#i love dawn i love inserting her into things and places

[nano30cm]

total drama jumpscare

#reprise reprise #td dawn #td noah #td izzy #total drama #total drama fanart #i love dawn i love inserting her into things and places #dawn has been upgraded to raw vegan and its a Problem #noah has a daughter and he's a stay at home dad its the best part of my au #she isnt an ipad kid shes a vtech precomputer power pad kid #shes 4 and she knows what a LAN party is the the year 202X #izzy is an extremely successful actress i think #i think she has the world's messiest instagram account too

[vetteltea]

Love Will Always Show | CL16 & CS55

Summary: The choice of a lifetime is yours to make, your husband and lover both longing for your heart. They face conflict, choices and most importantly, one another.

Word Count: 8.4K [& a bit more]

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating and dishonesty, manipulation, hospital talk.

Note: The fact I was a newbie to F1Blr when this started and now...here we are. I want to thank each and EVERY person who has ever read this series. It's changed everything for me, it is truly my love letter to you all and I hope you enjoy the finale. You are all forever in my heart and I cannot thank you all enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: ‘You Think, You Know’ | PART 4: 'Love Will Always Show'

Love is a gentle hand cradling your back. 

Time had suspended when your body had collapsed onto the rough floor outside of the Scuderia Ferrari hospitality. Immediately, several scarlet-clad personnel were running over, shouts echoing across the open space, somebody mumbling that they needed to get you somewhere safe and warm before your body temperature dropped dangerously. 

There’s a question of who to call; your father wasn’t in the country, ever since your mother’s funeral, he’s become silent, your siblings having been lovingly sent to stay with a close aunt. He had been absent from the previous Ferrari meeting, his assistant having sent a message to say he would be absent for a little longer. Clearly, the death of your mother was taking a toll. 

The next obvious choice of course, was your husband. However, with the win that he had been craving for oh-so-long, he was currently wrapped up in press, endless ‘congratulations’ messages from celebrities and presenters alike. Nobody would know where to find the monegasqué right now, let alone how to tell him of his wife’s status whilst surrounded by endless television cameras and sly reporters. 

There’s no need for him, anyway. Leaving the media pen after vigorous questioning of his loyalty to the team and his current emotions on a premature end to the race, Carlos’ dark eyes quirk to the side, registering the crowd of bodies circling the hospitality area. They only widen when the realization dawns on his clouded mind that it’s you, your body is the one thing they are all crowding around. 

His steps break into a run, no signal being given to his media manager nor his cousin. He speaks a few sharp, spanish words, creating a break in the circle, able to insert his toned body into the sea of red, immediately squatting, one hand coming out to elevate the back of your head. He knows how particular you could be with your hair, how you insisted on now sleeping on silk pillowcases to keep it healthy. Asphalt ground was not comfortable nor hygienic. 

There’s talk; talk about whether to take you to the hospital, whether to wait for your husband to return and make the decision. Carlos feels his blood curdle at the use of marital status. His teammate, the man who had treated you no better than the way he had treated bonds of trust, was the one to make a choice of your health and wellbeing. 

He simply cannot stand for that. 

“We need to take her to the hospital.” He interrupts the commotion, the strong tone settling over the panicked employees. “Surely that is the best place for her if she is unconscious, no?” The whispers and mumbles which echo the surrounding members of the team signify agreement. 

There’s a discussion of how to bring you in without drawing attention to the media. Surely, if a giant ambulance or even a medical car was to storm through the paddock, no doubt endless media outlets would be creating headlines before even bothering to speak to anybody present. The Spaniard is already making his own choice, using his arms to gently adjust your body.

He shouldn’t; he really shouldn’t be moving you, not when you haven’t been checked for broken bones or concussion. Yet, the idea of the most beautiful girl, Mariposa, lying on a hard floor with no form of comfort or safety sickens him to his stomach. Carlos is still gentle with the movements, letting your head lean into his stomach, one hand is supporting your back, tanned fingers digging gentle patterns into the curve of your skin. The other one traces once, twice, three times around your cheekbone, dark eyes transfixed on your features. 

You must have hit your skin when falling to the ground; there’s a graze dancing across your cheekbone, specks of dirt resting in between each knock. The man cradling you is gentle, moving his shirt just enough up his body that he’s able to take the hemmed end, feather it across your cheek in an attempt to remove the offending chunks. 

Someone nudges Carlos’s shoulder, more in an attempt to tell him somebody was just outside the Paddock; that they could drive you to the hospital right now. He…he can’t bring himself to leave you. A strong grasp lifts you from the ground, holding you close to his chest, murmuring that he would get you there, and he supposed somebody would have to find Charles. 

The area grows quiet; Carlos’ pace draws away from the Paddock and to the back entry. He was thankful that the entirety of the drivers were still either trapped in the media or with their own teams, celebrating or commiserating. He had enough of that for one day; an entire six laps was barely worth speaking about. 

You’re still unconscious, still limp in his arms. However, there’s a rise and fall of your chest, you’re still breathing. That’s all he could ask for at this present time. He silently promises himself there and then that when you wake up, he’s making his final move. Where Charles has been playing chequers, he is playing chess; he had proven that even whilst you were stuck with your estranged husband, he would love you regardless.

There’s a people carrier in the car park, he’s certain he’s seen various drivers use it before; a built-in stretcher lies in the back, it’s ideally a discreet ambulance. The media could be brutal with gossiping when any driver had to leave the track. It would look worse if Charles Leclerc’s wife was seen leaving the paddock with his teammate. The driver of the vehicle nods when seeing the two get closer, stepping to sit in the driver’s seat whilst Carlos adjusted his grasp. 

He lays you down onto the stretcher; it’s secured, you’ll be safe for the drive. The man can’t help but feel a draw of protectiveness over you. What on earth had caused it to collapse? Had he done something? Blood boiled, if your husband had done anything to cause this, he could personally guarantee that Charles would not be finishing any races for the remainder of the season. He would make sure of that. 

His attention is caught by the glimmer of silver on your left hand; your wedding band. When he reaches the car, tucks you into the seat carefully and makes sure the seatbelt is secure around your frame, his fingers glide over your hand, removing the band and putting it in his own pocket. 

‘It’s for your own good,’ he tells himself. ‘If your fingers swell up, they may need to cut it off.’ He could tell himself this story a thousand times; it doesn't hide the fact that his true intention in this moment is simple; for once, he could be the devoted husband, taking his wife to be nursed back to health. 

The Spainard leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring that you were going to be okay, that he would stay with you the entire time. The driver shouts, telling him to take a seat so they could get there before the press figured out something was wrong. He kisses your skin once more, before closing the doors, sprinting to the backseat, throwing his body in carelessly. 

Angst overtakes his senses, shouting at the driver to start the car, he doesn't care about being strapped in. This way, he’s able to lean over the backseat, one hand reaching out to clasp at your own. You need to know that somebody is there, that he is there for you. He’s always been there for you. The car pivots out of the parking space, beeling for the main road and to the hospital. 

Love is a scream for your name. 

“Charles, tu dois ralenir!” Joris is insisting he needs to slow down the car; turning the current Leclerc in hospital into a duo would not be a satisfying outcome. 

Ever since he’s been told, all your husband can see is red mist. One Ferrari employee had sprinted up to him whilst he was in the midst of cameras, the grin on his face as he’s finally able to seek his wife out, wanting nothing more than to skip on the Scuderia celebrations and take you instead, your beaming smile radiating the energy he had been bathed in. 

It’s funny how life can change in the matter of a few moments; one second, he’s on top of the world, the next, Charles is pushing through every media outlet, fan and celebrity, barging himself into his driver’s room. He doesn't have time to remove his fireproofs, to pick up any of his belongings apart from his car keys. He isn’t communicating, french profanities fall from his lips, shaking his head in rage that nobody could find him to tell him. Tell him that his wife had been taken to hospital. 

Joris had been the one to sprint after him; he knew better than most, when Charles saw nothing but mist, there was no getting to him, not whilst he was determined to do something. The driver knew in his heart his best friend was not to blame; after all, he had no idea of your disappearance, he had been with Charles almost the entire time. And yet…he can’t bring himself to even speak to Joris. Not until the duo make it to his rented car, Charles is adamant he is driving. 

He only starts speaking when his best friend tells him to slow down. The driver barely does, only drawing to a slower pace when he sees the traffic lights start to build in front of him. Even in a panic, he respects road rulings. Drawing to a stop, the man finally has a second to take a shaky, unbalanced breath, angry tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes. 

“Why did nobody tell me my wife was at the hospital?” His voice is strained, he’s clearly holding back tears, whether they’re angry or fearful is a different question. “She’s my- she’s my wife!” He can’t stop repeating it, as if it’s a prayer. His wife. His wife. 

“She’ll be okay.” Joris knows that’s quite possibly the worst thing he could say to his best friend, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. “She will be. C’est juste par précaution.” 

“Putain!” Charles’ words are sharp, immediately pressing on the acceleration as the light switches to green, overtaking three cars in a matter of moments. He’s a man of regret, he has been ever since he realized how much he adores you. In that moment, he can’t help but think of everything he could have done differently that afternoon. He could have come and found you right after the podium, could have given you his jacket and told you to stay in his driver’s room, he would come and get you after. He could- he could of-

He could of waited with you after the funeral. He could have come and picked you up from Milan when you went to spend time with Carlos. He could have deleted his mistress’ number, and told her he was married. 

“Tourner à gauche.” Joris tells his best friend to turn left, the Hospital Car Park coming into view. Charles turns the car, immediately eyes are roaming for any space, anywhere he could put the car. A sharp whistle and point from his best friend shows him a space right by the Emergency Department, parking the vehicle in possibly the worst way he ever has done. Within three seconds, the engine is switched off, seatbelts are unbuckled, and he’s shouting to Joris to pay for the parking, he needs to get inside. 

For a driver, his sense of direction is becoming worse. It takes him a solid minute to read a sign, before his legs break into a sprint, skidding into a bustling Emergency Room. There’s old men, leant over in pain, convinced they’re dying. A child snuffling, masses of paper towels on her head. A woman with a twisted ankle, her attention engrossed by the magazine in her grasp. It smells of hand sanitiser and bleach, the yellow walls are hurting his eyes. 

A woman behind the desk taps the counter, drawing his attention. “Hey- Sir!” She snaps. You can’t blame her; it’s hour thirteen of her fifteen hour shift. “You can’t be in here unless you’re hurt-”

He shouts your name. It’s as if he completely forgets he’s in a building. Charles is embedded in a maze, even if a lady in front of him can pull up your immediate location, he needs to find you himself, and he needs to find you now. 

It isn’t until Joris comes in, having heard his best friend scream your name, that he overtakes Charles so overcome that he’s now hiding his head in his hands, unable to say anything that wasn’t your name. His ears prick up when the second man starts speaking, giving the woman your first name, your last name- Leclerc- and when you had been bought in. There’s a light tapping of the keyboard, she tells Joris you are in the department round the corner, room ten-

Charles is gone before she can finish her sentence, catapulting down the hallway, dodging round endless people, frantically searching for doors with numbers, not names. He sees the number four. Six. Eight. 

Number Ten rolls into view. Without a single word, his hand latches around the door handle, pushing so violently the door smacks onto the inside wall. His eyes immediately fly to the bed, you’re lying there, so unconscious, still so beautiful, some strips over the graze on your cheek. Still, arms to either side, one hand connected to an IV, clearly in an attempt to rehydrate you. His first question is the location of your wedding ring, where on earth was it? Has it been taken away? It’s a question he completely forgets about when his gaze travels further. 

The other hand is being held by a Spanish man he knows all too much about. 

Love is notes left on a coffee cup. 

Both men stood, silently hovering over your body whilst the nurse came in to run a course of tests, check your blood pressure, the IV line, make sure you were being cared for in the best capacity. Each held a coffee cup, Charles’ still primarily full, he couldn’t stomach anything; he felt sick from seeing you lie here, not laughing, smiling, speaking. Carlos had downed the drink bought in by Joris in a matter of moments; to him, it was fuel. Something to keep him awake until you woke up. 

Whilst Charles was the one to ask questions; ‘Do you know what caused this? Is she going to have any long-term issues? Does she need any assistance when she wakes up?’ Carlos has captured the marker which has rested alongside the clipboard of your notes, his tongue poked out in concentration. The marker grazes along the cup, leaving a note, drawing a tiny picture of a butterfly- Mariposa- and placing the cup on your table, a silent message for if you woke up and god forbid- he wasn’t there.

The nurse draws away from your body, diverting her next task to the two men. 

“I need to continue the examination but…” She looks to the door. “I cannot have you both in here. You need to wait outside, the Doctor will come in for further tests-”

“Can one of us wait here?” Carlos is the first to interrupt, the look on the woman’s face tells him he’s made a mistake. 

“Both.” She clarifies, pointing at himself, then at his teammate. “One and two. You need to wait outside. If she wakes up or there’s any…issues, we will let you know.” 

It turns out, both men are hesitant to leave you; Charles moves first, crouching by your side, running a gentle hand over your hairline, pressing his lips carefully to your temple. He’s murmuring, french words of adoration and comfort, that he will be right there when you need him. 

When one steps away, the other comes forward. Carlos doesn't say anything, instead tracing a gentle finger across your cheek. His touch tells you everything, it speaks volumes. He loves you, he’ll be outside, don’t be afraid to come running into his arms like you had done once before. The nurse begins to lose her patience, ushering both men out into the corridor, telling them to sit in the plastic chairs provided or go somewhere else; she really didn’t care. 

The scene is reminiscent of two boys sitting outside of the principal’s office; Charles’ head hides in his hands, leaning forward, still dressed in his fireproofs. He’s tied the sleeves around his waist, the dark undershirt now drenched in sweat from the driving, both on track and to the hospital. 

He feels movement next to him, Carlos’ hand dips into his pocket, pulling out something small, silvery. Her wedding ring. He supposes Carlos means it as a sign of goodwill, that he kept it safe. In the Monégasques mind, it’s the fuel to light the fire. Scoffing, he snatches the jewelry off of his teammate, placing the band onto his pinky finger, it’s the only one it would fit on, the only way he could keep it safe. 

“Funny. You took it off her.” He’s growing mad, aggravated that Carlos wouldn’t just go away and leave him and his wife alone. Hadn’t he done enough already? “Why don’t you go back to Natasha?” The blonde ex-media woman for their team is referenced. Carlos opens his mouth, ready to snap back, it was a low blow for Charles to reference his history with the woman. 

“I know what you did.” He huffs. There’s something…different. Different in the way he speaks to Carlos now compared to every other day. The polite, civil conversation is gone, the fact he couldn’t pass judgment because of his own actions has evaporated. “I know you invited her to Madrid just to make a move.” He remembers seeing the instagram stories, how your eyes were wide, full of life. He made you remember life is beautiful. “You kept her close. You wanted her and didn’t like that she was mine.” 

“Yours?” He scoffs. “She’s not your property, Charles.” 

“No. But she’s my wife. I’m the one she lies next to every night, I’m the one who will care for her in sickness and health, who’s shoulder was leant on through every bad time.” He pauses. “Who picked her up after you coaxed her into your bed.” He laughs. Actually, laughs. The memory replayed in his head, how sleepy you looked as he guided you back into the SUV, how your heart sank when seeing the blonde approach his front door. In that moment, you had convinced yourself you meant nothing to Carlos apart from lust. 

Charles was a jealous man; he had taken pride in stripping off his teammates' clothing, wrapping you in his own, soft hoodie. You were his. Carlos wouldn’t care for you the way he did, he was a man too full of lust. He was convinced the Spainard didn’t make you laugh, didn’t make you smile, didn’t make you come- 

“You corrupted her, Carlos.” He finishes. “I know what you did-”

“-And I know what you did.” Carlos snarls. He doesn't care about anything more; he knows all too well that his teammate could go crying to the Ferrari bosses, have him removed from the team in a blink of an eye, throwing some false information out which he would have to comply with. But he doesn't care. His affection has grown too strong for that. 

“I know everything, Charles.” He’s monotone, he’s stating facts. “I know how she waited at home for you on her birthday, whilst you were in your mistress’ bed.” Carlos remembers asking you about your plans the previous week, how you had brushed them off. “I know how she made you dinner every night, how you refused to eat it.” Charles feels his stomach drop, the endless leftovers stacked neatly in the fridge, the meals he had never bothered to try. “I know on your wedding night, you came into the hotel room drunk, covered in bites and she slept on the sofa-”

“Enough!” Charles’ voice shouts, standing up from the plastic chair in the corridor. He doesn't have to hear this, he can’t bear to hear this. One mistake a day was something he was always able to brush off. Hearing each and every one of his infidelities laid out in front of him sent his mind into overdrive. “You have no right to comment on-”

“On what?” The Spainard is standing up now, chest out and arms folded. “On your marriage?” He laughs, he smirks. “Can you call it that? A marriage is a bond between two people who love one another-”

“I love her!” Charles cuts him off, stepping closer. “I love her.” He repeats himself. Carlos looks gobsmacked, shaking his head in denial. 

“You have a really weird way of showing her you love her.” He continues to poke, to prod. “Sharing a bed with another woman is not how you show love-”

“I admitted to my mistakes!” He’s quick to defend himself, how the restraining order was placed and a lawsuit filed, how he promised if you wanted to know anything, see anything, he would let you. How he would spend the rest of his days always feeling dread and regret. “I fixed them-”

“Who says she still loves you?” Carlos has snapped.

Charles hates to admit that he may be right. Is it really fair for him to expect your love after everything that has happened in the past year? It didn’t matter how many times he begged, he pleaded or promised. The man you had married had spent the better part of 365 days in the arms of another woman, a woman that as he stood here, clinging onto any hope of his marriage, meant absolutely nothing to him. 

His slim fingers trail down, circling the cool band which rested on his left finger. He had decided there and then, he would keep it on, always. There would be no more reasoning, none. If Lewis could wear his earrings, Charles would wear his wedding ring. He looks back up, Carlos still boring into him with dark eyes, the anger he radiated almost entirely visible. 

“Do you love her?” He presses. He needs to know; he doesn't bring himself to care that you had spent a night in his arms, not when he had done it to you a thousand times over. The idea makes him sick, but nothing compared to the idea that you are in love with somebody that isn’t him, not when he needs nothing but for you to come home, back to your home with him. 

Charles swears he feels vomit rise into his mouth when Carlos nods. He’s not stupid, not really. He knows how he fell for you properly in the past few weeks, how for Carlos who has been in awe of your affection and attention, the center of every race weekend you had reluctantly attended. It may have been to support him, but you could still enjoy the fact that Carlos would be there, too. 

Your husband isn’t sure what he wants to do anymore. If there wasn’t an examination happening, he would have run into your private room and locked the door. Instead, his glassy eyes gaze up, catching Carlos’ dark ones. It hits him at once; his teammate, somebody who he once considered a close- no, best friend, was the one who had taken his wife away from him. His brain can’t catch up with his body movements, the red mist clouds over once more. 

Charles Leclerc punches Carlos Sainz in the nose. 

He doesn't intend for it to be a strong punch; Formula One drivers are a lot stronger than they realize, and the contact not only causes the Spaniard to knock back, shouting out in pain, but a sharp sensation rockets through Charles’ clenched fist, wiggling his fingers as they relax. Carlos’ nose is immediately red, becoming scarlet by the moment, though no blood has fallen. Your husband’s immediate reaction is ‘Should have punched him harder.’

He doesn't have time to think about anything else, not before he has two strong hands on his chest, shoving him harshly. The sudden sensation causes him to lose balance, falling to the floor and landing on his back. A shock radiates through his body, Carlos looming over him, clearly ready for a second punch. 

That thought is drawn away when the door to your room opens, both men immediately staring at the nurse, her hair worn and eyes tired. Before either man can throw a question at her, she speaks. 

“She’s still not awake, we’re going to bring her around in an hour, but she’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. If one of you could get her some overnight things-”

“I can.” Charles immediately cuts off the nurse, pulling himself to sit up and stand from the floor. “I’m her husband. I will get them.” It’s a subtle jab to the man in front of him, Carlos still holding his nose, convinced it was about to start bleeding any moment. He would have gone and sought out attention for himself, if he hadn’t felt a sharp vibration in his back pocket, a phone call. In any other time, he would have ignored it. But he knows who it is, he knows how important it is. 

Without a word, Carlos answers the call, rapidly speaking in Spanish as he walks down the hall. 

Love is a pocket square at the bottom of a suitcase.

The contrast of Charles leaving the hospital was night and day to him arriving. He hadn’t spoken a word to Joris, apart from expressing that he needed to go back to the hotel to get your overnight items. Although it was barely a ten minute drive away, every minute felt like a century; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, sit by your side and hold your hand until you woke up. 

He could have sent Joris back, given him the room key and told him to grab some things, but it didn’t seem right. The idea of his best friend going through your suitcase didn’t sit comfortably with him. Moreover, he didn’t know. Charles knew; he knew what pajamas you found the most comfortable, what outfit would be easiest for you to travel back in, how you wanted your panties and socks paired together and how your phone charger had to loop clockwise. 

The ornate hotel room looks dull without you; your suitcase still rests in the bottom of the wardrobe; you had hung up evening wear, dresses for the inevitable after-parties. Folded in your suitcase remained your other clothing. Charles is quick to select his items; the tropical cotton pajamas. You had bought him a pair in the same fabric, telling him that they would be the comfiest thing to sleep in. Your stitched jumper and comfiest jeans. You had worn those jeans when you had tagged along to his photoshoot for the Ferrari livery, holding his water and the APM Monaco jewelry he couldn’t wear. Your outrageously expensive hairbrush. You had brushed his hair through after a particularly bad race, whispering promises that it would get better, that the car was going to evolve for him, the best driver on the grid. 

Bile rises to Charles’ stomach and with no warning, he sprints to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and throwing up the barely-there contents of his stomach. He had barely eaten, barely drank any water, but couldn’t help the sickness in his tummy. 

He pulls away from the toilet basin, eyes watery, breath trying to catch up with the speed and cries.

Charles doesn't realize it’s happening at first, he hasn’t cried like this in so long; the kind of crying where you can’t fathom words, you don’t make a sound because you’re crying so deeply. The kind where your chest is exploding and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The kind where all he wants is for his mother to cradle him like she did when he was five, run her hands through his hair and whisper him words of comfort.

This time, he doesn't want his mother, he wants you. 

It’s selfish, it’s so incredibly selfish and it hurts to know that it’s taken him until now to realize what you mean to him. It would never happen, but his wound-up head can only close his eyes and visualize you running in, pulling his head into your chest and running your hands through his dark tufts, pressing cool lips to his forehead and promising him over and over that it was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. 

He lets himself cry for five minutes; he times it because he wants to collect your things and make his way back, Joris was waiting in the car. When the five minutes are over, he pinches his nose, taking short, ugly gasps until his eyes remain bloodshot but not blurred. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the hotel room, making his way out of the bathroom and to the items he had hurriedly dropped atop of your suitcase.

Nimble fingers cradle each item, carefully rolling and tucking them into a pillowcase; he didn’t have a bag big enough to suffice each item and couldn’t bring himself to bring your entire suitcase along, it almost seemed as if once you had it, you could disappear from his life. At least this way, he could have one final farewell if you chose to leave. The items are almost secure, until his grip on the pillowcase folds, glassed eyes catching a glimmer of blue hidden at the bottom of the case. With no hesitation, he pulls on the fabric. His heart drops on the realization of the item. 

It’s a pocket square. More specifically, it’s his pocket square from your wedding. 

You don’t know when you had started packing it, but you supposed it was from your mother’s own doings. After her wedding to your father, she had always carried around her ‘something blue,’ as a gesture of good luck, of safety. After the first time you had found out about Charles’ mistress, you had discreetly tucked the fabric into your bag, carrying it around, a silent hope your husband would return to you. 

It hadn’t worked in Jeddah. In Imola. In Spa. In Monaco. You had reluctantly taken it from your bag one evening, on the plane home from consoling your family, using your pen to doodle in the very corner ‘Mr and Mrs Leclerc,’ a silent fantasy of the loving marriage you had dreamed of. 

That night was the first time you and Charles ever shared a bed. 

The fabric lingers between his fingers, the blue contrasting against the silver of your ring, still resting on his pinky finger. Now changed into his own clothes, he slides the ring off, wrapping it gently in the pocket square and sliding it into his trouser pocket. As he does, he recognises your handwriting, the titles printed in the bottom of the fabric. 

He can’t help the tears rolling down his cheeks once again. 

Love is a desperate telephone call.

Carlos is still pacing around the outside courtyard of the hospital, having been on hold for a grand total of seventeen minutes. He is not a man of patience, he is not a man of quiet. 

The phone buzzing in the corridor had been a welcome call, despite the situation. His lawyer, finally ringing him back after what felt like days of apprehension. He had dipped from the public eye to try and grab hold of some privacy, slipping in his wireless headphone so as not to hold the device to his ear for hours upon hours. 

Almost thirty minutes ago, his lawyer had called him, confirming his thoughts of the previous days. 

"You're not wrong." His lawyer has already clarified it once, twice, three times. "If there is evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt, then it is the correct term for a divorce.

Carlos feels his blood run cold. He loves her, he's as certain as that as he is of the fact that the sky is blue and his win in Silverstone. The man wants nothing more than to make her feel cherished, adored. Taking a bite out of his teammate was just a bonus feature. 

That had been a few days ago, when the anger had surpassed him after Natasha’s return, how that made him look as bad, if not worse than Charles. He’d immediately sent her packing, blocked her on every form of media, gone as far as to insist if she ever came for a visit, he wouldn’t be present. 

The second part, the evidence, had been laid out all too perfectly. 

The line suddenly clicks, signaling his lawyer had returned. Carlos doesn't wait for a verbal queue, the audible sign of his return is more than enough. 

 “Do you have it?” He asks, barely any time to let the man on the other end of the phone respond. “You must have it, no? It should have been sent. I made sure it was sent.”

“I have it.” He clarifies. “I have them right here.” A rustle of paper is heard from the other end of the telephone, content of an envelope being spilled onto his desk. “Are you sure you want me to send these to be confirmed as evidence? That the women in the photographs will not retaliate?”

Carlos had not been entirely honest with you. Not about his knowledge of Charles’ situation. Ever since the confession all those months ago, the understanding that you knew of Charles’ affair, he had been playing a long, patient game. He had photographs, evidence of the mistress’ appearance at each paddock, her arms snaking around Charles’ body, kisses between the duo. How he could continue to do so, whilst you, the epitome of beauty, sat in his drivers’ room, playing the doting wife.  At one point, he had considered going directly to the press, directly to Ferrari themselves to out their ‘Golden Boy.’ 

And then…he had seen you with him in the Paddock that one race, looking through the window of his driver’s room. How your fingers latched onto one another, how genuinely shattered you looked when she had shown up yet again, lingering outside of the hospitality area. The guilt snuck through him, how he had seen her arrive, and yet failed to mention to you, give you any warning of her presence. 

Even if he had been the one to invite her. Even if he had been the one to press her about sending the photographs to Charles, not blackmail. Merely a reminder of his actions, how much he supposedly missed his mistress. 

“She wouldn’t.” He’s quick to respond. “She wouldn’t care.” He’s not wrong, his mistress being in the limelight would only elevate her status, with the way his teammates’ brain worked, it would more than likely draw them back to one another. 

“And Mrs. Leclerc?” 

It’s the first time Carlos has hesitated. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he knew that your relationship with Charles had grown, that ambient it was made paper-thin, the trust was slowly beginning to come back. He thinks about how your eyes blinked widely, in awe of your husband on the podium earlier that day, how it supposedly didn’t matter he had spent most of your marriage wrapped in her arms, you still looked at him like that. Did you look at him like that? Like the way he looked at you. 

This action could draw out a multiverse of reactions but at the end of the day, he had settled with two. The first was that you understood, that you would see the evidence, and understand the case. Divorce Charles and marry him, even if it meant he would give up everything. 

The second is that you would see the chaos he caused and you would never speak to him again. 

“Mr. Sainz?” The voice at the end of the telephone draws him from his questioning, running a hand across his red, swollen nose. It wasn’t broken, but god it was hurting. Bruised, most likely. “I need an answer.” 

He needed to speak to you. 

“Can you just-” He huffs, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers almost getting caught in the strands. Of course his hair was tangled, he’d been doing nothing but pulling on it ever since he arrived at the hospital. “Let me speak to her. Hold it for 24 hours. You can do that, yes?” It’s not even a question now, nor a request. It’s a demand. He can’t do this, he can’t openly destroy your marriage for his own sake without speaking to you, without knowing for a fact that you love him.

Your name is carved onto his soul, onto his skin. The first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing he would think about at night. There is no life he wishes to live in if you’re not there. Even as his friend. 

There’s suddenly a light tap against glass, snapping the man’s attention from his device. He mumbles something in Spanish, telling his lawyer he would call him back, dreading who was coming out into the private courtyard. 

He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just a man, sneaking out whilst tears pool on his lower lashline, giving Carlos a warming nod. 

“You don’t mind if I join you, do I?” The Spainard shakes his head. “My wife- she’s just being induced and wanted some space. She’s…” He gestures, trying to explain to a complete stranger how a few minutes ago, his wife wanted to cry and shake her head, but wanted nothing to do with him. It was all his fault. 

Carlos offers a warm hand on his back, patting him firmly. “Congratulations. Do you know what you're having?” He’s invested, anything to distract him from his previous phone call, the weight of a decision on his shoulders.

The stranger grins. “A girl.” He smiles harder. “I don’t mind, as long as they arrive happy and healthy. But god- a girl, just like her.” He thinks. Carlos thinks. In an alternative universe, he’s sat by your side, pressing kisses and praises to your skin, holding you tighter as your daughter enters the world, ready to meet her mother and father. She would be like you; your eyes, hair, smile. It would be another you to love, to adore. 

“Your first?” Carlos presses his question. The man sighs, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks into the polished corridor. 

“No. She’s…” He pauses. “We got together after hiding how we felt for so long, how we wanted to be with one another.” He looks to Carlos, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of the situation. “I know how it sounds, but sometimes you can’t help it. I- I love her.” 

A band snaps in Carlos’ stomach; love knows no bounds. 

Love is waking up to think of your person.

The first thing you register when you come around is brightness. You’re not in the soft glow of the luxurious hotel room you and your husband had been given, nor the candle-lit bedroom of Carlos’ apartment. No, the light is bright, blinding. An off-white which made your eyes squint. 

Your senses are heightened; the only scent which flares through your nostrils is hand sanitiser and overpowering lilies. Nose scrunched, you attempt to wiggle your body upwards, aware of the IV line pinned into your hand. Panic immediately settled through your tummy, until your eyes flickered to the bag, realizing it was just water, they just wanted to rehydrate you. 

Hesitantly, you wiggle each part of your body. Arms, hands, fingers. You’re able to move, though you couldn’t…you couldn’t remember why you got here. Memories are hazy, you remember Charles’ podium, the way he kissed you so deeply, so lovingly. Carlos’ hand on your waist, pulling you back to stop you from the champagne trickling over your body. You were overwhelmed, overworked and…you guessed it just all became too much. 

You just about manage to turn your body, the first thing you’re aware of is that your cushion smells familiar. Warm nodes, sandalwood and seasalt. It’s a smell you’ve grown all too accustomed to, burying your face into their chest whilst you took refuge in his arms, in a hotel room. Charles had been there, already. His celebrations had clearly been cut short, whether or not it was for show or because he cared. 

The second thing is the coffee cup. Cardboard, the contents clearly already drained, but handwriting etched onto the side in a thick, black marker. The handwriting, the doodle of a tiny butterfly. Carlos had been there, too. 

There’s a sharp pinch on your cheek, fingers reach up to your skin and feel the butterfly strips against you. Immediately, a thousand questions come back to your mind, none of them being answered through your own memory. Instead, the door opens, a nurse in clean, bright uniform walking in, closing the door behind her. She beams at the realization you’re awake, shoulders relaxing. 

“You’re awake!” Her tone is incredibly warm, seemingly very happy you’ve decided to wake up on your own terms. She’s quick to move to your bedside, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?” You’re not sure what she’s referencing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She takes the look on your face as unknowingness, able to fill in the gaps. 

“You collapsed on the track.” She’s trying to get through everything she needs to tell you. “We did some tests, you’re incredibly dehydrated for a start, you need to try and get some rest.” She pauses. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, we have collapses from dehydration every so often, more than you would realize.” Her eyes flicker down, finding it hard on how to phrase the next part of the question. “You also seem…incredibly worried.” You’re not sure how she could tell that from simply examining you, but you nod in confirmation. “Your blood pressure, it’s incredibly low. That’s why you fainted.”

“Yes.” You pause. How on earth were you about to explain the past twelve months to a nurse, a complete stranger? “There’s been some…reasons. You know, for the stress.” Her eyes soften, but the questioning continues. 

“Are you trying for a baby?” You shake your head. “Moving house?” A shake. “Have you…lost somebody recently.” 

You freeze, memory flickering to your mother, how in the midst of fixing your marriage, discovering your affection towards another, she had disappeared from the world. This time, you nod your head, drawing your knees up to your body, shivering. The nurse is quick to wrap a blanket over your shoulders, closer to the answer. 

��I lost my mother.” You breathe out, shaking your head. “I lost my mother, and she’s the only one I can go to.” Now you’ve started speaking, you can’t finish. “I want to make them happy. I want to make him happy.” There’s tears glassing over your eyes.

You want him. You want him right now. 

She sympathizes, she understands. “Sometimes, all you need is for them to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” She lets her words trail off, turning to the door of your room. “He’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.”

Your blood freezes.

“Would you like me to get him?” 

You nod before you’ve even realized, your body clearly knows better than your mind. The nurse stands up straight, pacing towards the door as you feel your heart begin to race harder, frantically. She steps out of the room, a minute mumble on the other side, clearly a warning to be incredibly careful. It’s barely a minute before the door swings back open, dark hair and frantic panting. 

You glance up, your heart softens at those eyes. 

The eyes that you, the reader, wanted to see as you glanced to the door.

GREEN EYES [CL16 Ending]

BROWN EYES [CS55 Ending]

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover@barnestatic@omgsuperstarg@chimchimjiminie16@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog@junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt@crowdthena@screemqueen@lewislvr@styles-sunflower@itspaddockprincess@adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins@formulanando@lorarri@christianpulisic10@gaypoetsblog@thisbitxhs-blog@goldsainz@ru-kru@magical-spit@hrlzy@nooshytushie@gaslysainz@marvel-at-stucky@sugarvibez@adeptustemptations@roseseraj@leclercdream@pjofics@hecatesfavoritechild@poseforme@thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19@heavenlyiecreature@pink-teddy-bear@nooshytushie@strawberries-and-racing@milasexutoire@ohthemisssery@florkt@obsessedwiththeideaofyou@ru-kru@myhomeworksnotdone@ineedafictionalman@bregarc@allywthsr@summerslike11@wildcupcake@willowpains@marlenamallowan@leclercloml@katzenwahnsinn@be-your-coffee-pot

#F1 #Formula 1 #F1 x Reader #Carlos Sainz #Charles Leclerc #CS55 #CL16 #Charles Leclerc x Reader #Carlos Sainz x Reader #Charles Leclerc Imagine #Carlos Sainz Imagine #Charles Leclerc One Shot #Carlos Sainz One Shot #Reader Insert #Reader x Charles #Reader x Carlos #Formula 1 Imagine #F1 Imagine #Ferrari #Mercedes #Aston Martin #Fanfiction #Carlos Sainz x You #Charles Leclerc x You #Charlos

[suhjihanma]

Bitterness loves Sweetness

☕️Word count: 1,115 words ☕️Pairing: Geto Suguru / Female!Reader ☕️Warning/Content: "Daddy" kink, mentions and implication of black female reader, slight fluff along with bantering, heavy implications of foreplay, slight mentions of dirty talk. ☕️Author's Note: I feel like this is one of my tamer ones in this series of writing, Jujutsu Kaisen. Also, it's been a minute since I wrote something for my sister readers. Anyone can read this but, keep in mind that the reader insert is a black female. The recent chapter leaks really left me in shambles. (Also, I had @kazushawty as inspiration for this small piece. Go read her scenarios. They are amazing.) “Good morning.” That familiar voice dipped within smoothness reached your ears as his hair strands fell against your warm cheeks that hid itself in your finely maintained braids. The tickling of your cheeks made you shift from your seat and turn to the man who was showing off a gentle smile.   You showed off a gentle smile in return while blowing off the steam from your coffee cup, enjoying the heat that pressed against the palm of your hands. Bringing the cup to your lips, the rich, strong aroma of the drink engulfed your senses. From every sip, the bitterness and sweetness of the drink made you want to give your best compliments to the man above you. Before, you were skeptical about how little cream or sugar he would use in a woman’s coffee. Now, you were simply praising him. 

“I’m surprised.” You voiced your expression while not returning the greeting. “I thought you would mess it up like last time.” An airish chuckle escaped from your lips as you continued to drink from the cup, slightly ignoring the fact that you almost choked from your drink. You placed the cup on the table and looked at him with an annoyed expression, both eyebrows scrunched with a scowling face.  

“There are things I want you to choke on, and coffee is one of things I expected last.” Suguru chuckled as he continued to his hands against one of your legs. Seeing a small drop of coffee that ran across your leg, he then looks up to see a small dribble of coffee that formed across the corner of your lips. You noticed his face became closer to yours and with such a quick motion, you felt something warm with slight bumps going across your lips. A familiar drag came across your skin that you couldn’t help but to let out a whimper underneath your breath. Suguru must have noticed, because that familiar smile now turned into a slightly devious smirk.  

Collecting the stained trail across your soft lips, his lips pressed gently against the top of yours. The taste of faint espresso mixed with the sugar contents made you want to bask in this kiss until the sun fully rises. 

 Dawn has broken, and yet the sun isn’t fully set in the sky as of yet.  

“I didn’t need no comedian.” You retorted against his lips, not trying to heed Suguru’s banters early in the morning. Suguru continued to laugh while hearing your muffled response. The gentleness of his rumbling laugh, the lingering aroma of coffee grounds circling the kitchen, the blowing heat that came from the heater to the chilliness that came from outside now finds itself indoors. Everything that made itself present was nothing more than a peaceful morning. Mornings that can be considered loving one another, getting into trite arguments, and finding yourself bent across a table counter while chaste-like kisses are placed against your softened skin. For whatever higher being there is, you hope and pray that you have more days like this.  

Days where you can just be the woman that you are around Suguru. 

 If having the powers of a mind reader, you wish you could read his mind. Does Suguru want the same as you? Nevertheless, the lingering question became answered as you felt a gentle touch of fingers trace along the clothed folds of your panties. It is as if his fingers were making you fall into a trance as you tilted your head back from the sudden bliss of his touch. The silken braids that Suguru admired had now fallen back from your head, some strands touching an open part of his sensitive thighs, without care the ends danced across his skin.  

“And I didn’t need no backtalk.” The gentle voice you grew to know now became laced with slight authority as Suguru whispered in your ear, biting at the sensitive cartilage while still tracing his fingers against the soiled, sensitive wetness beneath.  

“When did you become my daddy?” Grunting softly, you looked over at Suguru, who continued with his annoying banter. The continuous motions of his fingers grew to be tiresome, and you were practically voicing on wanting more than just his measly fingers.  

If only this man would stop playing with you. You could damn him for racking his pleasure of teasing you. Sensitive people like yourself couldn’t win if given the chance. 

“Since you started calling me ‘daddy’ while I listened to you touch yourself.”  

You raised an eyebrow, as you were firing back another comment, you found yourself let out another dragged whimper, this time you felt more pressure underneath, the sensation of him pressing your folds together and rubbing them while your clit rubs against the fabric of your panties. Pleased by his actions that were happening, Suguru tucked one of your braids behind your ears as he kissed your cheek. His lips slowly went back to nibbling the cartilage of your ear as his tongue traced the hollow lines inside, making you squirm out of your sitting position. There is nothing like enjoying the fruits of one’s labor in the sensual degree. To degrade one partner and leave them in a quivering state became a natural occurrence for Suguru. 

Then again, he just loves seeing how a woman like you could break by simple body mechanics.  

“Also, fix your neck, baby. I know you got your braids done recently, and I know I’m not making your neck that stiff.” Another airish chuckle came from Suguru as he left your sensitive ear to trace across your neck in random motions, gently swift his warm tongue against your exposed neck. Each swipe made you form into a puddle, being aware that his touch was making you more vulnerable than ever. You couldn’t help but sigh out, tilting your head away in pleasure as Suguru’s tongue was now continuing to trace against the salted excretions from your skin.  

If you had the strength, you would have shut up Suguru a long time ago. Now, you were placed in a vulnerable position with nothing more than your legs open with your head tossed back. The sensations grew too much to bear as you continued to preach words of wanting more, begging Suguru to use something more. As your breaths appear more staggered, while your moans sound with neediness, Suguru whispered something in your ear that made you want him to cling onto you more. 

“I’ll give you more, baby. I can feel this pussy already pulsating on my fingers and I haven’t even got my fingers inside you yet. Don’t worry, Daddy got you.” 

#jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu geto #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x you #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x black reader #geto suguru fluff #geto suguru smut #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto

[lorcandidlucienwill]

me and sjm are about to have a world building problem because she's killing me she obviously takes inspiration from ancient civilizations and geographical names around the Mediterranean, like the greeks (Eris, Helios, etruscans (literally their goddess of dawn is named thesan). Tarquin the last king of rome (and ironically the opposite of acotar Tarquin). Adriata should then come from the Adriatic sea and their architecture seems greco-roman. But then she mixes it up and gives the court fae brown skin (by the way, what kind of brown, this tells me nothing, i don't need like pantone, but slight more description) For the night court, she's just weird with it. the clothes Feyre is initially given by Rhysand kind of read to me like what you find when you search up 'sexy belly dancer'). Same with all of the clothes she wears when visiting Hewn City. I feel like she was trying to incorporate some more "exotic" things but it doesn't match the rest of the court. It seems like there's a couple different groups with completely different aesthetics that are completely separate from one another. Both Illyria and the court of nightmares seem like vassal states to Velaris and aside from Illyrians having tan skin and being called something around the lines of savages (very POC-coded), there is little to no evidence of any aesthetics that could be considered non-European. Not architecture-wise, name-wise, or (for the most part) fashion-wise. Now, it is a free country, SJM can write however and about whatever she wants. But I feel like there is just such a loss there. No matter where in the world you go, there is evidence of different cultures. Rich cultures which someone could easily take inspiration from!! I just wish she took the time to go down some of the rabbit holes fic writers go down, learning a multitude about what ends up being a small part of your story. Right now, her POC characters feel like an afterthought where she had her story written and then just inserted the word dark/tan on a couple characters. (Also I had no idea Amren was east asian until someone said she was on here and I do have to ask, where is the east asian exotica? Normally if you have one you have the other.) Also her in-universe world building is so convoluted and i hate it and nothing makes sense. I love magical objects as much as the next person, but some of these are one-and-done objects that you definitely could have had more use over. I think she has a vague plan and is just doing whatever she thinks of first to get to each plot point. (me in essays) Also, someone should make an anti-inner circle timeline with all the fucked things they've done so we don't forget. (And hope in the next book, sjm writes about a war crime tribunal for the past... century) thanks for listening to my rant, I've just been struggling to figure out how characters and courts play out and getting more frustrated as I continue.

Anon, you summed up all my frustrations perfectly!

Sjm writes her worldbuilding and tropes like she’s still writing fanfiction. I try to write fanfiction of her stories and I realize I know nothing about the places we’re supposed to be exploring.

Sjm takes inspiration from many many things but then she doesn’t commit to anything. She cherry picks shit to utilize based on vibes and together it doesn’t make sense. It’s really annoying when you see inspiration from your culture that could’ve been used so much better.

As for the IC, they’ve committed so many crimes it would require a thorough reread of all the books to note down all of them.

#anon asks #sjm critical #anti ic

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Propaganda why Bella Swan is insufferable:

Feels like low hanging fruit, but characters that are supposed to be self inserts will always be bland boring bad ideas if you want to make a truly interesting character. Especially self inserts that go along with things like stalking and abuse from their love interests for the sake of continuing the story, because it kinda makes them seem like a mannequin who just there to be passed around like the punching bag in super smash bros, you know what I mean

complete bland character that all the boys somehow fall in love with. just gets pushed around by the plot. she's interesting as cardboard while everyone around her is more interesting.

She spends the entirety of three books looking down on others, being completely braindead, worrying that she's old at age 18 for an entire book, has a horror movie pregnancyand birth, and then becomes the most specialist vampire to ever vampire. And through all that her personality and thought processes that she had page 1 of Twilight she has on the last page of Breaking Dawn.

She has the personality of a rock, but for some reason everyone is obsessed with her.

Propaganda why Tony Stark is insufferable:

She’s a hypocrite who is ready to restrict the freedom of others when they make one mistake, but when he makes a mistake he figures he’s able to handle himself

Super long, sorry lol

Thinking about how in Homecoming when Peter accidentally caused that boat to get split in half because the Vulture’s gun exploded and Tony was acting like as if Peter was completely in the wrong for going there just because he did it without his permission. He was acting like as if Peter was out of line and “disobeyed him”, trying to act like his father. And then I remember how in CACW he’s the one who scouted Peter in the first place just because he saw he might be useful against a personal squabble between him and Captain America despite knowing that he was a kid and he’s just now acknowledging how dangerous it is because Peter “acted on his own”

Completely hijacking Peter’s superhero story and trying to control his every move (Training wheels protocol and baby monitor thing he put in the suit), acting like Peter should’ve known that Tony would send someone in despite the fact that he’d been ignoring him for 2 months since Civil War and not keeping him updated on anything!!

How the hell is peter supposed to know Tony is going to listen to him when he treats him like a kid instead of a superhero when it’s convenient for him? And when Tony loses his temper after Peter says he’s 15 not 14 like “the adult is talking” bitch he could literally flatten you without your suit!!!

I guess in a way he is acting like a father but like the absentee kind. He’s more like a sperm donor father trying to act like he has any rights over Peter’s life smh.

It’s not that reprimanding Peter for the situation is bad, but the way he makes it seem as if Peter is irredeemable as if Tony wasn't a literal weapons dealer lmfao. He could’ve said what was the truth about it without completely invalidating him saying shit like “no thanks to you” after Peter asked if everyone is okay when it’s literally thanks to Peter finding a lead on those guys in the first place that they were even noticed and it’s not like the FBI being there could’ve in no way caused a similar situation.

And then near the end of the movie when he’s getting crushed by the building rubble screaming and crying for someone to help him where the fuck is Tony?? That scene just proved that he never needed Tony’s suit in the first place to be Spider-Man since he had to use 100% his own strength to lift it off of him. I know he would’ve found the motivation even if Tony hadn’t been involved in the first place to give him the suit, take it away from him and have the words “if you’re nothing without the suit you shouldn’t have it“ echo in his head. Why did Tony even take the suit away? Like as if he expects Peter to stop being spoderman without it??? Holy fuck. This is why you don’t make it out of endgame /j /srs.

When Tony took this suit away from Peter he was like “God I sound like my dad“ shouldn’t that be a red flag to him? Wasn’t he literally just saying that he wished his dad was better than he was?? Lmfao

Tony is so annoying. When they first meet he straight up bullies Peter into fighting for his personal bullshit, insults and objectifies Aunt May in front of him, spits into his trashcan and is in general being pushy af. He blackmails Peter when he doesn’t wanna come to Germany with him AND HE DOESNT EVEN EXPLAIN WHY HE WANTS HIM TO COME. Uncomfortable vibes lol.

Tony being the one to tell peter “if Captain America wanted to hurt you he would’ve” when Peter was trying to state his case, yet HE’S also the one who put Peter in harms way when he didn’t even want to go with him???

Telling Peter that he should stick to being a “friendly neighborhood Spider-Man” (stealing his thing once again) when that’s what Peter _was_ doing before Tony took him out of his zone and filled his head with grander things to be apart of….bitch? Die. Ohh waaaait (jkjk) but yeah

There’s the usual “he’s a war criminal who only felt bad about it when he realized his weapons were killing white Americans as well as Arab people” reason, and also he’s just super annoying. You had to be there for the original Avengers shitty dialogue a la “we have a Hulk” that had Tumblr in a vicious chokehold. Also he was supposed to FINALLY go away after destroying all his suits in Iron Man 3 but he just… didn’t! Which is bullshit.

Portrayed as a hero because? He chose to no longer mass produce war weapons and bombs after suffering the consequences. Huge hypocrite. Doesn't care about anyone but himself. Will backstab people if they believe in human rights when it's inconvenient to him. Seen as a hero while he's the personification of privileged people saying they're not privileged

>Makes weapons

>Billionaire

>Made multiple AI Surveillance Robots

>Gaslight a child into fighting a super soldier in a foreign country for him

>His fans are annoying

#bella swan #twilight #tony stark #marvel cinematic universe #insufferable protagonist poll #insufferable protagonist tournament #tournament poll

[zoetheneko]

Mortal kombat: Heartful mayhem

Prologue

A/N: I knew a prologue is not really necessary on a Tumblr fanfiction, but i did it anyway since i want to write a novel level one (this is my first time writing a fanfic for the internet but idc).

It's a quiet afternoon. Jacqueline Briggs is sitting alone in the room full of computers, apparently in front of one of them, looking very focused. She looks through the files that had been entering the S.F.'s database for a few days now.

Those files in question are reports coming from squads that were sent one after the other to patrol and scavenge a specific area of Outworld, which is somewhere in the desert.

The investigation of these strange occurences of this location was placed into Jacqui's care by Cassandra Cage, her Commander, her best friend.

Jaqueline has been investing for at least five days now. It all started when odd fires were occuring in the already hot desert of Outworld.

The soldier reads the files of the most recent squad that retreated from the desert yesterday in the evening.

Suddenly, the door opens. Jacqui looks at it with surprise.

"Hey Jacqui. You found anything?" It's Cassandra, coming with a freshly made cup of coffee in one hand, checking on her friend.

Jacqui looks back at the screen. "No. Still nothing moved since yesterday." She sighted, slightly disappointed.

Commander Cage looks at a chair and rolls it towards her.

"Dawn. Nothing?." She asks as she takes a seat and approaches Jacqui's desk.

"That's odd. I thought the thermal signatures would have moved right now."

"They're isn't though". Jacqui said back.

"It hasn't been moving for hours now. The source of the fire probably went dormant on our radars."

Cassie takes a sip of coffee, looks down upon her chair and sights. "And we sent all these troops for four days. Jeez... if i knew that it would be a pain in the ass to identify the source of that fire, i would've speared the skin of these men." Some soldiers came back with first degree burns, others were heavily bruised. A few are still recovering at the nursery.

Jacqui glimpses worrysomely at her friend, then remembers something. "You know? I've got something interesting that caught my eye earlier."

Cage looks back at Briggs dragging the mouse around the screen and clicks on a picture icon in the report.

"Look." She says as she points at the blurry photo.

Cassie examines it closely. "Huh... all i see is some pink fire." She keep looking it in silence. "Hang on! What the hell is that?" Cassie points an odd shape that seems humanoid.

"I know." Jacqui responds "I also believe it's this thing that was firing up at our troops and injure them. It seem to be resisting our forces."

Cassie thinks longly about the matter.

"What is it commander?" Jacqui asked.

"We need to send people who are more skilled for this." Cassie responds. "If we continue sending our normal troops, they're will be more casualities. We literally can't risk it anymore."

Jacqui looks away briefly from Cassie, then questions "Well, who do you think we should call to go back there?"

"Come on... you know who." Cassie smirks.

"Oh." Jacqui realises who she is talking about.

Cassie storms out of the room, on her way to give a call or two for tommorow's preparations. Meanwhile, Jacqui is inserting names into the investigation's team file.

There were only two names added. But they knew how important they were for the case, and knew they won't fail it...

John J. Rambo & Kurtis Stryker.

@theelderhazelnut @darialovesstuff @geeky-trash01 @scentedcandleibex @mitsuko-saito @jaydraw209 @krysta-cross @huepazu @berryliciousjam @nameispai @asweetlovesong @loverofthewindgod @roselyn-writing @licoricelump @malewifefirestar @mungayatotale-blog @takiisieju-moved @hi-thisiszira @subsmoke-love @bloody-arty-myths

#mortal kombat heartful mayhem #fanfiction #fanfic #prologue #jacqui briggs #cassie cage #kurtis stryker #stryker #rambo #john rambo #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #mk11 #mk au #au #alternative universe #artist on tumblr #writer on tumblr #writeblr

[humblemooncat]

FFXIV Write 2023: A Journey of Remembrance Day 6: "Ring" ♫

"I thought we were headed to Ishgard today"

"We are, I just needed to make a stop to see Tataru about a few things. Then I figured we could make our way through Coerthas. It's my birthplace after all, I know all the shortcuts" Ki'to explained, making his way through to the Rising Stones. G'raha trailed behind him, curiosity piqued.

"Good morning~" Ki'to sang, looking around for their lalafellin friend. He heard clambering and a few boxes topple before the pink visage of Tataru rounded the corner.

"Well hello, you two! I wasn't expecting you so early!"

"It's nearly midday, is your chronometer off?"

"Apparently!" she said, glaring at the timekeeper on her desk, "Anyway, early or not, I just finished up your orders so no need to worry"

"Ever reliable! Whatever would we do without you, Tataru my dear?" Ki'to said with a laugh, making his way over to her workspace.

"Freeze to death, most likely" she remarked, handing him a neatly-folded coat. "If you're Ishgard-bound, you need to be prepared!" She trotted over to G'raha to hand him a coat as well.

"I already have a winter coat, though. You needn't have gone through the trouble-"

"That is your coat!" Tataru replied, "I just sewed in some warmer inserts and a softer inside that will retain heat well"

"Oh! Well then, thank you Tataru. Much appreciated" G'raha gave her a smile, putting the jacket on himself to check the fit.

"And for you," she made her way back over to Ki'to, who had made himself right at home in the new coat, "I worked with your mother on this, it should be perfectly done to your description" She handed him a small box which he placed within the pocket of his new coat.

"Thank you, dear. I'm certain he'll love it"

"Oh, I know he will. It suits him well" she said, giving him a smile before patting him on the back of the thigh, "Now, off you go. You've got a long trek before you today, and only so much daylight!"

Ki'to gave her a nod, clasping his hand in his husband's and heading towards the door. "We'll be back once we're done with our journey! Thank you again!"

"You better be! I'll be waiting with tea and sweets to hear the whole story!"

---

After exiting Mor Dhona, the two mounted up on horseback. Seeing as they had plenty of ground to cover, it seemed the better approach.

As they approached the Observatory gates, G'raha spoke up.

"I had figured you'd make mention of the box and its contents after we left, I can't help but be curious"

Ki'to patted his coat pocket where the box resided, "You'll see, I promise" he told him, "It's related to one of our stops as we approach Ishgard"

G'raha looked on at his husband with a quizzical tilt of the head, but did not ask further. Though his curiosity held tight in his mind, eyes flicking to the pocket on Ki'to's coat often as they journeyed through Coerthas.

---

"Dragonhead was the stage from which we sheltered from the storm, and from which we entered into Ishgard proper" Ki'to explained, poising himself by the northern gate, "with no small bit of help from Ser Haurchefant and Aymeric. For it was their voices that carried weight and gave us the leverage needed. Ser Haurchefant even went so far as to implore his family take us in as wards. An act I will forever be grateful for. For I regard them all as family now"

He lowered his head in remembrance, warm breath encircling his head in clouds backlit by the setting sun.

"It's little wonder why you're regarded so warmly here, then. They'd have kept us till dawn had we let them" G'raha mused, letting out a laugh.

"Of that you're not wrong" Ki'to grinned, "But we've one more stop before we can go bother Aymeric. Come"

He steered his horse towards the gate, urging it forward towards the northern path. G'raha followed behind, and the two made their way up towards the ruins of the old Vigil.

"My family made this journey quite a lot in our time here. Menphina's cairns are nearby" he mentioned, "It was after my first journey that I received this earring from my mother, much like my siblings before me" He flicked his ear, causing the jewelry hanging from it to jingle softly.

"She overlooks Ishgard, then?" Raha asked, "You would think it would be dedicated to Halone"

Ki'to chuckled, "They're both goddesses of ice, but Halone has dedications all over the city. I think it's fair Menphina at least gets an overlook"

He hopped off his horse, tying it to a tree as G'raha did the same.

"That said, she's not who we're here to see"

"Is she not? I thought she was your lady"

"She is, and I regard her with every breath that leaves my body, for I live for love", he spoke, "And love is the reason I know she will pardon me for passing by"

As the two walked through the cairns, Raha spied a headstone, a shield propped against it and fresh flowers at its base. Reading the name upon it, he understood.

Ki'to knelt before it, pulling out the box within his coat pocket. "Do you remember when I had asked all of your blessings for something? A ring for a lost love? That I might make my intent known even if it's never regarded?"

G'raha knelt next to him, seeing within the open box sat a ring, carefully crafted by the hands of expert goldsmiths.

"You loved him"

"I still do" Ki'to said, staring down at the ring, "Grief is simply the word we give love after death. It is when love becomes 'I wish they were here', or 'they would have loved this'; It is when love cannot be expressed directly, but it is no less love"

Raha placed a hand on his lover's back, rubbing a small circle in comfort.

"I will love you all the same, if you pass before I do" Ki'to spoke up, catching his husband off-guard, "I hope not. But, know you will always be loved, even if you are not here to feel it"

Not knowing the words to express himself, G'raha gave him a hug, lingering a while before pulling back.

"I know you will..."

Ki'to leaned his head till it made contact with Raha's chest, "Allow me to bury this beside him, then we can head inside the city"

"Take all the time you need, love"

That's about all the self-inflicted feels I can take for today. ;v;

It's been in the back of Ki'to's mind that he wanted to leave a ring with Haurchefant to communicate what he could not before his death, so I wanted to give him the opportunity to do that through this story. And the prompt came at the perfect time to do so.

Gonna be taking a couple days to chill, then we'll head to Ishgard proper! (Unless a prompt really speaks to me, of course!) Until then, enjoy this and the other write ups I've done so far! They're all tagged with #A Journey of Remembrance for easy reading! o/

Also, if you noticed Ki'to with the wrong haircut in today's picture no you didn't

#A Journey of Remembrance #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #Ki'to #G'raha Tia #Wolgraha #Wolchefant #Did I cry while writing this? #You're goddamn right I did

[delightfuldevin]

I've been meaning to ask and keep forgetting so forgive the 1am ask but WHAT is the story with your MLP Dragon Self Insert what's his deal who's he hang out with does he have lighting powers does he need a cool older brother who is half his height (Me)? I have many questions.

He primarily hangs out with Rarity and Pinkie Pie while in Ponyville!! And he goes to Canterlot to visit Luna every so often as well!! I haven’t thought about his relationship with Spike, but I suppose it makes sense that Spike would love having an older dragon around and probably asked him a loooot of questions about the Dragon Lands when he first showed up.

He does indeed have lightning powers!! This is another world I learned to access before my accident, so his lightning powers were obtained later down the line. He only had fire breath initially.

And he would absolutely ADORE having a cool older but shorter brother <3

So uh,, I did not have a backstory established for my MLP S/I before now and yet the second I received this ask, I popped off and this all just flowed out of my brain so here we are sjchjsdh

Jade grew up in the Dragon Lands (I arrived in this world at around age 11), but he never really fit in with the dragons’ way of life. He always sought companionship but that’s not really a thing in dragon society and he didn’t quite understand why. For all other dragons, being alone and distant seemed as natural as breathing, but for Jade it felt so wrong it made him feel sick. If he was the odd one out, perhaps he was the problem then?

One night, he met someone in his dreams. He didn’t know what she was, but she was so beautiful and kind, unlike any of the dragons he knew. When he woke up the next morning, he felt so refreshed as if he had slept like royalty. That mysterious whatever-she-was appeared in more of his dreams after that and each time, he would wake up like it was the best sleep of his life.

It wasn’t until several years later that he learned what ponies were. Their society was so much different than that of dragons, but somehow he felt like they were what he was missing. Jade had felt out of place amongst dragons his whole life; maybe he just didn’t belong there after all. So, he set out for Equestria, hoping to find what he was looking for all his life.

Unsurprisingly, the ponies he met initially did not receive him well. He was starting to think it might’ve been a bad idea to come there, but as he was about to give up and return to the Dragon Lands, he stumbled into Ponyville. He arrived during the time when Discord took over (the first episode I remember watching of the show was the season 2 premiere with Discord ^^) and once everything was turned back to normal, Twilight and her friends mistakenly thought he was part of Discord’s chaos magic that somehow remained. After all, how else would a dragon suddenly be in Ponyville?

After explaining himself and why he came, he was surprised to find that everyone simply accepted him at face value and welcomed him there. Sure, it took some getting used to for everyone, but in no time at all he was already feeling right at home! He became somewhat of a handyman, working odd jobs around the town. Being a dragon and all, he’s much stronger than even the strongest earth ponies, so everyone would ask him for help with any kind of manual labor. He was just happy to be accepted by others; it was all he’d ever wanted.

During the episode Luna Eclipsed, he saw Luna when she came to Ponyville and realized that it was her who he’d met in his dreams all those years ago. When she saw him, she also remembered him, surprised to see him there. Though she primarily helped the ponies of Equestria with her magic, she sensed Jade’s bad dreams back then and wanted to help him too, even if she didn’t have the expertise to help him with the particular issues he was facing as a dragon. The two of them spent the rest of the night together, with Luna even staying until dawn as they lost track of time. As she was about to leave for Canterlot, she invited him to come visit her sometime and he eagerly promised he would.

From there, he’s just a background character for the rest of the series. He plays no role in any big events; he basically functions as one of the crowd, except he’s a rather tall dragon in a crowd of ponies so he stands out quite a bit fjvhjdfvnkd. And he does start regularly visiting Luna in Canterlot. He doesn’t live directly in Ponyville, rather he shacks up in a cave just outside of town cause houses are not comfortable to sleep in jfbvkfdnk.

When the friendship school is established, he meets Smolder again (they met before very briefly in the Dragon Lands before he left). When Ember realizes Jade lives here already, she asks him to look after Smolder at the school to make sure she’s following the rules and setting a good example of the dragons. Jade agrees and becomes something of a “guardian” for Smolder, attending any kind of conferences at the school. The others of the Young Six become rather attached to him as well. It was during a parent-teacher night that Gallus’s guardian didn’t show up and Gallus asked Jade to take their place, which he accepted. From then on, Jade became the guardian for both Smolder and Gallus while they attended the school.

Also silly meme I just thought up jfbvjddjncdjs

#answered the thing #sonas tag #fruit salad #emotional support nerd #cant express enough how all this just poured out of my brain at like 11 pm last night #i had to save it to my drafts so i could look over it in the morning to make sure it was actually coherent jdncdjnns #maybe i will post the teeny fic i wrote about gallus taking me to griffonstone to tell the griffon leader that i adopted him………..

[nerdasaurus1200]

Day 4- Fairytale/Story Swap

Obligatory Tags: @our-newdream @autumn-sundrop @the-writer1988 @seadrreams

So those of you who follow me know that I headcanon Eugene becoming an author post series. And for today’s prompt I wanted to do something with that and it finally hit me.

One of Eugene’s most common things to do in his books is to just insert him And Rapunzel (and their friends of course) in different random fairytales and give it a twist so the story fits their personalities. One of his most popular ones was “SnowPunzel”. Rapunzel was in Snow White’s place (naturally), Eugene was in the prince’s as Prince Rider, Gothel was the Evil Queen, Weasel was the Huntsman, and Cass, Lance, Varian, Angry, and Catalina were the dwarves.

The dashing devil may care prince Rider found the lovely Snowpunzel singing by the royal well to her pet frog on the Festival of Lanterns, and they lifted two of their own into the sky to celebrate their new love. The Evil Queen found out about their secret romance and ordered her huntsman to have Snowpunzel killed. But the Huntsman couldn’t succeed, for Snowpunzel’s golden locks were indestructible. Luckily this gave Snowpunzel enough time to run away and led by some forest friends (Ruddiger and the DP palace pets) she happened upon a cottage inhabited by a venomous cobra woman, a werewolf and her cranky sister, an alchemist, and the second most handsome thief in the world. And there Snowpunzel resided for many months, grateful for her new home and new friends. However misfortune had fallen the prince for the Evil Queen had imprisoned him in her dungeon. But with the help of his raven Hamuel and Snowpunzel’s frog Prince Rider escaped and stole the Queen’s prized horse Maximus in search for his love! Unfortunately the Queen had finally gotten word that Snowpunzel was alive, and in a furious rage killed her huntsman. Once she settled down, she formulated a plan. Once Snowpunzel was all alone in the cottage, the Queen came to her disguised as an old hag and convinced her to take a bite of a wishing apple. Little did poor Snowpunzel know that the apple was poisoned with a sleeping curse, and she fainted as soon as she swallowed the first bite. Her human friends were griefstricken when they found her, and in their grief sought out the evil queen and killed her in revenge. Once their Snowpunzel had been avenged, they returned home and laid her in bed ready to bury her the following morning. However, the next morning next morning with the dawn brought none other than Prince Rider himself!! He was heartbroken to find his Snowpunzel so cold and lifeless, and held her in his arms and gave her a kiss farewell. But then…she opened her eyes! True love’s kiss had broken Snowpunzel from their slumber! Prince Rider and Snowpunzel rejoiced with their friends, dancing and singing and feasting for an entire week. Once the celebration was over, Prince Rider let them all move to his kingdom, married Snowpunzel, and they all lived happily ever after.

#tts #rta #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #nerd talks #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #new dream #new dream appreciation week

[watatsumiis]

'A Day to Remember' - A Meirin x Zhongli drabble.

This was my first ever commissioned piece, ordered by the lovely @zhongrin (thank you so much again) !! I had a lot of fun writing it and got permission to post it here :D if anyone is ever interested in commissioning me, feel free to contact me and I'm sure we can work something out :>

Content: Zhongli x female OC/self insert with a pre-established marriage! Slight suggestiveness at the end.

“There seems to be… an excess of gifts here today, my love.” Zhongli commented with a slight furrow of his brow as he lifted an ornate pot of peonies from one of the teahouse tables. “Is there something I’ve missed?” He asked, setting the flowers on the counter.

Meirin raised her eyebrows incredulously and placed her hands on her hips. “I’d like you to say that again, just a little more slowly.” She pursed her lips.

Zhongli frowned and turned a slow circle, observing the myriad of presents stacked throughout the small teahouse. “I presume there’s some kind of celebration that I’m not privy to.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Meirin let out a long-suffering sigh and carded her fingers through her wavy black hair before leaning her elbows on the counter to fix Zhongli with a stern look. “Mmm-hmmm.” She hummed out, a flicker of amusement passing over her face at her husband’s denseness. Though being a long-term partner of the Geo Archon had its benefits, timeliness was not one of them. 

“Anniversary?” Zhongli murmured to himself, blinking slowly as he looked towards the window. “No, no, that’s in Autumn.” He sighed softly, looking around at the presents once more and tentatively reaching out to pick up one of the cards attached to the nearest box. 

“Ah ah ah.” Meirin scolded him lightheartedly. “No cheating.” She couldn’t help but lord the knowledge over her husband - though him forgetting such an event hurt, she knew it was less out of neglect and more because Zhongli simply had so much in his head on a day-to-day basis that such events tended to slip by unnoticed. 

“It’s…” Zhongli looked out the window for a few moments, until it hit him. “Ah.” He looked towards his wife. “Curses.” He muttered to himself, before surging forward to walk around the counter and wrap his arms around Meirin’s waist. “Happy birthday, my dear.” He picked her up, ignoring her squeal of shock and protest. 

“There we go.” Meirin giggled and threw her arms around Zhongli’s neck, grinning broadly as he peppered little kisses to her jawline, then finally planted one directly to her lips and set her down once again.

Meirin returned the kiss with no hesitation, letting her hands linger for a little longer as she grinned, then readjusted her glasses where they’d been knocked crooked by Zhongli’s affections.

Zhongli smiled warmly, then looked towards the stairway that led to their shared living area. “I believe I have just the thing for the occasion.” He observed. “If you’ll just give me a moment.”

Meirin nodded as Zhongli headed up the stairway, and she was left alone once again. She quietly regarded the gifts and cards scattered throughout the teahouse, set down wherever there was space as they’d been delivered. 

Zhongli returned a few minutes later, a small, carefully wrapped package in hand. 

“Do you just keep these kinds of things on hand?” Meirin teased lightly, tapping the spot she’d cleared on one of the tables during her husband’s absence.

“I purchase meaningful gifts as I see them, and give them at appropriate times.” Zhongli replied, a mischievous tone to his voice as he set the parcel down carefully, and drew back so that Meirin could open it. 

“Well, I suppose that puts you in a tier above Xiao.” Meirin observed. “He was practically knocking down the door at the crack of dawn to give me…uh…that.” She elaborated as Zhongli stared blankly at her, then she gestured towards the counter, to where a shoddy, palm-sized fabric doll sat crookedly, barely able to keep upright under the weight of its own oversized head.

Zhongli looked at it for a few moments. “It’s a worry doll.” He informed her with a smile, puffing his chest out in a proud gesture. “He took my advice.” 

Any further observations were cut off as Meirin began to open the present, and Zhongli went silent in anticipation of her reaction. She carefully undid the ribbon and unfolded the soft fabric that Zhongli had wrapped the box in while she eyed the design on the material appreciatively. 

“It’s a bandana. It has all sorts of interesting uses.” Zhongli imparted his knowledge readily. “I’ve heard they’ve become rather popular recently thanks to their versatility. I thought that perhaps you might like it as an accessory.”

“You’re so thoughtful.” Meirin cooed, folding the bandana up carefully and setting it aside so that she could open up the unmarked box. She gasped softly as she took off the lid and recognised the shape of two new teacups in there, packed in carefully alongside two matching saucers and spoons. 

“Oh, Zhongli…” She couldn’t help but smile broadly as she carefully picked one up and looked over the delicately painted geo symbols. “They’re gorgeous!” She took a moment to look over all the little details before setting it back down and wrapping her husband up in a huge hug.

Zhongli returned the affection without any hesitation, pulling Meirin close to his broad chest and pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I’m so glad you like them, my sweet.” He tangled his fingers in her hair and held her close. ���Thank you for being alive for another three hundred and sixty five days, beloved.” He all but purred to his wife, pulling her as close as he could without outright squishing her against him, or displacing any of her carefully chosen accessories. “And for choosing to spend them with me.” He added warmly. 

“You can say all the sappy things you like, ‘Li, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re gonna have to make it up to me for forgetting my birthday in the first place.” Meirin put on a mock pout, but her iron grip around Zhongli’s torso didn’t abate. 

Zhongli chuckled, releasing her for a moment then snaking his arms around her waist as he leaned in close, his breath tickling against her ear as he nosed into her wavy hair. “Oh, I’m sure we could come up with a few ways for me to make it all better, my dear.”

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!

#genshin impact #my writing #genshin writing #genshin oc #oc x zhongli #oc x canon #zhongli x oc #zhongli x self insert #self insert x zhongli #genshin self insert #genshin x oc #zhongli #i PROMISE that mermaid kaveh piece is coming ive just been having a few dry writing days is all :p #so for now. enjoy this adorably fluffy piece :3

[thelazyhermits]

Welcome to Twisted Wonderland!

After falling down the Twst rabbit hole and dealing with Twst brainrot for the last few months, I finally decided to give writing for this fandom a try. I’m not the most confident, but hopefully, what I wrote is not too bad lol

I made this a Reader Insert since that’s what I’m used to writing, but it’s written with my Yuu OC in mind. She’s from the BNHA world which is why Quirks, which are basically super powers, are mentioned. You don’t really need to be familiar with BNHA to understand this.

Also, while my Yuu is female, her pronouns aren’t ever mentioned here, so the Reader is technically GN.

Where am I?

When you open your eyes, you find yourself standing in a dark room, facing a large mirror that has many coffins hovering ominously around it.

You’re immediately on your guard once you realize you have no recognition of the room you’ve found yourself in, especially since you can’t even remember how you ended up here in the first place.

Your mind frantically races as you try to think back to the last thing you remember. I remember winning the cage fight that was scheduled for tonight, but after that, my memory gets hazy. Did someone use their Quirk on me and kidnap me?

But that doesn’t make sense. Who would dare lay a hand on you and risk incurring your manager’s wrath? Everyone in the underworld knows how well connected Mumei is, which is why they avoid doing anything to get on his bad side.

A sudden chill runs down your spine. Unless this kidnapper is even more well off than Mumei. Could it be that someone has a grudge against him and is going after me because I’m his largest source of income?

That’s the only explanation that makes sense. After all, why else would someone go after the likes of you?

As your heart rate drastically increases, you frantically start looking around in hopes of finding an exit. For some reason, you haven’t been tied up, so you need to make the best use of this freedom to escape whatever your captor has planned for you.

Unfortunately, despite all your efforts, you’re unable to find any doors or windows, which only increases your unease. Just what kind of place have you been brought to?

It’s at that moment the mirror before you suddenly lights up as green fire appears in its reflection. “Ah…My dear beloved.”

With a gasp, you quickly try to find the owner of the unfamiliar voice you just heard, only for your search to come up empty. There must be some kind of intercom system in this room. That would explain why I can’t identify where exactly the voice came from.

Your hands clench into tight fists. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

As if not hearing your questions, the strangely jovial voice continues, “A lovely and noble flower of evil. Truly, you are the most beautiful of all.”

Could it be that the intercom system only allows your captor to speak into the room? They can’t hear you? Or are you just being ignored?

You can’t decide if you should feel annoyed about the prospect of being ignored or creeped out by what your kidnapper is saying. Am I actually dealing with some kind of stalker rather than an enemy of Mumei’s? 

If so, you might be in even more trouble than you originally feared since a stalker can be extremely dangerous, especially one that sounds as delusional as this one. 

You scrunch your nose. “Noble flower of evil? What the hell does that even mean?”

Once again, your question goes unanswered. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, please tell me. Who is the…?”

For some reason, the voice cuts off before that last sentence can be finished. You patiently wait for the speaker to pick up where they left off, but they never do.

As silence permeates the air, you raise an eyebrow. Ooookay. Sounds like I’m dealing with a real weirdo here.

A sigh escapes you as you tiredly drag a hand down your face. Great, just great. Just what I needed.

Your weary gaze focuses on the mirror, which is still glowing an ominous green. Soon after, recognition dawns your features. Wait a minute. I’ve seen that mirror somewhere else before, but where?

After racking your brain for a moment, you remember what your captor last said, and your eyes widen. Mirror, mirror on the wall…That's from the movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. That’s where I’ve seen this mirror!

Which means my stalker-slash-kidnapper must have an obsession with that movie for some reason. They were talking about beauty earlier, much like the queen does in that movie. You think to yourself. I just have no idea how this all applies to me. After all, I am no Snow White. If this creep is looking for a pretty princess, he went after the wrong person.

Just as you’re considering saying as much out loud to see if that would garner a response from your kidnapper, you suddenly hear what sounds like a horse approaching with a carriage.

Bewildered, you once again examine your surroundings, and of course, find nothing that would explain where the sounds came from. The only explanation you can think of is that the sounds came from the intercom system, which you have yet to find.

Filled with unease, you swallow nervously. This stalker is getting weirder and creepier by the second. I seriously need to get out of here.

Since the only part of the room you haven’t checked out is what’s behind the mirror and floating coffins, you decide that’s where you should head, even though going near those eerie coffins is the last thing you want to do.

Right after you start slowly moving forward, the unfamiliar voice from before finally breaks its silence. “Those who are guided by the dark mirror, as long as your heart desires, take the hand that appears in the mirror.”

Wide-eyed, all you can do is gape as a literal hand appears amongst the green flames in the mirror’s reflection and proceeds to extend outwards until it completely protrudes through the glass. 

With a yelp, you scuttle backwards. “What the hell?! What kinda Quirk is this?!”

A Quirk has to be behind this. After all, hands can’t just magically appear through mirrors.

It’s either that, or this is all just a very creepy dream. There’s no other plausible explanation. 

When the possibility of this being a dream crosses your mind, you find yourself wondering if that is what’s going on here since that would explain how you suddenly found yourself here and why you can’t remember the events leading up to your arrival in this strange place.

Quickly, you pinch yourself as hard as you can and promptly wince. Either this is a very realistic dream, or I really am awake.

After trying a few more times to wake yourself up and failing, you sigh. Guess I’ll just return to my plan of escaping this room and hope I’ll either wake up soon or find a way out.

The only thing you do know for sure is that you will not be going near that hand in the mirror. There’s no telling what would happen if you do, and you have no interest in finding out.

That said, you unfortunately have no choice but to head in the general direction of the mirror since that’s the only part of the room you haven’t examined.

Warily, you slowly start walking forward, making sure to keep your eyes on the mirror at all times, just in case any other developments happen with it. You also keep an ear out for any suspicious sounds, not wanting to risk someone sneaking up on you while you’re distracted. 

For some reason, your kidnapper hasn’t said anything since instructing you to take the hand that appeared in the mirror. As a result, the room has gotten very quiet, so quiet that the only things you can hear are your footsteps against the dark marble floor and your breathing.

You fight the urge to shiver. This place is so creepy. Why are there coffins just floating around? And what is up with that crazy mirror?

From what you can recall, the mirror from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs didn’t do anything like this. All you remember it ever doing was talking to the Evil Queen via the green face that would appear behind the glass.

What’s really eerie about this situation is how the hand in the mirror hasn’t moved since emerging from behind the glass. It just continues to remain perfectly still, like it’s a part of a statue.

If you hadn’t seen it move earlier, you would’ve thought it was a fake arm since there’s nothing about its appearance that suggests it belongs to a living being.

Doing your best to ignore the creepy arm, you move past the mirror, so you can examine what’s in the area of the room located behind it.

Regrettably, no matter how thoroughly you search, you fail to find any kind of exit. There really is nothing in this room aside from the mirror and the coffins.

Your brow furrows. But that’s impossible. There’s no such thing as a room without some kind of entrance and exit. Otherwise, there’s no way to explain how I got here.

Sure, a teleportation Quirk could’ve been used on you, but that would mean someone used their Quirk to put these coffins and mirror in this room, which makes absolutely no sense.

When the mirror returns to the forefront of your thoughts, a theory comes to mind. What if that mirror is the only way to get in and out of this room? I just witnessed that hand come through it, so it obviously can be used to bring things into this place. And that hand came out expecting me to take it, which makes me assume it intends to take me somewhere else.

Of course, that begs the question of why you were even brought to this room in the first place if your captor wants you to go elsewhere. Did they just want to toy with you first, or is there another reason for why you were brought here?

You frown. Does this mean I really have no choice in the matter? It’s either I stay here trapped forever, or I go wherever that hand will take me?

Neither of those options are the least bit appealing to you, but unfortunately, it doesn’t look like you have much say in the matter.

Honestly, you really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like you ever have a say in anything anyway. Why should this situation be any different from everything else that goes on in your life?

With a scowl, you reluctantly move back toward the mirror and come to a stop in front of it, making sure to put some distance between you and the still extended hand, which looks as lifeless as ever. 

Just as you open your mouth, intending to chew out the bastard who put you in this horrible position, you hear a voice coming from the mirror, a voice that’s completely different from the one you heard earlier.

“There you are, Yuu. I’ve been waiting for you. What kept you so long? You know how I feel about tardiness. Don’t tell me you found yourself caught up in trouble again thanks to those card soldiers of mine, not after I had just warned them that it’d be off with their heads the next time they caused another disturbance.”

Your earlier anger immediately vanishes due to the confusion those strange words evoke. “Huh? Card soldiers? What are you-?”

Before you can finish that question, another unexpected voice addresses you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve keeping me waiting, Herbivore. Just because you’ve become comfortable in the lion’s den doesn’t mean you can just do as you please. Don’t get cocky.”

All you can do is stare, your confusion steadily growing. “Herbivore? Lion’s den?”

“My, my, Yuu-san, it seems you’ve once again found yourself in a predicament. Shall I lend you my services? Since you’re such a valuable employee, I’ll even offer you a discount.”

When another voice joins the fray, you take a nervous step backwards. There are multiple people involved in this kidnapping? 

Your face pales. Don’t tell me all these strange people are a part of some crazy cult. That’s even worse than a stalker!

While it might seem like a bit of a stretch to go from delusional stalker to crazy cult, you can’t deny that it’s a possibility. After all, that would explain all the oddities of this room and all the weird statements you’ve been hearing since waking up. 

Thankfully, before your wild imagination can get the better of you, you get distracted by another voice.

“Yuu? Are you alright? If you’re feeling down, you should come over to Scarabia! I’ll throw a big party for you! That should cheer you right up!”

This new voice sounds completely different from the others. It’s so friendly and warm, so unlike the voices you’re used to hearing at home.

While you’ve dealt with people who pretended to be nice, who used a cloyingly sweet tone in order to get what they wanted, before, you know that’s not the kind of person you’re dealing with right now.

No, this person’s voice is completely genuine. You can tell just from listening to them that this is not the kind of person who’s capable of deceit.

They remind you a lot of All Might, the pro hero whom you admire more than anyone, and for that reason, you find yourself unconsciously relaxing. This isn’t the kind of person who hurts others. Either they’re someone who has been brainwashed into helping people they wouldn’t otherwise associate with, or…

Or there’s more going on with this strange group of people than you first thought. 

You take a deep breath and slowly release it. I need to keep my cool. Getting worked up by all this craziness will only hurt me. I need to keep my wits about me if I hope to figure out what the hell is going on. 

“That’s a good potato. If you stress yourself out unnecessarily, you’ll only give yourself wrinkles, and we can’t have that, can we? I won’t allow you to ruin all my efforts to bring out that potential of yours.”

You raise an eyebrow when you hear how this new voice addressed you. “Potato? What kind of nickname is that? If it wasn’t for the rest of what you just said, I’d think you were insulting me.”

It’s at that moment you realize something very important, something you can’t believe you took this long to notice. Hey, wait a minute. Most of the people that just spoke referred to me by my actual name. How the hell did they know my name was Yuu? No one knows that except for Tokumei and Mumei.

Normally, people always call you by your stage name “Prophet”, your manager included. The only one who refers to you as Yuu is Tokumei who was the person who gave you that name once you came to live with him and his twin brother, Mumei, since he thought it was impractical for a child to not have an actual name.

For all these years, Tokumei has been the only one to call you by that name, yet here are these total strangers using your name so casually, acting as if they’ve known it forever.

What in the world is going on here?

“Y-Yuu-shi, can we go already? You know how much I hate leaving my room. My HP is almost at zero; I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

Despite yourself, you can’t help but feel amused when you hear this new voice since there’s a slight whine to their tone. Whoever this person is, they are obviously not enjoying themselves right now and want to get back to their room as soon as possible.

That definitely doesn’t sound like a crazy cultist. It sounds like a teenager who has had enough of whatever they’ve been dragged into, and you can sympathize with that sentiment wholeheartedly. 

The remaining tension in your frame begins to fade. Now that I think about it, none of these voices have sounded the least bit threatening. I don’t know if I’d use the word friendly for all of them, but they definitely don’t sound like dangerous kidnappers.

Not to mention, you don’t think you’ve heard a single lie out of any of them. It’s a little surreal for you, considering you’re used to dealing with people who lie as easily as they breathe on an almost daily basis.

While you wouldn’t be so reckless as to write all of them off as being non-dangerous, you can’t help but wonder if these people are actually completely different from the people you first assumed them to be.

“Child of Man, you need not worry. I will not allow anyone to harm you. As long as you are under my protection, you will be safe.”

It’s the latest addition to this strange vocal cast that has your breath hitching. “Y-You…”

The rational part of your brain tries to convince you that it’s an empty promise, just pretty words to get you to let your guard down, but even though you are normally quick to listen to that rationality, you find yourself hesitating this time.

Because that person wasn’t lying.

Whoever that speaker was, they truly meant it when they said they’d protect you - that you’re safe with them. 

There was nothing but warmth and assurance in that voice - two things that are very foreign to you because of the place where you’ve spent the last ten-plus years of your life.

Before you even realize it, you find yourself raising your hand toward that voice - toward the hand still outstretched before you. 

However, after remembering how often you’ve been disappointed in the past, you find yourself hesitating. What if this is all just a cruel lie - a charade that you can’t see through?

What if this person really is just like everyone else?

“Yuu-chan, you’re too tense! Relax, relax! Let’s have some tea and unwind. I’ll find some cute cat pictures on Magicam for us to look at together! I know how much you love those!”

Another cheerful voice enters the fray, this one sounding just as energetic as the one that had first caught your attention. 

Immediately, you find yourself wondering what Magicam is and how this person knows of your love of cats.

Before you can bring yourself to ask, a new, much calmer voice says, “If you need help unwinding, you can join me in the kitchen, Yuu. As per tradition, I’ll make sure you get the best bite as thanks for your help.”

And apparently, this person knows about your love of cooking. Just how much do these people know about you?

More importantly, just how many of them are there?

“Geez, ya really are a handful, aren’t ya, Yuu-kun? How about ya come with me to see if Sam-san’s got some work for us to do? That way I can keep an eye on ya, and I’ll get to enjoy the pay raise that Sam-san always offers on the days you’re working at his shop. Shishishi.”

While there’s a mischievous tone in this new voice, there’s no mistaking the underlying fondness that you hear, which just makes you even more confused. Just who is this person, and who in the world is Sam?

“Shrimpy, I’m bo~red! Let’s get outta here and do somethin’ fun! You don’t wanna be here anymore, right?”

“You do seem to be quite tired of your current circumstances, Yuu-san. Being the benevolent people that we are, my brother and I would be more than happy to do whatever we can to assist you. Let us help you find a much more interesting way to spend your time. Fufu.”

For some reason, a chill runs down your spine when you hear those two particular voices. While they don’t exactly inspire fear, there’s just something about them that puts you on your guard.

That said, you also can’t help but feel a little amused when you hear your newest nickname. “Shrimpy? Where are all these weird nicknames coming from?”

As expected, you don’t receive an answer to your question. Instead, someone else’s voice pipes up. “Yuu, it’s good to be cautious, but you don’t want to let this opportunity pass you by. Only a fool would give up the chance to obtain the freedom they’ve been seeking all their life. Don’t you agree?”

Your eyes grow large. “Freedom?”

By freedom, do they mean real freedom? As in you don’t have to return to your previous life and never again have to suffer at Mumei’s hands? You’ll be able to do whatever you want with your life without fear of punishment?

Surely, this is too good to be true. They’re just trying to whittle away at your defenses in order to finally make you give in and go along with whatever scheme they have planned for you once you take the hand that has been offered to you.

You bite your lip. But is anything really worse than what I already deal with? Even if they don’t give me the freedom that I want, they’re likely to still be better than Mumei. After all, I can’t imagine too many people actually being worse than him.

“Oh, my dear Trickster, it pains me to see you struggling so. You are in good company here, I assure you. We all truly want what’s best for you and wish to see you experiencing the kind of joy you deserve, because you are our beloved friend. No one wants to see a beauté like you hidden away in the shadows where no one can enjoy your brilliance.”

If it wasn’t for the genuine tone of this person’s voice, you’d think they were just trying to butter you up by using such flattery, but since you can detect no deceit, you have to accept that this person truly means every word that they say despite how hard it is for you to believe.

It’s steadily becoming more difficult to refuse the tempting offer before you.

“You truly are a fighter, Yuu. Even now, you have your guard up, and I cannot fault you for that. However, even the most highly seasoned warriors know when it’s time to reach out to those around them, and I hope that you too will learn to rely on others rather than continue fighting all of your battles on your own.”

“Yuu, you can rely on us. We’ll help you in any way we can, because you’re our friend and we care about you.”

Your legs grow weak at their words, causing you to fall to your knees. Tears cloud your vision as you brace yourself against the cold, marble floor. “I…I don’t understand. Why do you all care about me? Why does it matter to you what happens to me?”

For as long as you can remember, no one has ever shown such care toward you, so why are these people different? 

While you’d like to rationalize this as them just putting up a caring front in order to earn your trust, you know that’s not the truth, because all of these people have been nothing but sincere. When they say they care about you, they genuinely mean it.

And you have no idea why.

For a while, you remain in that same position, trying to collect yourself and figure out what your next move should be. All the while, the mirror remains strangely silent, making you wonder if all the members of the group involved in your current predicament have finally said their piece.

You’re incredibly conflicted about this. On one hand, you don’t want to play into anyone’s hands, but on the other, could that really lead to circumstances that are any worse than what you already deal with on a daily basis?

This situation has “deal with the devil” written all over it, but considering the demons you’re used to facing, you can’t bring yourself to feel too scared. Surely, anything has to be better than the life you’ve been living for all these years.

….right?

“Grrrr…”

Your body stiffens when you hear a loud growl coming from behind you. With great trepidation, you turn to look over your shoulder and promptly blanche at the sight before you.

In the area that was once completely empty now stands a large, four-legged monster with black fur and a mane of blue fire. A chill runs down your spine when you look into its piercing blue eyes.

Without thinking, you unconsciously scuttle backwards across the floor, wanting to put as much distance between you and this creature as possible, not caring if this means you’ll consequently make contact with the mirror.

Strangely enough, your back never makes contact with anything despite your close proximity to the mirror. This prompts you to reluctantly pull your eyes away from the monster, so you can look behind you.

Much to your surprise, when your gaze eventually falls onto the mirror, you see that it’s now several yards away from you, on the other side of the large clearing you’ve somehow found yourself in.

Your mind races with questions as you try to make sense of what’s going on. First, this monster comes out of nowhere, and now, the room has turned into some kinda dilapidated clearing, as if this monster just blew out all the walls, but that doesn’t make any sense! 

Nothing about this situation makes any sense unfortunately, and you don’t think you’ll be getting any answers anytime soon. 

Realizing there are more important matters to worry about, you hurry to stand and start steadily backing away from the monster, hoping it won’t pursue you if you avoid moving too quickly.

All the while, you assess the threat before you. There is no way I can fight this thing. Even with my fighting experience and my Quirk, this isn’t an opponent I can handle. One swipe from its paws will be enough to do me in, so I can’t afford to let it get close to me.

Which means escape is the only option you have. The only question is: Will you be able to outrun this monster, or will all your efforts be futile?

You clench your trembling hands into fists. I will find a way to escape. I refuse to die a meaningless death here. I’ve survived this long, and I have no intention to let everything I’ve done up until this point to stay alive go to waste because of some crazy monster.

Now, you just need to figure out how to ensure that your escape will be successful. Should you try to tire out the monster first before making a run for it, making use of your great stamina, or would another strategy be better suited for this situation?

Before you can ruminate on this matter for too long, you get distracted when you hear a playful voice coming from the mirror.

“Hey, Yuu, don’t you think you’re thinking a little too hard about this? It’s pretty obvious what you need to do here. Don’t tell me you need me to spell it out for you.”

Your brow furrows. “What are you-?”

Before you can finish your sentence, you get cut off by two new voices.

“Yuu! You can rely on us! That’s what best friends are for! We’ll always have your back!”

“While it probably makes me sound like a hypocrite, I do think you try to do too much on your own, Yuu. Why don’t you follow the advice you’re always giving me and ask us for help for a change? Being a lone wolf doesn’t suit you.”

“Ask for help?” You incredulously whisper, “That’s…”

Completely foreign to you. When was the last time someone offered to help you because they genuinely wanted to? Without expecting something in return?

You’re drawn out of your thoughts when three new voices chime in. 

“We know how strong you are, but you shouldn’t have to do everything on your own. I’d much rather have my friends rely on me when they need a hand, so don’t hold back, Yuu-san! You can count on me anytime!”

“You’re not alone, Yuu-san! Nii-san and I are on your side, just like everyone else, because we’re friends! And friends are always there to support each other through thick and thin, just like what the protagonists do in all of my brother’s favorite shows!”

“Hmph. As always, you’re causing trouble, human. Fortunately for you, I am feeling very generous today. That’s why I will graciously offer you my aid. Be grateful! As long as you have my protection, you have nothing to fear!”

For some reason, after listening to those six voices, the tension in your frame has completely disappeared. Why does your heart feel so at ease thanks to them?

While you can’t answer that question, you at least now have an answer to the question of how you can escape the monster, which has miraculously not started attacking you yet. 

After taking a deep breath and releasing it, you turn around and promptly start sprinting toward the mirror, doing your best to ignore the loud roar you hear behind you. 

Quickly, you activate your foresight Quirk and focus all of your power on predicting your opponent’s movements. This allows you to see that the monster is capable of firing blue fireballs from its mouth.

Blue fire starts appearing all around you thanks to the monster that’s now on the offensive, but thankfully, none of its attacks manage to hit you, because you’re able to foresee its attack pattern and dodge accordingly.

All the while, you determinedly keep running forward, straight toward the mirror. “I really don’t understand you guys! I don’t understand why you act so familiar with me or why you seem to actually care about me, but....”

Your heart pounds violently inside your chest, both out of fear of the monster and of what could happen to you if you take that hand that’s still extended toward you. “But I want to! I want to understand! So, please!”

You reach out to grab the hand in the mirror as soon as it’s within reach. “Please take me to wherever you are!”

Take you to a place where you can get a taste of what freedom is like - where you can be around people that actually give a damn about you

Take you to a place of safety that’s far away from the “home” you’ve been trapped in for as long as you can remember - to a place where your future is bright rather than bleak and hopeless.

Behind you, the monster releases another powerful roar, but you pay it no mind, too distracted by the warm hand you’re now holding that comes to life as soon as you make contact with it.

Before you can even so much as blink, the hand tugs you forward with an impressive strength, knocking you off balance and causing you to fall straight into the mirror.

Rather than hit the glass, you pass right through it and find yourself completely submerged in an endless sea of darkness.

For some reason, a strong wave of exhaustion immediately washes over you, and you find yourself unable to fight against the irresistable urge to close your eyes and fall asleep. 

Just as you’re on the verge of losing consciousness, you hear all twenty-two of the voices that spoke to you from the other side of the mirror address you in complete sync.

“Welcome to Twisted Wonderland!”

#twisted wonderland #twst #fortune in twisted wonderland #twst x reader #I really wanted to give writing the twst prologue a try #but put my own spin on it #yuu doesn't remember what happened here #when she wakes up in the coffin at nrc #since it doesn't seem like mc remembered what happened with the prologue in the game either #I really wanted to give this a deal with the devil type feel #and make it look like Yuu gets lured into TW #by the 'villains' #it just seemed really fitting

[ripleyinspace]

Chapter 2 - The Lie

Noah Diaz x Female!OC

Summary: Shaolin, a university student that comes from a tight-knit family, has always kept her nose clean and followed the rules. Aside from her mouth occasionally being her undoing, her mother could always count on her daughter to be the best version of herself: smart, capable, independent. Then came a freckled stranger who turned out to not be as much of a stranger as she thought.

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | AU/AT |  Warnings: Language, Themes of the adoption system, sneaking around, mention of crime, cute fluffy bs

Words: 4.4K

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. This AU probably doesn’t satisfy anyone but myself

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know

Chapter List

As the usual morning hustle ensued, Shaolin couldn't help but kick herself disappointedly for letting her new neighbor charm her so quickly. After the realization the night before, she had trouble sleeping as she tossed and turned, thinking about how her mother reacted and, in turn, forced her to react the same.

The only issue was: she couldn't get him out of her head. She found her pining to be uncharacteristic and childish. A dumb crush on yet another guy who was seemingly just that— a guy. A distraction.

All the while, Shao still played out that dumb fantasy from the hallway like it was a fond memory. A close encounter that only existed in fiction.

Foolish. She thought as she re-checked herself in the mirror and concluded that there wasn't much she could do to avoid being the same-old Shaolin. Unlikely to catch the gaze of a mere stranger.

Upon exiting the bathroom, Shaolin noticed her mom already scooping up her purse, making her wonder if she was leaving early or if Shao was just running late again. 

"I'm heading out, and don't forget to-"

"Come by Pablo's tonight, ma, I know." Shao interrupted her mom with an accidentally exasperated tone. On the approach, Val cocked her head at her daughter,

"You good?" She asked, which was met with a heavy sigh,

"Yeah, just tired, is all." The young woman replied. Mom tucked a lock of hair behind her daughter's ear tenderly before stamping a kiss on her forehead. 

"I'll see you later. I love you."

"I love you, too, mama."

Per usual, Shaolin was the last to leave the apartment and locked up accordingly. The only thing out of the ordinary was her new neighbor exiting his place simultaneously as she did, like he was waiting for her. Though she tried to pay him no mind, Noah quickly caught up with her in the hall.

"Good mornin', Shaolin!" He greeted, dawning his coveralls that provided a sneak peek of the white ribbed tank top underneath. 

"Morning." She responded shortly, still looking forward as they pushed through the heavy stairwell door. 

Noah immediately noticed the change in her tone and how she seemed much less interested in speaking with him this morning versus the night before. 

"Did you sleep well?" He asked as they descended a few flights of stairs. 

Something about the question made Shaolin's heart skip. It was thoughtful and would've made her blush if she didn't have her mom's voice in her head telling her to keep her distance. 

"Fine," Shao replied coldly as she inserted one earbud into her right ear, looking down at her Spotify playlist. A part of Noah wanted to leave her be and catch up later, but he could have sworn they shared a moment in the hallway. His next move would either get him swung on, or she would stop and hear him out. He took his chances.

"Did I do something?" He asked as he circled in front of her, now outside their apartment building. Shao was just about to insert her second earbud and drown him out entirely but figured she would give him some sort of explanation. 

"You stole a Pontiac." She said matter-of-factly. "And happened to get arrested by my ma's boyfriend." 

Noah stood speechless momentarily, staring back at the girl's dark brown eyes before she brushed past him again, back on her trek to the subway. This was met with him repeating his action from before, cutting her off and standing before her with annoying, yet endearing persistence. 

"Woah, hey! I was a kid and haven't had that kind of trouble since. I paid for it." He defended, truth reflecting in his eyes just as the sun would. Shaolin began to feel bad, knowing it was a judgment she or her mother didn't make fairly. 

Noah's expression turned from concern to the previous cheer as he realized he wasn't getting hit or ignored. "You act like you've never done anything bad before." He said with a smirk. 

Shaolin couldn't help but grin at this, though she tried to hide it, half-covering her mouth with her sleeve. "I don't get into trouble." She told him.

"You mean you've never broken the rules, or you've never been caught?" Noah retorted, crossing his arms. She began to see this conversation going sideways, knowing he would use it if given any more information. 

"Have a good day, Baby Noah." She told him with a cheeky eye-roll as she tried to exit the conversation, skirting around him and keeping her face forward. The second earbud barely touched its resting place before Noah called out from behind her again, making her stop dead in her tracks.

"Hey, I just wanna get to know you. You're cool, and I don't know anyone around here."

Me? Cool? She thought as the words replayed in her mind but were briskly cut off by her mama's voice echoing in her head again, this time telling her to keep walking and forget it, but she felt glued to the pavement. Brooklyn suddenly felt all too quiet as she pivoted around and looked at him,

"My family and Blowhard can't know we hang." She spoke gravely, but even still, Noah met her serious tone with an antsy smile as he caught back up with her at a casual pace.

"Aren't you an adult?" He asked once he returned to her side, and they began walking again. Shao snickered and shook her head,

"I live under my ma's roof; I play by her rules. Didn't your folks ever teach you that?" 

"They're rich, so they weren't around much and didn't have many rules."

As Shaolin thought about it, she realized it made sense. His dad was Mike Diaz: though not a household name, he was well-known in the Big Apple for his energy company. 

On the other hand, his mom, Penelope, was a jewelry designer with franchise stores all around the U.S. and was arguably the most successful of the two. Shao imagined there wasn't enough time to establish rules or give parental guidance. She imagined there might have been a lot of nannies picking up his parents' slack.

She imagined it might be worth sticking around long enough to find out as she rolled her eyes again.

"That explains it." She responded, followed by a shared laugh between them. "So why come back here? Why not use the money you come from and stay near the big wigs?" 

"S'not my money," Noah said candidly with a shrug. Shao responded with a slight nod, expressing with the gesture that it was a good point as the entrance to the subway station came into view. She was prepared to bid him adieu before he spoke again. "What's the plan after school?" 

Is he about to ask me out? She thought to herself, her heart suddenly thumping fast and loud before she remembered her promise to her ma.

"Gotta help out at Pablo's. Friday night's the busiest." Shao explained as she stepped in front of him and turned to speak face-to-face, just enough to get out of the way of the crowd. 

"And after that?" Noah followed up and took a step forward, both for her to hear him over those entering and exiting the station and to close the gap she left between them a little more.

"Self-mandated bedtime," Shao answered confidently. 

"You must be real fun at parties." He teased. 

"I don't party." She said, taking a step backward. "I gotta get goin'." 

Though Noah recognized that many would find those facts boring, he couldn't help but appreciate that she was honest with herself and wasn't ashamed. It made him like her immensely, and it took him a beat to realize he was staring back at her big, brown eyes as they fostered the silence between them. Still, she had places to be.

"See ya, Shao." He said, watching the girl turn and descend into the station.

After daydreaming through her classes, it was time for Shaolin to be quick and alert on waitress duty. Though it wasn't something she was naturally good at, she had to learn for the sake of her mom and the restaurant. It would only be a matter of time before she made Lyle start helping, as well.

Shao's section was full of regulars who knew her by name, and in return, she knew all their usual orders and barely had to write anything down when taking them. Drink orders were just the same, and the Thompson family had to be the easiest: six sweet teas without ever straying.

As the sugary brown liquid filled the red cups at the far window table of the restaurant, Shao's eyes flicked to the glass to look out at the setting sun. Instead, she saw what she didn't expect— a familiar, curly head walking along the sidewalk, no doubt just leaving work. There was a smudge of black grease across his cheek and his hands gave away who the culprit was quickly.

Just as she noticed Noah, he happened to look through the very same window at the same moment, catching the girl's gawking as she expertly switched to pouring from one cup to another. Her hair was pinned back, and her shirt was one of the few purple garments in existence that dawned the name of the establishment.

He smiled at her and nodded once, and for a second she could have sworn she was making a mess with the iced tea before she looked down at the table. All of the cups were filled, and the faces of the family grinned up at her with delight. Though Shao had snapped back to reality, she was visibly and physically flustered by the man admiring her through their window.

"Your food should be out soon." She spoke awkwardly as she turned to take her leave back to the kitchen. Before her eyes could register the event, the pitcher of cold, sweet beverage was turned into her body, splashing down the front of her shirt before it smacked to the floor. Shao had turned the wrong way and consequently ran head-first into another server, Kendra.

Somehow, the other woman roughly five years her senior got away without getting a drop on her, but Shao's panic flew through the roof as she saw Noah still looking on from the corner of her eye. She couldn't make out his expression, and she frankly didn't want to. "God, I'm so sorry!" She told Kendra as she knelt down to pick up the pitcher. The woman stopped her before she could make it very far. 

"Don't worry about it, Jackson. Go get a new shirt on, I got this." Kendra insisted with a delicate hand on her shoulder. It was clear she knew Shao was overwhelmed, and she nodded quickly before taking off in the opposite direction and into the kitchen.

"What was that out there?" Val asked her daughter as she stirred a large pot of pinto beans. It was unlike Shaolin to make mistakes or be distracted, and it wasn't a good time for her to, either. 

Shao could tell her mom was on edge already, being the busiest night of the week and already short a cook. Shao needed to choose her next words wisely. 

"Sorry, mamá. Long day." Shao said before instantly regretting it. She had been on the clock for all of two hours and she knew it sounded like she was making excuses. Unable to read her mom's expression, she repeated her apology. "I'm sorry."

Val let out a heavy sigh before turning from her beans and placing a hand on her hip. Her face was stern but her eyes seemed empathetic. 

"Just go home, mija. Kendra will cover your section." 

"But-" Shao attempted to protest, to tell her mother that she was capable of sticking around, but she was swiftly cut off before she could speak further.

"I'll see you later tonight."

Shaolin hated feeling defeated. More than that, she hated being forced to quit. Without moving from where she stood, she untied her sopping-wet apron and threw it to the ground with a slap before storming out of the "employee's only" door in a huff. It was immature, and she knew it.

She started back around the building to the sidewalk, intent on going straight to the subway as she rang out the tea-soaked shirt. She was angry and annoyed and in desperate need of a nap, despite her wide eyes. 

As she stomped around the corner, she was nearly stopped in her tracks to find Noah still standing in the same spot as before, black smear now lighter after an attempt to clean up a bit with his sleeve.

"You good?" He asked as she continued by. Without invitation, he followed. 

"No, I'm not." She answered with a slight crack in her voice. To anyone else, she would have said she was fine, but somehow her true thought slipped out as they stepped further out of sight from Pablo's. Once a bit further down the block, Noah caught up a bit and turned her around by her shoulder. She didn't protest. 

"Yo, just breathe. Accidents happen." He told her calmly. 

"I'm normally better than this." Shao snapped in frustration. She realized she didn't have a reason to snap at him, but it happened before she could stop it. Noah recognized this and took a step closer,

"I believe you," He started, hands coming back up to her shoulders and thumbs caressing and rubbing into her collarbones like they had a mind of their own. Again, Shao didn't protest. The comfort allowed her to breathe. "But you gotta cut yourself some slack." He finished his point upon realizing that his hands were okay where they were. Shao took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth with a gentle nod,

"I know. Sorry."

Noah was relieved to hear her tone calm, but for the life of him, couldn't figure out what she had to be sorry for as the sky grew dark enough for the street lights around them to flick on. 

"Don't apologize. Have you eaten yet?" He asked sincerely. The tenderness was nearly lost on Shao. She shook her head lightly,

"Not since breakfast." She admitted. As her mind tried to come up with why she never got lunch or even a snack, it occurred to her that Noah was asking if he could take her to get food with him. It made her giddy but skeptical through the previous embarrassment. "Can I change first?" She wondered, peeling the cold, sticky fabric away from her abs to allow some air in. Noah let out a small chuckle, 

"Yeah, good idea."

The subway ride was nothing short of something out of a chick flick or romance novel, or at least, in Shaolin's mind, it seemed that way. The tube was jam-packed and seats were scarce, which led to the pair standing and bracing the same metal pole. 

She could feel his warmth from the less-than-an-inch span between them, yet it still gave her chills as a gust of wind against her damp top would. Though she avoided looking up at the slightly taller man, she could feel his eyes drop down to her, studying her face. She feared meeting his gaze, as that would surely be enough for him to be able to read her thoughts. 

Walking side-by-side back to their shared building was also silent as she walked slightly ahead of him and felt a timid relief when he didn't make many efforts to catch up. Nothing was said until they arrived at the entrance to the stone building. 

"I don't know if Blowhard's here yet, so keep a safe distance until I know for sure, okay?" Shao asked, and Noah nodded and put his hands up, understanding the task. 

The door was still locked when they got there, and a small sigh of relief washed over them both. Shaolin hesitated to allow Noah to follow her once she started in, brain flooded with thoughts of Blowhard showing up while she changed to find him in their living room. 

Yet, she let Noah follow her in and close the door behind them. They took a few steps before Shao pivoted around and held up the index finger on her right hand, signaling for him to wait just a minute, then had to stop herself from damn near skipping the rest of the way to her bedroom.

The only event she could compare this feeling of refreshing rebellion to was when she told her mother she was going home after school one day with Josie, but instead, went on a small camping trip with Josh. She thought she was in love, that she was free, and opened up her legs to him for the first time that weekend. 

Shao was fearful yet cheerful as she slipped the wet Pablo's shirt over her head and let it flop to the floor below, double-checking that she closed her door all the way and imagined it being open just a crack— just enough for Noah to spy, to find out what he really wants from her.

Noah stood, shifting his weight from one foot to another in the living room where he spent his days as a baby and toddler. The first memories of his life were fuzzy but he felt the familiarity and warmth like a hug from an old friend. 

It was like the place hadn't changed in twenty years. The photos on the walls and surfaces were exactly the same, only harboring a thin layer of dust left by time and busy occupants. It felt lived in, as a home should, unlike his family's home that was visited by cleaners who returned it to the Better Homes catalog it resembled so painfully.

Stills of Shao and Lyle brought back gut-wrenching feelings that made him miss his little brother Kris. He hadn't spoken to the kid in a couple days, which was his fault. A text message remained unopened from that morning with a simple "Sup ?" from his kin. Noah had been too busy to respond. 

He waited a second longer and looked towards the door that his companion for the evening disappeared into before he pulled his phone from his back pocket. The device illuminated as a small box appeared, marked as ten hours old with the one-word greeting. 

Just as Noah thumbed over it and the conversation with his brother appeared, Shao's bedroom door creaked open and footsteps followed. Without another thought, he quickly put his phone back into his pocket to look the breathtaking girl up and down. 

Pablo's shirt and blue jeans now black leggings and an oversized blue sweater that, if it was her size, would be cropped. Simple, but she was far more comfortable. She wanted to look okay for this outing, wanted to catch his eye. She also didn't want to care what he thought of her and felt panicked from the pain in her cheeks from keeping herself from grinning. 

One of the few places open that sounded good to both of them was a small sandwich joint called Buddy's Beef. They briefly bonded over a mutual agreement that a cold sandwich was better than a hot one and got two Italian cold cut, six-inch subs to go. Shaolin ordered hers with all the fixing available, oil and vinegar to top it off while Noah kept his plain Jane with lettuce and mustard. 

"Your sandwich is boring as hell, dude." Shao teased as they left after paying. 

"It's simple! My go-to, less messy." Noah defended, holding the sack that held their food at his waist. Though Shao rolled her eyes, she liked his explanation and wondered if that reflected his approach toward relationships. She also wondered why she cared so much.

Under the light of the moon and the spread of the street lamps, they trekked to the nearby park, eating and talking very little, though there was so much they wanted to say. Even in the silence between them, Noah somehow comforted her and made her want to giggle. 

The subs had seemingly disappeared into thin air just as quickly as they were manifested, and there was nothing left for them to do but speak to each other. Still feeling a tinge of shame for earlier events, Shao decided to say something first.

"Sorry about my outburst earlier." She apologized. She knew she already said she was sorry, but feared if she didn't make a better effort, she would be shooting herself in the foot. Noah was unphased by the second expression of regret. 

"No biggie. I told you, accidents happen. We all embarrass ourselves in front of a bunch of people at one point or another." He said, surprising her. Not because his laid-back nature wasn't predicted, but because he was so close yet so far from the mark. She went quiet for a moment, debating what she wanted to say and coming to the only conclusion that made sense to her. 

Fuck it.

"It wasn't that, though. I think I was more embarrassed that you saw all that." Shao admitted. 

Knowing delight and false confusion filled his face and he squinted at the girl who, just that morning, fought so hard to show little interest in his presence. There was a small crack in her tough exterior and beyond that, a bright, white, warm glow showed through. 

"Why ya care what I think?" He asked playfully. Shao could lie, avoid the question, change the subject altogether, anything to get out of this hole she dug for herself, but all she could think was-

Damn, he's gorgeous. 

She hoped he thought the same of her, all the while hoping he saw more than what was on the surface. Past vanity. She could be honest and admit her thoughts and in doing so, risk him taking a hike. 

Maybe that would be for the best. 

"Because I think I'm starting to like you a little bit." She told him in a tone that registered just above a mumble, trying to hide the terror in her voice. It was harder than she thought it would be.

Noah cocked his head, as it was exactly what he wanted to hear, but recognized the inflection as negative. He continued to speak to her playfully in an effort to take the edge off of the subject. 

"You say that like it's a bad thing." 

Shaolin stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms, trying to make herself smaller. She feared she was taking up too much space now and half-wished he would have run for the hills instead of continuing this conversation. She faced her feet and studied his expression through her thick eyelashes, only finding genuine curiosity in his eyes.

Why start lying now?

"Men have only ever left me disappointed." She sighed, regretting saying it as it left her throat. It sounded pathetic in her own ears.

God, shut up, Shao.

To her shock and awe, Noah smiled at her again and took an airy step forward, taking care to not crowd her or box her in but not wanting his next sentence to go unheard. 

"They must've been the wrong ones," He began, pausing only because she looked up at him right away with big, sparkling eyes. Before he could read into it too much, she averted her gaze once more and directed it up at the lamp above. The insects swarming the beam explained the light buzzing sounds. She was afraid if she looked into his eyes for too long, he could read her mind. "No pressure, though." He finally added. 

"That's something you don't hear every day," Shao replied with a hint of disbelief.

It's like I built him in a fuckin' lab. 

"It's about time you do. Pressure with school, Pablo's, at home... maybe with me, you can take a break." Noah said, slipping his hands into his pockets and offering a shrug. She was fully facing him now, skeptical, and he knew it. He was prepared to prove it to her however needed. 

Shao's heart was pounding and she couldn't formulate a response. She felt foolish for not challenging him but was relieved to hear his words. Moisture gathered in her underarms and the sweater she dawned was suddenly too many layers. Her mind raced with thoughts of leaping forward, throwing herself at him. 

This isn't some book, idiot. 

Her eyes drifted to his coveralls as she swallowed thickly and she noticed a bright yellow blob on the dark fabric. Her wandering thoughts crashed back to the present, and she realized this was her chance to break the tension. 

"Less messy, huh?" 

The pair began walking back to their building after that, conversation flowing between music, ambitions, family, and anything under the moon they felt like talking about. Once they got to the entrance, they agreed to part ways to avoid suspicion, Shao heading inside first and Noah following at a distance like before. 

Upon entering her apartment, she saw her mom had just arrived back herself with a large brown sack in hand that emitted the smell of delicious food. She hadn't realized how late it really was for her mother to have returned before she did. 

"Where've you been?" Val asked, having expected her to be home. Shao thought back to the lie she told many moons ago and recycled it. 

"Josie and I hung out for a bit. I wasn't planning to be out this late." She said, only fibbing in the first half. Her mother was none the wiser. 

"Oh, good. I'm glad you were able to take a break tonight." Ma said with a smile before the grin receded. "I'm sorry about earlier." 

For a moment, Shaolin had to think about why she was apologizing, the incident at Pablo's almost entirely forgotten and overshadowed by the night's events. She shrugged,

"It's fine, I know you were stressed out."

A tense silence blanketed the space as Shao wiped her clamming palms on the front of her leggings. She hated lying to the woman who stood before her and questioned why she felt the need to lie in the first place. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bag her mom had opened. 

"I brought some food home if you're hungry." She offered. Shao shook her head,

"Josie and I got Buddy's." 

Yet another hint of truth within the scam. 

A secondary long pause was exchanged before Shao took a breath and went to the bathroom to shower, attempting to scrub the filth that the guilt of her sneaking around left. She worried her mother could smell it from where she stood, so she banked on oatmeal-scented wash to mask the stench. 

Once dry and clothed, she fell into her bed, emitting a sound from her chest to release the heavy burden she felt. It helped very little, so she turned to tunes to drown it out. 

One earbud entered her left ear but before she could press the play button on the song she had stopped earlier, another melody sounded gently into her right ear. She was used to hearing the whistling tune of the Andy Griffith intro song but was met with bass and the familiar lyricism of "Impossible" by Wu-Tang Clan playing quietly. 

On the other side of the wall that divided their bedrooms, Noah was also in bed, finally sending a reply to Kris as music came through the speaker of his phone. 

#transformers rotb #transformers fanfiction #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers #transformers fic #fan fic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #eventual smut #noah diaz #noah diaz x foc #noah diaz x oc #original character #tf rotb #rotb mirage

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 31 CATELYN III (pages 426-439)

Cat meets with Stannis and Renly, it goes about as poorly as we all expected.

-

Storm's End sounds epic, but Durran sounds like an asshole, everyone was begging him to just move the foundations but he was all, "no, imma fight the gods. some of you may die, but that is a sacrifice i am willing to make." Yes, he did eventually get the thing built, thanks to the help of Bran the Builder and/or The Children of the Forest, but how many suffered for it? (my gosh this place is just full of guys grinding up smallfolk for their compensation castles. And I notice that it was the 7th that managed to stay up, 7 being a bit of a Big Number for the southern folk.)

Otherwise his dress was plain: studded leather jerkin over quilted doublet, worn boots, breeches of brown roughspun.

roughspun = 🥛

Even more curious was his standard bearer - a woman garbed all in reds, face shadowed within the deep hood of her scarlet cloak. A red priestess, Catelyn thought,wondering. The sect was numerous and powerful in the Free Cities and the distant east, but there were few in the Seven Kingdoms.

oh that's interesting. I don't know why I didn't think Cat would know about the Mel's sect, or where I got the impression Mel's the first red priestess to come to the Westeros in any length of time worth remembering. Like yeah, Cat's educated and religious herself, of course it makes sense for her to be aware of one of the other major religions, even if it's not very widespread in her immediate area, but it just never occurred to me that people would see Mel and understand what she was without being told?

He yanked his longsword from its scabbard. The steel gleamed strangely bright in the wan sunlight, now red, now yellow, now blazing white. The air around it seemed to shimmer, as if from heat. ... Some of the light seemed to go out of the world when Stannis slid his sword back into its scabbard.

colour shifting glowstick sword?! I want one, I need one.

[Insert Lightsaber Joke Here]

(Actually, I think they do make colour shifting lightsabers... remind me to google that later, never too early to shop for my own birthday gift!)

It is past time I went back to Riverrun to close my father's eyes, she thought. That much at least I can do. I may be a poor envoy, but I am a good mourner, gods save me.

Poor Cat, she's just so weary. She knows her part in starting it all, and she's trying to deescalate, but everyone has suddenly decided "actually, country ravaging violence sounds like a great idea" and there's just so little she can do about it all.

That choice Renly had denied himself in his headlong rush to come to grips with his brother. He had outdistanced his supply lines, left food and forage days behind with all his wagons and mules and oxen. He must come to battle soon or starve.

I keep wanting to remark on Renly's arrogance, but the specific type of arrogance he displays has my brain churning out the word 'cocksure,' and then back itself up because 'yeah the word fits but am I allowed to say that? Renly's gay, does that put it at too bad of a pun for public consumption?'

Renly laughed. "Loras, stay and help me pray. It's been so long I've quite forgotten how. -"

[Insert Joke about Idolatry and Body Worship Here... and Loras will Ins-]

sorry. We all know what he meant by 'pray'

In Catelyn's small corner of the camp, Shadd was slicing carrots into a kettle, Hall Mollen was dicing with three of his Winterfell men, and Lucas Blackwood sat sharpening his dagger. "Lady Stark," Lucas said when he saw her, "Mollen says it is to be battle at dawn." "Hall has the truth of it," she answered. And a loose tongue as well, it would seem. "Dow we fight or flee?" "We pray, Lucas," she answered him. "We pray."

I love the quiet comradery of this, not just between the men, but between them and Cat, so far in these sorts if scenes, I get vibes of 'she's not just the boss's wife or mother,' but their lady/boss, which is nice. (I don't know, just a lot of the other teams vibe like they'd look at a widow and go 'you're not my boss, you his wife/mother, which means you mean nothing' regardless of her own contributions.)

#a clash of kings #a song of ice and fire #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #a chapter a day reading #acok #asoiaf

[determinedwriter]

Meet Aurora

I think before I post Whumptober 2023 this year, it would be good to introduce my OC who will be at the center of it. My ocs are often self inserts so I'd say that's also the case here.

So let me get started with basic stuff. Not sure if anyone will care about my posts but here we go anyways. :) credit to gif makers btw give them love.

Aurora Stark portrayed by Daisy Edgar-Jones

This is Aurora "Ro" Anthony Stark. My one-shots/prompt things will take place in a sort of floating timeline where she is anywhere between 15-18 and is sometimes specified in my writing but not always.

She is the daughter of Tony Stark and Ivy Harper (OC) after a one night stand. Ivy and her family are on the run from HYDRA, Ivy's parents knowing more than HYDRA wants them to in fear of being exposed. They are forced to hide away in an unspecified location near Wheeler Springs, California.

Ivy's parents are killed on a supply run, Ivy left to care for herself. On one of her own supply runs she meets Tony at a bar, one thing leading to another and resulting in Aurora.

Ivy Harper portrayed by Anne Hathaway

Ivy keeps her pregnancy a secret from Tony, never seeing him again as she raises Aurora alone for nine years before a HYDRA super soldier finds their hideout and kills Ivy.

Before being killed, Ro is given a letter by her mother with an address on it. Tony's address. Aurora hits the road on her own as a little girl and ends up at Tony's doorstep. Tony soon learns of the circumstances, completely dumbfounded.

Young (9-14ish) Aurora Stark is portrayed by Cailey Fleming

Aurora is touched by Loki's scepter and gains the power of precognition, getting visions of the future from time to time that she can't control. During Iron Man 3, she is experimented on with Extremis to lure Tony just as Pepper is in the og movie. But unlike Pepper, Ro isn't fully fixed by Tony and she gets pyrokinetic powers.

As a teen, Ro goes to Midtown Tech and meets Peter, Ned, and MJ. I want to write a full story on here with the backstory and what happens to Ro during Infinity War and then on, so that's as far as I'll elaborate with the timeline without spoiling what my plans are. :)

Aurora is incredibly smart like her father and creates an AI of her own like JARVIS and FRIDAY, hers being called ARIES. (Aurora's Really Interesting Expert System) and is mostly in the form of an earpiece or in her hero suit as her persona, The Flare.

The best way to explain the way ARIES looks and is like is Aloy's focus in Horizon Zero Dawn.

(Her earpiece. I couldn't find a good gif on here but you can search that if you're curious)

Ro and Tony work in his workshop a lot to bond, Tony being pretty proud of her smarts and different abilities at her young age. Like father like daughter.

To finish this off, I'll share some Daisy Edgar Jones GIFs that I feel show my vision of Ro Stark the best. If you read this far, thanks! And stay tuned for her story and whump related stuff because I hurt my poor OCs lol.

Have a great day, you guys.

Okay I'm done lol. If any of the GIF owners want me to remove their gifs, I will happily do so. You can click on the original creators in the corner there by the gifs themselves to see more. GIF makers doing God's work frfrfr.

anyway, thank you again :)

#tony stark #aurora stark #ro stark #tony stark's daughter #tony stark's daughter oc #mcu oc #mcu fanfiction #meet my oc #daisy edgar jones #the avengers #avengers oc #my oc #marvel #marvel oc #stay tuned :)

[sunnydale-digest]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Monday-Tuesday May 29-30 Part II

[Fandom Discussions]

My progression on “Once More With Feeling”: by ghostofbriggiesmalls

Riley by hmslusitania

Season 5 of Angel should have had more scenes of Spike and Angel attacking each other. by aphony-cree

spike is like objectively at his most unhinged in season five by froggierboy

Buffy cuts her hair when she’s really going through it by hero-adjacent

Faith and other Slayers by oveliagirlhaditright

also it’s pretty stupid to blame Willow for the mutiny by tuiyla

Please elaborate on the Willow/Cordy parallels you found watching AtS 4x14 by tuiyla

so does anyone have a link to an essay or video essay that concisely analyses Willow’s metaphorical role as the Spirit by tuiyla

later seasons Spike righting his s2 wrongs: by hero-adjacent

there’s something about the way when Spike is first introduced to the audience by disco-tea

I’m on the end of season three in my rewatch by hmslusitania

if joss didnt wanna bring bangel back i’d have been fine if he made spangel get together instead of spuffy. by jammarammaxxx

Top 8 Spuffy fics I’ve read (May 2023) by mcgnagallsarmy

The way that Buffy's main love interests (in no particular order, Angel, Faith, and Spike) all don't have last names... by juanabaloo

Thoughts on drusilla? by redead-red

It was so unfair to Briley to sandwich their first kiss and finding out about each other's secret identities between IWRY (Bangel) & Something Blue (Spuffy) by hero-adjacent

Buffy and her drivers licence (or lack thereof) by someonefantastic, figsandfandoms

Willow Rosenberg and Walter White by nestaenthusiast

watched seeing red with my mom by catastrophic-bi-tch

hi tumblr have some 2 am thoughts on dawn summers by tales-of-lellu

Drusilla as a Scooby by faithl3hane

Once more, With Feeling is sooo much better than other tv shows sad attempts at musical episodes by nestaenthusiast

Angel and Drusilla love cooking. by boopsterliv

Discussing Buffy The Vampire Slayer 7x19 "Empty Places" Reaction by girl4music

Angel is a Whedon Show, and brings with it that baggage. by kingoftheu

Harsh Realities Rewatching Buffy by Cohen

Take Out The Trio, Insert **** by Multiple Authors

Question Was AtS Season 4 really that bad? by Mott1

Representations of traditional masculine and feminine character traits by Nothing13

Any Willow and Xander shippers here? by Buffvamporigfan

Saddest thing I’ve ever watched by Joka0451

Random Buffy trivia that blows your mind? by MousseAncient7251

Spike in the Boom Comics is such a badass by Almighty_Push91

It's kind of hilarious that Buffy told her the truth multiple times. by Opening_Knowledge868

I Love the Colours by Moon_Logic

Write a short synopsis for the worst possible Buffy/Angel episode by shocked_the_monkey

Does anyone know of any fanart for the new buffy the vampire slayer? by knighthunter3994

How many vampires would it take to overpower a Slayer? by Beached-Peach

Comic Order Question by alloutofbraincells

Would Drusilla’s hypnosis work on Buffy? by Itchy_Initiative6180

Drusilla is very strong. by thelovernotaplaya

Hi, I’m Angel, The founder of Angel investigations. Roast me! by Buffvamporigfan

how is Buffy's death and subsequent ressurection explained in season 6 by TrollChef

Was this just a goof by the writers? Buffy dying doesn’t call another slayer. by loveofGod12345

What was your first experience with Season 5, episode 1? by dismustbetheplace

Whenever Angel lost his soul, besides killing Jenny what was the worst thing he did? by kaitalina20

Most hilarious (slightly) underrated episode? by Opening_Knowledge868

Scooby Gang or Angel Investigations? by PatrickB64

Season 7: Him - questions (Mild spoilers) by Inoutngone

is it just me or by a_noine_noine

Spike & Joyce’s friendship was so wholesome by buffyangel468

Xander opinion. by Half_A_Mind87

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

PUBLICATION: Buffy Just Gave New Meaning to Spike & Drusilla's Romance by Screen Rant

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #meta #fan art #fan fiction #angel the series

[teaveetamer]

Kaga said making Hilda as evil as she was difficult for him, but he still made her like that and made her old/unpleasant looking. Similarly FE4 had several other minor female bosses that were nasty and unpleasant. Also whilst not as much as the male bosses, they were made to look evil/nasty.

IS not only made Eremiya, an innocent brainwashed into evil, but she was still inexplicably young and beautiful looking despite being middle aged at least. They also made the only female enemies in Mystery of the Emblem to be kidnapped victims.

Oh and in the remake of Gaiden, they made ALL witches brainwashed victims AND had Celica brainwashed, all things that never happened in the original.

And we also have:

Actually every 3DS era has had a brainwashed female antagonist and not even ONE intelligent System developed Fire Emblem game since Radiant Dawn has had a female villain acting of her own agency.

New Mystery of the Emblem: Eremiya is mindcontrolled and this is revealed at the very last minute by the point when the Audience has no time left to empathize with her after all her ridiculous acts and has no effect given we knew the true Eremiya to begin with. They also retconned the one and only instance of female enemy troops in the original game to be kidnapped victims.

Awakening: Besides Aversa being brainwashed, Pheros explicitly only fights because she's in love with Walhart, Raimi battles only due to a misunderstanding, and Excellus is presented as a transwoman, thus acceptable to use violence on.

Fates: Arete is resurrected and mindcontrolled by Anankos to obey him.

Echoes Shadows of Valentia: Witches go from female cultists to brainwashed victims, which is emphasized constantly in remake original dialogue. Rather than fighting her way out like in the original, Celica gets brainwashed by Jedah and turned into a witch, requiring Alm to snap her out.

But wait, what about Nuibaba? Well the artbook reveals all she wanted to be was a housewife, but an evil rake turned her sister again her and murdered her, resulting in Medusa reviving Nuibaba as a shell of her former self.

Yeah, Kaga's not great and has his own issues, but one is definitely worse than the other in this case. It should be noted that the person that promoted "Kaga brainwashing fetish, LOL", was a huge proponent of Kusakihara. If brainwashing women is anyone's fetish, its Kusakihara's.

And we also have:

Not the same anon who mentioned post-Kaga IS being squeamish about evil women, but I think I get where they're coming from. (They'll probably explain too but) IS, not so much post-Kaga but rather post-avatar insert, seems very hesitant to make a female villain who leans more into her villainy than her sympathetic traits. Kaga explicitly stated he was uncomfortable with evil women like FE4 Hilda, and while she does have some pitiable circumstances like her son and husband being killed (for being active participants of military occupation lmao), it's still not emphasized for her character as much as her glee for personally making Tailtiu and the hunted children suffer, nor is it used to justify or excuse her malice. Now post-FE12, it's hard to find a villainous woman in FE that wasn't abused, brainwashed, and/or just has her evil deeds swept under the rug as an excuse for why she had to act so darn evil. About the only place that gets exceptions to the rules is FEH, and occasionally those excuses also get slipped in for some characters (Freya, Veronica).

And we also have

May as well add this to the Kaga thing, but I'm not saying Kaga is by any means perfect and he definitely suffers from benevolent sexism as well, that said he seems better by comparison and "this female antagonist whom seemed evil but was really a brainwashed victim all along" is something that became prominent after Kaga left Intelligent Systems.

The Kaga Saga games did have stuff like a girl willingly fighting the player characters because they killed her uncle for example, in addition to some evil women.

I have noticed with Kaga's evil women, they do tend to be middle aged and evil looking, albeit not to the extent of the male villains whom tend to have more "ugly" features.

Though most of Kaga's evil characters tend to be middle aged and not attractive in general, with the exception of Kempf clones, actually Kempf inspired characters showed up in alot of Kaga's games.

Sorry if the formatting on these is weird, but the new Tumblr post editor does not like letting me change the format of multiple paragraphs at once. I tried to keep the messages all together.

Anyway, thanks everyone for sharing!

I do say I give Arete and Fates a pass just because like everyone who opposes you in Rev are are brainwashed Anankos minions. Arete, Mikoto, Sumeragi, Gunther, Garon, and Takumi are all brainwash victims. If you bring in Heirs of Fate you can kind of add all of the father characters to that list, too. I really don't think it's on the same level of egregious as, say, SoV's handling of female characters (where basically every female character is brainwashed or needs to be rescued from kidnapping).

Having not played a lot of the Kaga-era games I get the impression that our post-Kaga world is sexist about evil women, just in a different way from the Kaga era. Back then it was just a general lack of acknowledgement that women existed, intentionally trying to make them old and ugly "witches" that you won't sympathize, and general disbelief that women can be evil. In the modern era it's more about removing their agency and trying to keep them appealing for marketability purposes.

I think it's also kind of hard to compare the two because... Kaga was making games on NES and SNES carts with kilobytes of space to actually put your game on vs. modern era where games can be a lot more eloquent and in-depth about the story and the characters and backstories because they have the space to do so.