but today seems different.

He stalks across your landing pad with his head held higher than usual and is in your chopper before you’ve even left the pre-flight office, waiting for you with an impatiently bouncing knee. Not that he’d ever actually express his impatience, he tends to stay polite—most of the time.

Brutally honest and possibly even cocky at times, but for the most part, it’s a rugged politeness.

“How we holdin’ up today, Captain?” You yell over the roar of the rudders, clapping a hand on the top of the pilots-side door.

He shouts something back to you, his normally gelled hair fluttering under the wind picked up by the rotors, but you can’t hear a word he’s saying. Holding up a finger, you toss him a clunky headset as you climb into your seat, tapping the microphone on your own with a pointed look to use it.

The headset cackles to life and Conrad’s smooth accent fills your ears: “Haven’t I told you to call me James?”

“Sorry, Cap’n Crunch, guess I forgot.” Your fingers tighten around the pitch-lever and you twist around in your seat to flash him a quick grin.

Those aviator sunglasses block his eyes from you but you like to think that behind those lenses, they’re twinkling with some kind of amusement at your attempt to make him smile.

“Can we just leave, please?” The static in the headset hurts your ears.

“You in some kind of hurry?”

“You could say that.” He raises an eyebrow above the gold rim of those damn glasses—you’re pretty certain he has beautiful eyes. But also pretty sure that you’ve only ever seen them maybe once or twice.

“Fine, fine,” you tighten your belt and flip a few switches, turning around for one last smile. “You might want to strap in, weather’s not looking too promising.”

The captain fakes a sigh and begrudgingly buckles the safety belt around his waist, spreading his arms with a small smile when he finishes. “Satisfied?”

“Alright, remind me not to care for your safety next time, sheesh.”

You feel a teasing flick on the edge of your shoulder from the seat behind you and the strange song of static and that accent cuts through your headset again; “just fly, little bird, I’m a busy man.”

He’s smiling, you can hear it.

“Aye aye, captain.” You reach behind you with a reassuring thumbs-up, and the copter lifts steadily into the air with a deafening roar.

Do something crazy. Flip upside down or something, your flight-fogged brain starts shouting at you once home is out of sight behind you—not a good idea, brain.

But the captain—James, I guess—does seem a little quieter today, a little more somber than usual. You glance down at the coordinates he had given you—huh. It’s just a little bit off the coast of the last island in the cluster on which you live, but it’s just open ocean right around there.

“Where is this, cap—James?” Your headset cracks and sputters as you speak, and you point to the tracker screen. “Isn’t that just water?”

His answer is clipped, but not exactly cold. Just...distant. “Yes.”

“Okaaaay...then why am I dropping you off there?”

You think he’s chuckling, can’t really tell through the speakers.

“Boat drop off, genius,” he explains, leaning forward to tap a finger on the screen. “There will be a ship right there if we timed it right. I’ll hop on and hope to god that it’s not navy, see where they can take me.”

“So you don’t really know where you’re going?” You manoeuvre the copter above a group of particularly tall palm trees.

“Well...not exactly.”

“That doesn’t worry you?”

“Quite the opposite, actually.” When you glance behind you, he’s leaning his head out the open side of the chopper, watching land get further and further away.

Boy, someone’s talkative today.

“You okay, captain?”

His laugh echoes through your headset and you wish you could see his face. “James. I’m fine, thank you.”

“Well, James, I’m...” you pause, already cringing. “I’m, uh, here for you—I mean, I’m here if you want—need! If you need me.”

He might be laughing again, you can’t tell.

“I appreciate that, thank you.”

A few more minutes pass and you get nearer to the drop off, where you’re just going to watch James jump out of your chopper into the ocean and turn right back around to your dreary life of back and forth. Seems wrong, really, to just let him jump into a free fall like this.

Oh well. He’s always been one to toy with death, even in the small amount of time you’ve been flying him around.

You try one more time for a conversation. “How long are you gonna be gone this time?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment and you wonder for a split second if he fell asleep to the lulling rock of the helicopter.

“I don’t know that either,” he finally answers, his voice staticky, disconnected.

“You don’t know where you’re going,” you clarify, worry starting to crease your brow. “And you don’t know for how long...this isn’t another one of your business trips, is it.”

White noise on the other end of the line. You start to think you went too far, got too personal too quickly, but then the headset shudders back to life.

“I’m...looking for something.” He pauses. “Somewhere, I suppose.”

“I hope you find it,” you offer, unsure of what that’s supposed to mean.

“...would you mind if I told you something a bit—a bit personal? Just, you know, before I leave.”

“I’m all ears, captain.”

“I tend to move around a lot. In life, I mean.”

You laugh and try to hold the copter steady as a light rain begins to fall. “That’s pretty obvious.”

“Most of the time, I enjoy my nomadic life,” he sighs, and you can tell he’s struggling to find the right words. “But lately...lately it feels hollow. I feel lost.”

Your grip tightens around the pitch-lever between your knees—you weren’t expecting something so, uh, deep.

Life advice has never been your forte.

The captain’s crisp laugh fills your surprised silence. “I’m sorry. That’s quite personal, isn’t it?”

“N-no, I’m just—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He chuckles and out of the corner of your eye you see him turn to the open door again. “We hardly know each other, I shouldn’t come to you with my problems.”

It’s true. He’s only been on your island for what, a little over a month? And you should’ve known he wouldn’t stay, the reputation of the captain held true. He loses himself, finds himself, and moves on to the next thrill.

You say “your island” like it belongs to you.

Or like you belong to it.

“Well, I’m here to help in any way I can,” you chirp, turning around to give him a reassuring smile. “Maybe it’s better that we have this, uh, ‘strictly professional’ relationship? ‘Cause you don’t exactly stick around much.”

“That’s true.” He goes silent for a moment. “I’m going to miss this place, to be honest with you.”

Miss this place? This lame little island in the middle of nowhere, this tiny little port town where nothing happens, with only one starbucks and about a million taco joints?

“Consider yourself lucky,” you chuckle, starting to even out the copter as you near the drop-off. “You get to leave, go new places. Meet new people.”

“It’s not always as enjoyable as everyone makes it sound.”

For some reason, you flirt with the idea of just turning around and taking both of you back home before he can throw himself out of the chopper for good.

His daunting accent cuts through the static once again. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Excuse me??”

The copter hovers in place and James unbuckles his safety belt, grabbing his bag and slinging a parachute over one shoulder. An amused smile playing at his lips, he leans over your shoulder to peck a quick, almost nonexistent kiss on your cheek.

The nerve of this ridiculous man.

“You are a pilot.” He laughs at the surprise still on your face from that very out-of-place kiss. “The world is yours, you can leave whenever you want. Why won’t you leave the nest, birdie?”

Keeping the chopper level over the cargo ship he had so correctly predicted would be there, you snap your head over to stare at him—this is more of a conversation than how most of your distracted “where to?” normally goes.

Of course, when he’s about to jump out of your helicopter and never come back.

Great.

“That’s...personal.” You hope the uneasiness isn’t too obvious in your voice.

“Shame, really.” The captain straps the parachute over his chest, tapping a quick finger against your forehead. “I’d have liked to get a little more personal with whatever goes on in that strange head of yours.”

“You’re such a charmer, Conrad.”

“James.”

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes with a teasing laugh. “Maybe if you ever lose your way back around my dumb island, we can go back to that bar I found you in?”

“Fairly certain I found you,” he counters.

“You were too busy schmoozing the bartender for a free shot. One shot, captain, was it worth it?”

Now he rolls his eyes, making his way to the open side of the chopper and bracing himself against the top with both hands to the metal, looking over his shoulder at you. “Says the one who was flirting with every guy in the bar for free drinks. Then you thought I could be swayed.”

“You almost offered...”

“I just needed a pilot.”

“Sure.” You wink at him and flash him a sarcastic thumbs up.

He shakes his head with a small grin and turns around to face you, double checking his chute and tapping a two-fingered salute to his forehead. His smile falters for half a second and you almost miss it...he’s about to jump.

“You could stay,” you blurt when he reaches up to remove the headset, cringing as soon as the words leave your mouth. “We could go get that drink right now, I’m—I’m buying!”

The captain laughs. “You sound like you’re going to miss me, sweetheart.”

“Pshh, no, don’t flatter yourself.”

Uh...hell yes I am??

“Mhm. I’ll miss you too, if that makes you feel better,” he teases, hands playing with the band of his jeans, retucking-in the periwinkle shirt stretched taut over his chest.

“Oh really? Why’s that, oh captain my captain?”

He bares his teeth in a teasing scowl at your little nudge, then crouches near the open side of the chopper, holding on to the side to keep from falling right out. “You’ve been one of the best pilots I’ve worked with.”

The captain smiles at you and takes off his headset, just holding the mic up to his mouth.

“And you always seemed to know how to get me where I need to be.”

Then he tosses the headset back to you, lets go of the chopper, and plummets through the air with the open sea rushing up to meet him.

**not tagging anyone cause it’s not Loki and idk if y’all are gonna like this heh :))**

#captain james conrad #james conrad x reader #captain james conrad x reader #captain james conrad imagine #captain james conrad fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #kong skull island imagine #james conrad imagine #james conrad fluff #kong skull island #tom hiddleston skull island #tom hiddleston james conrad #james conrad x you #captain james conrad x you

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godofevrerything · 4 years

Text

Hell Rising Chapter Three: Rana

"Kamiko! Stop!" I screamed. I chased my sister down the hallway, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"You're sick!" she yelled. "Your head is all screwed up! Kuri-san need to know about this before you hurt somebody!"

"I wouldn't hurt anyone! Give me back my journal!" I cried.

Fear ran through me. I couldn't let Haha and Chichi see my journals. They'd disown me and wipe my existence from the family tree. Or even worse...

I heard the door open. Kamiko sprinted into the living room. I was right on her heels.

She shoved my journal into Haha's hands, gasping for breath. "Namarana is crazy! She-She... Well read them!"

Haha took my journal from Kamiko, frowning slightly.

"Haha, no, don't read it! My journal is private!" I cried.

Chichi clucked his tongue. "We are a family, watashi no musume. We do not have secrets."

Haha yelped, dropping my journal. She stared at me in horror.

I dove for my journal, but Chichi had already picked it up.

He froze.

"What is the meaning of this?"

My hands shook. "N-nothing,"

I looked at Haha in desperation.

"Nothing?!" she gasped. "These thoughts are thoughts of a demon!"

I flinched. "No! I'm fine. I'm not a demon. I- I'm your daughter!"

Chichi looked at me in disgust. "No daughter of mine would ever think these horrific things."

"I'm sorry!" I yelled. "That's just how I feel! There is nothing wrong wi-"

"Nothing wrong?!" Haha cried. Her face was white with terror. "Thinking of women this way, having these gory thoughts! There are a million things wrong with that!"

Tear fell down my face. "I've always liked girls. And with all that talk about it being a sin, of course I would want to die. I can never talk to anyone about my crushes, or my feelings. I can't say a word, because if I do, you'll send me away!"

"You're thinking of cutting yourself!" Kamiko suddenly yelled. "Cutting your arms and legs, getting hundreds of piercings, destroying this family!"

"I wouldn't destroy the family. And if you really cared, then you would notice that something was wrong!" I screamed.

They were staring at me like I was a ghost. I swallowed back a sob, glaring at them.

"Please," I whispered. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm not a demon or a monster. I'm not crazy. Don't send me away. Please, I'm begging you."

For a moment, my family was still. And then they bolted past me, into the master bedroom. I ran after them, my heart in my throat. I could hear Haha speaking desperately.

"I don't know. She's a demon, or something from Hell. She'll kill us. Take her away, please!"

I froze.

Then I threw myself against the door. "NO! Haha, Chichi, don't do this! Please! I'm your daughter!"

Kamiko let out a scream. "She's trying to break the door down! Oh my god, she's trying to kill us! I don't want to die!"

"No! Let me in. Let me IN!" I howled.

They screamed.

In terror.

My family was terrified of me.

I slammed my body against the door, trying to knock it down. I wasn't going to be sent away. No. Everyone that the officials took away never came back.

"So what if I like girls?! I'm a human just like you all!"

"You're a monster!" Haha yelled.

I froze.

A monster.

She called me a monster.

My breath came out sharp. My hands shook. I grabbed onto my head. "No. No. N-n-no! I-I I'm not a m-monster. I'm not! You can't say that! Th-that's not true!"

A monster.

A demon.

Not a daughter.

Chichi's words came back. "No daughter of mine,"

He said I wasn't his daughter.

Not their daughter.

A monster.

I was a monster to them.

My vision was blurry. I couldn't breathe. I staggered back, tears streaming down my face.

A monster. A monster. A MONSTER.

MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER

"NO!" I yelled.

I felt hands grab me. I screamed and kicked. They were holding me tightly. I felt a pinch in my arm. My head spun.

"No, no!" I gasped.

Spots danced in my vision.

I saw my family coming out of the master bedroom.

Our eyes met.

"I'm not a monster." I whispered. "I'm not-"

Then I couldn't see anything.

The phone dropped from my hand. I winced and dug my nails into my wrist.

That was five years ago. It didn't matter.

What mattered was the text from Ricker.

Darcy and Ivan glanced at me in concern. I gave them a weak smile and picked my phone off the ground.

Rin was shaking. "How?"

I swallowed. "I don't know."

Darcy glanced between us and stood up. "I'll take Kai and Sabrina next door. I got a friend."

I hesitated. "Is this friend..."

"Jae is trustworthy, don't worry."

Rin shook her head. "We will always worry."

"Well, she's like you guys." Darcy said.

We looked at her in surprise. She grinned.

"Who's Jae?" Kai asked.

"One of Aunt Darcy and Uncle Ivan's good friends." Ivan answered.

I stood up. "I'll come with you."

Darcy nodded. I grabbed Kai's hand and picked up Sabrina. We went a couple of doors down the hallway and stopped in front of one. Darcy knocked on it.

The door swung open, revealing a pink haired girl. She grinned at Darcy, her white teeth shining.

"Hey Goldie. Who are they?"

"Jae, this is my BFF, Rana, and her kids." Darcy introduced us.

Jae's eyes met mine. They were like liquid silver. I felt a shock up my spine. Her eyes widened slightly. She opened her mouth , like she was going to say something. Then she grinned.

"The psychic one?"

I frowned. "Excuse me?"

Her smile widened. "Your mind attacks."

"Oh."

She looked so familiar. I felt like I knew her. Like I could trust her.

I handed Sabrina to Jae and pushed Kai forward. "If there is even a scratch on them, I will kill you."

Jae nodded. "I'll take good care of them."

"It's only for an hour or so." Darcy sighed.

"Haha?" Kai asked. "Where are you going?"

I knelt down to Kai's eye level. "You're going to stay with Jae for a bit, okay? I'll come get you later."

Kai nodded. "Okay Haha."

"Thank you honey." I sighed.

I hugged both of them and shot Jae a stern look. It didn't matter if I knew her. She would not hurt my family.

Then we went back to the room.

Rin patted the spot next to her. I sat down and grabbed my phone.

"So Ricker traced your phone." Ivan sighed. "And we have to destroy it."

"Again?" Darcy asked.

Rin nodded.

"Well if you could ask your dear uncle Admin to piss off," I muttered.

Darcy glared at me. "I can't ask my psycho uncle anything, and you know that. I helped you escape, remember? He wants me dead."

Ivan frowned. "The Administrator wouldn't be that ruthless, right?"

Rin sighed. "He is. It doesn't matter that Darcy is his niece. She got in his way."

"Yeah. Family doesn't matter to that psychopath. He employed Ricker for gods sake. He's the reason why we are on the run." I scoffed.

Darcy groaned. "We know that. Now can we please stop talking about my psychotic relative and get back to the text message?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Sure. So, do I step on it this time?"

"Do whatever you want, Rana." Rin said. "Or I can do it."

I tossed the phone down. "You do it, Sunshine."

Rin scoffed. She snatched the phone up and sent a shock of electricity through it. And then melted part of it for good measure.

She tossed the phone in the trash can and sat back down. "So, what next?"

I opened my mouth to answer. A knock on the door interrupted me.

Darcy opened the door. "I said no-"

Four men shoved past her and slammed the door closed. They were dressed in bulletproof clothes and had government badges pinned to their chest. And guns.

I leapt up and whipped out my pistols. The men laughed.

"Get out." I whispered. "Your vests might be bulletproof, but your faces are not. Leave, right now."

They yanked masks over their faces.

Damn it.

"Gentlemen," Rin chuckled. "You have two choices. One, leave right now and be alive. Or stay here and die."

The goon in the front laughed. "How about another choice? You four sit pretty while we kill you two freaks, and the normal guy and girl go to prison?"

I smiled coldly. "That's not going to happen, you dimwits."

"Yeah, it is." the goon chuckled.

They rushed forward, grinning idiotically. Wrong move.

I turned invisible and sidestepped them. But they had come prepared. The goons touched their masks, and the masks lit up.

Heat detection.

"So Uncle Admin finally gave your supersuits an upgrade." Darcy sighed.

I put out my hand and concentrated. I made my way into the goons minds, searching for painful memories. I yanked the memories forward, forcing the goons to replay them.

The men yelped, dropping their weapons. "Stop!"

I scoffed. "Not a chance."

But more men came in. I did the same thing to them. More and more men came in the room.

I was slipping.

My head started to pound.

I couldn't hold their minds for much longer.

It hit me.

That was the strategy.

The Admin knew that I was powerful. He knew that I could hold his men's minds. But he also knew that I had a limit. And if I hit that limit, I would loose nearly all of my control.

Rin noticed me straining. She chuckled quietly. "Let me help, honey."

I let go of one of the men. He straightened up, gasping. But he didn't get a chance to do anything else. Rin grabbed his wrist and sent a bolt of deadly electricity into him.

The man collapsed, dead.

I let go of more of the goons minds, and Rin fried them.

But more came in.

Rin was losing her pace.

One of them ran at me. I ducked under his arm and slammed my foot into the back of his knee. He yelled loudly and whirled around. I kicked him in the dick. He staggered.

Ivan jumped on his back, slamming the man to the ground.

I pulled out my knife and slashed the back of the goons neck.

Something flew past me. I whirled around, just in time to see one of Darcy's high heels slam into one of the men's neck. Rin jumped and fried him, shooting Darcy a grateful look.

"Don't touch my friend." Darcy hissed.

We worked together and took down the last couple of men. It wasn't that hard.

I drew in a breath and straightened up, grinning. "Looks like old Admin underestimated us again, huh Sunshine?"

Rin shook her head. "He didn't. There's the noise factor that we have to take care of."

The smile slid off my face.

I heard sirens.

Darcy went white. "Oh sh-"

I jumped up. "Come on!"

We ran out the door, Darcy and Ivan following us. I whirled around and ran to Jae's apartment.

Before I knocked, she yanked open the door.

"What did you do?!" Jae yelled. "Never mind. I don't want to know. Take your kids and get the hell out of here! I'll stall for you guys as long as I can."

Kai ran into Rin's arms. I grabbed Sabrina from Jae and gave the silver eyed girl a quick nod of thanks. She nodded back.

We ran down the hallway. I could hear people running around in panic. The sirens were getting louder.

We ran into the hotel lobby.

"Coming through!" Rin yelled.

"Get the hell out of our way!" I cried.

I shoved my way through the packed lobby. Rin, Ivan and Darcy were right behind me.

We made it to back door.

It was locked.

I pulled out my pistol and shot the lock to smithereens. We ran out of the alley and looked around.

Police cars were surrounding the hotel. There were patrol cars up and down the streets too.

My head was pounding.

I dug my nails into my wrist. Now was the last time I needed a panic attack.

"There! A taxi!" Darcy yelled.

We ran across the street. Ivan flagged down the taxis and we leapt inside.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Charleston!" I blurted out.

The driver nodded and started driving.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

And then Ivan gasped.

"We ran with you!"he hissed. "We're involved in this!"

"We've always been involved." Darcy mumbled quietly.

"I know." Ivan whispered. "It's just-"

Darcy suddenly sat up straight. "Oh my God. We ran with you!"

"Keep it down!" Rin hissed.

Darcy's face was white. "Now we're on the run too."

"Duh." I scoffed.

"No. I mean that all of our stuff is in the hotel room." she whispered. "Including ours IDs! We will be identified and a bounty will be put on our heads just like you guys!"

I stared at her in horror.

Rins voice cracked as she spoke.

"There's no safe place for us anymore."

Haha means mom in Japanese Chichi means dad in Japanese Watashi no musume is my daughter in Japanese

#Hell Rising #original story #dystopian

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 5 years

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

Requests:

Hi can you write something with bellamy blake that's like angst and fluff based on the song Somewhere only we know by Keane thank u <3

Requested by: @marvelgladers

Hi! Can you please do something with Bellamy Blake where it’s fluff and then the reader gets hurt or dies or something and Bellamy is having a hard time dealing with it? I love your writing so much! Thx

Requested by: Anonymous

Omg don’t even care what it’s about but I just need more of you writing for Bellamy! You’re so good that doc literally made me so happy oml 😂

Requested by: @ferrisxbueller

Paring: Bellamy Blake X Reader

Word Count: 2,274

Post Date: 4-20-19

Warnings: angst, fluff, death, no happy ending 😢

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support! I love writing for you guys and I’m having such a great time with all the requests! Also I love writing for Bellamy because he’s amazing and I love The 100. Well, I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as you did the last ones! Also it’s based on the song Somewhere only we know by Keane and let me tell you, I had never heard of this song before and then I started listening to it for this and I instantly fell in love with it.♥️ I’m hoping I get the main gist of it correct for you all and that I do it justice because it is such a beautiful song. But you know it’s mainly in my head and how I felt writing through this song. Please go listen to it if you haven’t heard it before! This has got to be the longest story I’ve written, and I tried guys. I really did. Songfics are hard.😂 Love you all!

Also, idk if anyone reads this or not because it’s long as hell, but thanks if you do and keep requesting!

- Ria

*Based on Keane’s Somewhere Only We Know*

*Song lyrics are in bold*

*Not my Gif*

I walked across an empty land

I knew the pathway like the back of my hand

I felt the earth beneath my feet

Sat by the river, and it made me complete

“Bellamy!” You call searching through the tents for your best friend. “What!?” He grumbles as you finally find him in his tent tying his shoes for the day. “Bellamy, I’m bored! I want to do something and as my best friend, I’m your responsibility to entertain. So. Entertain me.” You say as you plop yourself down our his mattress throwing your arms and head off the side, Bellamy chuckling looking at your upside face. “Fine smalls.” He says sarcastically using the nickname you hate causing you to roll your eyes, he calls you that because even though your one of the oldest people you’re also one of the shortest. He’s still chuckling as you flip yourself over on the bed getting your way, “you want to do something? Then come with me on the hunt.” You stare at his smirking face with wide eyes. “You, Bellamy Blake, are actually letting me, Y/N L/N, on a hunting trip? Am I dreaming or did I die because there is no way you would actually let me do that.” You smirk watching as he rolls his eyes. “Fine, don’t go if your just gonna act like this.” He starts out of the tent before you quickly pull him back simply apologizing then grabbing your spear. A few hours later, and a lot of joking complaints on your part, you and Bellamy decide to head back to the camp. Before you get to far Bellamy stops walking, causing you to run right into him since you weren’t paying attention, causing you to stumble to the ground. “Careful Smalls, you don’t want to hurt yourself there.” He laughs as he sticks his hand out for you to take. “ oh shut up Bell.” You snap back at his amused expression. “Why the hell did you stop? Did ya get scared of your shadow?” You joke as he lifts you to your feet gently pushing you a little when your feet are finally planted, letting out a laugh st your pretend shocked face. “I wanted to show you something before we go back, found the place the other day and thought you’d appreciate the ‘beauty and whatnot’ of it.” He says with finger quotes as yougot excited. You could always find the beauty in anything, that was one of the things Bellamy had always loved about you. When you all first came down to the ground, you were the only person besides Octavia who could make Bellamy laugh and smile like he felt when he was younger. He drags you away from the path into a huge field with flowers and a river going through it. He glances over to watch your reaction, smiling as he sees your smile triple in size and your eyes shift a million miles a minute to take in the wonderful sight. “Oh, Bell… It’s… It’s beautiful.” You whisper turning to him, catching the sunlight around him, making him look almost angelic as you chuckle and lie down on the grass next to the river. Pulling him down right next to you, staring at his face as he stares at yours, finally feeling completely happy for the first time since the ark.

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin

Walking around camp, you notice the stress levels are high. After Spacewalker and princess tried to “make peace with the grounders” everyone acts like they have a target on your backs. You aren’t that stressed because you trust Bellamy and, though you hate to admit it, Clarke and knew that they both had the 100’s best interests in mind. As you passed by the drop ships doors you began to hear yelling slowly building inside, knowing how everyone can be, you made your way inside to stop any potential fights, surprised to find Bellamy was there yelling at a smug boy who refused to work for the day. You grabbed Bellamy’s arm, feeling him tense when he felt your arm but saw him relax a little when he realizes it’s you. “Hey Blake, why don’t you take a break from threatening to kill people and come hang out with your best friend.” You smile as you see his eyes glance from the poor boy who seemed so confident at the start of this conversation, who is now looking like he crapped himself, to you who just so happened to be one of the only people not on Bellamy’s bad side. He reluctantly agreed and followed you out of the drop ship and to the gates. “Smalls, where are we going? We can’t leave camp, it’s to dangerous.” “Oh come on Bell, live a little.” You say winking as you both leave camp heading to the spot that he brought you to the other day, Bellamy lips curling up at the corners when he realizes where you’re taking him. “Ok Y/N, I get it, I need to relax but we shouldn’t be this far from camp after the bridge.” “Oh my god, Bellamy stop worrying, we are gonna be fine, besides I have you to protect me and you have me to protect you. And bell, I mean this in the kindest way possible… you look like shit. You need to relax AWAY from camp.” He feigns hurt as he places his hand to his chest causing you to snort at his ridiculousness. “Look Bell, I know you’re stressed and tired with everything going on at camp and i guess, I just wanted you to know you can tell me anything and always rely on me to make you feel better or just to be there, you just gotta let me in Bell.” Bellamy looks at you and smiles causing your cheeks to slightly blush as you pull him down by the river, placing yourself between his legs with your back lying down on his chest while he props both of you up with his arms. You stare up at the sky and then down at the river while Bellamy constantly scans the woods for Grounder movement, after a few minutes his eyes drift down to you as yours somehow managed to drift to his. For a few seconds Bellamy had forgotten about the grounders, the 100, and the damn ark that dropped you guys. He was just focused on you, and you focused on him. Both of you completely happy once again.

I came across a fallen tree

I felt the branches of it looking at me

Is this the place we used to love?

Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Its been a week since you had managed to drag Bellamy to the field, and everyday since you and him have been going there for some time each day just to relax and spend time. You and Bellamy have been best friends since you were on the ark, you were the only person outside of the Blake family Bellamy had told about Octavia. He might have been a few years older than you, but you guys didn’t care as you both felt happy and carefree as friends. But lately, after you guys found your spot, things have changed, you think back on all the times you and Bellamy were just friends, people who deeply cared for each other, but not in a romantic way, not in the way Bellamy feels for you now, and the way you feel for him. “Y/N…” Bellamy says as you lean up against his chest in the field. You turn your head to face him as you hear with voice wavering, giving him a slight smile and nod to continue he adverts his eyes from your face looking up into the sky, throughly confusing you. You shift in his lap to face him place your hand on his cheek and pull his focus back onto you, worried that something had happened and he wasn’t okay. “Hey, Bell, it’s ok. You know can tell me anything.” His eyes bore into yours and your breathing hitches, “Y/N, I’m in love with you.” You feel yourself completely stop breathing, still staring up at the man you love, who closed his eyes and wished he hadn’t said that when he saw your reaction. After giving your brain a minute to process what had happened, you raise up and press a light kiss to his lips while his eyes opened in shocked. After he had realized what was happening he pulled you closer into him and pressed your lips harder to his, you hands had managed to find their way up to his neck and one into his hair, while his made its way onto your back and hips still pressing himself to you. When you separated the smile you had never left your face, “I love you too, Bell.” You whisper back to him causing him to pull you back into another kiss.

A few days after you and Bellamy started dating and became inseparable, you took a group on a hunting trip with Bellamy. Hunting trips have been limited in case of Grounder retaliation, but you all were desperate. When the hunt was ending and you were heading back, something had caught your eye. You told everyone to be quiet and get down as you and Bellamy were in charge of scanning the woods for the grounders. When Bellamy had caught sight of one of them, he got everyone’s attention to let them know, but then you got sight of another, then another, and another and soon, you were surrounded. You had no plan, you were scared but you weren’t going to let anyone see that, so you put on your best poker face and listened to Bellamy’s plan. When he was done explaining, the grounders were gone and you had no idea where they went. You guys remained close together, not daring to separate from the group, at least that was the plan. But one cocky idiot thought he was better off alone than with the group. He started running off, accidentally grabbing you in the process and pushing you away from the group. Seeing he had grabbed you, he stopped running to make sure you were ok. Dumb mistake. The second he had stopped moving a spear went right through his chest. And he hit the ground in record time. And without even thinking you stopped moving. Dumb mistake. Pain, that was all you felt, looking down at the spear prodding through your stomach. You could hear the grounders retreat as the fog horn sounded, and you could hear Bellamy scream your name and you hit the ground, falling like a tree. “Hey-y, no-o, no, no. Please I love you, no please don’t go.” He screams as he tries to pick you up to take you to camp, cradling your hand in his neck. “Bell-l, Bell-l please, I’m so tired, just… please.” You barely whisper blood starting to dribble out of your mouth, looking up at him. “No Y/N, please think of the field and- and the river, Y/N think of the river and when we said I love you. God Y/N please, please for me, keep breathing.” Your eyes had somehow fluttered close and your breathing short and barely there. “Bellamy, Bell, you- you were my dream.” You managed to whisper smiling before you went limp in his arms, your breathing completely stopped and his mind completely breaking.

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute, why don't we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know?

This could be the end of everything

So why don't we go

Somewhere only we know?

You were gone. Bellamy hadn’t managed to go back to your spot since that day. But it’s been a week and he needs you, he needs to talk to you, to hold you, he relied on you more than he knew. You kept him sane. He felt tired, drained, and needed somewhere to go. So he went somewhere only you know, he went to the field. When he got there he fell on the ground, and for the first time since you died, he cried. He cried for a while, until he heard a branch snap behind him. Quickly grabbing his spear and wiping his face, he shot himself around, only to come face to face with Clarke, who apparently followed him to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. “Bellamy… what are you doing here? You should be back at camp.” She says as she places a hand on his shoulder as he remains on his knees staring at the ground. “I just… I need her. This was our spot.” He mumbles his eyes drifting up to the river remembering your face the first time he brought you here, when everything began. “You wanna talk about it?” Clarke says keeping her voice soft as to not upset him. “I can’t. It’s over. This was the end of… everything.” His voice becames breathy as he tries to hold in his emotions, not letting his co-leader see him cry. “I came here.” He said. “I had to come somewhere only we know.”

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy imagine #bellamy blake #the 100 imagine #the 100 #clarke griffin #somewhere only we know #songfic #Bellamy Blake imagine #bellamy x reader #the 100 bellamy

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uaxreaders · 4 years

Text

“If you Hurt them...”

Natsu x reader

Request number 2 is up❤️ thank you for your request. Sorry this one isn’t my best work I’m still getting used to writing for Natsu.

You made your way into the guild hall noticing your favorite people already sitting at a table waiting. Team Natsu had just returned from a mission that had been pretty far from Magnolia. Obviously you were excited to be back home and get some much needed time off as well as alone time with your boyfriend. You and Natsu had been dating for six months now and were known as one of the most powerful couples ever. With his dragon slayer abilities and your Fire make magic we were practically unstoppable.

When you neared the table Lucy handed you a drink with a roll of her eyes. The boys were already in a heated argument about one thing or another. Erza was trying to focus on eating her strawberry cake and ignore their usual antics. Wendy also sat at the table playing with Happy and Carla. All in all everything was normal for the guild hall.

“What are they fighting about this time?” You asked facing Lucy. She shook her head annoyed letting out a small sigh. “No idea I just hope they stop soon.” She replied rubbing her temples. “Yo ice princess and dragon boy knock it off!” You shouted making them both turn your way. Natsu smiled his toothy grin shoving Gray out of the way before sitting next to you.

“Hey babe! Didn’t hear you come in over ice stripper.” He beamed sending a small glare towards Gray who rolled his eyes in return. You smiled messing with his pink hair. “It’s good to be back that mission took forever!” You groaned laying your head on your boyfriends warm shoulder. Natsu snaked his arm around your waist resting his cheek against your head. “Yeah it was exhausting.

It’ll be good to be home for a little while. Just kick back and relax with my girl.” He smirked smiling happily. “Natsu and (Y/n) sitting in a tree k-I-s-s-I-n-g!” Happy sang hovering over Natsu’s other shoulder. “Shut it Happy.” He laughed while blushing. “But you looovvee her.” The small blue cat continued making both your cheeks redden more.

Wendy giggled too resting her chin on her hands. “You guys are so cute! I wish I had someone like that! She gushed. “When you’re older Wendy.” Carla smiled making the young wizard let out a small annoyed sigh. Natsu looked down at you kissing your cheek before the toothy grin returned to his face.

As we all discussed the mission a thought crossed your mind. “Tiring as that mission was, am I the only one slightly concerned with how easy the head thug went down? Like it barely took us any effort at all to take him down.” you said voicing your worries out loud. “For such a big hideout and the large group causing so much trouble he went down so easily.”

“I agree how could such low level criminals wreak such havoc on the village?” Lucy continued looking confused. “Nah I’m sure it’s just from seeing how awesome we are!” Natsu shrugged making both of you roll your eyes. “Oh yeah I’m sure you scared him so bad flame brain.” Gray snorted. Natsu stood up placing his hands on the table. “I’m a lot scarier than you pervert!” He shouted.

After a long day of hanging out and trying to keep the guys from starting a fight you were finally ready to head home. Wendy and Carla left first followed by Lucy who wanted a bath. Gray was next who went off to meet with Juvia. Natsu, Happy and you walked out of the guild hall into the dark night. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” Natsu asked playing with your hand.

“Yeah babe I’ll be fine it’s not that far. Besides I just need to go grab a quick shower and some clothes and I’ll be over to your place.” You assured your boyfriend who grinned widely excited for the planned movie night. “We’ll see ya then babe!” He cheered pressing a quick but firey kiss to your lips. Parting ways You began your journey bsck home. It was merely a ten minute walk from the guild hall to your place and fifteen to get to Natsu’s.

The night air had a small chill to it that made you shiver. Being as it was so late everyone had retired to their homes already leaving the streets empty. The moon was just a mere sliver in the sky giving you very little light in between each scattered lamp post. It was pretty peaceful taking these walks around Magnolia. You were lost in thought about the beautiful city when the sound of a leaf crunching echoed behind you.

The sound stopped you dead in your tracks your blood running cold. Listening carefully You tried to pinpoint any other sign that someone was near. Your breathing and the quickened beating of your heart were the only sounds You could hear. Assuming it was just your imagination you continued along the road a bit quicker than before. Unfortunately you didn’t get much farther before hearing something else behind you.

This time you were certain there were footsteps following you. The two nearest street lamps flickered eerily before going out entirely. I was completely surrounded in Darkness now. “Guess I’ve blown my own cover.” A voice echoed from behind you. Spinning around you eyed the darkness ahead.

“Who’s there?” You called trying to make out what the mystery man looked like. It wasn’t a voice you were familiar with and it was doubtful whoever it belonged to had very good intentions. “No one you know yet doll. But you can call me Hotaru.” The voice introduced as he began stepping closer. Hotaru was now standing directly in front of you.

He was tall probably around 6 foot and skinny. His hair was black and spiked all over the place and his eyes matched in color. Dressed in merely a long black coat, black pants, and a white shirt it didn’t seemed like he was armed. “Can I help you with something my boyfriend is waiting for me at my place.” You asked crossing my arms. Your hope was he couldn’t sense the fear you were feeling.

He let out a small chuckle stepping even closer. “There’s no point in lying (Y/n). We know that Natsu isn’t there. Now if you be a good girl and show me where exactly that is this will go a lot smoother.” He smirked flashing a wicked smile. You tried to turn and run but someone much larger wrapped their arms around you pinning your arms to your body.

“Let me go ass hole!” You yelled trying to kick your legs at my captor. “If you simply tell me where that boyfriend of yours lives that can be arranged.” He informed you with his face inches away from your own. You pulled your face back spitting in his face and letting out a small growl. He shook his head making tch sound with his mouth. “Guess you’ll have to do as bait, bitch.” He sighed signaling to the man behind me.

You struggled as hard as you could to get your hands together to use your magic but before You could Hotaru snapped something on my wrists that felt like handcuffs. The man who had been holding you let go making you fall to the pavement. You quickly jumped to your feet attempting to use your magic only to find it not working. Both men chuckled seeing your your struggle. “Yeah that won’t work.

Kumori here put a little spell on those handcuffs that’s blocking your magic ability. You might as well stop struggling save yourself the trouble.” Hotaru laughed while the man he called Kumori joined him.you tried to make a run for it but Kumori picked you tossing you over his shoulder. “You assholes are going to regret this! My friends will find me!” You shouted.

“They’d have to find us first doll.” Kumori mocked. “Help, someone help!” You screamed at the top of your lungs while thrashing against the attacker. “Knock her out I’m not listening to her whining and screaming all the way back to the hideout.” Hotaru commanded. Before you could scream again you felt something hit you in the head. You watched helplessly as the wordl began to go black.

Back at his place Natsu stared at the clock confused as to why his girlfriend wasn’t sitting by his side already. “What’s takin her so long?” He sighed making his way to the window. Happy joined by his side looking worried. “Do you think somethin happened to her Natsu?” He asked sitting on the windowsill. Natsu looked down at the blue exceed before back out the window.

“Nah I’m sure she just took a longer shower than she meant to. Or maybe she’s just deciding what to wear? Girls do that all the time right?” He asked hopefully. Happy crooked his head to the side thinking. “Maybe, but doesn’t she usually steal your clothes when she’s here?” He asked making a good point.

“Let’s go see what’s up Happy.” Natsu said making my way out the door. “Aye Sir!” Happy cheered following behind his best friend. The two made their way down the road passing the guild hall. When they got just around the corner from your place Natsu noticed two street lamps had gone out leaving a majority of the road shrouded in darkness. It was odd to see they were the only two out when he was sure the bulbs were just changed.

“That doesn’t look good.” Happy gulped. “No it doesn’t buddy.” Natsu replied quickening his pace. The young mage was suddenly filled with worry about (Y/n). Sure she was strong as hell and quite the bad ass, but what if something did happen? A million bad scenarios began to cross his mind.

Finally they reached your door finding it still locked and all the lights still off. “Did she forget and go to bed?” Happy questioned trying to look into one of your windows. “I don’t think that’s it.” Natsu said coldly. He grabbed the extra key from it’s hiding spot and unlocked the door. The house was quiet, too quiet for Natsu’s comfort.

“(Y/n)? You here babe?” He called loudly making his way further in. He was answered by silence causing a pain in his chest. The house looked like you hadn’t been there since this morning. He practically ran into the bedroom flicking the light on. Your bed was empty and so was the bathroom.

“Where the hell is she?” He mumbled snagging the phone quickly dialing Lucy’s number. His heart was racing and he was starting to feel sick. Where the hell could she be? “I should have walked her home! Had I just walked with her this wouldn’t have happened.!” He exclaimed upset.

“Natsu why are you calling me so late?”

“Sorry Luce but it’s an emergency! (Y/n) walked to her place to change and I don’t think she ever made it home!”

“Huh what do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t find her anywhere!”

“Ok calm down I’m sure she’s fine did you check the guild hall? Maybe she forgot something as was grabbing it on her way over?”

“I’ll go look but I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I’ll meet you there with the others.”

Once they hung up Happy and Natsu hurriedly made their way over to the guild hall. When they walked through the doors they were greeted with a silent dark room. The only one who remained was a sleeping Cana who MiraJane had covered with a blanket. “(Y/n)!?” Natsu whisper shouted walking up and down the hall just to be sure. However he still found no sign of his girlfriend.

“Natsu did you find her?” Lucy asked running in the door. She was followed by Gray, Juvia, Levy, Wendy, and Carla. “Nothing it’s like she vanished.” He explained worriedly. “I take it you guys noticed the two street lamps?” Levy asked. Natsu nodded in response running his hand through his pink hair.

This whole thing was really suspicious. Natsu was beyond worried about you. The group spent pretty much all night out combing through the woods and looking everywhere. Natsu couldn’t help the guilt he felt. He couldn’t help but think this was his fault. He should have listened to you and Lucy about things not being over from the last mission. But instead he listened to his stupid cocky brain.

A week passed and still the guild found no sign of you anywhere. Your friends searched everywhere for her still coming up empty handed. Natsu was quickly getting discouraged. He was so worried he couldn’t sleep or focus and could barely eat. Lucy and Happy struggled to keep him going in hopes that she was still out there. While out searching a village near that of the last mission Lucy stumbled on something that made her smile.

She ran back to the group practically stumbling into Gray. “Guys! Guys look! It’s (Y/n)’s bracelet!” She exclaimed shoving the small piece of jewelry towards Natsu. His eyes got wide as he examined the bracelet. It was definitely yours he recalled giving it to you on your sixth month anniversary.

“It is hers!” Natsu gasped. “And look the clasp isn’t broken she must have removed it so we could find her.” Juvia pointed out. “Juvia’s right they must be near where Lucy found the bracelet.” Gray continued. Juvia smiled with a blush heari n her love say she’s right. Before the group could say much else Natsu was heading out the door.

“Well, What’re you guys waiting for! Let’s go!” Natsu exclaimed. The group ran out the door back into the woods where Lucy had picked up your bracelet. “This is it! Everyone keep your eyes peeled.” Erza commanded.

Meanwhile inside the base you were huddled in the corner your knees pulled to your chest. The room they kept you in was freezing and you still wore the cuffs that prevented your magic use. Your shirt had been turned to shreds leaving you with nothing covering your chest and your shorts practically falling apart. Bruises and wounds covered your skin from the torture Hotaru had put you through. You learned very quickly he possessed the black magic called torture magic.

The door slamming into the concrete wall made you jump surprised. “Are you ready to obey pet? Or do I have to make you listen again?” He chuckled making his way in front of you. “I will never tell you anything about Fairy Tail except that they will find you and kick your ass for this!” You spat angrily. He shook his head grabbing a fistful of your hair pulling you up to meet him.

“Stupid brat. Don’t you get it by now? They won’t find you. And if they do? Well that just means we’ll have Natsu in the palms of our hands right where we want him.” He said dragging you out to the main room.

When he let go of your hair he threw you onto the familiar platform. One of his thugs strapped another restraint to your neck connecting you to wall. Once you were in place the men sat back in the chairs. The first thing he did was control a barrage of knives sending them straight at your legs. You managed to miss all but one that pierced a few inches into your thigh.

When you Cryed out in pain the men laughed manically. A different thug dropped the temperature much lower than it already was while someone else sent a small wave Of water to cover your already shaking form. The shock of the water caused you to fall to your knees. The leader once again approached. “Sure you’re not gonna tell us anything?” He asked.

You stood up on shaky legs again refusing to give in. “Y-you can torture me all you want but I won’t tell you anything! I’ll never turn my back on Fairy Tail!” You shouted. The man shook his head frowning. “Fine, you leave me no choice.” He sighed.

With the snap of his fingers someone was moving you into a new room. “I’m afraid I’ll have to let Akihiro handle you. You see he’s new to our little team and isn’t nearly as nice.” The man said darkly. You were shoved into a room the door shutting behind you.

In front you stands a man that didn’t even look human. His muscles were huge he must be even bigger than Gajeel. He smiled picking you up by your neck. “I’m gonna have fun with you babe.” He said with a wicked grin. Although you tried not to show it you were beginning to fear you might die in this hell hole.

Little did you know at that exact moment your friends had made their way into the underground hideout. The small group had already taken down the first three floors. Natsu was destroying the place nearly burning several people to a crisp in the process. Once Hotaru was onto them he had Akihiro drag your now unconscious beaten form out.

“Well well well look who finally decided to show. (Y/n) here has been telling us so much about you.” Hotaru grinned. Your friends gasped at your appearance Natsu returning his glare to the man. “You chose the wrong guild to mess with man! I’m all fired up!” Natsu yelled preparing to attack the man.

“Not so fast Natsu you attack me my colleague here will snap her pretty little neck.” The man said gesturing to your captor. Your friends froze unsure of what to do. Akihiro moved his hands to your neck threatening to twist it. “If you hurt her!” Natsu growled taking a step closer.

“Your little girlfriend here is one stubborn bitch. Refused to tell us anything about you or the guild.” Hotaru spoke shaking his head dissapointed. “It’s a shame really this all could’ve been avoided had she just told us where you were to begin with Natsu.” Natsu felt defeated as he stared at your injured form. “After all you’re the one we wanted.” The man continued.

Looking between your brusied face and the tall man before him Natsu gritted his teeth together. “Fine. You can take me instead. You can torture me kill me or whatever but you have to let her go.” He said shocking everyone. “Aww the salamander must truly love this girl, it makes me sick.” The villain replied.

“Natsu what are you doing?” Lucy gasped. Natsu stepped forward towards the man his hands up in surrender. “You can break my soul. Take my life away. Beat me, Hurt me. Kill me. But don’t hurt her anymore.” Natsu said feeling weak.

Being as the man had his attention focused on Natsu Gray quietly and quickly fired ice around Akihiro’s wrists and ankles. This gave Natsu the opportunity he needed as he lunged towards the lead villain. He short fire his way knocking him into the nearest wall. The man who was previously holding you let your form collapse to the floor as he struggled to get free. Lucy opened Loke’s gate the two of them keeping him from doing anything.

Natsu went to continue his attack but was stopped by Erza. “Go help her. We’ll handle him.” She commanded her friend. Natsu let out an angry breath before nodding. He knew the red head was right, if he got his hands on that asshole he’d fry him for sure.

Natsu ran over to your side pulling you from the floor. The state you were in pained him more than anything he’d ever felt. Your skin was cold and littered with wounds. “I’m sorry love.” He whispered kissing your forehead pulling you up into his arms. Your eyes fluttered open weakly staring at your boyfriends features.

“N-Natsu?”

“Babe! Yeah it’s me! We came to rescue you.”

“I knew you would. I told those dummies my favorite dragon slayer would come to the rescue. Thank you Natsu.”

“What’re you thankin me for? I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

You shook your head weakly pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You saved me Natsu.” You whispered. He smiled at you despite the tears that had filled his eyes. Gray nudged Natsu’s arm handing him his shirt. Natsu silently nodded towards his comrade before sliding the shirt onto your body.

When you returned to magnolia Wendy helped get you healed up to the best of her ability informing you it’d be a couple weeks before you’d be back on your feet entirely. Natsu still felt guilty about the whole situation but made sure he was taking the best care of you possible. You both decided it would be best if you moved in not so he could protect you but so you two would no longer have to say good night and go separate ways. He decided from the moment they found you that he would never let anything happen to you again.

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papa-rhys · 5 years

Text

Drunkard: pt 2 (Javier X f!Reader)

Note: I’m in a perpetual state of trying to decide if I prefer soft of rough Javier. But here’s some of the former before I go to bed. Enjoy!

~Link to Part 1 will be in the reblogs!~

Category: Smut/fluff

Warnings: none (although the C word is used once and some people don’t like that, so I’m just warning now)

Word count: 2475

“Hey there, stranger,” Karen says, smiling at you knowingly and taking a sip from her coffee cup. “You look great,” she adds sarcastically.

“I feel like I’m dead,” you grumble, your head still fuzzy from the alarming amount of whiskey you’d absorbed into your veins last night. That’s about all you remember, mind you – the rest is a blur and you dread to think about what kinds of things you got up to during your inebriated rampage around camp.

“You look a lot better than you did last night,” she tells you. “Crawlin’ across the ground all soaked in whiskey. It was quite the sight,” she chuckles into her coffee cup.

“I did what?” you ask. “What exactly did I do last night?”

Karen clears her throat and turns coy – worryingly so. “You should talk to Javier,” she tells you with a sly smirk.

“Oh God,” you groan, raising your palm to your face in hopes of covering your overwhelming shame. There are a million and one things you could have said or done to Javier last night and every single one of them flashes through your mind like a freight train, sparking horror and a looming sense of doom in your chest. “I’ll see you later,” you tell Karen, speaking the words breathlessly as you leave her to enjoy her morning coffee in peace.

You stand in the centre of camp, nervously scanning your surroundings in search of Javier and secretly hoping you don’t find him. But you do and he makes eye contact with you across the camp so there’s no turning back now. You head to where he stands next to a large rock just outside camp and you approach him just as he sheaths the knife that he was just sharpening.

“Hola,” he smiles. “You look like shit.”

“The way I look doesn’t hold a candle to the way I feel,” you assure him. There are a few moments of pause before you speak again. “About last night,” you start, leaning against the rock and almost mirroring him as he does the same. “I am so sorry.”

“Do you even know what you’re apologising for?”

“Honestly? I have no clue.”

Javier chuckles and you find some relief in it. If he’s laughing, then you suppose whatever you’d done the night before hadn’t left any hard feelings.

“Well aside from crawling toward me like a dog, climbing into my lap and confessing your undying love for me, you also pulled me into bed with you and pretty much begged me to sleep with you,” he says smugly. “Oh, and then there’s the kiss…”

You lean your head back against the rock. “Oh my God,” you whisper, almost on the verge of tears and once again covering your face with your hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

You’re almost crying from the crushing embarrassment and Javier steps closer to you. “Here,” he says, taking your hands away from your face. He tilts your chin up to get a better look at you and your cheeks burn pink under the heat of his gaze. In a move as smooth as butter and very much welcomed, he leans in and kisses you. The kiss is drawn out and delicate and you’re very glad that this is the one you’ll remember as opposed to last night’s. Lord knows what kind of sloppy wet mess of a kiss you’d subjected this poor man to in the midst of your drunken haze. You suppose he’d much rather forget that one too.

Javier pulls away from kiss, although only putting a few inches of distance between your lips and his. “Last night, I told you that if you still wanted me to fuck me when you’d sobered up, then all you had to do was come and find me,” he says. “Well you’ve me, so now I’ll ask; do you still want me to fuck you?” You bite your lip and nod. “Okay then,” he smiles, taking you by the hand and whisking you away into dense trees.

Everything is moving so fast. A few minutes ago, you were chatting to Karen – a few minutes before that, you were asleep – and now, you’re being pinned against a tree by Javier as his hand finds its way down the front of your jeans. Funny how life turns out.

He smiles at the wetness that he finds as he glides his fingers back and forth over your folds and you take in a sharp breath when two of those fingers slide up into you.

This isn’t quite what you’d pictured when people had raved about early morning sex. You’d always imagined two freshly-awoken yet perfectly immaculate love birds tumbling through soft linen sheets as sunlight pours the net-curtained window. But as Javier leave a trail of kisses on your neck – your head still aching and the bark of the tree scratching at the skin on the back of your arms as his fingers slide in and out of you – you decide that this somehow feels a lot sweeter than the fantasy that preceded it.

Javier’s free hand strays from your jawline and finds itself wandering up inside your untucked shirt, softly caressing the skin at your waist. You grip onto his upper arm – your fingers curling around his bicep and bunching up the fabric of his white dress shirt. He kisses you – passionately, but still softly – his lips feeling rough against yours and leaving you with an undeniable ache to find out what they would feel like against the soft skin below your belt.

“Lay down,” he pants, breaking the kiss and withdrawing his fingers from you.

You do as he says, laying down in the grass and grinning widely as he kneels down between your legs.

He tugs at your jeans, pulling them down – along with your undergarments – and yanking them off at your ankles. He tosses your jeans to one side and pushes your knees up whilst simultaneously spreading them apart. He looks at you for a moment before his gaze wanders south and he takes his bottom lip between his teeth and eyes your cunt like it’s a three-course meal. And then he lays down on his stomach and buries his head between your thighs – this tongue swirling around your clit. You almost jolt up, bending double at the sensation as it sends chills through body. You manage to refrain from clamping your legs shut and trapping Javier in what he’d probably think of as the most heavenly bear trap in existence – but only just. He mumbles something in between laps of his tongue, but you can’t for the life of your pin down what it was he said. Turns out it’s difficult to focus when someone has the most sensitive part of you in their mouth – who’d have thunk it?

“What?” you ask him through another sharp gasp as he gently sucks at your clit.

“I said,” he smiles, lifting his head up to look at you. “I was thinking about this all night.”

“Oh really?” you smirk.

He puts his head back down again and hums as he takes your clit into his mouth again and sucks – this time harder – sending a shudder through your gut.

“Fuck! Where the hell did you learn that?” you ask, shaking your head in disbelief as you arch your back, trying to suppress the urge to rut up against his face until you come from the friction.

Javier leaves a few kisses on your folds; kisses that he dots in a line running from up your stomach and over the top of your shirt as he crawls on top of you. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he smiles, playfully – his eyes gleaming.

“Is that so?” you giggle. “You’re a real ladies man, huh?”

“Well I don’t like to brag, but…” He smiles down at you and you crane your neck up to kiss him.

“Well, why don’t you put all that practice to good use,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

He reaches down and unbuckles his belt, the clinking of the metal being music to your ears amongst the ambient sounds of the forest that surrounds you both. You watch him excitedly, waiting in anticipation for him to unbutton his jeans. You’ve thought about this scenario countless times in the seclusion of your tent. Imagined the words he’d whisper in your ear; the way your toes would curl as he fucks you into your bedroll. And now the moment has arrived and it seems like he’s taking an eternity to pull himself out of his jeans. But after a few moments of wondering if he’s doing it on purpose, just to tease you, he’s finally finished with his buttons and you bite your lip to hold back the giddy giggle that threatens to bubble to the surface.

You look at him hungrily – you eyes flitting from his eyes, to his lips, to the belt that hangs loosely on either side of his hips, and back up to his eyes again. Before you can say anything, Javier’s lips are pressed against yours again and you damn near bite holes in his bottom lip as he pushes his way inside you. You take him all the way to the base and the involuntary moan that escapes you trails off into laughter as Javier kisses your throat, smiling at the vibration your laughter causes underneath his lips.

“Did I catch you off guard there?” he asks in a low, smooth voice. “My apologies,” he adds with a devilishly mischievous smile.

“Fuck you,” you giggle, cupping his jaw with your hand and going in for another kiss.

The way he fucks you is slow and sensual and although you feel the need to rock against him to gain more friction, you’re enjoying this softer side of Javier. You move with him, rolling your hips in time with him and letting your lips curl into a smile as he speaks the odd phrase in Spanish between heavy, desperate breaths. He raises his hand – the other hand used to hold him up as he hovers over you – and brushes some hair out of your face, tucking it neatly away behind your ear. He looks down at your so lovingly, with an unmistakable look of adoration in his face as he watches you smile underneath his weight and you find yourself wondering if he’s secretly been dreaming of this for as long as you have. The look in his face – that level of pure love – those feelings take more than one night to develop. There’s no way your sloppy drunken kiss had sparked such strong feelings towards you. No. These feelings have been here a while.

“Is this okay?” he asks quietly, almost whispering.

You nod your head, keeping your eyes locked with him and smiling warmly. “Of course,” you assure him; your voice unexpectedly hoarse.

He keeps going; his movements long and drawn out and slow, but just as sweet and shudder-inducing as fast ones as he pushes all the way inside you as far as possible each time. With a tingling sensation mounting in your gut, your breath hitches in your throat and you throw your head back as far as you can, picking up leaves and twigs in your hair, no doubt. You grip Javier’s arms tightly.

“Si, si,” he mutters, watching you intently as you arch your back slowly and begin to breath quick and shallow breaths. “Let it go, chica,” he whispers. “That’s it.”

His own breaths quicken and he speeds up ever-so-slightly – his eyes scanning the length of your body as you lay underneath him – your back bowing and your toes curling just like you’d imagined they would. He smiles gleefully as you let out a strained “fuck” before jolting up slightly and throwing your arm around his neck, giving him the perfect opportunity to nibble at your collar bone.

The wave crashes over you, washing away any sense or rationality and leaving you to flop back down into the grass and close your eyes as you try to comprehend who you are and what the hell your name is.

Javier chuckles to himself, delighting in the way your thighs clamp around his waist as he keeps fucking you through the waves of oversensitivity that you’re feeling on your way down from your peak. He snakes his hand up your shirt cups your breast before thumbing open your shirt presses a few sweet kisses to the centre of your breastbone before delicately taking a handful again.

You’re on the tail end on your wave now and your mind is slowly restoring itself to the level of an adult human once again. You open your eyes and look up at Javier, who has his eyes squeezed shut as he pants his way through his own orgasm, letting out small soft moans and the odd profanity here and there. You raise your hand to his face, pushing his hair out of the way before brushing your thumb over his goatee and holding his chin between your thumb and forefinger.

He spills into you with a moan that trails into a soft “mierda” under his breath; the relief washing over his face and his features softening. He rocks forward a few more times before slowing to a halt and opening his eyes. He gazes down at you through sleepy hues; all the tension melting from his body as he slowly pulls out and rolls onto the grass beside you.

“Ay,” he breathes, letting out a hard sigh and resting his arm underneath his head. “Fuck.”

You roll onto your side and snuggle up to him, resting your hand over his rapidly beating heart and watching carefully as the steady pounding of it moves your hand up and down with his chest.

“If only I could start all my mornings like that,” you comment.

“It sure as hell beats coffee.”

“Are you offering?” you smile.

“Well, I’m always happy to help.”

“Such a gentleman,” you grin.

“How dare you; I’m nothing of the sort,” he jokes.

You chuckle sweetly. “Okay, mean Mr Outlaw,” you tease, pressing a finger to his lips as they creep up into the cutest smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“My secret?” he echoes, moving your hand away from his mouth with a chuckle. “What secret is that?”

“That you’re soft as raw cotton,” you smile.

“No,” he protests, trying to avoid your hand as you attempt to pinch your cheek. “I’m not. I’m a big scary outlaw and you can’t prove otherwise.”

“Sure thing,” you say, biting your lip, propping your self up on your elbow, and giving him a long, gentle kiss. “Like I said; you’re secret’s safe with me.”

“Ay,” he smiles softly, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. “Thank you kindly.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #my writing #writing: javier escuella

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celtics534 · 5 years

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Here 'Til the Morning Breaks Us

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, yet it’s still the doom days!