#too bad hes too busy getting FUCKED by the TRAGEDY

[lvlyghost]

Heyyy 🤗🤗 I just discovered your blog but after binge reading almost all your writings I just have to request something cause I love your writing style so much

How bout a ghost x reader where he has a nightmare about losing the reader could be angst to fluff to smut

Midnight Rain

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Bad dreams were not strange to Simon, but ever since you came into his life there's one thing he feared the most: losing you.

Word Count: 1.0k

Tw: smut! But nothing too explicit. self-doubt, angst, comfort. Poorly edited. you know the drill.

A/N:I'm so sorry this took so long to get out but life happened 🥲 I wish it was longer and far better i hope you like it.💛🩵 also since i got two similar requests decided to make one for both🥰✨

Masterlist✨

He doesn't scream when he jolts awake from his bed. It's always like that. The dreams. The nightmares. Simon was cursed, tragedies seemed to plague his life on a daily basis that's why he was so adamant about letting you in at first.

Slipping off the bed he fights the way his heart is racing nearly beating out of his chest. The clock marks the time.

5:31 A.M

The sky is gray outside the soft morning rain tapping against the window reminds him that he's supposed to be at Price's office by six.

Yet his mind is purely set on you. On that horrific imagery of his nightmare. He knew that the possibilities of it happening were high, and it didn't help to stop his growing anxiety. To think of someone so small and fragile, dead and without possibilities... fucking hell he knew you were capable of many things. He knew about your strength, resilience. Yet he had a strong sense of protection when it came to you. Death was something he couldn't keep you safe from, thought he'd die trying. Simon would happily trade your life for his if it were in his power.

'Just let it be me not her. Never her.'

Needless to say he didn't get any proper rest. He was thankful for the mask and face paint covering his face, otherwise anyone could see the tiredness in his features.

But you knew better.

You always knew better.

Always seeing through him.

You're laughing at something Johnny's saying, he couldn't attend training this morning so he hadn't had the time to talk to you. And then the sight of you getting shot appears in the back of his mind agains, your body falling limply to the ground next to him.

Dead.

On his watch.

He shifts his weight from one foot to another, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

All the bloody morning his head has been spinning. Unable to get a grip on reality, Simon forces himself to turn away.

You watch from the other side, smile faltering. Why hadn't he joined you? You were about to wave at him. Maybe he didn't want Johnny to be there... Simon was a private man and he wanted to keep a low profile regarding your relationship so you decide to follow him, saying a quick good-bye to your teammate and trotting after Simon.

The door to his office is closed, knocking twice then waiting a second and you knock again.

He doesn't respond to you but you open the door nonetheless. You poke your head enough for him to see you.

"Hey..." you greet him with a warm smile. Simon breathes deeply. "Didn't come to say hello today." You point out, closing the door behind you. He looks down where he's signing a stack of papers.

"Didn't want to interrupt." He gruffly answers.

"Come on..." you reply. "It was just Johnny and I... everything alright?" You question him. The grip on his pen is painfully hard to the point his knuckles turn white.

"Jus' busy, that's all."

Something's not right. You take a deep breathe and walk towards him until you're standing next to his chair. Simon doesn't look up nor acknowledges your presence.

"Simon..." you try again.

Suddenly in a swift movement he's standing up, grabbing you by the arm and leading the two of you out of the office and to his room. You don't say anything you just let him guide you. Whatever it was you'd work it out. He locks the door once you're both inside, his big calloused hands grabbing you by your cheeks. His eyes are frantic, bouncing from your lips and back to your orbs. As if trying to remember the sight of you before him, the sight of you in his room.

"Talk to me. Please...." it's a soft plea. You know him, you recognize the sadness in his honeyed eyes. You know despair when you see it.

"I can't lose you." His voice shakes, as does he. His hands are trembling, buzzing with worry.

"You're not gonna lose me, Simon..." your own hands, much smaller than his come to rest above them. "I'm right here." A brief moment of silence passes by, until he releases a shaky breath, he retreats enough to slip the fabric of his mask off. It was getting hard to breathe for him. "Come with me... please."

You drag him to the bed, motioning for him to sit down you help him unlace his boots then you do the same with yours.

He lays back as do you, Simon brings you closer to his body wrapping one arm around you. Hand tracing soft circles on his chest, hearing the rhythmic beat of his heart underneath you.

"You were dead." He begins. "Right in front of me and I couldn't stop it," your motions stop. Brows knitting together. "I...-" he trails off. "I'm nothing if I can't keep you safe."

"Simon don't ever say that again." You scold him. Tears gather in the corner of your eyes. "Don't you dare think such things."

Standing you're quick to straddle his lap, strong arms hold you close to his body. You slam your lips to his, Simon welcomes the warmth of your mouth against him. Your hands caress the back of his head, fingers threading through his blond locks. He hardens under your body and murmur something into your ear. Something that sends you over the edge. Soon, your pants are discarded on the white floor, he lets you ride him, merely looking at your eyes never leaving your face. If he could capture this moment he'd do it. He'll save it for the rest of his life. Treasure it. Wrapping your arms around his shoulder you kiss him hard. You're so close your mind is in a haze, and when he grits his teeth you know he's close too. The pure adoration in his eyes is enough. There'll never be anyone after him.

"You're stuck with me."

His lips curve into a barely-there-smile.

"Yeah..." he gasped. "Jus' keep looking at me, love. And stay with me."

As if you could ever say no to him.

#cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod simon riley #cod simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #mw2 ghost #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader

[whetstonefires]

See I don't necessarily disagree with what seems to be the primary reading that Yue Qingyuan's shifu fucked him over, caring nothing for his needs or preferences and only for whether he was useful. That makes sense, it ties into plenty of the generational and societal themes of the story. It fits.

But iirc we don't actually get enough information to know that's what happened.

And the thing is it would be so in-character and also thematically appropriate if Yue Qingyuan absolutely did not explain his goals or why he was working so hard, because it was private and shameful and he didn't expect any sympathy, and there was a high risk of losing everything if he blabbed.

And also if he engaged with the existing ruleset with which he was presented, i.e. 'can't go off on your own on personal business until you've mastered your sword,' in the most negative and controlling manner possible, as absolute commandments.

He's a different kind of guy but he comes from the same background as Shen Jiu! It fucked him up also!

He is very very very not a guy who trusts the system to make allowances for him--even once he has all the power he 'does what he wants' and 'makes selfish choices' as a conscious transgression; not something he has a right to do, just something he can get away with so he's gonna. (And ofc he spends almost all the latitude he grants himself on sqq.)

And even less is he a guy who opens up easily.

He isn't too proud to ask for help or pity, so much as he just doesn't expect to get any.

So in this interpretation, he understood that rule as a non-negotiable barrier in his path, the target to overcome, and focused all his considerable will and talent on overcoming it through the sphere of action he felt he had control over.

And fucked himself up bad.

Whereupon his teacher, possessing absolutely no context for this dumb shit their star pupil pulled, did the only thing they thought might work to save his life, paying in the process no attention to the raving of someone deep in a psychotic break.

Like, I feel like there should have been a better, kinder medical option, but I don't know for sure that there was, so I can't say with certainty this was the kind of cruelty that derives from not caring enough.

And it really would be kind of elegant and so typical of Yue Qingyuan's fundamental tragedy if the real mistake was 'not confiding in anybody' the whole time.

And he was just so deeply sunk into the understanding that explaining and asking were useless that, even looking back, it never really occurred to him that maybe his mistake wasn't 'fucking it up when trying too hard to solve everything on his own' but 'assuming there was no help to be had, and that he had to do it all on his own.'

Like. What if this really could all have been avoided if he'd just trusted and communicated with the adult in charge of him? But of course, of course his history of trauma (neglect, child abuse, exploitation, being the One Responsible for the younger kids whom he could not keep safe) meant he was absolutely not going to do that.

It was basically impossible. For the person he was, the person the world had made of him. And that's always been the core tragedy the whole novel circles back upon.

People can only ever be themselves, and so very often the elements of self that let them survive until now are that which dooms them, that means they need someone else to intervene if they're ever going to be saved. Because your personal doom is always the thing from which you can't save yourself.

#hoc est meum #JUST LIKE SHEN JIU #yue qingyuan #svsss #scum villain #meta #trauma #ambiguous backstory elements #tragedy #growing into your deathmask #the fact that shen jiu got in #and got promoted #tends to imply the former generation wasn't particularly inflexible #or unwilling to entertain deviance #the fact that yqy got made Sect Leader #despite his disability #suggests his teacher valued him #on a personal level #though not necessarily a level that gave a shit #about his happiness or wellbeing #but we srsly do not know

[firestorm09890]

On Wuthering Heights and Canto VI (complete)

wow.

move over “Call me Ishmael” line, this is the Canto that most resembles its source book. We’ve got direct quotes! We’ve got scenes playing out like the original, beat for beat! I’m so glad I read Wuthering Heights beforehand, because unlike the previous ones where it just enhanced the experience a little (or even left me unsatisfied that they didn’t adapt certain things), I can’t imagine what it might’ve been like to not know everything in the book.

It’s kind of uncanny, actually, the extent to which things are similar. At the end of part 2 I was thinking about how there could’ve been a universe where the events of the book continued to stay the same if not for Erlking Heathcliff learning about the alternate worlds, and hey, after looking at so many universes of Catherine and Heathcliff making each other miserable, Dante (*edit: I wrote Cathy here first. I forgot it was Dante who saw it) found one where they’re happy together, both as ghosts, which! Is just the end of real actual Wuthering Heights!

We continued to have canon divergence in that way of "what if [character] had done something different?" which is always my favorite, even if some of it was just visions into a timeline where things were different. What if Heathcliff recognized he was just as bad as Hindley when it came to Hareton? What if Heathcliff and Cathy hadn't gone to spy on Thrushcross Grange that night? What if Heathcliff had stayed to listen to the rest of what Cathy had to say?

It's a tragedy, and Erlking Heathcliff, and our Heathcliff, and every other Heathcliff believed that it was the type where he was doomed from the start, because of who he is, and nothing can change that. But Dante knew that no, actually, it's a tragedy because of the choices that were made, and they can't be changed now, but you can change, and that's how you change your fate.

Individual characters

Not surprised Hindley distorted. I think this one had a lot more hate within him than the original

RIP Isabella Linton, I mean Isabella Edgar. She found someone who wasn't Heathcliff and her brother STILL stopped talking to her, and ended up being used by Erlking Heathcliff anyway

Speaking of Linton (Edgar). I don't have much to say because if I'm being honest I don't like him very much and everything he said was kinda overshadowed by his absolutely disgusting death. Catherine saying he looked like a prince out of a fairytale is very interesting considering how much he looks like the Black Swan guys

I'm sad Josephine died. It makes narrative sense but it would’ve been funny if she outlasted everyone else just like in the book

Cathy! There's a lot to say about Cathy but I'm not sure I can be the one to do it. I like her. I'm glad she was fucked up and we got our "everyone sucks here, you're perfect for each other, never involve anyone else in your business" but of course other people are getting involved because this is fucking Wuthering Heights

SPEAKING OF GETTING INVOLVED! NELLY!! I'm sooo glad they gave her the unreliable narrator trait, and managed to put the whole "burning letters" thing in there too. I'm also glad that when she did inevitably betray the team, she stayed exactly the same in personality. It's like she said herself, the happy moments in the past were real. I hope she stops associating with Hermann and goes to do something else with her life. Imagine finding out that in every universe you're wrapped up in Heathcliff and Cathy's bullshit

no Hareton or Catherine II, but Catherine I and Heathcliff did a fine job breaking the cycle themselves, I think.

there's probably more things to say about the Erlking and the Wild Hunt but I'm so tired

#limbus company #project moon #heathcliff #wuthering heights #canto vi spoilers #me post #i have soooo many more thoughts #but they don't really have to do with wuthering heights #meursault continues to be the greatest of all time #yeah

[slashers-and-rats]

Can you please do some headcaonons on what it's like living with Billy? Does he ever leave the building? Does he leave the attic if everyone else is out? What's his favorite food? (Idk what canadians eat lol)

rat chat: this is gonna be a little long cuz i also wanna explain my own idea of how you even wound up in the house.

ok, so, my idea is that the entirety of the 2006!billy backstory happens. y’know, the usual stuff. bad childhood, fucked up situations, the killings, the being sent away- ALL OF IT HAPPENS. except, instead of the house being turned into a sorority, it gets passed around during the years that billy is away. it’s sold from person to person, it ends up in the hands of your grandparents, and after a tragedy you wind up having the house left to you in your will, along with a bit of money. voila, you have the house.

you don’t move in for awhile. the wound is fresh. instead, you work on moving the stuff out of the house and putting it into storage. during that time, you don’t even realize there’s an entire attic. billy knows that, though, and while you’re busy cleaning up the place to start living in, he makes the upstairs his brand new home. so, by the time you actually move in, he’s already there.

it’s hard at the start of you living there. after getting everything out, you gotta put all your stuff in. the house is old and creepy, and it feels like you’re being watched (duh). it’s weird. the first few nights are rough. it’s rough for billy too, of course. he had the house to himself for awhile, he had cleared out some of the cupboards while you were cleaning stuff out so he has a stash of food, he had liked wandering around when you weren’t there. now he’s stuck back up in the attic.

you go about living your life, or at least your new one. you maybe moved from a bit away and are looking for a new job in the area. you have some money from the will to keep yourself comfortable for a bit, but you still wanna get something steady. all the meanwhile, you’re exploring the new house and getting used to being there.

billy, on the other hand, is just watching you all the time. you’re his personal entertainment. sometimes you’ll hear creaks from the ceiling, but you assume it’s just the house settling. the thing is old, it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. it’s when you start getting the phone calls that things get weird.

in the dead of night, when you’re lounging on the couch, you’ll get random phone calls by some freak replaying horrible things in your ear. he sounds like he’s in pain, ranting and raving about things you don’t even really understand. the first few times, you just hung up immediately when he started. he’d call and call and call, and you’d just pretend the phone didn’t even exist. then, after awhile, you would sit and listen. it stopped him from calling for hours after you hung up, but it would also be an hour of you listening to what sounded like this very hurt man SUFFERING.

you can’t say it didn’t strike some pity in you. he sounded pathetic, like a wounded, crying animal, and he just wanted you to listen. it was wrong in a lot of ways, but part of you felt… connected? like, this guys only way of working through his shit was reenacting it all to you. maybe, in some way, it was helping? you’d try to talk him through it and ask questions, but he never really responded. sometimes he’d try to, but he’d just fall back into the same chants and rambles.

during all this, obviously, it’s billy on the other side. he sits up in his attic, laying on his mattress, torturing himself. in my head, sex for billy is a punishment at this point in his life. he doesn’t see it as anything but a way to hurt him, and he’s obsessed with harming himself. he feels like he deserves it. so, while he’s talking into the phone, he’s jerking off like a mad man, and crying, and biting himself, and drooling everywhere. he’s a mess. and he believes he deserves to be. at first, you would say he’s being disgusting and gross, and he liked it because it made him feel shameful, and he deserved it. than, after awhile, you started trying to help him, and it confused the FUCK out of him. because all of his coping is punishing himself with reliving his own fucked up traumas, and now you’re sitting here like “have you tried… seeing a therapist?” and he’s like ????? i went to an asylum and they drugged me up???? is that enough??

it becomes a routine. at some point he tells you his name, sort of. it slips out during one of this moments. as well, you start piecing together his story a bit more, and it breaks your heart. you’re worried. in a fucked up way, you start feeling some kind of sympathy. this guy clearly has issues, he has no one to talk to, and here he is spilling all of his deepest secrets to you. at some point, you ask if he wants your help. he doesn’t know how to respond. you explain to him that he needs help, that he can be better, that it’s a good idea to find someone that cares about him that can get him support, and he just gets upset because that doesn’t exist for him. he’s alone, and your pity doesn’t change that. it makes him so upset, that for awhile, he doesn’t call.

during that time, billy just stews up in the attic. during the nights he sneaks down to watch you sleep. he likes you, in his own way. he likes that you listen, and he likes that you care, even if it’s from afar. but he doesn’t like that, in other ways, you just remind him that he doesn’t ACTUALLY have anyone. you’re a reflection of his own loneliness. because even tho you’re this person that seemingly wants him to feel better, you’re still just over a phone. you’d never ACTUALLY help.

well, that’s bullshit, because one day after weeks of not calling, you’re cleaning out some of the house and stumble upon the attic door. and it’s a surprise, because you didn’t even know you had an attic. a few minutes later, you’re climbing up and finding a very malnourished, sad looking man, who sounds exactly like the guy over the phone that told you all about his issues. who would’ve guessed?

at first, billy lashes out. he’s terrified. he can’t go back to the asylum, he doesn’t want to be on the streets, he’s already struggling enough. he’s scared. you’ve successfully cornered him. on the other hand, you’re baffled that the guy that has been talking to you has been in your fucking attic this entire time. you’re concerned, he’s freaking out, and you just try to console him and explain you’re not calling the cops and getting him removed. in a moment of panic, you say he can stay. it calms him right down. you ask if he wants something to eat, and to take a shower, and you manage to coax him out of the attic and down to the kitchen. one hot meal later, and he’s sitting at your dining room table. you’re very confused, but also after hearing all the stuff he would rant about, you’re kinda glad you found him. at least you could provide him some help? maybe? or maybe just get him to not call you at three in the morning before work anymore.

over the course of a few months, you two do start living together. he gets his own room. you offer to clear out the attic and let him have that space, but it’s clear it holds a lot of bad memories for him, so you give him his own room beside yours. you cook for the both of you, since he doesn’t really know how. he does do lawn work, he seems to like picking weeds and such, and he catches all the bugs in your house. he helps clean when he can, and you he helps you make grocery lists for when you go out on errands. he doesn’t like leaving the house yet, he’s just not very fond of large groups of people.

it’s not easy. he still has his moments. he doesn’t understand what sex actually is. it’s still a punishment. in the night, he’ll come to you, and talk like he did over the phone, and you’ll hold him and try to listen but it’s so hard when he’s clearly so hurt. during these times he gets handsy, and you have to explain to him that you aren’t there to fuck him, you’re just there to listen. billy likes that. a lot of the people in his life got off on his suffering, and yet you actually want to solve it. it feels nice, but at the same time it’s very confusing. he has a lot of conflicting feelings inside of him.

it takes a long time for you two to become something normal, and even longer for you two to actually connect romantically. first, he has to get to a point where he’s healthy. you help him get back on his feet, and support him through learning some new skills and the like. he supports you by taking care of the house while you’re gone, and cleaning up, and doing any yard work or things. he especially likes holidays, and when he gets to decorate. you two have movie nights often, and go through all the films he missed growing up. he loves talking about everything that happens on screen, and you find it endearing. you read to him a lot, and he likes listening and laying with his head in your lap.

he has a hard time keeping his feelings in, and that’s fine with you. you just work on boundaries. he knows not to touch you without asking. you guys are affectionate, since it seems to really comfort him to experience affection that isn’t… bad. whenever you get home he hugs you for a long time, and he likes to cuddle you while you two watch movies, and he asks to hold your hand when he’s stressed out. sometimes he tries to make a move, just so overwhelmed that he starts acting without thinking, and you just have to explain that you’re not ready yet. he knows, and he holds back. it’s hard, but he’s learning.

then you work on actually getting him out of the house. that’s the most difficult. he is not a people person. it starts with walks around the neighbourhood, and then little trips to the store or to pick up take out. that’s all he can really manage. he’s more of an indoor kinda cat, he doesn’t like… others. he likes you, though. it’s clearly more than just liking, he’s kinda obsessed with you. you don’t notice it, just thinking you��re doing what anyone would do for someone in need like that, but he is very very very in love.

i think the first time you actually realize it is on valentine’s day. you come home and he has the kitchen set up, and he used his few cooking skills to make you guys something. it’s a little confusing at first, but the way he’s looking at you, and explaining how he really appreciates what you’ve done… it melts your heart. he’s not talking like he used to, just talking about the nasty things he wanted to put you through, he’s genuinely voicing that he enjoys you as a person. don’t get me wrong, he’s still stuttering and patching words together, and a lot of it is him using lines from romance movies to explain how he feels, but it’s the thought that counts.

you two have a nice night. he doesn’t try anything. you guys just eat and watch some romance movies and cuddle on the couch. and before you head up for bed, you kiss him on the cheek and say it’s been a great valentine’s day. and he’s smitten. he just walks you walk up the stairs and that’s when he makes it his mission for you two to be together.

obviously, down the line, he learns what romance is and what sex CAN be. it goes from him just wanting to bone because it’s all his instincts tell him to do, to him wanting to make love with someone that he loves and it’s a way for him to connect with you. and while that takes awhile, it makes the connection a lot deeper. he’s been through a lot. being able to finally see sex as not a punishment, but a way to express your feelings towards someone is super cool. obviously, before that, he’s expressing himself in other ways, but billy enjoys the fact that he took this thing that used to FUCKING SUCK and make it into something good. and you helped do that.

immsorry this was so long and maybe didn’t make a lot of sense i love you

#slasher x reader #slashers #billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #ask

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

The Tragedy of Touya Todoroki

Touya: Hey Dad, could you pay attention to m--

Endeavor: No.

Touya: Hey Mom, could you support me?

Rei: I wish I could, I wish I knew how, but I don’t, so no.

Touya: Hey Natsu, could you be angry with me so I at least have a friend in this?

Natsuo: I’m like, 7 here and don’t fully understand the situation yet and it’s 3am, so no.

Touya: Okay, so I tried to help myself and ended up burning alive on accident, which caused me to get stuck in a coma for 3yrs, and now I’m in this creepy daycare hospital where they sewed me up with other people’s skin and possibly limbs, and a voice from a TV is talking to me...

AFO: Hi, I’m AFO. Your quirk’s too fucked for me to get any use out of you, but I could train you and then you’d be--

Touya: No. I want my dad to train me and I gotta apologize to my mom, fuck you.

Touya: Dad! Dad, I’m not dead! This creepy guy kidnapped me while I was in a coma and was gonna train me and a bunch of kids so he could turn us into these monsters, and also he spliced my body up like this, but I got away and ran all the way back home! It was really scary and I’m sorry that I was mean, do you think now you could--

Endeavor, too busy beating the shit out of Shouto to notice him: Touya was almost perfect, but still a disappointment! I know you can surpass him!

Touya: .....

Touya: Oh.

Dabi: Cool, it’s been eight years and now I’m a wanted terrorist that’s killed at least thirty people. Gonna kill my dad and my baby brother next! Does anybody wanna give a shit? Feel bad for me? Do something about the corruption in Hero society and stop worshiping them blindly? Hold my dad accountable for creating the conditions that turned me into a villain, kinda like how you hold me accountable for being a villain?

Literally the whole of Japan: Ugh, Dabi is so annoying.

Dabi: Bet. Back to the arson and double murder-suicide then!

#dabi #touya todoroki #Literally the saddest thing about touya is that he screams his pain from the top of his goddamn lungs CONSTANTLY #but nobody that can actually help him ever hears it until it's too late and he's too far gone to want it #The Evil One #Dabi: I hope I die! I hope we ALL die! =)

[coveredinmetaldust]

The discourse around the OceanGate situation is making me really fucking mad. You are getting a lot of posts like this one where people are decrying how inhumane it is for people to meme on the situation instead of grieving for the kind of people would work you to death if it meant a 0.002% stock price increase.

Yup, these fucking losers are equating willfully creating a death trap and killing 5 other people instantly to a car accident.

I don’t even entirely disagree that yes, it is tragic. I’d rather they didn’t die from an implosion caused by their metal death-tube crumpling in on itself because the arrogant shithead CEO decided that all these safety standards other subs adhere to were getting in the way of innovation. Obviously it would have been preferable to find them drifting on the ocean surface a day later shaken but ultimately unharmed.

No, I’m mad about how blatantly lopsidedly this flavor of moral outrage is always applied. You never see these people on Reddit, Twitter, etc crawl out of the woodwork to denounce the people saying “well he was no angel” when a person of color is gunned down by the police. You never see these same multi-paragraph posts decrying how immoral it is to say “play stupid games win stupid prizes” when this shit happens to the poor, disenfranchised, etc.

You don’t see it, because the people currently on their high horse are the same people who would call you a fucking idiot if you were on this submarine.

If the entree fee was $250 and five working class people were killed I can guarantee you'd see these same people joking about Darwin awards instead of saying stuff like this.

But no no, suddenly now is the time to stop victim blaming and start grandstanding while clutching at pearls. Now is the time to get indignant and accuse people not of feeling empathy and being inhumane sociopaths. There are now were entire call-out topics on Reddit where they organized and briggaded anyone who dares to say anything bad about these poor billionaires. Where the FUCK was this outrage during, I dunno, pick any one of the numerous fucking examples of brutality and/or exploitation occurring within the last three years. Oh right, these dopey fucks were too busy wagging their fingers at the victims and telling them to take Personal Responsibility™. Too bad, if only they were born rich—then maybe these paragons of virtue on social media would go to bat for them.

But you know what the worst part of this discourse is? I can’t quite put it into words, but it’s so blatantly fucking obvious to me that all of this is insincere—this is actual virtue signaling. You can just tell by the tone, the regurgitated talking points, the slimy smug indignation. This is false empathy over people they couldn’t care less about and won’t even remember in a week, because the point isn’t to being a compassionate person.

No, this to grandstand and get that dopimine rush by calling people out. This is being done to score points for some political ideology and Own The Libs/Commies/Socialists/[insert any slightly left of center ideology]. This is so the Panglossian shitheels of social media can maintain the status quo and feel superior by stamping out any act of defiance or rebellion.

None of these of these people seemed to care about how disrespectful this kind of disaster tourism is for the victims of the Titanic. (Victims, who, were mostly lower class since the wealthy were the ones who were allowed to escape.) They don’t care that these rich assholes were profiteering off a tragedy and making a spectacle out of visiting a mass grave. No, they save that smug, condescending, and cynical response for the people who call out these rich assholes.

It makes me want to throw my computer into the ocean.

Now, if you are one of these people I’m screaming into the void about, and you genuinely do not understand why people are memeing the situation so hard, you need to take a step back and recognize that this is, objectively, an absurd and cartoonish situation. This could have easily been a plot for an episode of The Simpsons. This whole goddamn situation reads like something thrown together by a room of writers who were trying to out “yes and” one another until one stopped everyone and said: “Woah woah, hold on. The CEO’s wife is a descendant of the Titanic victims? Isn’t that just a little much?” And then everyone else ignored this person and just kept fucking going.

In short: it was the perfect storm of absurdity, coincidence, hubris, tragedy, and stupidity.

But that's just a surface level explanation which ignores the context of the last hundred or so years. Ask yourself: "why are so many people so unsympathetic towards these particular victims?" Well, there are a multitude of reasons that contributed to how we got to this point and this guy does a much better job of explaining it than I ever could:

#oceangate #titanic #the titanic #oceangate submarine #billionaires #oligarchy #reddit

[kusagrasskusa]

I saw @yns-world do this so I kind of wanted to steal their thing XD But it’s really entertaining! So here’s my version of…

MK Villains meeting/hearing about their (and your) child

Erron Black, Shang Tsung, Baraka, Kano, Quan Chi, Shao Kahn edition!

Part 2!

Tell me whoever else you may want! I want to do a heros one after this, so tell me who you want!

Edit: I’m not even kidding, I was looking for some Erron X Readers, saw this, read this, said “ohh I like that one” and “ew that’s cringy” without knowing this is fucking mine XDXD I looked back at this and just gasped because I fr didn’t think I wrote this

Erron Black

Erron: Ye look a lot like me. Ya one of them alternate universe me’s?

Son: No, but I’m here to kill you unlike what other me’s could do

Erron: Well if I die, tell other me’s to kill Y/N after pulling out

—

Erron: You got my eyes and your mother’s bad attitude

Daughter: And her hatred for you

Erron: Nah, our bloodline is filled with hate

—

Son: I wonder what she saw in you when you first met

Erron: Beats me, I wondered what she saw in the first hundred guys she fucked

Son: I’m gonna make you take that back!

—

Erron: If only I raised you instead, you wouldn’t be this big o’ a pussy

Son: My mother raised me better without you in my life

Erron: Yeah, never mind. You and yer mom are too ignorant to hang around

—

You: Your daughter is a horse girl, y’know. Ya should go show her ‘round here on one

Erron: I’m too busy for that demon girl

You: Of course you are. And she’s a demon because of you

—

Kotal Kahn: You have a child who asked for you

Erron: I don’t have a kid

Kotal Kahn: Well I shall introduce you two after this then

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung: I have been awaiting this day, my child

Daughter: Why? To destroy every woman’s life who meets you?

Shang Tsung: No, but I wonder what might a limp, pitiful creature such as yourself do when their whore of a mother is killed

Daughter: You are beyond fucked up.

—

Son: I remember the last time I saw you

Shang Tsung: It was quite the tragedy, indeed

Son: You couldn’t fucking stop laughing at me suffer through my mother’s death

—

Daughter: Whenever she died, did you care, father?

Shang Tsung: Why of course, I feared how her death would affect my precious child

Daughter: You feared so much you threw your precious child into the claws of death

Shang Tsung: At least the Kahn didn’t kill you instead.

—

Shang Tsung: When I was your age, it was customary for sons to protect and serve their parents

Son: I protect and serve my mother. You are a mere parasite to me

Shang Tsung: Oh, the parasite within you will enjoy tearing you apart

—

Shang Tsung: Does [child] know we are meeting?

You: She is sound asleep, and I promised she will awaken with her father home

Shang Tsung: She will awaken to her mother in pain so she never wants to see me again

You: All she wants is 5 minutes, Shang!

—

Raiden: You look just like your mother

Daughter: But I’m stronger than she’ll ever be

Raider: And you are as blind as your father

—

Lui Kano:

Baraka

Son: It’s funny that people try to kill me for being your child rather than for being tarkatan

Baraka: How’s that funny?

Son: They’re killing your people to get to you, father. You’re why your people are disappearing.

—

Baraka: Female tarkatan gather, not fight

Daughter: Come on father! One round! You know I’m better than my brothers, anyways

Baraka: This is why you’ll be the man in the family once I’m gone

—

Baraka: My favorite fighter

Son: [daughter] said she fights better!

Baraka: Let us find out then

—

Daughter: I remember the tribe before mother died

Baraka: You will never honor or lay eyes on it again, traitor!

Daughter: I put good deeds over personal victory, father

—

Mileena: You’re beautiful, for being Baraka’s

Daughter: You’re ugly, for being Sindel’s

Mileena: Hehe, I’ll bite that tongue if you don’t, savage!

Kano (he’s so fucking hot)

Kano: Before anything else, ya motha’ came onto me first

Son: I- did not ask

Kano: Well, she asked- she asked for more every night

—

Daughter: My mom is obsessed with you, still

Kano: And lemme tell you, she was crazy over me back then too. A freak, really

Daughter: Are we both talking about [Y/N]?

Kano: Oh yeah, she never told you? She loved me

—

You: Still as fine as the day we met

Kano: You must be thinking of the wrong Kano, but I’d love to show you what the young me can do

You: Yeah, like give me a kid to raise on my own

—

Sonya: I thought I killed younger you already!

Kano: Hah, I always knew me boy would be useful one day

Sonya: Oh, shit- It was your son?

—

Kano: Y/N?

Daughter: Mother died a few years back

Kano: And you look as beautiful as she did

—

Kano: There’s no way. I pulled out!

Son: You pull-out game sucked then

Kano: Like father, like son then, ay?

—

Daughter: Mom said you promised to take me out today!

Kano: Daddy.. was probably drink’n’ ay

Daughter: If I have to drag you all the way out there, I will!

Quan Chi

Quan Chi: I sense demon within you. You aren’t from Earthrealm

Daughter: I’m the perfect mix of holiness and unholiness

Quan Chi: Then you are a worthless mutt

—

You: Shinnok won’t take us fighting lightly. We’re supposed to unify and serve

Quan Chi: I shall not let him take [child] from us

You: You are a traitor

—

Raiden: You betray your realm for what?

You: I am sorry, but my child’s safety is worth more than Earthrealm’s would ever be

Raiden: So you aid the destruction of the safest realm?

—

Quan Chi: My son

Son: Do not call me that, demon

Quan Chi: Your demon workings are put to sleep within you, allow me to show you what you really are inside

—

Daughter: There was a time when mother thought you loved her

Quan Chi: A demon cannot feel love, my child

Daughter: You loved her enough to have me, yes?

Shao Kahn

You: Wait until your queen finds out

Shao Kahn: Finds out what?

You: I am pregnant, emperor. And I am keeping it

—

Sindel: I’ll kill that disgusting monster of a child!

You: Do you speak to their sister that way?

Sindel: Kitana is more royal than your child will ever be

—

Daughter: You know, I was only doing what was good for the kingdom

Kitana: No, you were doing what father would want you to do

Daughter: It is better he likes me than throw me out like he did you

—

Shao Kahn: My little princess

Daughter: Mileena said you were planning of disposing me, father

Shao Kahn: Why ever would I do that?

—

Mileena: I told you not to touch my things, sis

Daughter: I told you not to touch me!

Mileena: Hehe, royal blood just tastes too good to leave alone

—

Shao Kahn: To be emperor, you must be able to defeat me first

Son: I will do you proud, father

Shao Kahn: Not until Kitana is dead, will you make me proud

#mk x reader #mk10 #reader insert #mk erron black #mk shang tsung #mk baraka #mkxl #mk 9 #mk11 #mkx #mk fandom #mk kano #MK Shao Kahn #MK Quan chi #erron black x reader #mk mortal kombat #mkx mortal kombat x #mortal kombat #mortal kombat xl #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat villians #shang tsung #erron black #shang tsung x reader #baraka x reader #kano #Kano x reader #quan chi x reader

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Peace | Harvest Moon Collab Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1.5k ✧ notes ➼ A little post-war oneshot of you and Levi attending a Fall Festival while adjusting to normal life for @postwarlevi's Harvest Moon Collab Event! ✧ content/warnings: canonverse, post-war, gn!reader, some spoilers for the manga

Adjusting to a normal life after a lifetime of war and tragedy was a challenge. Similar to how nothing could truly prepare you for war, nothing could have prepared you for suddenly being thrown into the expectation of living a "normal" life while your survival instincts were still stuck in a place where you had to be on guard 24/7.

It was a few months after the events surrounding the Rumbling. Things were slowly getting rebuilt, and both you and Levi found yourselves trying to adjust. The two of you settled down in an apartment close to the downtown area of a moderately-sized village. It was peaceful enough while still providing you access to services you'd need, given his bad knee and the lasting effects of the war on your mental health.

Adjusting was getting easier, but the fact that you didn't have to be prepared to fight a horde of Titans at a moment's notice was still hard to adjust to. Most days were okay, with just a minimal amount of discomfort for the both of you that you could easily adapt to.

Today was not one of those days.

You were shaken up and had barely gotten any sleep. Your nightmares were bad, and you could tell that Levi was struggling to get himself to get up to regularly expose himself to walking as his bad knee slowly began to heal.

He had to live with a limp due to his knee, but could walk in small increments, which was encouraged as some form of physical therapy—but he was required to actually get up and move around. Given the fact that you didn't know anyone in town and that there was still some stigma and gossip regarding the Eldians that resided on Paradis Island, going outside was not necessarily the most rewarding thing to do to pass the time.

Thus, when you heard from the locals that there was going to be a Fall Festival and saw that the weather was nice, you figured it was a good time to drag Levi out of the house in the hopes that everyone would be too busy enjoying the food and events without shooting you those wary glances.

Plus you needed the fresh air.

"How's your leg?" you asked as you pushed Levi's wheelchair forward while walking next to him, matching your pacing with his.

He scoffed at the fact that you even asked that question.

"Feels like shit," he grumbled, which resulted in a small amused smile forming on your face at his standard harsh commentary.

You had brought his wheelchair in case the pain started kicking in, but he seemed to be doing okay today. He was just walking on it for short periods of time to give it time to heal while also letting him adjust, although he hated having to depend on you to bring his wheelchair in case it got too painful for him.

"Thought you said there weren't going to be a shitton of people."

"There's not!" you exclaimed, although you knew he was right. The plaza wasn't necessarily packed per se, but it was definitely crowded enough for the both of you to feel uncomfortable wading through the crowd.

"Bullshit."

"You're so dramatic," you said with a sigh as you rolled your eyes before they fell on a stand that was set up for the festival.

You nudged Levi and motioned your head towards it.

"Come look at these pumpkins with me."

In addition to the music and art stands, there was a small area of the festival dedicated to some of the local farmers. There was a stand of freshly picked apples, all neatly sorted by color, right next to the pumpkin stand that had sizes of the squash ranging from around the size of a baseball, up to being even bigger than the tote bag you were currently carrying around.

"How many fucking pies are you planning on making?" Levi asked, slightly bewildered at the amount of apples and pumpkins that you were buying. You had mentioned something about making pastries, but neither of you were that into sweets.

"As many as I need to keep busy, I guess," you commented with a shrug.

Levi didn't respond with a sarcastic retort like he usually would. He knew what you were referring to—baking helps keep your mind busy. He understood it, and even tried to help out sometimes, although you would consistently complain about how he was usually too much of a pain in the ass over how to do things, which just resulted in you kicking him out of the kitchen on most days.

Your eyes flashed up as you saw a group of kids run by you and towards the plaza. They had come from a Halloween face painting stand, so their faces were covered in various shades that were supposed to resemble some well-known Halloween-esque character that you couldn't recognize. They were running over towards a live band that was playing, joining some of the other locals in dancing to the music.

As much as you felt like an outsider sometimes, the liveliness of some of the locals still brought a smile to your face. It was a glimpse into what human nature was when you weren't burdened with the weight of war.

You saw that Levi's pace was slowing down a bit and changed your direction so that you slowly headed towards a bench that seemed to be a bit further out from the crowd.

You could barely hear the music from here, but you were still able to watch the camaraderie. It was nice to experience even a little sense of peace after the horror that was the Rumbling.

You watched as the sun began to dip below the horizon, which prompted the street lights around you to flicker on. Even the music began to calm after a while as people began to trickle out of the plaza and vendors began to pack up for the day.

"You think it gets easier?" you eventually asked.

Levi glanced over towards you, watching you as you fixed your gaze on the setting sun.

"Depends on what you're referring to."

He saw your eyes flicker down, with a hint of dejection showing up in your expression.

"Adjusting to...normal life," you eventually whispered.

Levi directed his gaze back towards the sunset, his lips slightly parting as he began to formulate an answer to your question, although he wasn't quite sure what that answer was supposed to be. He didn't know if adjusting would get easier. You both still had your nightmares and were ready to jump back into survival mode at a moment's notice. It felt agonizing.

After a few seconds, you looked over at him, watching as the breeze drifted through his raven locks, making them subtly rise and fall over his forehead. Your eyes drifted down towards his damaged eye, noting the scars that ran down his right cheek. You were tempted to reach out and run your fingers over his scars. They added to him in a way that was hard for him to see himself, but you were able to see. You were always able to see his worth as more than a soldier. To you, he was just Levi.

"I like to think that it will," he eventually said, "for their sake, if nothing else."

Your eyes flickered down as you brought up your memories of the people that had died for this peace that you were currently living in—the ones that didn't make it to the end: Erwin, Miche, Hange, and even Levi's original squad.

You hoped that you'd be able to find that peace they had died for.

You rested your head on his shoulder, scooting closer so that your hips were touching.

It was going to be hard to adapt to that peace after a life of nothing but fighting. You knew it was going to be hard, but you also knew that what Levi said wasn't just blind optimism. He's known grief for nearly his entire life, experiencing firsthand how easy it is for that grief to swallow you, and how to drag yourself out of it as you learned to make room for it.

At least you had Levi next to you on this journey. Even after all that loss, at least you still had him.

Levi wrapped his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer and planting a quick kiss on the top of your head.

You looked down towards his hand that was now resting on your shoulder and noted his two missing fingers. The war had left the both of you scarred—for him, it was his eye, hand, and fingers; for you, it was a particularly nasty gash on your shoulder that you sometimes still felt the phantom pain of.

It was going to be a hard journey and there was no changing that—but at least it will be a journey that you'd be able to take together.

#: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @emiwhore @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @sleepyfairyxo @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @catskze @nixie-writes-aot @la-undercover-latina @v4mp-wife @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @deepzombieyouth @evas-leslas join my taglist! as always, please let me know if you want to get taken off! :)

#harvestmoonaotcollab #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi fluff #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

[laheysdork]

strangers - stiles stilinski

summary: you decided that he’s a stranger to you a long time ago, but what if tragedy strikes and the only person that could help you is him?

word count: 4.8k

warnings: cursing, fights, angst, slight fluff, vomit?, a little violence

a/n: so sorry i have been mia for months, i moved out and am finally living (as in not being stuck in my room all the time) i have this enemies-to-lovers fic siting for the longest time in my draft so hope yall like it! the italic bolded ones are flashbacks in case it gets pretty confusing. and i would like to apologize beforehand 🤠

masterlist

Strangers—they’re not always the people we don’t know. Some of them can be by choice, someone we chose to forget.

Sighing at the thought of another dreadful day at school, you drag your feet towards your first class. Your muscle memory kicking in, you pick the seat at the back corner, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible as you wish you can hide under a huge invisible cloak. After dumping your bag onto the floor next to the table, your body lazily sinks into the chair. Shuffling inside the pocket of your hoodie, you take out your phone and click it on, looking at the time.

7.50 A.M.

For once, you are early. Class starts at 8, so you have an extra 10 minutes to waste. As you begin to think about ways to kill the time, you hear two familiar voices growing louder as they enter the class.

You know those voices by heart. The voices that would always cheer you up when you were sad, the voices that continuously came up with jokes every day, but also the same voices that have shattered the only living soul you have left. How could one bring so much joy but also pain?

“Come on, Stiles. Star Wars? Again? Don’t you have any other movies to watch for our weekly movie nights?” you grumbled irritatedly.

“Last week, Scott picked some lame-ass rom-com and forced us to sit through it so this week it’s MY turn for revenge.” He emphasized the ‘my’ and crossed his arms across his chest, smirking at the thought of his genius evil plan.

“Fine, but next week I’m making you watch Spiderman.”

His curled lips dropped flat instantly. “Spiderman? Y/N, you know I am a DC man. Why would you do this to me?” he whined in disbelief which earned a maniacal laugh from you.

“Well, as you said before Stilinski, that is MY turn for revenge.”

Losing yourself in your thoughts, 10 minutes have long passed as the coach abruptly enters the classroom.

“This is the right class, right? Yeah, I think so.” He mumbles to himself as he places his stuff onto the teacher’s desk and clears his throat.

“Since I’m busy today, you will be doing a pair project.”

And the class goes wild.

“Hey, shut up. I’m not done yet.” Coach yells which gradually silences the class.

“Before all of you got too happy, I will be picking the pairs. Some of you depended on other students too much and that is not good.” He shakes his head, trailing off the subject.

“So, uhm, I’m just going to write the pairs on the board and the instructions. While I’m at it, please for the love of God shut your mouth.”

You are surprised. As a generally unlucky person, today doesn’t seem so bad. You won’t have to sit through coach’s lectures for 2 periods, which you consider as a total win.

However, your triumph does not last long as the words written messily on the board haunt you.

Pair 3: Y/F/N Y/L/N, Stiles Stilinski

Fuck-

“Okay, so all you have to do is collect some general information regarding the market structures and make a mind map. Simple. Now, huddle up with your buddies and get to work.”

Even after everyone starts grouping up with their partners, you are still slumped in the corner, not having any sort of will or energy left to interact with Stiles Stilinski.

Thankfully (or not), Stiles decides to make the first move, his silhouette towering your sitting figure. As you strictly look at your phone, a loud screech filled your ears, Stiles noisily dragging a vacant chair next to your table.

“Y/N,” he called in a tone you can’t quite comprehend.

God.

“Yeah,” you replied bluntly, glancing up.

“I- um, I wanted to say-“

“Sorry, what? I can’t hear you.”

In fact, you actually can. Hell, you even know what he’s about to say. But you do not brace yourself for this. You can barely look at him, let alone talk to him.

“Hey, movie night at 7?” You nudged on Stiles' arms, startling him, busy going through a bunch of papers on his desk.

“Uhh, no. I’m busy tonight.” He glanced to you for a second then proceeds to occupy himself.

“Okay, how about tomorrow?”

Missing your best friends, you were determined to get the band back together. Stiles and Scott had been exceptionally busy for the past few days and you were not quite sure why.

At first, you thought maybe it had something to do with the new girl, Allison. Scott seemed to be all over her. But then there was that creepy peculiar guy, Derek, who was borderline stalking them. They started to ditch you alone, running off to some secret mission, and you were tired of it. Why were they keeping it from you? Did they not trust you enough?

“Also busy,” he muttered, his focus still fully on the pile of paper. Your mouth gaped to come up with something that would get them to spend time with you but was interrupted by the ringing of the bell. In a flash, Stiles stood up, aimlessly gathering his papers, and zoomed out of the class, leaving your deadpanned state unattended.

From the widely-opened door, you could see Stiles rushing over to Scott. He told Scott something inaudible unless you got some sort of super-hearing, but from the look on Scott’s face, it must’ve been urgently distressing. Both of them bolted out of the school together without you, once again.

“I’ll do the monopoly and monopolistic competition and you do perfect competition and oligopoly. I’ll draw the mind map after school,” you state clearly and monotonously, wanting to quickly get this over with.

“Y/N, I-“

“Is it unclear?” you snap, rather cold.

“No, but-“

“Okay, then. You better start reading.” You heavily lift your book out of the bag and drop it on top of your table.

“What the hell just happened? Scott? Stiles?”

Your quizzical eyes darted waveringly between the two jittery boys, confused and infuriated.

Earlier, the boys had invited you, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson to come over and study. For a while there, you were hopeful. You thought that this small gathering could be a step closer to things going back to how it was, but displeasingly, you were absolutely mistaken.

“I don’t know, it’s-“

“What kind of lie are you coming up with now huh, Stiles? I know you know something!” you confronted.

“Y/N, we didn’t-“

“Oh, you think I didn’t notice? That guy Derek? Then both of you suddenly went M.I.A for days? And don’t get me started with the ‘Sorry, Deaton needs me at the clinic’ or ‘Sorry, my dad called me, gotta go’. We’ve been friends since we were 10 for fucks sake!”

Gladly the three of you were left alone because you were furiously shouting at this point. Allison offered to drive Lydia home the moment she sensed the unnerving tension between the three of you.

“And now, even after whatever that thing is just almost killed us, you still think I don’t deserve to know the truth?”

You shot the two boys death glares through your teary eyes which they actively try to avoid. They looked miserably guilty, something you currently want them to feel.

“You know what, I’m done. Don’t bother chasing after me to explain. I can just ask Allison.” And with that bitter statement, you left the two stunned boys standing frozen on the front porch.

Both of you are quietly reading through the materials and highlighting the key points. You silently thank Stiles for not trying to initiate another awkward conversation, which probably is caused by your previous intimidation.

Luckily, time seems to fly as the bell rings, indicating the end of the class. Not wanting to spend another second in this hellhole, you immediately left the class.

Following that incident, Stiles and Scott tried to reach you for days. Your phone would constantly light up once every few hours with either Scott’s or Stiles’ name lighting up the lockscreen.

After a week or so, the calls eventually came to a halt. You were relieved the ongoing calls that you have convinced yourself were bothering you stopped. But deep down all those denials, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that they gave up on you so effortlessly.

At the same time, you couldn’t blame them either. You were pretty ruthless.

Things never went back to normal. You avoided them at all cost, stop sitting at their table, vowing to never speak to them ever again.

You knew that keeping grudges would eventually hurt you more than it should but you were headstrong.

They did not trust you. They lied to you. They have made their bed and now you’re just simply letting them sleep on it.

However, this didn’t stop you from being attentive towards them. From time to time, you tried to keep tabs on them by checking in with Allison. But that was until she passed away.

The news left you completely devastated and heartbroken. Even though you were not on good terms with Scott and Stiles, you were still close with Allison.

She was your best friend. She patiently supported you through the heartache of losing your two best friends, she taught you how to stand strong independently, she gave you hope on the brighter days that had yet to come, but most importantly, she trusted you when Scott and Stiles didn’t.

You were also aware of the whole void situation, which pained you more than you thought it would. The thought of the vibrant, eccentric Stiles going through unspeakable agony and remorse wrecked you.

During Allison’s funeral, you decided that letting your distant facade down just for a day to console the pack won’t kill you.

Approaching them after the reception, a surprised look was painted on each of their faces, especially Scott and Stiles. You gave your condolences to everyone and hugged Stiles and Scott, something you haven’t done in ages. Their bodies stiffen from your unexpected action, but soon they melt into the hug and cling onto you tightly, finally accepting that you were really embracing them.

After pulling apart, you excused Scott to give you and Stiles a moment alone.

“Stiles, I know you’re thinking that this is your fault but listen to me, it is not. You were not in control. You were not you. You did not do this.”

Upon hearing comforting words from his long-lost friend, he let out an excruciating sob. Instinctively, you pulled him into your embrace once again as he squeezed you tighter.

You might not be able to forgive him yet but at least you could be there with him through this disastrous nightmare.

The whole day, you try to steer clear of Stiles or the pack. You know he’s trying to get a hold of you, probably wanting to discuss the unfinished project; but we don’t need to add more to the plate, don’t we?

Once school ended, you quickly rush home. From a distance, you can hear Stiles call out your name. But being the excellent evader you claim to be, you ignore them.

Just as you think the day can’t get any worse, the doorbell in your house chimes, indicating a guest present on your doorsteps. You sigh, knowing who is standing behind that door and this time you can’t dodge it.

So much for being an excellent evader.

“What?” you ask, getting straight to the point.

“We haven’t finished our project. I want to help you do the mind map.” He stares at you innocently, fumbling with his hands.

After all these years and he still got those puppy eyes.

“It’s fine, I can do it myself.” You try closing the door but he beats you to it.

“Come on, Y/N. I don’t want you ratting me out to Coach for forced labor, so please just let me in and we’ll work on it together,” he whines, hand still holding the door open.

Even after everything, you still can’t bring yourself to decline him. You have always had a soft spot for Stiles, which you are planning to terminate because it is starting to be troublesome.

“Fine,” you grunt in defeat.

A favorable grin is plastered on his face as he steps into your house.

Things seemed to change after Allison’s death. You noticed fresh faces joining the pack while familiar ones went away.

But out of the several new members, one had caught your eye the most. Her name’s Malia if you’re not mistaken; a snarky brunette, who’s built like a model too by the way.

From what you could tell from the persistent PDA, she was dating Stiles. Yeah, you weren’t exactly in a position to have a say on it, but you were getting real sketchy vibes from her, or so you thought.

“Stiles, you’re still coming over right?” you heard Malia speak to your ex-best friend as you opened your locker across from them.

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll teach you maths too since you’re so bad at it.” You tried not to overhear their conversation but you just couldn’t help it.

“Thanks. You’re the best!” she cried out as she treaded away from Stiles, a pang striking your chest.

Maybe, you’re just slightly jealous.

Okay, slightly was an understatement.

It seemed like you’re still unable to completely erase your suppressed attraction towards him, even when clearly he had.

To minimize any sort of unnecessary interaction, you try to fully put your focus on the project—which works. For the past 15 minutes, the two of you are settled in your living room in silence, minding your own business.

At least until Stiles decides to be clumsy and drop his plastic cup, water spilling all over the floor. You roll your eyes and grab a cloth from the kitchen to clean up the mess.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he curses under his breath as you are drying up the floor.

“It’s fine.”

No actually, it’s not. This situation right here is not fine. You’ve had the shittiest day at school and to make it even worse, Stiles decides to show up uninvitedly at your house which is supposedly your only stress-free zone.

“I’ll help you clean it up.” He squats down, trying to get the cloth from your grip.

“No, you don’t have to.” You don’t want him to cause any more inconvenience, even though you know very well he doesn’t mean it.

“I want to help Y/N, I-“

“What, Stiles? You want to help? Then please for the love of God, leave me alone!” You stand up and snap at him, a bit too loudly. You feel bad for being too hard on him when he’s only trying to help, but you’re unable to extinguish your growing anger.

He straightens up, his once warm face turn into an enraged frown.

“Is this still about what happened back then? Fuck, Y/N. I’ve said sorry, Scott has, thousands of times. But you still don’t want to forgive us. So tell me now Y/N, what should I do, huh?”

The sudden increase in his volume catch you by surprise. He has always been so radiant and carefree, you have never seen him this mad. But despite that, the rage inside of you still does not subdue.

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Stiles. You think that I get to choose not to forgive you, that I’m the evil one and maybe I am at some point. But don’t you dare pull the victim card here.”

Your sight becomes blurry as your eyes start to sting from all the overwhelming emotions but you can care less.

“You lied to me. You left me alone, confused, scared, even after knowing very well how my mom lied to me about my father abandoning me. You know how much I relied on you and Scott, but you still broke my trust. You hurt me. And you think a bunch of “sorry”s will immediately fix that? It’s not that simple, Stiles.”

You’re not screaming as loud as you did before. The tone of your voice softens as a new emotion takes control over your body—pain.

Frustrated, Stiles rummages through his hair while letting out a scoff.

“But it’s not just a bunch of “sorry”s isn’t it? We kept on calling you after that day. We tried approaching you at school. Fuck, I even tried to be nice to you earlier today. But guess what I got in return? Another silent treatment. Why can’t you just fucking move on already? You’re being too overdramatic. No wonder your mom lied to you.”

Bang. His words hit you like a bullet, piercing right through your heart.

Your once agape mouth closes shut, your furrowed eyebrows straighten. Stiles has crossed the line this time.

“Get out,” you spat, emotionless.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to-“

“I SAID GET OUT, STILES,” you yell at the top of your lungs, frightening him. With horror painted all over his face, he immediately picks up his bag and exits your house, too frightened to say anything else.

As the door shuts, more tears start to flow down your cheeks. You are exhausted. Today’s fiascos have drained every ounce of energy you have left, leaving you like a corpse.

After getting your lifeless, sickly self to shower, you directly plop into your bed, curling yourself in the soft quilt of your blanket. Needing an escape from this dreadful reality, you flutter your eyes shut, instantaneously falling asleep.

You wake up to your accustomed alarm, growling at the blaring sound you set. Finally having enough will to get out of bed, you head to your bathroom.

Turning on the lights, your reflection in the mirror stares back at you.

Gosh, you look dead.

Your skin is as pale as a sheet, your eyes are puffy with prominent dark circles forming under them, your hair is messy and icky. You feel disgustingly terrible.

Dabbing a whole lot of concealer on your skin, you get ready for school; deciding to put whatever catastrophe that had happened yesterday behind you.

Fortunately, you only have one class with Stiles for the day. The day goes by pretty fast and to your delight, pretty decent too, probably because you spend a few periods in the infirmary.

But again, the universe seems to find so much pleasure in inflicting pain on you.

Midway through the class, a sharp sting strikes your head. Interrupting Mr. Yukimura, you excuse yourself to leave the class.

As you reach the empty halls, you feel an eerie sensation creeping all over your body. Alarmed for some reason you don’t know, you scan the halls hastily. You can see nothing, but you do hear something. A bug-like, rattling noise gradually fills your ears, followed by a raspy, unearthly wheeze.

What the fuck is happening?

You’re shivering, cold sweats covering your body. Not being able to stand the unknown terrors, you abruptly sprint to the vacant locker room.

Bad idea. Should’ve picked a more crowded room.

Securing yourself in a room alone definitely does not make you feel any safer. The rattling has stopped but the ominous feeling only grew more prominent.

You are about to escape before sudden nausea hits you. Before you knew it, your knees drop to the floor, your throat retching, vomiting a slimy, ink-like substance.

Now you are horrified.

The door to the locker room flies open, showing two familiar figures. Their eyes find your unusually glowing whiskey-colored ones.

“Fuck, she’s one of them,” Stiles spoke, eyes fixated only on you.

Scott rushes over to you as Stiles stands still, trying to let the sight in front of him sink in. While bracing your fragile body to a steady sitting position, Scott checks in on you with a few “are you okay?”s to which you shake your head.

“What is happening to me, Scott?” you question, panic in your eyes.

After hearing a very complicated and detailed explanation about chimeras and the dread doctors, you are left speechless in front of all the members of the pack who came running right away at the bad news a while ago when you were still seated frozen in a shocked haze.

“Okay so, let me summarize everything,” you mutter so softly to the point it sounds like a whisper while standing up, Stiles hands instinctively finding your body to support you.

“I am a chimera, which is a scientifically-made supernatural creature. The dread doctors, the psychos who are behind this, are going to take me away,” you enunciate to the pack—more like to yourself—to prove your understanding of the matter in which Scott nods in return.

He then tries to come up with a plan to save you from being taken, but you’re not really listening.

Even though you look composed, you are actually on edge, occasionally convincing yourself that everything is under control.

From the very little you heard, basically, they plan on keeping you here in the locker room for the rest of the day—something to do with the telluric currents.

After the plan is finalized, everyone departs for their appointed roles, leaving only one person behind to watch over you.

Out of everyone in the pack, why him?

“I have a spare shirt in my locker, do you maybe want to change into them?” Stiles pointed to your now stained white T-shirt.

You are about to refuse the boy’s offer but looking at the matching black splatter on your shirt and the floor makes you feel queasy, so you comply.

“Okay, we’ll go to the boy’s locker room and leave this mess here.”

“We should clean it-“

“No, you’re not in the state to do any work. I’ll ask someone to clean it up later.” He grabs your arm and leads you out the door to the boy’s locker room, which is no different than the girl’s, pretty disappointing.

Stiles rummages his locker for a second before handing his grey shirt to you.

You stare at him, waiting for him to give you some privacy to change your clothes. But it seems like he isn’t getting the memo.

“What?” he blurts so blatantly as you sigh in return.

Oh God has he always been this slow?

“Are you planning on cheating on Malia? Because I’m about to change here and unless you’re blind, you’re going to have to see me pretty much naked.” His jaw drops at your snarky remark. His face growing warmer as it’s tinted with a crimson color.

“O-Oh yeah, of course. I’m no longer dating Malia though but uhh that’s not important. I’ll turn around- Or do you want me to leave the room? I can do that.” He fidgeted, totally taken aback and flustered.

“Don’t leave me alone, please. Just turn around.”

Both of you are astonished by your statement. But it’s the truth. Alone, you were petrified. At least being with Stiles makes you feel a little more secure.

Just a day ago you were shouting for him to leave, but now you practically begged him to stay. How ironic.

After you have changed into his cozy oversized shirt which for the record smells like his aftershave that you liked, you keep away your dirty shirt, sit on the bench beside him, and thank him.

Once again, silence befalls the both of you. The air between you two today has somehow shifted from yesterday. It’s still thick and tensed, but not full of rage and resentment.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he mutters after a while with his head low.

“Stiles-“

“No, I have to say it. You were right. I was so stupid. I should have never blamed you for not being able to trust me. I’ve hurt you, Y/N, and I deserve this.” His regretful honey eyes are fixed deeply into yours.

Despite the guilt building up inside your body, you do not reply to him straight away. You need time to process this.

Are you still mad at him? Yes. But do you feel bad for being mean towards him? Also yes.

As you are contemplating, the door to the locker room swings open, revealing Scott and the others.

Liam is clutching a large navy duffel bag in his hand, its contents still a mystery to you. Lydia and a man who you aren’t familiar with are carrying a bunch of radio transmitters. Malia is holding a steel bat, which later on is passed over to Stiles.

Once they are all inside, they start to get busy. Lydia, Stiles, and the guy—Parrish, according to what you heard the pack calls him—go around the room, placing the equipment all over it. Malia and Liam are near the door, pushing the shelves to cover all the exits except the main one. And Scott is hovering over the duffel bag which was placed earlier on the bench across you.

He slowly zips the bag open, inspecting it. Being your inquisitive self, you lift your head up to get a better view. But before you get a sight of anything, Scott zips it back close and takes it with him.

After everyone’s done with their designated tasks, they all gather to form a small circle, yourself included.

“Okay, Lydia and Parrish, you two stay in the car outside. Malia and Liam, stand by in the halls. Me, Stiles, and Y/N will stay here. Got it?” Scott instructs clearly to which everybody nods and proceed to their assigned areas.

All of them seem so prepared as if they are properly equipped for battle, except you.

Minutes have passed as there is no sign of the dread doctors. You are sitting quietly on the bench, fumbling with your fingers as Stiles and Scott pace around the room.

Your eyes darted from the two mobile boys to the duffel bag resting on the bench in front of you. Now, you’re curious.

When Scott isn’t looking, you swiftly slide to the opposite bench and zip the bag open, uncovering a bunch of weighty chains.

“What are these for?” Your voice echoes through the noiseless room, earning glances from them both.

“I brought them, just in case.” Scott moves closer to where you are.

“In case of what?” You don’t quite understand what he is implying.

“In case we have a chance to catch one of them,” Scott answered composedly.

“What?” Stiles snaps from behind Scott.

“If we can’t make the school a fortress, maybe we can make it a trap.” Scott’s attempt to explain to the two of you only receives a scoff of disbelief from Stiles.

“And you’re making her the bait?” he questions sharply.

“That’s not what I said-“

“Yeah, right.” Stiles rolls his eyes as Scott glances over to you, an apologetic look plastered on his face.

You don’t know what to feel about this situation. Yes, you are hurt that Scott possibly considered you as bait. But rationally, he does have a point. At the same time, you are also impressed at Stiles' initiative to immediately defend you.

“Wait a minute, I hear something. I’ll go out and check it. You two stay here.” Before any of you can protest, Scott fleets out of the room.

And then there’s two. Awkward silence once again engulfs the two of you. But this time, you’re the one who breaks it.

“Thank you, for defending me,” you utter gently as he sat beside you.

“Of course, Y/N. Always. I will always protect you.” He grasps your hands into his, giving you a reassuring smile, relieved that you finally drop your cold exterior.

The long-awaited moment of truce you two are sharing is sadly interrupted by the familiar rattling noise that unexpectedly appeared, causing you to stand up, followed by Stiles.

“Stiles, I hear them,” you quiver, fear rushing through your body.

“Me too. Hey, Scott?” He forms a half-circle using his palms, cupping them around this mouth. He continues to call out his best friend’s name a few more times before he retreats.

“Where the fuck is he?” Exasperated and worried, he restlessly gazes around the room.

“They’re coming, Stiles.” Feeling hopeless and discouraged, you put your hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his agitated body. You have accepted your fate. They’re taking you away.

“No, I’m not letting them take you.” His hands caress the sides of your arms, tears forming in his eyes.

“They will.” Your palms cup his face, thumb wiping away the warm teardrops streaming down his cheeks.

Mirroring your actions, he also cups your cheeks, staring at the little details of your face, memorizing them like it’s the last time he’ll get to be close to you.

Then he tilts his head and leans closer, shutting the distance between your lips. Fluttering your previously widened eyes shut, your lips passionately brushed along his plump ones as your hands fall from his cheeks to his chest, heart pounding loudly, warmth radiating throughout your body.

Just as he initiated it, he pulls away, honey eyes never leaving yours.

“I will find you, okay?” You nod as shadows appear behind Stiles’ figure.

The dread doctors.

He also sensed their presence as he immediately snatches his bat from the bench. He commands you to stay behind him which you obey.

Cowering behind Stiles’ figure, they have the two of you cornered and helpless. He tightens his grip and aggressively swings his bat at one of them but to no avail. Inching closer, they shove him away, grabbing a hold of both your arms.

You’re hysterically crying out for help, vigorously attempting to break free. Forcefully holding you still, they jab a sharp needle to the side of your neck as your limp body dropped to the ground. Your vision turns dark, the last thing you see is Stiles’ unconscious body lying in front of you.

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[thatgoblin]

Summary: You're at the end of your rope and things come to a head that end in near tragedy.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, near miscarriage, affairs, I will not apologize for putting Mike Baker from Rainbow 6 Siege into this. I do what I want.

~::~::~::~::~::~::~

“Mum, Dad, what are you doing here?” I asked, keeping my distance from the pair. Moira and Seán MacTavish were in their late 50s, but did their best not to look like it. Mum had her hair dyed a lighter blond as Dad had put black dye in his beard and hair. Johnny looked just like our dad too, dark hair, stormy blue/gray eyes, hell is Johnny had a full head of hair and a beard it would be hard to tell them apart. Mum looked just like Saorsie. Both had the same sandy blond that would glimmer like rays of sun on a warm day with hazel eyes that would swirl into more green some days.

I, however, looked very little like them. My hair didn’t shine like my Mum’s and sister’s or have the same depth of black that Johnny and my dad had and my eyes were dark, with no fleck of blue or green. I had some of my mom’s features, faintly the same nose, but very little in common with my Dad.

“Your brother let us know of your situation,” my Mum, said as she stepped forward to meet me and John with my Dad next to her. “We wanted to see if it was true and see if any help was needed.”

“You want to offer help?” I asked, scoffing at her. “After nearly a decade, after lying about me to the family and friends and anyone who would listen, after blaming me and making sure everyone knew you blamed me for Saorisie’s death, you want to offer help? Fuck off.”

“I knew she would be like this,” Dad said, shaking his head.

“You didn’t know shite,” I snapped. “You washed your hands of me years ago. You don’t get to come back into my life and act like you both are offering some saving grace as I flounder. I’ve been doing fine without you.”

“You got pregnant after getting drunk with a stranger,” Mum hissed. “You don’t have to like it, but we’re here to make sure you don’t ruin your life.”

“Well, I haven’t ruined my life. It’s honestly pretty good. I have friends and I have a partner and I’m having this baby without your help,” I said. “Now, you’ve done what you came here to do, so leave.”

“Do you really think you can raise a baby? That’s a commitment. You can’t go out and party when you want to or take the baby with you. What about when you go to work? Who’s going to watch the baby? Not the baby’s father,” she said.

“We’ll figure it out and it’s none of your business,” I snarled at her. She didn’t flinch though, keeping her stance. “I don’t like you, you don’t like me. Why are you here? What did Johnny say? That I’m drinking or doing drugs or trying to get money from John?”

“He didn’t exactly say that, but he did say that you were pregnant with his captain’s child,” Mum said with a small huff. “Don’t ruin this for him. He’s worked so hard to be where he is. Johnny doesn’t need you to come in and screw it up for him.”

“Oh fuck off,” I spat with a scowl.

“That’s what will happen because that’s what you always do. You ruin things.” I couldn’t answer, swallowing back any retort or else I’d burst into tears. Even after all these years, I was still crippled so easily by her words. “You know that I’m right.”

“Enough of this,” John growled. He had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time, but when he pulled me by the arm, I noticed my Dad was standing further off to the side. When had he stepped away? “Bugger off, both of you,” he snarled as he walked us inside. His grip was tight, painfully so. I didn’t have time to tell him no or to stop before we were in my place.

“Okay, ow,” I huffed, jerking my arm away. “What was that?” I asked, rubbing my arm where he’d gripped it.

“Sorry, Love,” he said with a soft sigh. “I didn’t think your parents were that bad, but I was quickly proven wrong.”

“You didn’t believe me?” I asked, stepping back. “Are you fucking kidding me? After sticking up for me with Johnny and everyone else, but you didn’t believe me this whole time about my parents?”

“I didn’t say that,” John said, facing me. “I didn’t say that you were lying or that I didn’t believe you.”

“But you did. Just now. You thought I was lying to make my parents sound like monsters!” I cried, shaking my head. “Why would I lie about that!?”

“I don’t know!” John yelled, throwing his hands into the air. “I didn’t think it was as horrible as you made it because sometimes we think the horrible things that happened to us growing up seem much worse than they really were. When you said your parents favored your sister and brother over you, I thought it was because you didn’t have as many activities as them to go to or maybe because you were the youngest, you thought it wasn’t fair that Johnny got to leave so soon after school or your sister got the car instead of you because Johnny wasn’t there.”

“Oh my god,” I said, moving further away from him. My head was feeling hot and fuzzy as my chest began to tighten up. “You were humoring me this whole time and-God! I’m so stupid!”

“No, Love, please-”

“Get out,” I snarled. “Get out of my house! Get out of my life! I’m done! I’m fucking done, John! I have gone above and beyond for you! Letting you into my life because you’re the father of this baby, but you've changed so much of my life and keep trying to change more when I tell you to stop it. I am done being bowled over by people in my life. I was better off alone and I’ll be better off alone. You just bully and push till I give you what you want, saying you care about me, but really it’s just control.”

“Please, let’s just take a moment to calm down-”

“No! I’m not listening to you anymore! You’re not going to bully me into giving you what you want,” I said, pointing at the door.

John stood there, mouth open like he was trying to make words come out, but nothing happened. I stood my ground, keeping my finger pointed at the door. He took a deep breath before nodding. His heavy footsteps followed him out the door, leaving me in silence.

Just when things were seemingly working out, of course it all went to garbage.

‘You ruin everything.’

~::~::~::~

Johnny had kept to himself mostly after the screaming meltdown he’d had with his sister. He had tried to reason away everything their parents did, that maybe they did it to keep them all safe or were just tired of this out of control child. With a busted ankle, he had nothing but time to mull everything over and really process it. When he first ran into his estranged sister and saw she was obviously pregnant, he wanted to turn around and run. The thought of getting caught up in that drama and getting guilted into helping this poor single mum did not sit well with him.

Then it turned out that she and his Captain had had a fling and it was his baby. After years of listening to what their parents went through while trying to help her only to get spat on, Johnny was not going to let his Captain fall victim to her. It probably wasn’t even his.

Price swore it was and that they hadn't slept with anyone else, but he still didn’t know. Even when they nearly came to blows at his place, it took Simon pointing out the flaws in the lies he’d been fed to get through that maybe his parents were showing favoritism and there was something much deeper going on. Usually he could sniff out a bad situation, but it was his family and he trusted them. Simon didn’t have that luxury growing up and knew that people could be cold and cruel, no matter the kind and caring face they put forward for the world to see. It helped him grasp the possibility that his sister was telling the truth.

Johnny wasn’t ready to believe her 100%, but he wanted to talk to their parents first. He called them up a few days after seeing her again and talking about what had happened. From seeing her pregnant in the grocery store to it being his Captain that was the father. They had some problems with that, automatically calling her several choice words and agreeing that it either wasn’t Price’s baby or she had done it on purpose to get money out of him. There was no mention of them coming to visit, though.

He didn’t speak to them again till after he was screamed at. It was the tipping point in him beginning to believe his sister. When he brought up everything, they always had something to explain why they did what they did, but the more he pushed, the more they began to turn on him. They’re choices sounded insane and the reasoning was flimsy and were done not to combat an unruly child, but punishing someone for the sake of punishing them.

A story from school came to mind as he stewed. The story of the Whipping Boy. The Prince wouldn’t be punished, no matter how awful he was, so The Whipping Boy would take the punishment. No matter how terrible or if the Prince misbehaved on purpose, the Whipping Boy was the one to take every whipping or beating. That was his sister, but worse. Their parents didn’t wait for Saoirse or Johnny to mess up to take out their anger and frustration on their youngest child.

It was too late, though. Johnny had driven the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.

He sat on his sofa, picking his phone up, wanting to call or text his sibling, but dropping the phone each time. Johnny felt the need to fix things between them. He didn’t have any other siblings and neither did she, and with how their parents went about things, the two would be the only family they had left.

Until John came through the front door.

The man looked exhausted, his shoulders limp and stance bowed. His eyes were red and wet while his nose was irritated as he kept sniffling. What had happened?

“Cap?” Johnny said, moving to stand and limp over to the older man.

“I’m going to put this as simply as possible,” John said, his face hardening into a pointed snarl as he faced Johnny. “Do not talk to me. Do not ask me anything. Until I can keep myself from trying to strangle you, fuck off.” His voice was terse, deeper and more gravelly than usually.

“What?” Johnny said, hurt and confused about what was being said. Had his sister told Price he did something wrong?

“Your bloody parents showed up is what,” Price snapped. “I was making things work. We were going to be okay, but then your parents showed up and made sure it was fuckin’ flushed down the drain. Your dad, yeah? Your dad offered me money to leave your sister and my daughter to make sure you weren’t affected by our relationship.”

“I didn’t know they were going to come here and see her or you!” Johnny cried. “They didn’t say anything about it and I certainly didn’t call them to complain or tell them to do that! It’s not my fault our parents did that!”

“It is!” Price snarled. “It is your fault! You were told by me and by her that your parents were fuckin’ abusive and horrible, but you ignored it and ran to them the moment you could!”

“I’m sorry, okay! I thought she were lying! I thought she was trying to get you locked into a relationship for money!” Johnny yelled back.

“You were told by multiple people that your parents were lying! You were told! There was no reason to involve them and now I have to go to a lawyer so I can have rights to see my daughter because her mother doesn’t want anything to do with me!” Price yelled.

“How is that my fault!? How is that my parents fault!? Did you take the money!?” Johnny bellowed, knowing full well he was digging himself a hole as he kept arguing with his superior.

“I didn’t take the money,” Price said, suddenly deflating. “I. . . Told her I didn’t realize they were that bad. She took it as that I didn’t believe her and now she’s kicked me out of her life and the baby’s.” The men were quiet as they stood there. Johnny had thought he’d lost his sister for just a bit, not permanently. With the new development, it looked like he may not have a chance to fix things.

“Oh,” Johnny said softly. He didn’t know what else to say. Johnny did feel bad for Price, but he didn’t have guilt. It needed to be there, but he just didn’t have it.

“Just give me some space, you muppet,” John said softly, inhaling sharply through his nose. “It may not be your fault completely, but you had a hand in it. We’ve got time before our next mission and I need to not go into it with a clouded head.” At the end of the day, no matter how much chaos was happening in his personal life, he needed to not let it into his job. If that meant avoiding Johnny for a few days, so be it.

Johnny wasn’t sure what to do to help anyone, but he knew someone who would. Making a quick call and finding they were in town, he was glad to catch them.

~::~::~::~

I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. All that I could do was sit on my couch and sob. I was overwhelmed with so much anger and fear and sadness. Jesse would have been there in a heartbeat, but I needed to do this alone. This new direction meant I would be on my own with a baby and as much as I was used to doing things myself, I had to accept that not even Jesse could be around when I needed someone. He had his own life and his own problems and joys and events that I couldn’t bear to take from him.

Stress pains began to make me nauseous as I rubbed my belly. It was becoming too much and I couldn’t stop crying. John had left an hour ago already, but it was more like he’d died with how I was reacting. Was I grieving? Maybe. My whole life felt like it was spent grieving for something. My acceptance of my parents not loving me, my brother leaving me, my sister dying, the loss of who I could be if my family wasn’t shite. . . I was cursed. It had to be that. That was the only way that these things could be happening.

By the time night fell, I was able to gather myself enough to practice deep breathing as I kept rubbing over my belly while I laid on my couch. There was still pain, not as bad, but it wasn’t coming and going, just staying. It was starting to get concerning, to the point I was about to call for an ambulance as there was a knock on the door. Continuing to focus on my breathing as I worked to stand up, I was overcome with a sharp pain in my stomach that brought me to my knees with a wail.

“No, no, no, no,” I muttered as I held my belly with one hand and the other held me up as best I could.

“Ducky!” A familiar gruff voice called from the front.

“Mike!” I cried. “Mike, I need you!”

The one who had come through when I was alone and in need, it was always Mike to shuffle along and find me. He was my cousin on my Dad’s side and always kept his distance till he was truly needed.

The front door nearly came off its hinges when he came in, ready to fight anyone and anything he had to to get to me. He barrelled into the living room to kneel next to me.

“I’m here. I’ve got you, Ducks,” he said, helping me stand to pick me up. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“My wallet is by the front door,” I said before a sharp pain came over me again. “Shite!” Mike got me into his truck before running back in. He took a minute to come back, but he had grabbed my pack and was coming back out while stuffing it with my purse while holding a pair of shoes for me to slip on. He handed me my things before rushing around to his side. Once he was in the truck, he took off.

“Keep breathing, Ducks. I know it hurts, but keep breathing,” he said. The man had been a part of SAS for as long as I had been alive, to see him flustered even the slightest was unsettling. He was gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he sped to the hospital. I could only nod and continue to breathe.

Screeching to a halt in front of the emergency entrance, Mike was out and yelling for help as he ran around to my side to pick me up from the truck. He blew past the nurses that were rushing out to meet us with a wheelchair and straight into the emergency center. It took two words of ‘pregnancy’ and ‘pain’ to be taken back to a room. I was put into a gown and had an ultrasound pushed into the room so fast I swore that I saw a dust trail behind it. Through the exams and monitoring, Mike held my hand as I was terrified I had lost the baby. If I had, I knew. . . I just knew I would not survive it.

“Want me to call anyone?” Mike asked softly as the nurse reported to the doctor.

“I don’t know. I’m not-” I choked on the words, trying to calm down, but it was feeling impossible. “I’m not talking to anyone right now.”

“No one?” Miked asked, receiving a nod.

“Mum and Dad came by and as usual, I was treated like shit and the baby’s father was with me. So of course he gets caught up in it and suddenly we’re fighting because he never did believe me about how shite my parents are,” I said, rubbing my belly with my free hand.

“Your Mum and Dad are here? They came all the way here to just give you shit?” He asked, sighing heavily.

“Mostly to reprimand me for possibly fucking up Johnny’s military career. His captain is the father,” I said. “It was a drunk one time thing, we’ve been trying to work it out, but Johnny decided he needed to meddle and now Mum and Dad showed up to make sure I hadn’t ruined something else.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Mike groaned. “This is bullshit. Even after all these years, they still find a way to be fuckin’ knobs. I’m so sorry this happened, Ducky.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “It’s no one’s fault, it just happened.”

“I know, but I’m still sorry. I should have come sooner,” he said. “Maybe you wouldn’t feel so awful now.”

“How did you know to come by?” I asked, but the doctor came in before he could answer.

He was quick and to the point, I needed to go on bedrest for the next few weeks. My blood pressure had been so low before and now it was sky high, giving me braxton hicks contractions. The baby was fine and would be okay, but it all boiled down to me needing to get as much water as possible (something they always told me) as well as keeping my stress levels as low as possible.

Well, I would have to figure out work again and I am pretty sure they’ll just let me go or put me on maternity leave early. As for needing to lower my stress level, I had been forced to take on so much so quickly that I wasn't sure if I could do anything about it.

I would be kept overnight at least, meaning I would be given some time to get things arranged. At least Mike was there.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?” Mike asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my face. “I basically broke up with John and kicked him out, so I don’t think he’d even want to be here.”

“John? And he’s a captain? You shacked up with John Price?” Mike asked, chuckling.

“Not helping, Mike,” I sighed. “How do you know John?”

“Ducky, I was his CO for his first year in SAS,” Mike said. “I know him. I’m surprised he’s not here trying to sneak in.”

“That’s a big part of our problems, actually. We were going to talk about him bullying me into what he thinks is best for me rather than asking what I want,” I said. “He just came back from a mission and we found out the gender of the baby when my parents were waiting for us at my place. Which, I don’t know how they found it. I haven’t seen or spoken to them in almost a decade. Johnny probably said something,” I said. “That’s the only explanation.”

“Well, despite him having a bit of a runner for a mouth, he did give me a call to come by and see you,” Mike said. “He told me a bit about the row you two had and how you put him in his place, as well as that you and the father were on the outs. Not too much detail, but enough that I came by as soon as I could. I’m on leave for a bit and, if you need me to, I can make it longer.”

“You don’t have to-”

“My Duck,” he said, gently stopping him. “You have no one, according to you, so please let me help you. It’s the least I could do to help make up for not being here sooner.” I was quiet, nodding as I squeezed his bear claw of a hand.

“Why can’t my parents be like you?” I asked softly, looking up at him with watery eyes.

“I wish I had the answers for you, I truly do,” he said. We fell into a comfortable quiet, letting me drift off to sleep for a bit.

What woke me up was the sound of arguing outside my room. I couldn’t see anyone, but I was able to pick out a few voices. Mike was there with Johnny as John’s voice piped in to cut off a very angry Scottish man’s voice. Oh.

“Enough of this shite,” Mike snarled, coming back into the room. “I’m telling her. I’m done letting you control this narrative. I couldn’t be there when she needed me the most when she was younger, but I’m here now and she needs to know the truth.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” My mum shrieked as she followed Mike closely with my dad, Johnny, John, and a few nurses trying to break the whole group up.

“Ducky,” Mike said, his voice quieting down as he turned to me. “I am so sorry and I want you to understand that I couldn’t be what you needed me to be when you were younger. That was probably when you needed me the most.”

“Mike Baker, shut your fuckin’ mouth!” My dad bellowed.

“Out!” A nurse yelled, while security filed into the room. “Everyone out!”

“Please, let me explain,” Mike said.

“Mike can stay,” I said as the others were forced out. “He can stay.” Johnny helped drag our dad out as well as our mum. Once everyone was gone and the yelling had stopped, Mike let out a tired groan as he took a seat next to my hospital bed. “So, why are you sorry?” I asked, groggy and confused by the sudden appearance of everyone.

“That I wasn’t a better father,” Mike said, going right to the issue. He never was one to dance around the subject. “Specifically to you.” It took a few moments for me to understand as I was still groggy, but when it did this sense of understanding and acceptance washed over me. It made everything click into place, giving me proper balance for the first time.

“You’re my father?” I said slowly. “So, who’s my mum?”

“Moira. She’s your mum,” Mike said with a sigh as he sat down. “Seán and her were having a rough patch after Saoirse was born. It lasted a few years and got to the point that she left everyone for me for a while. She didn’t know she was pregnant till after a few weeks of deciding she didn’t want me after all.”

“That was the same time that you and your ex-wife, Laurie, split up,” I said, putting the puzzle pieces together. He nodded and sighed. “So Mum and. . . Seán, they knew the whole time?”

“Yeah. From the moment she found out she was pregnant, she knew you were mine,” he said.

“And you weren’t around because of your job?”

“Mostly, but also because I didn’t want to make things rough for you. Neither of your parents were happy that I was your father and made sure that I knew they would never let me forget it. It wasn’t until your sister’s death that I was able to see what was going on. I was always away or busy with my own life, add in your parents threatening me if I told you. . .”

“So, it’s all my parents fault,” I said with a nod. “Not this thing, but in general. I’m gonna blame my parents for it. It always goes back to them. Even if I wasn’t an affair babe, they would have treated me differently still.”

“I still take part of the blame for you having the life you did,” Mike said.

“Don’t. You did what you could and they could have chosen any route to take and they took one of the worst ones,” I said. “Thank you for telling me now though. I’m really tired of people hiding things.”

“You’re welcome, Ducky,” Mike said, giving my hand a squeeze. “Your Jo is outside whenever you’re ready to talk to him.”

“I’m assuming you called him and Johnny and Johnny called our parents,” I said, slowly blinking as I looked at him. Despite the commotion and the news, I was still so tired from being given a small dose of melatonin to calm down and relax. It was one of the few things I could have that would help with my stress other than people leaving me alone.

“I called Johnny, but he told John. The boy called your parents to yell at them and everyone showed up at once,” he said, shaking his head.

“That sounds about right,” I said. “I don’t have the energy to deal with them, but tomorrow I’ll pick one to talk to. Right now it’s resting time.” Mike snickered, nodding. Going back to sleep, I didn’t think about what I was going to say or do till the next morning came with John sitting outside with my favorite breakfast food and flowers and, the thing that told me he was really thinking of me, a set of bracelets made of rose quartz.

Mike looked to me for approval before letting him in.

John looked like a kicked and drowned puppy with how he stood there in the doorway, holding out the food.

“Actions are louder than words and. . . This is very much shouting how sorry you are,” I said. “You can come in and we can talk.”

I could feel the relief as he let out a huge sigh before coming over to hand me the food. After sleeping and having some breakfast, my head was much clearer and not as frazzled or full of rage. “I’m sorry that I screamed at you last night and said we were done,” I said, reaching out for his hand. “I was really hurt by what you had said, but I should not have reacted that way. At most I should have asked for a night off.”

“No, you were in the right,” John said, taking my hand with both of his. “You were stressed and we hadn’t had a chance to talk about us before getting jumped by your parents. I should have kept my mouth shut and let you decompress.”

“Both of us were in a spot and needed to talk about us. It can’t be just one side who’s wrong,” I said. “I think we should go to counseling so we can make this work. The baby needs us to be better than this.”

“Absolutely,” John said, nodding. “Whatever it takes to get us to the good, I’ll do it.”

“Same here,” I said, smiling. Pulling him over to me, I gave him a kiss and a tight hug, before putting his hand to my belly as the baby began to move around. She had started to do that after I ate more and more, which helped with timing as he stared wide eyed in wonder.

“She’s really in there,” he said with a soft chuckle, getting teary eyed. “I know you’re pregnant and never doubted it, but it’s just so different feeling her kick around. It makes it so much more real.”

“I know. I thought it was indigestion at first,” I said, smiling as I stared at his hand on my belly. His calloused and work worn hands were such a stark contrast with my baby blue hospital gown, but it was good. We were two different people coming together when this mish mash of us was created. “Now she’s doing happy dances whenever I eat. She’s a lot like her mummy, happy for food.”

“Well you’re not the only one who likes a good meal,” John chuckled, leaning in to kiss my head. We chit chatted a bit more, getting settled back into our usual rhythm that helped solidify our relationship.

A knock at the door made us go silent. The door opened to show Johnny hanging his head very much in the same way John had. So many mixed feelings shot through me and I wasn’t ready to talk to him.

“I just wanted to stop by and. . .” He trailed off as he looked up at us. “Um, can we talk?”

“Johnny. . . I can’t. Not now,” I said, actively working to keep myself from letting my anger shoot up with my blood pressure. “I don’t know what you want to say, but I can’t. There is too much stress and with you calling our parents? Please just go. If I want to talk in the future, I will come to you.”

It was easy to see his heart break, but he stayed quiet. Johnny nodded, taking a deep breath before leaving.

“You want me to talk to him, don’t you?” I said, looking over at John.

“I don’t want you to do anything unless you want to. This is between you and him,” he said. “If you want to talk to him, I’ll support you. If you never want to see him again, I can do my best as I work with him.”

Shit, that’s right.

“I think some counseling first would be good before I attempt anything,” I said. “You working with him changes things and with what you do, I don’t want our issues spilling over into your work. I need you and the baby needs you. There’s no way that I can risk losing you.”

“I need you, too,” he said, kissing my cheek. “So, I can let him know that things between the two of you will be paused and if anything, encourage him to go to counseling as well. God knows our entire group needs it.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I said with a nod. “In the mean time, we need to pick your place or mine to live in so we can have a nursery to get ready.”

“Didn’t think that you liked my place,” he said with a snort.

“Eh, it’s not a matter of not liking your place, it’s a matter of comfort. Not having a backup plan makes me nervous,” I said.

“Understood. Let’s get you home first then spin a wheel to decide, hmm?”

“I will spin your wheel, ye daft ninny,” I groaned, rolling my eyes while John snickered. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Love.”

Next>>>

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One Night Stand Masterlist

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Taglist: @birdstoprey @sebbytheraccoon @pricescigar @alwaysshallow @sae1kie @sleepydang @lexi-zsy09 @ghostlywhiskey @ghosts-cyphera @poohkie90 @neothewitch @shadofireshinobi @sadslasher13 @0alk0msan @xaestheticalien

#captain price #captain john price #cod mwii #cod mw2 #captain price/reader #john soap mactavish #mactavish!reader #john price/MacTavish!reader #john price #john price/reader #captain john price/reader #mike baker #r6 #rainbow six #mike thatcher baker #thatcher r6

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA BUT MAKE IT SAD

part 1 part 2

lets talk about relationships, shall we. i'm gonna focus on Athena & Telemachus this time, but Hermes will have his turn later

let's be real, Athena is a hardass. sure, she cares, but she's so emotionally constipated that it really doesn't show that much. especially before she goes through that character development arc after her break with Odysseus in My Goodbye

(and what a crisis that is)

(because her masterpiece??? failed her??? but she trusted him??? she made him as in her image as possible??? he was supposed to be perfect???)

(and if he's not perfect, then she failed,,, and she can't fail, she doesn't fail,,, she's a goddess,,, war strategy is her domain, surely there is no way her plan could be flawed,,,)

(what even is the point of her if she's not perfect)

so yeah, she's a hardass. even on baby Telemachus who'd never held a sword before - especially on baby Telemachus, because he's the son of her favored Champion. he may be waaay younger than any of her previous pupils, but she's expecting him to shine just as bright.

Athena, on the first day: let's get down to business! make your father proud! you won't have a weakness! by the time we're done! you're the saddest pupil that I've had! and you haven't got a clue! but I will make a man outta you! Telemachus, a literal toddler, holding a wooden sword as big as himself: ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

and for years to come she trains him relentlessly. she's honestly trying to be nice about it, too. it's just that Athena doesn't do soft or gentle, her default is a neutral face of displeasure, and her idea of encouragement is saying you're not as bad as you used to be, or something along these lines.

Telemachus: *succeeds at something* Athena: *raises an eyebrow in a slightly different manner than usually* Telemachus: *le gasp* could it b-be? am I doing a good job??? Athena: it's… acceptable for your age.

she never once tells him she is proud of him. because surely he already knows. he doesn't need to hear it. his father didn't, after all (odysseus so fucking did)

and this goes on until Telemachus reaches double digits. then My Goodbye happens, and Athena has Feelings™. she's having an existential crisis, and has to confront the fact that she had done something wrong while training Odysseus, and she can't understand what. which is terrifying, because what if she makes a mistake like that with Telemachus. will he fail her too?

will she have to leave him too, so she doesn't watch him die horribly in a tragedy that could've been prevented if only she had made him see-

so Athena doubles down and starts demanding more and more from Telemachus. the praise goes from sparse to non-existent, and nothing he does seems to be enough anymore. she goes from tough love to borderline verbal abuse, thinking that it's the only way to keep him safe and prepare him for the future.

and Telemachus endures. he has to, because he doesn't want his mother to worry. doesn't want to appear weak. Odysseus had done it, so it's only fair his son should too. and when his dad comes home, he'll be sooo impressed. he can do it!

except…. not really. it's been a losing battle since the beginning, and deep down he knows it. he cant win with Athena, not on his own.

???: if you want to impress her, you'll need the blessing of a certain god! divine intervention! someone who's not afraid to- telemachus: aeolus, what are doing in my closet?!

so anyway, Aeolus and winions start helping him via winds and stuff, and Telemachus actually starts exceeding everyone's expectations. it's not that he'd been bad before, but he's soft, and not quite strong enough physically to make up for his gentle constitution

everyone is cheering him on. he's the talk of the palace! his mom is so proud! the suitors start sizing him up with consideration instead of dismissing him outright! (and tele, baby, that's not a good thing! ಠ_ಠ). Athena seems pleased for the first time in ages!! but he knows that it's all a lie, and it's killing him.

cause he's a good, honest boye, and he wants to succeed on his own merit, not because of cheating and lying to everyone he loves. that's vile and dishonorable.

que some very important island-wide competition that everyone is expecting him to join and win. maybe it's even his duty as a prince. like, a right of passage from complete boyhood to adolescence.

and there's,,, a lot of pressure on Telemachus to suceed. everyone and their mother are telling him that of course he's got this, he's a prodigy! def his father's son! nobody doubts his incoming victory! he's got this! he definitely won't disappoint them!

random noble: we'll be cheering you on, young prince! truly, we are blessed by the gods to have such a talented successor to the throne! we'll watch with keen eyes as you triumph over your foes and bring even more honor to your family! b(￣▽￣*) telemachus, eye twitching: y-yeah… thank you… (ㆆ _ ㆆ)

so, the night before the competition Telemachus can barely sleep, he's so wrecked by guilt and nerves. he keeps thinking - what would his father do in this situation? all the stories he'd ever heard of Odysseus always painted him as some kind of invincible, righteous, all-capable genius. so the idea of his dad ever grappling with guilt and feelings of inadequacy is just laughable. (oh, if only he knew)

so, he goes to his mom for advice. because Penelope is awesome. but he can't bring himself to admit that's he's cheating - what if she's ashamed of him? he brought dishonor to his father's name, and if anyone knows - will he get exiled?

so yeah, he basically has a panic attack and cries for like, half an hour straight.

telemachus, bawling: if I lose tomorrow, will you hate me? will dad hate me? I can't do anything right and I'm a failure and a horrible person and- just- what do I do, mother? penelope, holding him: oh, love. sometimes you're so similar to your father I wonder if the gods haven't returned him to me in spirit through you.

because no matter what everyone else says, Penelope knows the truth - Odysseus always followed his heart. oh, how he may have tried to forget he had one, to only ever use his head. but a heart he did have - does have, they have to believe that - and it's a bright and a gentle one. he may have been hardened by years of pain and struggle in a way that Telemachus hadn't yet (and Penelope's heart breaks from knowledge that her son will be, one day). but deep down, at ther cores, Odysseus and Telemachus are strikingly similar. and she loves them all the more for it.

and so, with his mother's blessing, the young prince does just as she told him to: follows his heart. he thanks Aeolus for their help, and asks them to stop giving it from now on. either he'll suceed on his own merit, or he'll wear his failure as a badge of honor and an incentive to do better.

and he loses. badly.

and the world,,, doesn't end? sure, the suitors sneer and jeer, but there's a surprising lack of disowning and exile going around. and the nobles tone it down significantly with undeserved adoration, which is definitely a plus, as far as he's concerned.

the only thing is. Athena.

oh boy.

because she's not stupid. Telemachus may have gotten away with cheating so far, but now he'll have to answer to her why he had flunked so badly, and she won't buy his go-to excuse of 'I got nervous!'

athena, expression unreadable: so. care to explain yourself, my stupid pupil? telemachus: w-well, you see… ha-ha… it's, uh… a funny story… athena: you threw away your best advantage! you've had a god perfectly willing to assist you and yet you still somehow managed to lose! telemachus: wait, what-

so yeah, Athena knew all along.

athena, mildly insulted: how stupid do you think I am, boy? telemachus: but! but! but!.. you never said anything! didn't even scold me for cheating! athena, even more insulted: child, I am the goddess of war strategy, where did you get the idea that I ever play fair abd straightforward? leave that to ares, the simple-minded fool!

to clarify, she's not upset at him for cheating. she's upset that he stopped doing so. so she throws some choice words at him, implying he lacks both talent and intelligence

and Telemachus defends himself by saying that he'd rather fail on his own merit, than abandon his principles and win by lying and dishonoring his family. in response, she calls him naive.

he tries to implore to her connection to his father by saying that he was just trying to do what's right. he was following his heart, just as Odysseus had always strived to. and he's training to fight for his loved ones, not for glory of being known.

it's a one hit K.O., because it reminds Athena of her recent break-up with Odysseus. of everything they spat at each other during My Goodbye. of anger, if hurt, of disappointment, of betrayal, of I loved you and you failed me, of I loved you and I failed you, of good riddance! and y̶͈̔o̴̘̖͆u̶̻̱͆͒'̸̫̩̌̉r̷̼͝e̴̩̒ ̴͎̻̈́̎ȧ̸̦l̵̗͙͌̐o̸͚͕̚n̷̟̯͠e̵̳̩͠

and is their whole line just cursed? is it their way of punishing her for something? why do they both hurt her so? is it her fault?

telemachus: athena? are… are you okay? (‘-’*) athena, coming off MG flashbacks: well, obviously, boy, why would you even ask that (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Telemachus just hugs her, because she obviously needs it. and she melts into it like never before.

because she wasn't made for empathy or kindness. she's born to be ruthless and cold. she's not supposed to love and be loved care about anything but winning. it doesn't come natural to Athena, until recently she had truly thought herself unable to, and yet-

yet here, right in front of her, is a boy who loves for the both of them. loves the whole world - sincerely, selflessly. a truly kind and caring soul (the noble even joke that is true father is Polites).

she can't love.

but maybe… maybe he will teach her.

maybe he already did.

or maybe she always could.

she forgets sometimes, that her fingers know not only the roughness of swords and spears, but also the gentle softness of weaved silk. creation goes hand in hand with destruction, and she can bind countless threads together without breaking them.

and what are humans, if not strings, waiting to be cut by the fates?

also, if Telemachus can teach the goddess of cold cynicism and detached cruelty kindness of all things, then she can teach him swordplay.

yes, it's a threat.

#wow #thats... a long one #i got carried away lmao #the knitting saga au #hurt/comfort #epic #epic the musical #athena #telemachus #aeolus #penelope #penelope is the best mom #poor baby telemachus #look at him #he's got anxiety #I wonder who may be at fault for his lack of self-worth... #*cough* antinous *cough* #(but that's a discussion for later) #athena is the goddess of strategy - not emotional intelligence #if she was the latter #it would've been a whole different musical #*puts athena and telemachus together* #hug it out you two #telemachus is growing up to be mycenaean greece equivalent to steven universe #but it's also a discussion for later #none of y'all are ready for my truth

[nejibaby]

between animosity and blurred lines

Pairing: Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Description: enemies with benefits ft. sanzu

mentions of jealousy and sex (but nothing too explicit)

this is somewhat related to friends although you don’t really have to read it in order to understand this 😉

minors dni!

Your best friend fell for Sanzu Haruchiyo first, but he fell harder.

And it was a great trope, really. It’s one that you would have loved to witness as an onlooker. Except that Haruchiyo fell too late and when he did, your best friend had moved on and he watched as she found somebody else.

That, and the fact that you too had fallen for Haruchiyo.

If everything was up to you, you wouldn’t have wanted any of this to happen. But you’re no god, and you have no power over love or fate or tragedy, or whatever this was called.

It was a funny little thing in the beginning, meeting your best friend, that is.

What brought you two together was the fact that you looked so identical, people would mistake you as siblings. Sometimes you’d prank people telling them you’re twins and nobody would even question it. And because of these lighthearted jokes, eventually you got used to being addressed with her surname.

Becoming her best friend, you came to learn that she had been in love with her childhood friend, Haruchiyo, when you met her. You’ve heard tales over tales about the man, and thought “Ah, he seems to be a nice man.”

However, in hindsight you realize that to a person in love, their love interest would always, always seem to be a good person. So when you finally do meet the Sanzu Haruchiyo your best friend had always been gushing about, you’re flabbergasted.

Your initial impression of him is that he’s the embodiment of trouble. And for that, you came to dislike him.

He returns the sentiments of course. Although to be fair, it does seem like he detests almost everyone.

In due time, however, you noticed he grew more and more irritated with you. It probably had something to do with being — in his words — such a know-it-all.

“You’re such a fucking loser,” you mumble as you pass a shot to his lonesome.

“What’s your problem with me now?”

“Just confess to her and get it over with.”

He chokes on nothing once he hears your response. He slams his hands on the table saying, “Are you drunk? What are you fucking talking about?!”

You roll your eyes at him and motion for him to settle down. “You like her, just admit it.”

“I do not—”

“Friends don’t look at friends that way,” you cut him off.

Instead of coming up to refute you, he glares at you and walks away.

Or perhaps his annoyance with you is caused by his disgust with your hypocrisy and nosiness.

You’re just about to light your third cigarette when it’s suddenly being plucked from your hand and into Haruchiyo’s mouth. Frankly, you’re mildly surprised as you have never seen him smoke before. “That’s going to kill you, dumbass.”

He raises his brow. “You’re one to talk.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Well, I do too,” he says quickly.

And even if he didn’t admit just that, it’s quite obvious from the fire in his eyes.

“And what would that be?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Yeah, but that’s my cigarette you stole, so you owe me.”

“Why do you care?” He snaps.

“I don’t,” you say without missing a beat. “But she does, so you better get your act together.”

He falters when you mention her but that doesn’t stop him from smoking your damn cigarette.

There’s probably a hundred other reasons he could have hated you for — for calling him stupid for using soap on his hair, for not sanitizing your hands enough, for not using the coaster he’s laid out despite him reminding you every damn time — some are intentional, and some are honest mistakes.

The bottomline is he hates your guts just as much as you hate his.

But you’re not blind, so despite the bad blood with him, you have to acknowledge that he’s good looking. Extremely so. He’s got a charm and he knows it.

And perhaps it had been because of this charm that you somehow found a way into his bed, screaming his name at the top of your lungs as he shaped your body to his.

It’s supposed to be a one time thing, but like bad habits, messing around with him becomes hard to break. It’s nearly impossible to resist the way he kisses your neck, the way he gropes your ass, the way he kneads your tits. the way he eats you out, and most especially the way he fucks you until all you could think of is him and him alone.

He becomes a bit nicer to you too, but not because of this arrangement you have going on nor because he’s starting to like you. Rather, it’s because you’ve snitched on him once about his gang activities and he’s gotten into a big fight with your best friend over it.

Sure, because of that stunt, you had seen him in his angriest form, but due to that, he realized he shouldn’t mess with you, all in favor of saving their friendship.

So instead of directing his anger on you, (1) he becomes consciously nicer to you, (2) he uses his pent up anger to fuck you until you’re an overstimulated, sobbing mess, and (3) he tries hunts down your link to the delinquent world. Keyword: tries, because his efforts are in vain. You’re just simply too good at keeping your connections private, which is probably why you’ve been able to keep this physical arrangement with Haruchiyo last so long without getting caught.

However now, the morning after yet another escapade with him, it was quite obvious he wants to kick you out.

He isn’t subtle with the way he keeps checking his watch and glancing at the door. His fingers are constantly tapping against the countertop where you’re seated, eating the sandwich he made for you. It’s to appease you really. You get grumpy leaving with an empty stomach in the morning. And if he wants to evict you now, he has to get into your good graces first. But if you’re being quite honest, it doesn’t really do shit when he’s being so restless.

“Sanzu, I swear to all the gods out there, I’ll break your bones if you don’t stop drumming your fingers,” you threaten.

But he pays no heed to your words.

You sigh. “Fine, I’ll be out of your hair once I’m finished with this sandwich.”

This snaps his attention back to you. And you swear you can see the words “Thank you, Kami-sama” from his eyes.

“Would you mind if I borrowed this shirt in the meantime though? I really don’t want to change back into my dress. That’d take too much time.”

A white lie.

You’re not sure why these words slipped out of your mouth, let alone came into your mind. This was out of character and out of routine. And even though you’ve both crossed a lot of lines, this —borrowing shirts, or anything for that matter— wasn’t one of them.

Even Haruchiyo knows this, which is why he raises a brow in curiosity. He’s just about to ask you why when his phone alerts him of a new message.

Perhaps it had been the way he immediately snapped his attention to it that had you peeking at his phone. And then you see it. Her name. And of fucking course, the message had to come from her in order for him to react that way.

And now you feel your throat constricting and your nails digging into your palm. You’re upset. And you know you shouldn’t be, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are.

“You know what? I changed my mind. I’ll take the back door and leave now.”

But he isn’t paying attention anymore. Apparently he has better things to do, like respond to her message.

When you’ve closed the door to his apartment, you let yourself frown. You drag your feet away from him and let your shoulders sag.

Somehow between the animosity and blurred lines, you have fallen for Sanzu Haruchiyo.

And you hate yourself for it.

For misunderstanding his touches.

For being hungry for his heartache.

For not stopping the rhythm of wanting.

For letting him pull you in, over and over.

But some days, it’s just hard to resist when he does things that make you question his feelings for you. Like taking you away from Haitani Ran’s arms when you’ve gotten too close. Like making you coffee in the mornings after. Like letting you sleep on his side of the bed.

But then again, it’s your fault for ignoring the days when he moans her name instead of yours while he fucks you, and when he mumbles her name in his sleep as his arms wrap around you.

You know you shouldn’t settle for this. But what’s another name added to the list of people who call you by your best friend’s name anyway?

song reference/inspiration: blackberries by emily blue

Ran’s POV

a/n: hello my dear friend, angst 😙 i miss writing so bad skskksdj

#sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x reader #haruchiyo x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers #sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #haruchiyo sanzu #tokyo revengers angst #tokrev angst #sanzu haruchiyo angst #tr angst #sanzu angst #tokyo revengers smut #haruchiyo angst #sanzu x you #sanzu haruchiyo x you

[alstroemeriadissonance]

Compartmentalize (NSFW)

A/N: Aaaa I've been gone for some time (was busy with doing my urban fantasy AU found here), and I haven't been active in my socials including Twitter...I hope I can muster the will to do housekeeping and updating links. RL stuff is just getting a bit too much these days...

NSFW. Dr. Vyn Richter navigates his emotions with the help of his trusty dictaphone. Or, Vyn gets his own bad end. Crossposted from AO3 here

[0:00 - 0:37]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Patient is neatly groomed. Mood and affect is moderately dysthymic. Speech is normal in rate, rhythm, and volume as sampled in this recording. He is moderately distracted, with thoughts that are slightly tangential. Insight and judgment is impaired, with a tendency for emotionally-driven decisions. He has persistent, intrusive thoughts of his limerent object for the past fourteen hours and twenty five minutes since waking up at nine this morning.

[0:37 - 0:50]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Thoughts of jealousy, stemming from mild obsessive behavior towards limerent object have been observed, leading to difficulty with focus and concentration causing two instances of critical lapse in decision making.

“You’re doing it again.” Marius snapped his fingers in front of Vyn’s face, only to have his hand slapped away.

“Stop that,” Vyn muttered, reaching for his cup of tea. “What was I doing again, pray tell?” He took a sip, then made a face once he found out it had long gone cold. Irritated, he slammed the cup back into its saucer, spilling amber liquid all over his documents piled on the glass conference table. “Fuck.”

“Zoning out. Focus, will you?” Marius groused as he closed the document folder in his hands. It was obvious to him that Vyn couldn’t crunch data off the top of his head in his current state of mind. “I don’t like staying here past seven either, but we’ve got a job to do.” He tossed the folder onto the table and reached out for his tablet. “How about you take a quick look at this instead—”

The door to the files room opened, but Marius did not take notice; he was busy flipping through the documents on his tablet to look for the one he needed feedback on. “Vyn—ah, damnit.” 

Vyn wasn’t zoning out yet again, but Marius thought what he did was way worse: the doctor’s hawkish gaze was trained at the recently opened door, or more specifically, the couple who had emerged from the files room: Luke and Rosa. 

Marius, with his gift for observation that was mostly used in his art endeavors, easily picked out how the doctor’s fingernails dug into his thighs. He was sure that Vyn would bleed it if it weren’t for the sturdy fabric of his khakis. “Vyn?” No response; the doctor was already burning holes onto the backs of his colleagues, both too preoccupied with their light-hearted bantering over their smartphones to notice Vyn’s all-too bitter glaring.

[0:50 - 0:59]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I am looking in the mirror, my rose. Beholding the just deserts of our stubbornness. It is a tragedy that we have to hide the truth about ourselves, what we feel for each other, this beautiful thing that we have nurtured together.

Oh boy. Marius gave up and grabbed his bag to stuff his things, resigned that he would have to wait till their next meeting to get something pertinent out of his usually fastidious tutor. Whatever.

Luke was mumbling something as he hunched over Rosa’s shoulder, pointing at whatever was displayed on her screen. They seemed a little too intimate for work colleagues; Luke pulled Rosa closer to him, his arm wrapped around her as he fiddled with her phone’s display. 

[1:05 - 1:13]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Try as we might to separate our personal lives from the professional, the world is trying to take advantage of the consideration that we allow them at the expense of our own needs and desires, Rosa, do you not see it? 

Marius wasn’t surprised to see Vyn finally flipping his lid when Luke whispered something to her ear, his lips dangerously close to her face as if he was kissing her cheek.

“Luke, Rosa,” the doctor began, his voice controlled yet loud enough to easily fill the entirety of the sizable conference room. “If you could please keep your voices down. Marius and I are trying to do work here.” 

No we aren’t, because someone here is stewing in his jelly juices, Marius thought to himself. He would have said it out loud, but he did not feel like getting in the crosshairs of his tutor’s ire at the moment. 

“I have no qualms about any of us pursuing personal relationships, but if you could please exercise enough restraint to keep your flirting outside of working hours?” Vyn, despite his flat, emotionless tone, wasn’t giving any quarter. “I did not sign up for this circus.”

Marius threw the doctor a look that said Are you fucking serious? and nervously shifted his sights towards Luke and Rosa. As he expected, Luke was positively incensed, and Rosa was nothing but downright mortified.

“If you’ve got more to say about me and her catching up, why don’t we take this outside?” Luke nudged Rosa to stand behind him, but she didn’t budge; she remained rooted on the spot, her face red with embarrassment. 

“That is not necessary,” Vyn said, his voice clipped. “I am done here. You two can carry on with your business. I care not.”

Marius merely watched as Vyn stiffly gathered his things to leave the conference room; held his breath in anticipation when the doctor had to pass Luke to get to the door—only to be grossly disappointed when they merely stared each other down.

“I bid you a good evening, Rosa,” Vyn said quietly, his eyes never leaving Luke as he addressed her. “Enjoy your time together.”

[1:14 - 1:21]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Do you not see how much it tears me apart?

Later that night.

He drove his head deeper into his pillows, relishing the warmth and wetness of her mouth wrapped around his cock. He let out a moan as she did her best to deepthroat him; he had told her that she didn’t need to, yet Rosa was adamant to try pleasuring him. 

Perhaps as a way to make up for what happened back in the headquarters.

The earnestness of her efforts alone was enough to send him almost weeping in his own bed, a mere few minutes until midnight, way past his routine bedtime. But he did not care; sticking to a healthy routine was important if he were to maintain his mental acuity, yet at that moment nothing mattered to the doctor than feeling his lover’s hot, wet tongue swirling around his tip, and how her small lips were stretched to accommodate his girth as much as she could. His head spun in pleasure; the thick thread of precum leaking into her sucking mouth betrayed just how much he had waited for relief.

The muscles of his inner thighs tightened; he was getting near. His fingers twitched and sought her auburn tresses, unsure where they needed to be in his sudden bout of kindness, only for his care and restraint to be undone as she started sucking in earnest; her hand wrapped around the rest of his shaft and jerking off what her mouth couldn’t fit. Shuddering breaths quickly turned to needy gasps as he grabbed fistfuls of her hair, and begged for her to let him come—

But she only stopped and drew back, his still rock-hard cock slipping out of her lips.

Vyn almost wept in abject frustration. “Rosa, I—” His strangled voice told a little too much of just how much of his control was lost, only for him to be thwarted at the last minute. “...Why?”

“You didn’t have to antagonize him,” Rosa muttered, wiping the mixture of spit and precum off her lips with the back of her hand. “He was just showing me the videos he took from his last assignment.” Her olive eyes were clouded with such a mixture of emotions that Vyn couldn’t discern, not when he was too vexed after being deprived of release all too suddenly. 

Was it anger? Resentment? Regret? 

In the end he decided that none of those mattered, and he roughly pulled Rosa closer to him for a lingering kiss that told of his simmering desire for her, long ignored and neglected during the daytime. “I do not like how he holds you as if you were his possession,” he murmured against her lips, his arms snaking possessively around her sweat-slickened body. “Only I have the right to do so, Rosa. My love.” 

[1:25 - 1:37]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Only I should see your smile. Only I should hear you speak, in that sweet voice only your lover should hear. Only I should feel you. Around me. In me. Your intoxicating scent as we make love, only I should know of it. 

“I keep on telling you, we were only—ah—” Her protests died in her throat as Vyn pushed her down onto the mattress. “This wouldn't even be a problem if we'd only admit to our rela—” 

“Sssh.” Once again Vyn interrupted her from voicing out her grievance, this time with his slender finger across her grumbling lips. “We have already talked about this, pet.” He spared her from his usual vague platitudes about keeping things professional. Now wasn’t the time. The indignation he had to go through a few moments ago was still swimming in his bloodstream, but the need to sate his hunger was paramount. 

He spread her thighs open, and a dark chuckle rose from his throat. Despite her misgivings aimed at him the lurid sight of her wet and swollen flesh between her thighs betrayed just how much she was indeed his. 

She throbbed for him, and not for whoever she was with during the daytime, certainly not her childhood friend, try as hard as Luke might to worm his way into her heart by taking advantage of their shared memories. 

Memories that will be easily edged out by the lifetime of midnights shared only between the doctor and his precious rose. 

He could feel his dick harden even more at the thought.

His blood sang in triumph. 

“I will now take what is rightfully mine,” he whispered, licking his lips as he pushed her thighs further apart.

[1:40 - 1:59]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I knew my obsession with you was far too dangerous to allow unimpeded, but still I happily indulged in it, devoting my time and energy to your altar. You made me realize how much of a hypocrite I am, that I am no better than any man, just another someone who would squander everything in pursuit of that one woman. 

His bedroom was filled with nothing but shared sighs and ragged moans as he sank deep into her, inch by delicious inch, into her hole. He threw his head back, closing his eyes as he relished the heat inside her cunt grasp his cock perfectly as if it was made for him. Yes. For him only, she was his alone, of that there was never any doubt. They fit perfectly, both of them pieces of a puzzle they did not know they needed to solve until their first touch. Vyn knew there was no one else made for him. He was going to make her his, in every sense of the word, but that was for later.

“Sing for me, Rosa,” he murmured, hands sliding down to her thighs and wrapping her legs around his waist. “I want to hear your voice. Tell me you are mine,” he demanded, his voice a touch too needy for his liking. It was difficult to grasp what little composure he had left with how good her hot cunt felt around him. 

With a snap of his hips he bottomed out inside her; her moans of pleasure music to his ears as he started moving. 

“Vyn, Vyn, I—nngh—” There was no hope for Rosa to come up with coherent words, not with how she helplessly clung to his shoulders, her legs greedily pulling his hips back to hers in time with his hard, deep thrusts. “Yours, I’m…ahh—” Tears pricked the edges of her eyes, to his utter, unhinged delight; a sinister laugh rose from his lips the moment he felt her fingernails drag across the skin of his back, no doubt drawing blood. That is fine, he thought as he hissed in the pain and licked his lips, his darkened gaze locking onto her unfocused olive stare that told of just how far gone she was in her head, focusing on the climax steadily building as he pounded into her, over and over. 

“I need to…come. Please,” she managed to whisper, her weakened voice almost inaudible as he kept on rutting into her mercilessly. “Please, Vyn,” she whimpered, one of her hands letting go of his shoulder to reach down between her bodies. 

He was going to let herself reach her precipice first, but the feel of her hand desperately rubbing her clit—her knuckle grazing his cock as he kept on fucking her the way God intended him to do her—pushed him past the point of no return. With a loud, guttural moan he burst his hot seed inside her. 

She is like a drug, he decided as he slumped over her body, fully spent; and as she came, her cunt milking him for all he was worth with each orgasmic spasm, he knew that his spiraling obsession for her would lead him to nowhere but the abyss, and there was no hope for him to turn back and save himself. 

[2:05 - 2:12]

Dr. Vyn Richter

It is unfortunate that you know this side of me, my love. And I cannot afford to let others know of how much of my control I lose over you.

At exactly one in the morning she was already fully dressed, her smartphone in her hand as she booked for a taxi to come pick her up from Vyn’s place.

“Rosa, being out alone at this hour is unwise,” Vyn said, still naked on his bed. “At the very least please give me a few minutes to dress myself and I will drive you home.” 

He wanted to tell her that he’d rather she stay the night, for her to sleep beside him, but many things have already been said between them; it was much too late for him to renege on what they have already agreed upon, in the interests of compartmentalizing their romantic entanglement away from their professional lives and, in Vyn’s case, duty of his birthright.

And so all he could do was slip on his robe and see her out his door.

[2:23 - 2:52]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I will now come out and say it: You own me, my beloved. Me, and everything it entails. You own my thoughts, and my feelings. I cannot help it, your ownership of me is etched into my very being. You must bear responsibility for this, my rose. I place my fate into your hands.

“I will miss you, Rosa of my heart,” Vyn solemnly said, reaching out to her with the intent of holding her hand. 

His fingers could only brush the back of her hand as she drew back and away from his grasp. 

“I know,” was all she said before she stepped out through the door.

[2:52 - 3:01]

Dr. Vyn Richter

But the world is not yet ready to know this. Not yet.

They passed by each other the following morning, when he took it upon himself to personally deliver subpoenaed documents for a high profile case Themis Law was currently working on. 

Vyn, on his way to Artem’s office, went past the pantry where he saw Rosa poring over documents spread out over the table with a mug of coffee in her hand.

He was about to approach her and say hello but Artem beat him to it, pulling a chair beside her. Vyn could only look on as the senior attorney huddled closer to his junior, going over the specifics of whatever the documents contained, sharing a laughter or two during their impromptu meeting in the pantry.

He could only watch as Celestine approached the two, loudly calling Rosa ‘Ms. Wing’ in jest, and tasked both attorneys to attend a business function together in her stead. An out of town business trip. Easily two or three days, out in the country together. 

I have intruded on her business enough. The doctor pivoted on his heel and strode over to Kiki’s cubicle instead. “Hello, Miss Kiki,” he said in his bright voice usually reserved for the most reticent of patients. “Wing seems to be preoccupied at the moment.” He handed her the folder, along with his favorite green striped pen for her to sign the receipt slip with. “Would you be a dear and receive these documents for me?” 

The bespectacled intern was quite surprised to see him, and her cheeks bloomed easily in his presence, ducking her head as she clumsily signed her name at the bottom of the receipt. It did not take her a minute before she handed him back his pen and the signed receipt. 

Vyn let their fingers brush against each other as he accepted the items. “Thank you.”

“Y-you’re welcome, Dr. Richter,” Kiki chirped, then surreptitiously hid her furious blush behind the documents folder. 

He briefly wondered how easily it would be to bed the pretty, yet painfully shy intern, to fill the gaps of his immensely lonely nights, but shoved it out of his mind just as quickly. 

Nobody deserves to be hurt by petty jealousies, and people who manipulate others with the promise of love are nothing but despicable. He knew this very well.

His heart hurt.

Left with no reason for him to linger, his business finally done, Vyn decided to retreat into the comfort and semblance of control that his research center afforded him.

Yet before he could step into the elevator to leave the premises, Rosa emerged from the pantry and brushed past him, Artem in tow. 

Their eyes briefly met, only for her to look away and place her hand on her boss’s arm, to Artem’s obvious surprise.

Vyn merely pursed his lips.

“Wing, I left the documents with Kiki,” was all the doctor said, after giving them a curt nod. “Have a good day. I shall take my leave now.”

[0:00 - 2:19]

Dr. Vyn Richter

The patient is appropriately dressed but disheveled. He would describe his mood as ‘within limits’. His thought process lacks flow. It has been sixteen hours and seventeen minutes since waking up at nine this morning, and thoughts of jealousy have consumed his sensorium. I am nothing without you, my rose, and I…

[The recording is cut off here. Faint sound of glass shattering could be heard in the background]

#vyn richter #tears of themis fanfic #vyn richter smut #tears of themis smut #tears of themis #tears of themis au

[mariatesstruther]

okay but wait @bumblepony u GENIUS. you gave me an idea:

mariatommy step up au

in which pro-dancer maria miller is in desperate need of a waltz partner for the american dance championships. to her rescue comes tommy miller, the younger and more troublesome and secretly phenomenal swinging-dancing brother of famous ex swing-dancer, joel miller

guess what i did 😋 i made it long

so we start with pro-dancer maria miller as she wins as many dance titles as she possibly can, trying to prove to her mother that quitting law school for dance was worth it. she’s already been taking home a fuck ton of titles as a ballet and lyrical soloist, but lately she’s been interested in smooth forms of ballroom, like the waltz and tango

a good friend of hers, frank, has been her partner for three months, and they’ve been unbeatable so far. literally every competition she they shows up at, other dancers will groan and rolls their eyes like “aw come on bro this is unFAIR” because they already know who first place is going to: maria motherfucking miller. every goddamn time

then, four titles in and two months away from their biggest competition, frank tragically breaks an ankle doing some stupid gardening shit with bill. and it is exactly that: a tragedy. he’s maria miller’s partner, and now he can no longer be that. he might as well be a dead man

frank makes bill tell maria, both because it was his idea to have sex do work in the garden and because he’s too scared to. when he does, she cusses him out so bad that, for once in his life, he has no grumpy smartass response. maria is fucking pissed—because that entire competition, that title, that trophy is supposed to be fucking hers. they already have the perfect choreography, the perfect costumes, the perfect music, the perfect everything. she’s already made space on her awards wall for the crown, the sash, and three-their trophy. this is a batrayal, frank. how could he do this to her????? how could he?????

but maria miller does not dwell on problems: she fixes them. she has replace bill or withdraw from the competition—which she has never done in her entire life. withdrawing, like losing, is not an option. she needs another partner, and she needs one fast

of course homegirl tess would come through—her best friend, retired fellow dancer, and one of the most reputable talent managers in the region. maria calls tess hoping to get in touch with her ex-partner, joel miller, because she wants only the best. he’s known and respected in the dance world as an amazing swing dancer and phenomenal lead in partner-work—much to her chargrin, unfortunately, he’s not dancing anymore. he’s apparently too busy with a new baby, which—great, beautiful, kids are great—does not help her. maria needs someone available, someone good, and someone now

enter tommy miller 🤠 who maria is at first not even willing to consider, because he’s never danced competitively in his entire fucking life (“are you fucking with me, tess? are you trying to fuck with me? i thought we were past the point of fucking with eachother. i though we were friends.” she says, when tess tells her. she gets an eye-roll in response)

to his credit, tess tells her, he’s been dancing alongside his joel all his life. he’s watched him and learned from him and is apparently just as good—he’s even danced with tess, and he impressed her. this impressed maria. when she asks tess why he hasn’t done anything officially to actually prove himself, tess says he’s “not the competitive type,” which is a major turn-off. maria is more than the competitive type—she’s the competition entirely.

still, tess convinces her to give him a chance. they basically meets blind-date style because tess is just like “dude just trust me trust me TRUST ME. meet him at our studio on saturday and freestyle with him. one song. then tell me what you think”

so maria goes, and she waits. she’s dutifully ten minutes early, as she is to every rehearsal. what would be five minutes before their meet time, she hears the studio doors open behind her and lets herself be only a little pleased that he is early. then she turns around to him—and boy, is she very much so pleased

tommy is broad-shouldered and well-dressed and tall, but not too tall, and well-groomed for a man—especially with one with so much hair. my god, just this man have a beautiful head of hair. as admires him, she also appreciates that (aside from his audaciously hot suede fur-lined jacket and cowboy boots, lord help her), he look’s ready to dance: black loose muscle tank, black breathable joggers, and black sneakers held in his left hand. in his right hand, to her suprise, is a single red rose.

is he fucking with me? she immediately thinks. a rose. a fucking rose?

“what’s that for?”

“uh, the rose? it’s—,” he hesitates, clearly thrown off guard. somehow, with only three measly words, maria notices that his voice is nice and low and gravely and— “it’s for you, ma’am. you’re maria, right?” —southern and sexy and distracting. his voice is far too distracting. it will present problems for her.

“right. i’m maria,” she repeats, mostly to remind herself who she fucking is—maria fucking miller. maria miller, who does not get distracted by tall sexy cowboys at dance rehearsals. “you’re tommy?”

“yes, ma’am.” he has to stop. he has to stop with the ma’am thing. it’s another distractor.

no distractions. she’s at a rehearsal, albiet an unofficial trial one. it is still a rehearsal—one for a competition that she will win.

maria straightens her shoulders, gets her head on straight, and steels her voice to say coldly: “well, tommy, i don’t like flowers. i like trophies. you think you can get me one of those?”

at that, tommy smiles as bright as the sun, white and pearly and perfect. distraction number three. she’s fucked. “i reckon i can,” he says, amused and sure.

“then prove it,” she responds, voice still steely. “let’s dance.”

and they do

for @bumblepony for your amazing writing as always and @marceltheshellwithflipflopson for your loveliness and inspiration and @clickergossip wifey and @ameerawrites miss u baby and @liveandletcry23 MISS U CAT and @hypnotisedfireflies because the work youve been doing with IO????? INCREDIBLE????? its been making me want to get back to writing so bad

all my mariatommy truthers love u guys kiss kiss kiss

#hiatus WHO #hiatus WHERE #maria being a super intense type a dance type who wants NO distractions and NO funny business: 👩🏾‍🏫😤💃🏾 #tommy who is a broad tall sexy distraction that LOVES funny business: 🤠🕺🏽😋 #the way this took me way too long i definitely need to edit and post this #bumble u really did something to me earlier i hope this returns the favor kiss kiss #step up au #idk if this is the plot of step up tbh #i think it counts #tommy x maria #maria miller #tommy miller #tess servopoulos #bill and frank #bill and frank finally being in one of my aus just for me to break franks leg 😭😭😭 sorry bro #tess x joel #there is a joeltess subplot in here somewhere i swear #their dance/love story would be the perfect prequel #and then they get back together in the sequel #OMGGGG #WAIT I CAN MAKE THIS A THREE PARTER IF I REALLY DEDICATE MYSELF #okay might do a dance au weekend #dance tag #tlou #tlou au #the millers #the tipsy bison #joel miller #even though hes not technically in this at all lets tag him for vibes #i didn’t finish my onboarding but i dont care lmfao i got all week

[kurisus]

Chapter 107-2 thoughts

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

OKAY WELL!

Literally earlier, before the chapter came out, I'd said I'm not believing Hiyori is dead. They'd have to show Yato naming her to get me to believe that. And then this chapter happened. Fuck me, I guess!

It seems like the general reaction to this is that it's sad but I'm not really sad I'm just angry. As it is, we have two options: (1) this is all a fakeout, one last time, or (2) this is actually the intent and the series will end with Hiyori being made Yato's shinki.

Neither is really ideal. A fakeout this late in the game seems pointless and would likely involve an asspull of some sort, but the alternative is something that absolutely spits on the themes of the manga thus far and effectively negates the arcs of both Hiyori and Yato.

So all in all, I really wish they hadn't gone this route in the first place, but I'll take the lesser of two evils at this point. This manga has always been about overcoming tragedy, your past does not define you, the near and far shores cannot survive without one another but too much interaction disrupts the balance, et goddamn cetera. Making Hiyori Yato's shinki makes this story a tragedy, teaches Yato the same lesson he's already learned (HOSPITAL ARC), and eliminates the only near shore major character in the entire series.

Now the question remains: can they still reverse this? Like I'll take anything at this point, but is it even possible within the story's logic? I want to say yes, and I've already seen a few rumors flying--this dimension is all an illusion, the koto no ha is destroyed so the bubble is too, the gods can reverse all the people that have died from the creatures, it could be possible for Hiyori to become a god, etc.... I'm clinging on to that first one personally, but at the same time, I feel a looming dread because...Yato saw Hiyori's memories. He saw memories he didn't personally witness, which kind of makes me think this is the real deal. But I also really don't fucking want it to be?

"Ina wasn't your first fic for the fandom literally this exact concept" YES because what makes a good AU wouldn't always be good in canon, right? This was something I wanted to explore in the concept of fanfiction, because it's a different medium to play with different ideas. At the end of it, I kind of went, "phew, that sure would be bad, wouldn't it!" and went on with my life.

I dunno man. I'm just angry and sad and disappointed, and it's annoying to me as well to look back at all the other things they've resolved perfectly. I think of how flawlessly executed Yukine's arc was, and want to cry. Why can't Hiyori get this same luxury? Fakeout or not, her arc should've been her parting ways, preferably on her own terms, because that's what the story's been leading up to. Yes, her grandma told her to be with the one she loves, but I assumed that was just in the moment, and wasn't actually foreshadowing her death.

THE FUCKING. HOSPITAL ARC. SHE IS SIXTEEN YEARS OLD SHE CAN'T DIE YET. NOT UNTIL SHE'S AN OLD LADY!!!! YATO SAID SO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT DID HE LEARN FROM THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NEVER LOVE ANYTHING I FUCKING GUESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At this point I'm going to deny it either until Adachitoka says sike or the manga ends. But needless to say, my reread's been postponed. I've been putting it off because of being busy irl, but if I reread now I'll just be bitching the whole time, and I don't want to do that to myself, and I don't think you guys want to read that either.

If it ends this way, I'll be bruised and bitter for years. If Adachitoka says sike, and Father dies believing Hiyori is dead (cause what was up with him losing his eyes), I'll at least cherish this one small mercy, but man, this is a sore blow. I'm sorry that normally my thoughts are excited and this one's just angry, but I can't put a positive spin on this yet.

Feel free to send me your theories or copium. I'll devour them all until I get made a clown of once more.

#Noragami #Noragami manga #Noragami spoilers #k*lling m* ent*re s*lf #live update

[nakanotamu]

Alright so hopefully last post about this I guess, this is my personal thoughts on the whole current Stardom ~situation~ as an overly invested fan and someone who watched it develop in real time and can actually read what's out there in Japanese. If you have no idea what the hell I'm talking about you can find my summary of the past year of Stardom management issues here and my summary of the more recent events leading to Rossy being fired here.

I guess the shortest way to put it is I'm not really upset about it? Maybe it's naive or "cope" or whatever but I'm even kind of cautiously optimistic? Mostly I'm just glad this isn't some huge WWE Japan coup or whatever. Between the year I had last year independent of pro wrestling and watching Stardom go to shit in real time, I kind of already decoupled my personal identity from being A Stardom Fan, something that probably sounds ridiculous given my entire online identity but I promise I was somehow even more personally invested in a much worse way this time last year.

Obviously the big thing to be seen now is how exactly the rosters shake out, who's going where. Of course it's distressing when on screen relationships just suddenly come to an end but I kind of already went through this when Unagi left. As far as a wrestler leaving a company barring like retirement or tragedy that was basically as bad as it could get for me, so like, that's just not an element of it I'm particularly worried about. For every relationship we stop seeing, at least the way we have been, we'll get to see some new ones too, right? I guess personally I'm more interested in what's coming next than dreading anything that might be coming to an end.

I think it's also worth noting that nobody is making permanent decisions right now. Everyone is just as capable of going freelance or changing their mind and going to a different company as they were before. I also assume both companies will have to be at least somewhat open to bringing in freelancers and sharing talent so like. Maybe some people will end up working both! We just don't know at all.

As for whatever Rossy's new company is, barring some announcement I completely hate, obviously if it's watchable on the internet I'm going to at least check it out. I'm not a fan of Rossy's but I'm also just like, so unbelievably sick of Rossy discourse online. He's not the god booker that so many men went to paint him as or whatever with his unforeseen insight into The Business and definitely not mostly just luck allowing him the success he's had. But he does let the wrestlers tell their own stories how they want to, and while I wish that was considered the absolute bare minimum it's instead all too rare, and I'm glad it seems like so many people who have worked with him do enjoy working with and want to continue doing so, something else that's all too rare in wrestling.

I also think it's somewhere between ridiculous and offensive to paint him as some freak pervert booking with his dick based on who he, personally, wants to fuck. Look not to get too into my personal readings of a guy I do not know but I have never seen a man who works as close with women and is as clearly personally disinterested in them as Rossy in my life. As an actual freak pervert who has seen a lot of product that he has produced, I'm fucking telling you and I've been saying it for years that that is not my guy. Especially if your reasoning for hating on him is that you think the wrestler's stories and presentations or anything are too horny when, like I mentioned, we know that comes from them. You don't have to like that but you do have to deal with it. However I do also think it's worth actually considering that when even the women who are most attached to Stardom as fans are pretty universally like "this guy doesn't actually know how to expand his audience, he is never gonna get women or bring things back to how they were" that's probably worth paying attention to.

It's just all so fucking tired and disingenuous and I've been exhausted with it for like 6 years. He's not the saviour messiah of joshi wrestling or the pervert demon who killed it. He's just a fucking photographer turned businessman and I think it's much more likely he got where he did thanks to flexibility and luck more than anything, and it's not like he hasn't had plenty of failure and piss poor management before Bushiroad was ever a factor too. I know I'm already off twitter so this doesn't even matter any more but stop putting everything on Rossy, please, he does not deserve the credit that should go to these wrestlers just for the matches he books. He's just some guy. (Hit him with your car.)

Anyway the big minus for me is that if Rossy's new promotion does have a service that makes it convenient and easy to watch it'll almost definitely be complete shit run by Sonny again since he's not Bushiroad staff he's a freelancer and I want nothing more than to be free of that hack. I so badly wish what we were getting were a promotion of this style that I like that was actually run by women but I guess this isn't the worst case scenario either.

And that's sort of it, for me. Like, as a fan, having Bushiroad-produced Stardom and Rossy-produced Stardom Classic (if that's the vibe they end up with) AND NOT EVEN TO MENTION Act Wres Girl'z which you can already watch RIGHT NOW as a Fuka-produced alternate Stardom Classic, you know. I don't think that's the worst place to be in as a joshi and Stardom fan, so I'm just gonna keep watching everything and see what happens. And if you have any other questions my ask box is always open.

#Stardom #my writing