#go mob!!!!!!!!! ur life is ur own!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spdrwdw · 3 months

Note

hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name.

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies.

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going.

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family.

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with.

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world.

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men.

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose.

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together.

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara.

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home.

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head.

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated.

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever!

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape.

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them.

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him.

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were.

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid.

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other.

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats.

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you.

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other.

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection.

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending.

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent.

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you.

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all.

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor.

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message.

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes?

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him.

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes.

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him.

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet.

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door.

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them.

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son.

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions.

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot.

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked.

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot.

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses.

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body.

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted.

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him.

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave.

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there.

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track.

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story.

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one.

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times.

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong.

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her.

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there.

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house.

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come.

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband.

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact.

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt.

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you.

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands.

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit.

“What?” You questioned.

“What are you wearing?”

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress.

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked.

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over.

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time.

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage.

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two.

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone.

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus.

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes.

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see.

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him.

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel.

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty.

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader.

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table.

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat.

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation.

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though.

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly.

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man.

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone.

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers.

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables.

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him.

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible.

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night.

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you.

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed.

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bahrtofane · 2 months

Text

promises under the stars - jude pov

Jude never meant to replace you. But that's how it ended up isn't it. There's no one to blame but himself, no one behind each and every decision that now has him standing at the end of an aisle, waiting for his bride. A bride that isn't you.

highly highly recommend reading this fic first. or else it kinda doesnt make a whole lot of sense on its own. then come back here. this is kinda like a part 2? kinda

shout out to this anon for this idea ! hope you like it

word count - 2.1K+

watch it - well angst, yet again. pregnancy talks the works. sorry if i used ur name for his wife xoxo. enjooyyy

p.s. - shout out to @anadiasmount for the inspo to create the image at the end ! go read all her stuff yall so good

—————-

He thinks the moment it all comes crumbling down is when he gets word of you getting mobbed. After you've just been to Madrid with him. And he can't do anything about it but send security and hope it doesn't get out of hand.

He expects you to give up right then and there, curse him and wish for him to have nothing to do with your life again. But you don't. You can never bring yourself to blame him. To hate him.

Then comes your whole family suing him for something completely out of his control. Fresh after your father has threatened him, this is just what they need to come after him legally.

It's okay because they don't win. Of course they don't. How stupid do you have to be to try and sue for going on vacation for someone you love. He wants to call you every step of the way. But his lawyer warns against it. So he doesn't. And you’re left in the dark.

Do you even know that they've tried to sue?

He can guess what you're thinking. He knows you too well. You think this is him taking an exit from his life. He doesn't want it to be this way. Maybe its for the best after all he finds himself thinking. Back to the thoughts of letting you go for your good as much as his.

But like most things in life, things get muddy.

He spends his time in a whirlwind of emotions, all leading back to you. He can not go more than an hour without you in his mind.

Even if his texting habits dont show it, he wants to talk to you every second of every day. Do you remember when he would call you to complain about the mundane. When he stubbed his toe, or drank out of his mind, pressing his nose against the screen trying to feel you against him.

Things have changed. He’s no longer the same youthful Jude with a penchant for recklessness. Taking day trips to see you, skirting around paparazzi and your families just to have a moment together.

He misses you, but he’s scared to reach out again. So he remains silent and an onlooker to your life.

Funny isn't it. World class player with more money than he knows what to do with is scared to text you in fear of what your families will say or do.

And yet, he can’t stay away for long can he. His resolve breaks on your birthday. Months and years have gone by. Legal cases are drawn out go figure. And he's been so busy with games every few days and events he can never say no too. When he gets home his bones ache, only finding the strength to clean himself up and go to bed.

When he calls you he realizes maybe it's too late. That waiting for things to blow over have left a gap in your time together. He knows nothing but memories. Your life eludes him. He tries to go back truly, but seeing your story while you're out with friends, smiling- actually smiling. He thinks he better not intrude.

His mother isn't helping one bit. She's come to the conclusion that the only way to move on and get your family off his back for good is to just move on. Find a “nice sensible girl” she says, smiling.

Jude doesn't want to. It makes him sick. Kicking and screaming the whole way about it. It’s not a bad idea in theory. Pretend to date someone. Your family gets off his back his family of yours boom you can be happy together again.

So he can learn who you are again. Find a way into your life. Do you still tilt your head when you're confused? He needs to get back to you. He can't let someone like you leave. He doesn’t just love you, he’s fascinated with the person you’ve grown into.

The thought of you with anyone else makes him sick. He still loves you, and he makes himself believe that the same is true.

If only right.

He meets Kaylie in the dead of winter. At a sponsorship event that he completely forgets about and shows up an hour late to. He looks around trying to find his agent but before he can even say his usual rounds of hellos he spots his mother standing with a blonde who clutches her necklace to her chest while she laughs.

This is the start of his own nightmare.

He comes back around when he knows he has to. After taking his sweet time talking to everyone. He tries to look for help to get out of the encounter but it's already too late. His mother is flagging him down. So he walks over, already sweating.

His mother all but pushes them together.

“What a couple you two are.” she beams, hands clasped together.

He gives a tight lipped smile and tries to wiggle his way out the awkward slew of introductions Kaylie gives of herself. But his mother gives him a look, grabbing into his arm and making stand and listen.

There's a look in his mothers eye, he knows what it means. This is the woman that's supposed to replace you. He feels sick.

——-

Along the way he thinks that maybe this is what's best for him. For you.

His family all love Kaylie. And she's sweet enough.

Nothing like you, dragging him into different clubs while you linked arms to get ice cream at the same time.

He finds it hard to keep up with her. Her life is fast paced, more so than his. Every time he calls she's in a different country it seems, catching flights and going to fancy resorts.

You never minded a quiet night in. Its what you loved, being able to exist with him.

Most of all she doesnt know him. She knows Jude Bellingham. The player, the figure, the celebrity. She doesn't know that he has a bad habit of touching his ears when he's nervous, how his eyes go wide at praise and teasing. How without a hundred reminders and alarms he truly would be late for everything. You always helped getting him to things on time.

When you were both awkward pre teens struggling to make sense of the world, you’d stop by his house to make sure he wouldn’t miss the bus. Sitting next to him on the beaten leather seats, and spitting facts you learned the day before.

He always listened. He still would today.

He doesn't think Kaylie’s noticed anything about him. She spends most of their time together taking pictures and flaunting him around. He pretends it doesn't bother him. Is the peace even worth it at this point?

She doesn't know how much he loves making little daisy chains, how much he loved putting them in your hair when you were kids. You’d throw a fit, but he never missed the look in your eyes when his fingers would swoop down to settle them gently.

Kaylie is beautiful. But she's not beautiful like you. She may have an expensive taste for clothes that allows her to put together a stunning outfit for any occasion, cleavage on display while she pouts her lips and bats her eyelashes for a kiss. Kisses he never gives her. He can't. Not when he knows you wait for him.

Sure she's great by the average man's standards. But she's not lovely like you. You could be in a trash bag and he'd still think you're the most gorgeous person on the planet.

He thinks this whole Kaylie thing will blow over, that he'll be able to get back to you.

And he tells her this.

He goes through the motions, just to shut everyone up.

Sitting her down when his mother isn’t around, “I don't love you. I will never be okay. I'm only here to get my mom off my back.”

And she laughs, flicking her hair over her shoulder, “Okay Judey whatever you say,” bracelets clanking together.

The name makes him want to hurl. “Get out of my house.”

Kaylie has got it in her head that she's here to stay. They've gotten into screaming matches because she's gotten her hands on the spare key and spends her days lounging in his house while he's away. They're not even officially dating by any means.

And he keeps finding her in his bed, in nothing but one of his shirts. Giggling and acting coy. He's losing his patience and losing it fast.

“Why did you give her the key.” Jude storms into his mothers house.

She's making tea, swirling a spoon in her mug,”she's your woman isn't she. She needs one.”

“No. She's not my woman and you know that. Everyone that.”

She set the spoon down in the sink, going over to where Jude stands.

“Jude. you need to focus on what's good for you. And she wasn't good. You should be lucky that they didn't win the case. I went and told them about Kaylie and how wonderful she is. Be thankful. “

He's losing his mind. He needs to talk to you.

He gets the chance when he's back in his hometown. And he sees you. He doesn’t think he could ever miss you, not even in a crowd. A rush of people stop him from running right to you. So instead he texts you. For the first time in ages.

Was nice seeing you.

He hopes you can read between the lines, that you still know him well enough to understand what he really means.

I still see you.

For Jude is a coward.

——

You dont reply. He forces himself to go back to what hes been forced to know.

Kaylie is all over him, hands roaming his body. There are days when he gives in. Sharing a bed with her as a cruel demented way to find some sort of release from everything that goes on around him. The look on her face after its all set and done makes him genuinely want to punch something. A look of arrogance, like she's won something.

And to top it all off he's been called up for England. His life gets even busier, if possible. Trying to keep up with it all proves to be grueling.

But light comes in the form of you. In the form of a single text.

Watched you play tonight. I'm proud of you.

You're proud of him? You watched him?

The words bring him to near sobs, the light of his phone illuminating his hotel room while hes getting changed into his pjs. It's completely dark, his personal preference. And hes so happy he would fly the damn plane himself to see you.

Before he can even think of a reply Kaylie tells him she's pregnant. Barging into his room with a little white box in hand. He thinks is some sort of congratulations for the game. Tacky card, maybe a watch.

When he opens it, his world comes to a halt. Its a single pregnancy test.

He wants to cry. He's too young to be having kids let alone with her. It makes no sense to him. He always used protection the handful of times they did sleep together. Each time he'd only cry in the shower trying to scrub off her smell and the feeling of her touch off of him. She's only a distraction he tells himself. Too late for those words now.

It feels so wrong, so so wrong. He was supposed to be waiting for you and here he is sleeping with another woman. Who's now pregnant. He wants to vomit.

He's in too deep now. And he can't be a deadbeat dad.

Thoughts of you get pushed back to his mind while he scrambles to deal with the consequences of his own actions.

When they get back to Madrid, his mother doesnt let him off easy. Screaming at him till he thinks he's popped an eardrum. And yet there's a gleam in her eyes like she's happy it all worked out this way. Doting on Kaylie and rubbing her belly (that's not even close to showing yet), and calling herself grandma already.

The next step is obvious. He has to marry her and make it work.

So he does. An impromptu wedding that happens so fast he doesn't even hear the congratulations from everyone. He doesn't know how to break it to you so instead he posts on instagram and tries to figure out what his life has become.

Jude is nearing 25. He has a kid on the way. He's married. He hates his wife. He hate himself. Can you ever forgive him?

#jude x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude fluff #jude bellingham #jude x you #jude x y/n #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham angst #bahr footy #YAY #i acc got this out in a semi reasonable time frame go figure

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komoboko · 4 months

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𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

ft: Obanai Iguro, Muichiro Tokito, Tomioka Giyu

angst ・major manga spoilers ・hurt no comfort ・major character deaths ・they are COOKED

# obanai ! ☆

When Muzan attacked, Obanai knew that casualties would be inevitable, he never thought you would be one of them.

He can remember those few moments before muzan was finally released once more. He could tell you was nervous, fearful kaburamaru could tell to. Despite how bad things looked you tried to encourage the morale of the mob of slayers. He knew they were all cheering for the end of muzan, even if it meant the end of their lives. He could tell you knew this to. He regrets not being able to tell you knew you were cheering for the end of your life as well.

He regrets not taking a good look at you before everything happened, not being able to take in your features for a final time before his vision was taken away from him brutally. If not for Kaburamaru by his side, he wouldn't of been able to find you to say goodbye. Your body lays limp in your arms, he could not tell what injuries you were suffering from but with the amount of blood that stained his fingers he knew they were fatal. Your voice cracked as you could only say a few things.

The battle behind him was loud, the sound of war cries echoed in his ear, slayers yelling for help, bodies being rag-dolled as the casualties rise up in numbers and the amount of fighters left drops dramatically. He stares off until he feels your hand wrap around his, despite your grave state your hand feels soft, warm, still filled with so much love like when you held his hands before when you knew you would see another day. The only words you can utter were "You must fight." There wasn't anything else that needed to be said. He hesitates before nodding his head, he wish he could see ur smile as he stands with kaburamaru being his sense of direction. He'll fight as long as there is blood in his body if it means you can rest peacefully after death.

# muichiro ! ☆

The infinity castle was an unforgiving place, only the best of the best could step foot in this place. Some would say it's suicide to be the one standing against them. Muichiro wished you listened to the rumors and stayed back with the rest of the corps.

Uppermoon one has been a demon to prowl the land longer than many can remember. Kokushibo was the apex predator when it came to demons. Muichiro's ancestor. The boy has never and will never see the creature as somebody who started his family tree. He swore he would end the terror he caused no matter the cost. He still wish he could take back his request. He'll never forget the gory sight of your blood splashing onto his face. He only could see kokushibo sword slashing a new attack, a much stronger form of moon breathing, seemingly meant for him.

Muichiro couldn't figure out why you saved him, why did you step in for him? His body shakes as he watches your body drop to the ground as he only falls to grab your form as Gyomei and Sanemi step in. Muichiro doesn't even realize the tears streaming from his face until your bloodstain hand moves to wipe the tears from his cheek. Your fingers tracing his cheek as blood only leaves a mark that Muichiro has no plans to remove. Blood bubbles from your mouth as the slash going through your upper body only gushes more. He can feel your heart beating slower and slower. The only words that escape his mouth is "why?"

A faint smile spreads across your lips as you stare back up at him. "You'll know eventually." you mutter as the life that used to be more abundant fades as he knows there is no saving you now. His hands shake as he lets go of your form, reaching out for his blade as he sees his comrades fight tooth and nail against the beast itself. He stands as he stares back at your body once more before looking back down at his own injuries. It's okay. He knows he'll be with you soon, he knows he doesn't have much time left.

# giyu ! ☆

Giyu stares at the sun rising higher up into the sky. As Tanjiro body returns back to his own, leaving Muzan and his never ending army to crumble he can breath properly. A deep breath to leave the stress an adrenaline of the battle behind. The sound of footsteps catches his attention as he turns around. Your shadow looms over in the distance as you limp towards the black haired male. Blood pouring out from all around your body, as your face turns pale. Giyu can only rush over to you in distress to catch your body incase your knees gave out.

Laying you down with your body propped up to asses your injuries, he tries to call out for a medic but he can only yell so much before you grab his arm to get him to stop. You knew you were far pass saving, you could tell that deep down Giyu knew this to. He only stares at you as despair starts to fill his face as your eyes drift back towards the cliffside. The sun still rises up higher in the air as your almost sure it now shines brighter with every demon disintegrating underneath it.

"The sun shines brighter knowing this is all over, no?" You ask the black haired male who only now sits besides you. His eyes drift towards you before he nods taking in the sunrsie as well. You stare at his features before looking at his demon slayer mark, a sigh leaves your lips as your shoulders untense and your heart pumps slower. "You don't have much time left yourself do you." You blurt out as giyu hand goes to grasp yours as he can't seem to answer you properly.

"Live as much as you can in the time you have left for me, alright?" Giyu turns to you as a soft and fragile smile appears on his lips as he begins to cradle your form. Holding you close as the final strand of life left in your finally fades away, your body goes limp in his grasp as giyu fails to move. "I will." Is the only words Giyu can mutter as he stares down at your deceased body. It doesn't take much longer for the tears to start dropping down onto your cheek.

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ariaste · 6 days

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Avra talks about his Orphan Gruel a lot in RUNNING CLOSE TO THE WIND. If he was a TikTok influencer, what would the recipe in his video be, and how sidetracked would he get while filming the video?

Hi everybody it's meeeeee again, ur boi Avra! Today i am going to show you my recipe for a hot steaming bowl of ORPHAN GRUEL because I am being MOST CRUELLY BULLIED [turns around with the camera so Tev is in the shot, sitting dourly in the background, interrupted in the middle of taking a bite of cheerios, glowering] Look at that. Bullying me right now. I didn't hardly even do anything and I get all of these GLARES for absolutely no reason. All I said was "I think the milk's gone bad bee-tee-dubs" and obviously they had to tell me to fuck off and they're eating their cheerios with gross chunky milk just because apparently I'm not allowed to even try to be HELPFUL or THOUGHTFUL or anything, and now I've been forbidden from speaking or using the toilet in Tev's apartment. [walking slightly breathlessly into the kitchen] It's fine, i'm used to it, I am used to a life of being forced to live in a little rotting crate in a smelly alley and having to fight with a mob of possums for every piece of stale bread that Teveri kicks at me with their boot, I am accustomed to it [passive aggressively taking every single pot and bowl out of the cupboards] Anyway so when you are a tragic little orphan living in this alley, being bullied and exploited by the possums, all you want is a little bowl of orphan gruel so you don't perish of STARVATION in the tragic midwinter night on someone's doorstep like the little matchstick girl [passive aggressively filling every pot and bowl with water] orphan gruel is very simple, you just need -- [Teveri yelling from the background to cut it the fuck out] -- so much water, you NEED this water, even if it makes Tev's water bill go up by a hundred bucks, and then you need some [pathetic grunts of effort as he, a short king, attempts to hop up high enough to get the flour from the shelf] -- TEV. TEV WHERE'S THE STEPSTOOL. Nevermind I'll just climb on the counter-- AIEEE! NO! TEV! NO! [camera jostling violently as Avra scrambles into the highest shelf of one of the cupboards to escape Tev trying to haul him off the counters] NO TEV I'M FILMING A VIDEO, I'M DOING A TIKTOK, I'M MAKING MY OWN GRUEL SINCE YOU WON'T EVEN-- [video cuts out]

(RUNNING CLOSE TO THE WIND comes out in ten days on June 11th! It's a comedic fantasy novel about queer pirates stealing and trying to find a buyer for the most valuable secret in the world and fighting back against oppressive institutional powers! You can read a review of it here and the first chapter of it here, and you can preorder it here.)

#running close to the wind #alexandra rowland #chantiverse #fantasy #pirates #comedy #books

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 9 months

Text

Blood Money Chapter One: The Capo - A Reader x Dave York x Max Phillips fic - Vampire Mafia AU

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog that writes porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Specific warnings: Reader is in captivity, chained up, a servant of a malicious vampire mob outfit, blood, gore, horror elements, existensial dread, thoughts of death and ending reader's life. Max Phillips is a warning in himself. Canon/horror trope-typical violence. I'm going back to tag lists so please let me know if you want to be added! Big thanks to @wannab-urs and @pascalispretty for beta-ing and proofing this one! And special thanks to @pastelnap and @patti7dc for being my muses on this one, even if I am so mad you made me start a new work with my WIP backlog as it is (I love you really thank you so much!!) Without further ado:

Summary: Stuck in a basement for over a year, fixing the books of one of the most ruthless Mafia outfits in New York City has no perks, only pain, misery and servitude. But when your masters are murdered by a rival clan, you wish for a swift death, but Max Phillips has other plans for you. [Ao3 Link] Masterlist Next Chapter->

Chapter One: The Capo

The clink of chains, the dripping of a leaking pipe. The combined smell of your own body odour, blood, and mould. The flicker of the too-bright fluorescent tube lighting burning your eyes. The cool air of the basement hits your bare skin, a pleasant distraction from a fever burning through you.

These were the only sensations you have known for over a year, but getting kidnapped by the vampire clan that runs this part of New York City renders such discomforts mundane. The fact you are still drawing breath is a blessing and a curse.

“Come on meat-sack, work time.” The vampire guarding the door snaps you out of your sleep-deprived haze. You look up to see Ren, a sadistic underling with a habit of trying to scare you enough to make you piss yourself. Although, that hasn’t happened in months. His jet-black hair is slicked back in a ponytail and his dark eyes devour you, his tongue snaking over his lips as he lingers on your exposed chest.

You sit at your desk, atop a faded leather office chair that creaks and wobbles from age. But it’s not like you could tell the Vampire Mafia that they needed better facilities for their staff. You flick through the disorganised mess of papers, receipts, shipment manifests and try your best to ignore him. But he saunters over to you, coming to hover over your shoulder.

“Shame Hiro’s going to fuck you up later, you’ve become so obedient.” Ren chuckles as he rattles your restraints. He snaps his fanged teeth against your neck, you’re almost sure the blunt ridges of his incisors brush your skin but you’re so desensitised now that you just nod. He wouldn’t risk puncturing your skin, even today. But you doubt you’d care even if he did.

“You’ve gotten boring anyway.” He grumbles at your lack of response and leaves, locking the secure door behind him as you sit in your concrete box. Your calloused, raw hands sift through the documents once more, but your mind is foggy and sluggish. You actually think you might be dying. You sip at the canteen of water chained to your desk – the metallic tang of contaminated water burns your throat – but it’s better than dying of thirst.

Your head pounds. You try to balance the manifest against the ledger in front of you but your vision blurs. Your body aches with cold numbness that spreads to your extremities like a spill of oil, slow, sluggish, suffocating. You’re falling asleep, face pressed against the desk when you hear it, the unmistakable rattle of semi-automatic weapons above you.

Your head perks up, something about the break in monotony appeals to that dim, flickering ember in your chest that wants to live. You know there’s no point trying to break free, you’ve spent the best part of a year trying to free yourself. So, you wait, skin buzzing with tension as you wait for whatever is coming your way.

Footsteps in the corridor beyond your prison door make your heart race. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as the locking mechanism clicks and you hold your breath. The door swings open and the realisation hits you; who would even come and rescue you? The FBI? The Police? Fucking Columbo?

“Let’s see what Hiro’s got hidden away in here.”

A low rumbling voice floats through the door as you feel your stomach lurch. You try and cover your naked body with your free hand, palm splayed over your right breast, forearm draped over the other.

“Help, please!” You call out, desperation getting the better of you for fear that they would miss you and you’d end up stranded, starving to death in your concrete prison. The door swings wide and you feel the blood leave your cheeks as another, unfamiliar vampire darkens the doorway.

He’s tall and clean shaven with perfectly styled hair that sweeps over his brows. His dark eyes glimmer in the harsh tube lighting, they rake over your naked form with a deep, primal hunger.

His three-piece suit is tailored to perfection. Grey suit jacket and slacks snug enough to show off his lean body but loose enough to not hinder his movement. The red and black baroque waistcoat and pocket square ooze opulence. If there wasn’t a semi-automatic rifle in his one hand, and a bloodied knife in the other, you would probably think him dashing.

But the fangs that jut over his plush lips extinguish all hope of escape. They glimmer, almost luminous, in the harsh lighting and you sit down slowly, crumpling into the decrepit office chair.

“Just get it over with.”

The vampire cocks an eyebrow at you, baring his perfectly white teeth at you in amusement. He saunters over, weapons still clutched in his large hands. You lean your neck to the side, eyes closed, you can’t even bring yourself to cry. You just want it all to end.

You feel him hover over you, the smell of his floral cologne invading your senses as you try not to react. The less you seem meek the quicker it’ll all be. The chains clink and you feel the restraints on your right ankle and wrist pull taut.

“Poor little thing, naked, dirty…” The vampire mutters in your ear, he inhales pointedly against your hairline, “But not afraid? Why is that little lamb?”

You go rigid as you feel the chains jostle once more, then an audible crack as your restrains fall away from your limbs. You whimper involuntarily at the blissful relief that radiates from the abused flesh; you’ve not had your restraints off in so long. You hear the vampire hiss, a curse in Spanish leaving his lips before he barks orders to someone else in the room.

“Just kill me!” You wail as you open your eyes, you turn to your captor and try to push against him, goad him on, rile him up to just rip your throat out and get it over with. You pound meekly against his chest with little effect.

A warm, heavy jacket weighs your shoulders down and you look up to see a strange look on the vampire’s face. A mixture of curiosity and pity, which only serves to makes you angry. But the world lurches around you before you can form another thought. You fall forward, nose pressed against the vampire’s silk waistcoat, and you welcome the sweet release of death.

----

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dave finally snaps as he paces behind his desk. Not for the first time, he’s glad for the hardwood flooring. He knows there would be a worn patch beneath his feet if his office was carpeted. Max is splayed out on the chaise lounge in the middle of the office, a smug smile causing his cheeks to dimple. His buttons popped open to display the gold chain around his neck.

“She’s useful. She’s been running those books for well over a year, judging by the sores on her, we could use her.” Max says with a shrug, eyeing his superior with such challenge that would spell death for any of the other Capos.

Dave falters at the comment, searching Max’s features for a hint of a joke, or even deception. But for once, he reads Max like a book; something about this human is special. And Dave intends to find out what it is.

“We’ve been a team for a very long time Max, don’t make me regret this.”

----

You cough violently as you jolt awake, your mouth is dry and your tongue like sandpaper. Your head swims as you try and take in the dark surroundings.

Gone is the smell of rot and decay. Instead, you find your face pressed into clean, soft sheets that smell so fresh it’s almost surreal. You blink sleep from your eyes and roll up into a sitting position, you gaze around the darkness with tired eyes. You spot two doors; the one is firmly shut to your left. The other is ajar but the lack of light prevents you from seeing where it leads.

You turn back to look at the nightstand: there’s a pitcher of water and a glass waiting for you with a small note tucked under the base, and a lamp with a pull cord. You close your eyes and turn it on, opening your eyes slowly to the newly illuminated room. The colour scheme is deep brown and white, minimalist, yet dripping with wealth.

There’s a closet with mirrored doors at the far end of the room, next to what you can now safely assume is an ensuite. The mirrors let you look at yourself for the first time in so long and it makes your stomach roll. You’re too far away to make out the details but the sight is horrifying. You’re forced to look away from the gaunt, emaciated image of yourself, instead looking anywhere else.

The light from the modest lamp spills out over deep brown wooden floor, you let your eyes roam away from the mirrors, up to high-vaulted ceilings and down to the thick blackout curtains which effectively block any and all light from the outside world.

Not underground.

You think absently to yourself as another cough erupts from your throat. You pull the note out and place it on your lap as you pick the pitcher up with both hands, not bothering to decant the untainted liquid. It tastes like nectar on your abused tongue.

You groan aloud as the water washes over your dry tongue, rehydrating your mouth like an old sponge. You feel better with every gulp, but you force yourself to stop. You know if you drink too quickly you’ll just make yourself sick. You instead pour a glass of water, putting the pitcher down on the nightstand before unfolding the note.

The door is unlocked, the vampire guarding your room will arrange a car to take you wherever you need, if you so wish to leave. Her name is Amalia, and she is tasked with looking after you.

I hope you stay. We could use someone like you on our side.

Max (The handsome vampire that saved your life)

Your brow furrows as you try to make sense of the whirlwind of events that led to this point. You’re not dead, nor are you chained up, yet the sense of imminent danger remains. It clings to you like wet clothing, dragging you down, chilling you to the bone.

You look down at your body, lifting the sheets to check for restraints, you notice you are wearing someone else’s clothes. A white dress shirt that smells of orange peel and cinnamon, and a pair of loose, grey, cotton sweatpants. Both articles of clothing are too big for you but there’s a strange sense of comfort wearing something not your own. Not that you’ve owned anything substantial for some time.

You force yourself out of bed and make for the closed door. You knock gently on it before speaking through it to your vampire guardian.

“Amalia?”

“Ah, you’re awake, excellent. Have you made a decision yet?” Her voice is gruff and coarse but there’s a warmth to the way she speaks, setting you a little more at ease.

“No, but I am starving and I need to wash. Can you get me something to eat?”

“Of course, what kind of thing do you want?”

“I don’t know.” You say softly, realising you haven’t eaten a hot meal in as long as you can remember.

“I’ll figure it out. Try not to get your bandages wet, Max will kill me if he has to redress them so soon.” The sound of Amalia’s footsteps heading away from the door sets something off in your brain, the instinct to flee hits you like a punch to the gut.

No matter what the note says, you know that trusting vampires was foolish and often deadly. You have the chance to flee, but to where? You don’t even know where you are; are you still in New York? Did they move you across state lines?

And what would you even do? You’re weak, malnourished, they’d catch you before you even leave the building.

You scold yourself internally as you feel the desire to run ebb away, leaving hopelessness in its wake. You trudge into the bathroom and strip out of the shirt and sweatpants. The ensuite is large, with a walk-in shower taking up much of the right wall. The floor is tiled, large blue squares with streaks of silver and white arcing through the tile like the veins in marble.

The walls are bright white, and all the light fixtures and faucets are sparkling gold. You wonder for a moment if it’s all real gold. You spot the sink and mirrored medicine cabinet which you immediately cover with a towel from the heated rack fixed to the wall next to it. You’re not ready to see yourself, not yet.

You open the medicine cabinet to find it stocked with expensive shampoo, conditioner, and soap, as well as generic deodorant sticks, toothbrushes, toothpaste, even mouthwash. You feel a strange twinge of gratitude as you note the effort put in to accommodate a non-vampire like this. But you can’t trust it, your brain automatically lurching to thoughts of being buttered up, coaxed into a false sense of security. You grab the things you need and close the cabinet.

You turn the shower on and angle your body so that your right arm and leg stay out of the spray. You wash as best you can, taking twice the normal time due to only having one functioning arm and leg. You work through the products you had selected, making sure to wash your hair thoroughly. You can’t even remember the last shower you took, let alone the last time you washed yourself so thoroughly.

You towel off before using some of the fancy moisturisers on your face and skin without thinking, a strange appeal to your life before as you fall so easily into a muscle memory routine. Tears spring from your eyes, tracking down your cheeks as you feel something you can’t put into words. Like a burst of anguish and elation all at the same time. Like a burning blade being quenched in oil, it hisses and spits, but something about it all feels right.

You pull on the sweatpants and button up the dress shirt, subconsciously nuzzling into the collar as you head back to the bed. You still don’t know what time it is, but you really don’t care; you’re hungry and tired, and once you’ve eaten your fill you plan to sleep for as long as your captors allow.

You sit on top of the sheets, knees pulled up to your chest as you try to occupy your thoughts with something other than the looming inevitability of the servitude to your new vampiric overlords.

Same shit, different choice of designer suit.

----

“Food’s ready. Do you want it in there or in the dining room?” Amalia’s gruff voice calls through the door and your head perks up from its position atop your knees as you wake from a daydream.

“I can come out?”

“Of course. Max told me he left you a letter, didn’t you read it?”

“Well, yeah,” You call back, your voice stronger than before, a little self-confidence bleeding through, “But I just assumed that was some sort of trick.”

“Smart, I’ll give you that, but Max and Mr York are men of their word.”

“I’ll have it out there.” You say, crawling off the bed with weak legs. Your bandages were bleeding through a little and you wince at the deep crimson spreading across the off-white mesh.

“Alright I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be just outside the far door, the one with the peephole, if you need me.” Amalia says and you wait until you hear the closing of a second door before you twist the doorknob, mustering up the courage to leave the modest sanctuary of your room.

The next room is dimly lit, enough light to see by but with an ambience to it that felt almost romantic. There are no windows in this room, in their stead are lavish paintings in gilded frames. The long dining table sits at the centre of the room and you want to spend some time exploring this new space, but the smell of food draws you deeper into the room.

Three paper bags and three cup drinks sit on placemats and coasters, protecting the rich mahogany of the tabletop from grease and condensation. Each bag has the contents scribbled in Sharpie somewhere on the exterior, the drinks the same.

Cheeseburger and Fries

Chicken shawarma (Dairy Free)

Vegan jackfruit loaded nachos (Gluten Free)

Once again, the care and attention to your wants and needs strikes you like a physical blow. None of this was necessary or even reasonable. You’re a meat-sack waiting for the inevitable chaining to a desk and eventual draining when your value diminishes. Yet here you were, with a choice of three meals, and three sodas, as if they want you to be comfortable.

You rip all the bags open, sampling from each as you go. You can’t remember a time when you had variety in your diet, let alone a warm meal. You barely touch the soda, the fizz harsh on your tongue after so long without it; but there’s almost nothing left of the take-out bags by the time you’re done.

You settle back against the dining chair and let out a soft noise, somewhere between a whine and a burp. You sit for a while, letting the post-food coma take over as you feel giddy. You’ve been feeding on pouches of brown or grey mush for too long – you know you’ve overeaten, but you don’t care.

Freedom tastes sweet.

You ignore the little voice in the back of your mind that tries to remind you that this isn’t freedom. You want to acknowledge the small win, savour the brief reprieve from crippling despair.

The sound of the apartment door opening has you jumping to your feet, backing away slowly from the table, subconsciously making for the bedroom. Your heart hammers in your chest, your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive as you try to fight the Pavlovian instinct to submit and drop to your knees and bow your head.

“Max, come on, she’s still fragile, I don’t think she wants to see anyone yet.” Amalia’s voice has lost all the warmth she had used with you, and you hear Max hiss at her denial.

“Amalia, get out of my way or I will move you, and I can’t promise you’ll still have all your limbs when I’m done.”

You’re frozen, glued to the spot as you wait for Max to force his way inside, your skin slick with sweat as you wring your hands in front of you. You hear Amalia make a huffing noise of dissent, not quite a sigh, but something similar in tone.

The door opens slowly and Max slips inside, closing it with a soft click, as if after his explosive conversation with Amalia he could pass inside undetected. You let out a shaky breath and watch as he turns to see you standing there, arms crossed over your chest.

“Ah, shit, you heard that then?” He says with a dazzling flash of his perfectly white teeth. It’s disarming, leaving you feeling more confident than you know you have any right to be.

“It’s hard to ignore the threat of dismemberment when it’s practically roared through the hall.” You say softly, immediately clamping your hands over your mouth, eyes wide and pleading as you watch Max stalk over to you.

He’s wearing the same pressed slacks as before, but gone is the suit jacket and waistcoat. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up, the material accentuates his firm biceps; and gold shirt garters sit just above his elbows, holding them in place. His shirt is open, revealing a gold chain resting against his tan skin and small tufts of chest hair. You shamefully feel a spark of attraction for the monster before you, but you can’t deny he’s attractive, vampire or not.

“Glad you’ve got some fire in you, was worried you’d be deathly boring.” Max says with a dramatic roll of his eyes before opening a door to your left, gesturing for you to follow.

You hesitate, unsure if you should follow, but ultimately you decide to do as you’re told. You follow Max through into a large study, the walls are lined with bookshelves – mostly non-fiction but you spot a few unmarked ledgers bound in leather with gilded lettering interspersed amongst them.

Max flops down on one of the cream sofas that surround a small black coffee table. Beyond you spy an expensive looking desk with an equally extravagant looking green leather chair. You take a seat opposite Max, tucking your bare feet underneath you as you try to stop fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“So, you’re probably expecting some grand monologue about how you belong to our Clan now, how you are to serve us as a diligent little worker bee until you serve no further use and we dispose of you. About right?”

You nod curtly, your eyes roaming over the vampire so casually sprawled out like a cat before you. His rich brown eyes are almost kind, but there’s a stony edge to them that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Did you read my note?”

You give another nod and Max rolls his eyes and sighs, a deliberate action, seeing as vampires don’t breathe.

“I’m not in the business of being the only one talking, as much as I like the sound of my own voice. It gets tedious,” He pauses and sits up straight, resting his elbows on his knees before cradling his chin on top of his interlaced fingers, “Please, I meant it when I said we would let you go; for vampires, we’re actually pretty reasonable.”

“Sorry, I’m just not used to being allowed to speak.” You bow your head, averting his piercing gaze. He makes a small tsk sound and you feel the warmth of his fingers brush your jaw. You try not to shudder but it’s like fire is being breathed into your skin, vitality returning to you like sunshine after unending rain. His large hand cradles your face, and he coaxes you to look up at him. He’s leaning over the coffee table, his eyes soft and vulnerable as he tries to reassure you without words.

“If you choose to stay, you will never have to worry about being kept mute, nor caged. You will be part of our family, you have my word.” His voice is serious, fringed with emotion and a fragility you don’t understand.

“And if I choose to leave?”

“We will let you go, but you will be on your own. Hiro is in the wind, and he won’t stop until you’re back under his heel, or dead.” He says with a sympathetic twitch of his lips, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace.

“So I don’t really have a choice?”

“No, I guess not, but I know which option I would pick.” Max goes to move his hand from your face but you snatch his wrist without thinking, holding it against you. The tender touch of a monster is too sweet on your touch starved skin.

“But I mean it, we don’t intend to keep you prisoner, we’d like you to work for us, bookkeeping just like for Hiro, but without the chains and nudity.” Max doesn’t try to pull away and you drop your hand back into your lap. You lean into his touch, your mind softened by the promises of his silver tongue, your body mending at the tenderness of his fingers.

“Fine, I‘ll do it.”

“Excellent. Well we don’t expect you to start straight away, you’re, frankly,” He pauses as he pulls away to look you up and down, “A hot mess, and we want you healthy and fit before putting you to work.”

Max stands and holds his hand out to you and you wobble to your feet and take it as firmly as your weakened body can manage.

“Thank you.” You feel tears well up as you feel the rush of emotion coursing through you.

“No crying now, I don’t know how to deal with that shit,” Max scrunches his face up at you, like you’ve just dropped a dead rat at his feet.

“Noted.”

You feel a small laugh escape your lips as you shake your head in disbelief. Max takes you back to your room, hovering behind you but never touching you. Even if you secretly wish he would, he bids you a good morning, informing you that it’s just after four.

“Oh, and I’ll be by later to redress your bandages. Sleep well.”

The door clicks shut behind you and you take a shaky breath before climbing into bed, nestling amongst the soft sheets before closing your eyes.

Here goes nothing.

Thanks for reading! I'm going back to tag lists so please let me know if you want to be added! Let me know what you think!

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shit-taster-connoisseur · 4 months

Text

For the qsmp valetines event, for my giftee @routeriver

howdy!! sorry for the hold up on this one, i went through 4 drafts of this story idea many times until i settled for this one ultimately dhjex hope it's at leasy up to ur taste!!

Some warnings:

-mentions of cannibalism

-unhealthy relationships

-just girls being girls

-some relgious imagery

-a whole lotta demonic imagery/mentions of it at least

But please enjoy some demon!tina x human!bagi :)))

Word count: 1500

The other wordly consumed Bagi's mind, far longer than she was capable of remembering anything.

As where there were meant to be memories were feelings, thoughts–ones she drew down with crayons and a tiny fist. Ranging from spooky men in clothes, the shadowy figures in her room, and more often than not, demons. Demons whose horns curled into knife-like edges, gangly bodies, and claws who knew just how vulnerable human flesh is.

Her obsession sent her into a spiral.

From scrawling demonic pentagrams out of crayons, to drawing pentagrams out of her own blood in high school. It all amounted to nothing in the end.

No breakthroughs or simple summoning gone right.

So she had to become an adult when she was out of excuses. She became the proud graduate her parents wanted, and went to solve the mysteries of the real world.

But the itch to settle old affairs never left her.

So her brother presents her with a book, rustic and its bindings rotting–but ancient with a story: A witch that lived isolated in the woods. One day, the children of the nearest village began to go missing, one-by-one. A mob was sent knocking at the old hag's hut the next day, and what they found was not a rugged woman cooking their children for stew, but a creature ripped from the underworld. The mob forced to watch in horror as it gnawed their children to the bone.

The witch disappeared and was never found, and the story's ending equally lost to time.

The book had been the only trace left behind. Awaiting for its next champion.

So Bagi accepted it and followed it like a commandment and she was a prophet. She wasn't quite in her right mind. Like the witch, perhaps she too was going insane from her isolation, from the mundanity of real life.

And the book offers to fulfill her what she desired most in the world.

So she gets Tina.

There'd been many scenarios Bagi played of what ifs, the first was of what if she had gotten her hands on a demon. The first was taking its head to the street and proving everyone wrong.

But she couldn't do that. Because Tina was much prettier with her head attached to her body.

If Bagi had summoned her with the holy bible, she'd have gotten down on her knees and believed she was a goddess herself. And gladly Bagi would've spent the rest of her years groveling just at Tina's feet to be saved.

But no, Tina is a demon, a woman from hell who makes Bagi feel small, with claws that know the exact pressure to make her bleed, and skin that's a delicious shade of violet.

And Bagi loves her.

It's a realization that shouldn't have taken so long to deduce–Bagi would argue that she fell in love the moment she laid eyes on Tina; her chest had burned with a fire so hot when she took in the demon for the first time, Tina who was still doused in the glow of the summoning circle for which she came from.

The fire in her chest never ceased–even when Tina pestered her, when she once pushed a plate to the ground in an act of defiance when Bagi rejected her deals, offers of riches and fame, time-and-time again. Even when Tina had watched Bagi's chest heave up and down in her sleep every night, it only ever added fuel to the fire.

Because Tina cared. Sure, Bagi had been the reason Tina was bound to her, a chain handcuffed the demon through an oath before Lucifer himself, an unspoken tie between an evoker and the very thing invoked into the existing in the same plane. But she stayed, and she stayed even when she wasn't exactly trapped in Bagi specifically. There had been a world beyond Bagi's shabby walls, Tina could readily explore at the tips of her claws, a world she surely missed. She stayed.

The night they changed, Bagi asked only a question.

“Were you a human before?” She asks through her fatigue. The flashing colors of the tv bathed them both in its artificial light.

Tina had stood behind the couch where Bagi lounged, while her stature dwarfed it, she somehow leaned up against it, craning her spine.

Tina looked cute being so memorized by things so simple–so human. The tv has only a rerun of a show which had been background noise for Bagi, but somehow the center of Tina's world that night.

Such a simple question had ripped Tina out of that world. Bagi had to learn to forgive herself for it.

She looked perplexed, almost solemn as she had lamented over decades of her life.

Still she hadn't speaked, so Bagi almost forgets about it in the fog of her mind.

But like the sun, Tina parts it like clouds. With a, “yes.”

And it hadn't been a shock or a revelation for Bagi. There'd been the small things, like how she'd somehow recognize and listen to niche singers, how she seemed obsessed with an American cartoon show about a bird and cat, that she knew the aroma of tea by heart–all of these things hell wouldn't have.

After that, Tina became shy, a shell of that cocky demon when she thought she had Bagi wrapped around her finger on behalf of all of hell–which she did. When Bagi so much as spotted her, whether a shadow or of the mortal plane, she'd rush off in a flurry of mist.

Bagi hadn't blamed her; she felt like a teenage girl all over again. Obsessing, overthinking every little move a girl of the week made–for a second, she believed Tina hated her, was tired of the mundanity Bagi trapped herself in.

But that wasn't the case. When the thought manifested, a delusion always shoo-ed it away because as she said, Bagi was obsessed. And when she's obsessed, Bagi vision tunnels where she sees only her feelings–and it's unfair, it's unfair to Tina who's been back on earth for however long, who's still not used to the changes that manifested in her absence, and snuck into the world as visitor than a human, a mortal.

So the only thing Bagi was left to do was wait. She was willing to wait forever. As whatever haunts Tina, she'll talk about it–she'll talk to Bagi.

And talk she did. When Tina was finally tired of hiding in her shadows, and places far from Bagi's grasp–she leaned down into Bagi's embrace one day.

The smell of flora choking Bagi in its intensity, but it's addicting, like the cigarettes she had in her pocket that'd surely kill her one day, but no, Tina is a different type of addiction. Because she saved Bagi, and never will Bagi promise to stop the day after.

“I'm fucked up, Bagi.” Tina pleaded against Bagi's neck. But her warnings fell to deaf ears, as all Bagi could remember was the warmth of Tina's breath on her neck, and the vicious grip Tina had on her hips.

Tina ripped herself away, to balance both hands on either side of Bagi's head – she desperately missed her touch.

So Bagi took her cheeks in both hands to wipe away the stray drops of blood pouring out her eyes with a thumb–she could only remember Tina crying.

“You'll fucking hate me.” Tina warned the second time.

Bagi couldn't help but smile to her. Because it was ridiculous, a nightmare never to come true.

“I would never.”

“You will.”

Bagi's hands explored the ever foreign anatomy of her love's face–they eventually found its home, nestled behind and in Tina's white hair.

“It's impossible, Tina.”

“Why not?” Tina hissed, a claw sinking into Bagi's pillow–fluff leaking out. But Bagi had never been deterred once.

“Because I love you.” It made Tina's face soften, her bloody tears slowing, her shock had been palpable–but there'd been a doubt, she studied Bagi's face, looking for any crease in her expression that'd contradict her otherwise. Hoping she had been lying.

To silence it, Bagi leaned up to do something she'd been wanting, praying to do for eons. But it was Tina who kissed Bagi first, maybe, because it's Tina who pulled Bagi up further and connected them at last.

It's not what Bagi had dreamt of. It wasn't as passionate as she wanted, but better, so much better because it's Tina, and her world seemed more bright with Tina.

Amidst it, Tina whispered against her lips between breaths: “I will hurt you.” Spoke like a prophecy rather than a doubt. Bagi would allow it, she'd let Tina feast on her flesh before she went a day starving, she'd let Tina's claws draw wounds on her back if it meant she wouldn't be bored. God, Bagi would accept every slap or scratch, or really anything if it meant Tina would stay.

It hadn't occurred to Bagi then, but perhaps Tina meant hurting her in a different way.

#qsmp #qsmp bagi #qsmp tina #bagina #teaduo #again sorry for the late-ness of this gift #school and life tied me and throw me off a cliff for days #but stilk thank you forbyour patience #if i made any mistake let me know :))#six's writing

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fountainpenguin · 2 months

Note

Your fic "Shut Up and Fish" got me thinking... are you implying that Grian's snail is a spark?

"Shut Up and Fish"

"That's hard," Grian concedes, not looking up. The pink snail's watching, its tail patting the dirt. Grian cradles the turquoise snail's limp eyestalk in his hand. Snails are tricky creatures… They don't signal their injuries with the crook of their tails like dogs do, and they're not immune to fall damage like cats. Gingerly, easily, he brings the snail's neck to his chest and gives it a little hug. He makes a little noise. This world is beautiful if you know where to look. "Please," begs the voice in the wrinkles of his damp and dripping clothes. "You'd be a better dad to Tim. You'd be a better husband- I want what YOU have… That's MY life. Give me back my body!" Grian ignores this, peppering sloppy kisses on the snail's sweet head. It nudges into him, cuddly and sloppy and alive. Beautiful, sparked son of a thing. He'll tell Grumbot sometime, but Grumbot might not love to know he's got a snail for a younger brother now. And he laughs again, because it's stupid. It's just… It's really stupid. But he nuzzles the snail and the snail nuzzles back, and the voice in his head wails and scratches at him in the strain of Gem's boat anchor against the pebbles and sand.

In the Pixels Imperfect canon, a creature or build that is portrayed as having sentience beyond that of its basic mob AI (if applicable) needs an AI spark. Grumbot and Jrumbot are perfect examples of "portrayed as sentient" vs. "offhand joke about the build being a child, but not followed through with." Jrumbot is a non-sentient build and Grumbot is a sentient one.

Grian's snail is played as sentient - Grian even makes a huge deal about Scar "not playing the game right and making the snails do things they wouldn't do" - so in the Pixels canon, the snail is a sparked build.

Sparks don't have to be perceived as offspring- they simply embody whatever the intended roleplay was. Grumbot initially referred to Grian and Mumbo as Creator 1 and Creator 2 in Hermitcraft canon, then swapped to addressing them as dads after a certain point (to their surprise), which underscores the idea that in-universe, he is sentient and making his own decisions.

That said, Grian considers the snail his biological son, yes. His baby boy who does crime.

I have some news about Box from Double Life, wheeze...... BigB made it VERY clear in canon that Box is sentient enough to "say its first word," and Ren jumped up and down all giddy exclaiming that he was "such a proud papa," confirming that he sees it as his child.

When they're in couple's therapy, BigB explains that he "knew Ren would like it if Box had a hand so it could reach out and give him a hug." Also, special spotlight on BigB bragging about how "Box is going to need to find a soulmate" because that's so funny. I like how after BigB goes red, he invites Martyn to Box, he says "We look forward to seeing you. That's 'we' as in me and Box."

Shout-out to Martyn and Cleo getting "We will take care of Box in your absence" signed and agreed by Ren and BigB "by law and by will." Sorry you two are horribly broken up, but congrats on ur giant son. They will not nurture it, but they will definitely look at it and go "... Huh."

Guess who has one thumb, canonically wears a monocle and walks around looking like it's been "punched in the face," is technically in the Clocker family tree via Martyn, rocks he/it pronouns, and is heir apparent to Dogwarts in the Neighborhood Watch AU.

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ca-suffit · 2 months

Text

Almost 50 years old with a job, spouse, and kid and sending each other asks like this to feel superior over an online space of mainly 20 somethings lol. Everyone in "that (black) subset" already knows who these characters are and can confront the topics v easily. All this Nalyra group can do is post things like OHH NOBODY IS READY FOR THIS OHH WE'RE SO MUCH BETTER AND SMARTER THAN THESE (BLACK) PEOPLE. It also may surprise u to learn that slavery existed in America and this fantasy Daddy Marius thing u think ppl can't tolerate is nothing compared to real history. You'll never understand that though because you'd have to acknowledge race and real life outside of Anne Rice books to do that. You'd feel so embarrassed by how u sound if u did tho. like this is rly braindead shit lol. I bet you get off to this though, sounding like a ten year old edgelord to own the woke mob. But you're just v typical racists, lol, while layering on some bs "did u know there's a worse white man than Lestat, did u ever use ur brains." Ok lol. Groundbreaking, more than one white man is shitty. How could we ever imagine such a world?! Marius existing won't make Lestat suddenly be less. Aren't you the ones always crowing that he's the main character? Oh but I forgot, you think it'll all be retconned once "the truth (Lestat's story)" comes out, because you have Anne Rice brain rot and think that's quality storytelling instead of embarrassing and insulting to the audience. You also talk like this as if you won't be screaming and throwing up about it when the show doesn't coddle Marius either and make this all sexy roleplaying. Armand was just referred to as Marius' "sub" in another recent post by crazy white fandom book people. You're the ones who won't be able to handle what's coming. Then you'll just keep moving the goal post, saying shit like this forever so you can keep yourself feeling superior. It's sad u don't go to therapy and talk about why this is the thing that makes you feel in control of your life.

Virginia is a whole psych study 2 lol. Honey u have to separate urself from the fictional man and get real help. Having racist tantrums because black people can understand your man better than u is not it. He's not real, he's not you. It's funny how book ppl are always saying the books teach empathy when you're intolerant of anyone who disagrees with you (or is just black). tbf, that is one way u actually understand Lestat tho lol. These people have all the time in the world to excuse shitty behavior from white men due to trauma, mental illness, "their time period," but Louis, Claudia, and Armand are also victims and yet just victimized more in the fandom. We can't even discuss fr "memory is a monster" without you dipshits being racist about it. How many posts about Episode 5 have we gd had since the last trailer dropped, when that's something you had to go frame by frame to even catch, and also make a lot of assumptions some things are even from that scene. You can't appreciate any of the rest of the story, you're obsessively zeroed in on Lestat being freed from all guilt of DV. You're sick in the head with your love of whiteness.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #amc iwtv #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #fandom racism

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candyskiez · 9 days

Note

Saw ur also a ???% fan… 👀

Care to share your thoughts around him? Or headcanons if you have them? :D

1. You just noticed? I have NOT been talking enough about him then. I will rectify this immediately. (This is a joke you're good)

2. SO.

These will be scattered. Because I am a very scattered person.

I will flip flop between if I like the disconnect between ???% and Mob better as a plural thing or an allegory .I like both! Both is good! He's so fascinating as an allegory but also he's the most accurate representation of being plural I've ever seen and it's not even canon. So like. Two cakes!

I will always be insane about the manga version of confession arc. Hold on I need to talk about this in detail or I'll actually die.

His fucking. His fucking talk with Mob. "And you were never...never...looking at me." WHAT IF I SCREAM. Literally everything he says to Mob is so interesting and also relatable as shit whether you view it as plural or as an allegory. Both is good. Like you can view him telling Mob he forgot to protect himself and all that shit as like "You only do these good things to ease your own guilt. You don't actually want to be around people. You're selfish. This is who I am. I want to be able to exist without trying to be normal. I want to be able to be seen and not be harmed for it. I am tired of everyone ignoring this part of me because they prefer you. Would they actually do what I've done for them, or are they using me?" Like. Holy shit. It's so so fucking OW especially as an autistic person. But also as a system it's so easy to read him going "You pushed all the memories you didn't want onto me. You let me handle the things you didn't want. You shoved everything onto me, and I took it with stride because I loved you. You let me take all the hard things so you didn't have to face them, because you're a coward. This is my body too. This is my life too. Why don't I get to have that? Why do I have to give it up because you don't want me? They're my family too. You don't get to decide I don't deserve to exist because you hate yourself too much to admit I'm here." Like. Its so easy to read it as him being a protector who is SO fucking resentful of all the shit he's had to deal with, all the memories he has to hold alone, all of the shit he's experienced, and not a sliver of gratitude. Like goddamn does it remind me of my experience being a system. Either way the distance from him and the relationship between him and Mob has been my favorite part of the show since I started watching. And the manga is even more interesting and it's so!!!!!!!!!!!

More confession manga thoughts!! Him saying "Ritsu is my little brother. He was calling me Nii-san." Is so. He said that when Mob asked who he was. He viewed that as a solid part of his identity. RITSU is a massive part of his identity. Does he view Mob as not Ritsu's brother then? Does he feel like he was cheated out of his own family? I wouldn't be surprised nor would I blame him for feeling like that.

And even more confession arc shit. Hi. Thinks about how ???% in the anime at least had to steel himself before raising his hand at Reigen. He hates him but he still cares about him. He hates him but that guy raised him as much as his parents did. Clawing at the walls.

Actually y'know what I haven't talked about my thoughts on Reigen and ???% with anyone but the friend that I watched the show with and that is a tragedy that will not stand. ???% hates Reigen so so much but also cares SO much about him. Thinks about he passed out the second Reigen told him his parents were fine, and contrast that to him saying that he can't listen to Reigen in confession. He knows that if he listens to Reigen he'll believe him and that fucking terrifies him. He'll follow after Reigen because he means the world to him, because that man raised him, because he just wants him to be proud of him so fucking badly. He'll go back to being miserable and trapped, and everyone will go back to pretending he doesn't exist. He's terrified of Reigen, I think, because he knows Reigen is a good liar. Reigen can make him believe things. And he doesn't like that. He doesn't like how gullible he actually is. That's why he doesn't trust anyone- he's gullible enough to believe anything, so he has to distrust ANYTHING, no matter how much sense it makes, because he knows he can't trust his own judgement. He's been tricked before. He'll be tricked again. Don't trust anyone. Don't trust anything you see. This is another thing that works with either autism or plurality. The autism trauma of being lied to and deceived as "jokes" constantly turning you into a trust issue riddled mess that doesn't trust your own judgement or view of people, or a traumatized protector who FORMED to help you deal with people taking advantage of you and now distrusts everyone you love because "it happened before, it'll happen again, i wont let it happen." Or both!

God. I just LOVE ???% y'all don't understand. He's everything to me. Please god read the manga. I don't know if the translation I read was completely accurate, but I love the manga and anime both so so much. ???% is my favorite character as anyone who knows me can tell you and I will never shut up about him. My GUY

#mp100 #mp100 spoilers #shigeo kageyama #kageyama shigeo #plural mob #confession arc tag #candyskiez asks

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quirkle2 · 8 months

Note

PLEASE PLEASE TALK ABOUT THE LEGENDS ARCEUS AU I'M SO NORMAL ABOUT IT <- LYING I AM NOT NORMAL

HI WE'LL BOTH BE NORMAL TOGETHER

(uhm warning for injury/blood/whump, parental death, uhhhhhhhhh fire? a lot happens (also idk if the read more thing has been fixed so let's pray. i refuse to smack these long ass paragraphs in front of innocent bystanders (this is so long. im so sorry)))

ok so reigen is the professor of the galaxy expedition team and u may be wondering how he got that job: lying :)! he claims he knows everything abt pokemon and that he's been studying them his whole life when in reality he's not even totally sure how many pkmn types there are. granted, the rest of the team doesn't either, so his ability to bluff himself out of any given situation is massively helped by their cluelessness

he just wants to sleep in a bed with blankets and eat food to survive and lying into the professor position was the quickest way he saw to get there. he'd been wandering in the wilderness for a while since coming to hisui before that and it kinda sucked. bro just wants a house in this crippling economy

mob n ritsu were originally from another village! they don't meet reigen until mob is 9 (ritsu 8). there's no powers in this au but mob's whole shtick is that he takes the,, extreme pacifist route i guess? he thinks pokemon r to be respected and loved and Not Bothered and he's against the use of pokeballs to store them and commanding them to battle each other, etc. essentially if he were in a modern era he'd think the way present-time people treat pkmn is, for the most part, cruel

anyway their hometown gets attacked by pkmn and the village is destroyed. their parents die protecting them, so 9-year-old mob was left to fend for himself n his little brother alone. they travel together kinda aimlessly for 7ish months until they get remarkably (unknowingly) close to jubilife village and come across that giant fuckin rapidash before the bridge

it's their first alpha pkmn encounter. neither of them have pkmn to defend themselves with (mob's reason: he ain't like that. ritsu's reason: He Is Eight and Scared). mob has always been able to empathize w pkmn a lot and sorta get a read on what they're thinking, so the vibes comin off that rapidash were rancid and he was worried abt it. mob has never been afraid of pkmn, not even the rly big and scary looking ones. so he approaches it with the intention of calming it down, seeing what's hurting it. he makes ritsu stay back in case things go bad

he's kicked in the head. if u forgot how big that rapidash is just google it. the hooves r the size of ur player character's head and ur player character is like 15. mob is 9. the fact that he doesn't die immediately upon impact is a miracle. the fact that he survives longer than 5 seconds after the fact is basically divine intervention

the doodle i made in the top left corner of ritsu screaming is this ^ encounter. he watches it happen, and then watches in horror more as the rapidash panics at ritsu's scream and rolls a flame wheel over his brother's limp form. ritsu manages to dive for him and run, but the kid is thoroughly terrified and traumatized

i'll spare u the horrid bits but long story short ritsu finds a cave to settle in and while he's rly inexperienced with medical treatment he does his best. his best isn't very good in the grand scheme of things but him being 8 is a pretty damn good excuse. he camps out there for Three Whole Days waiting for his brother to wake up or respond to literally anything but it isn't happening and the longer this goes on for the more terrified ritsu gets

mob's taught him how to survive pretty well all things considered, but ritsu is a lot more worried abt mob than taking care of himself and he ends up neglecting his own needs pretty fiercely. he feels too sick w guilt/fear to eat. he tries to stay up as long as he can in case mob stirs. by the end of it he's pretty worse for wear too

reigen finds them while out in the field doing research (wasting time). he sees a little kid half stuck in a bush looking for berries and when reigen tries to get his attention ritsu, who is extremely on edge and sleep deprived and scared, just straight up screams at him. reigen sees his dirty clothes and skinny arms and flushed face (fever. definitely fever) and alarm bells ring in his head to not let the kid go no matter what cuz he Will lose him otherwise

once ritsu gets his bearings and realizes this is a human (first one other than mob he's seen in forever) and not a pokemon coming to kill him he starts crying to him abt his brother and reigen feels his heart drop to his stomach bc if This kid is worried about a brother who is supposedly worse off,,, dear god

ritsu leads reigen to mob. the dressings around his arm where he was burnt are completely incorrect and most definitely horribly infected and ritsu didn't rly do Anything for the head injury other than clean the blood away bc well. again. he's 8. idek if eight year olds know what concussions are

reigen BOOKS it back to jubilife faster than he's ever ran and halfway through he realizes ritsu has passed out in his arms too (kid's probably exhausted beyond belief. reigen has no idea how long they've been like this but he guesses a while) everybody in the village is kinda horrified when the professor comes back with two hurt kids, one of which is on death's door. the medical team there does everything they can

it takes a while for mob to wake up, but thankfully he does in the end. reigen finds out thru ritsu that they've been alone for "a long time" (ritsu doesn't know. doesn't rly remember. reigen asks mob when he wakes up and mob says he stopped counting somewhere after day 140)

even though mob still isn't quite back to his old self and is still generally confused and Slightly Off, the doctors say he'll be okay after a few weeks and reigen has unintentionally gotten very attached to these kids. ritsu had told him their parents died during the attack on their village. they have nowhere else to go, and like hell is Any member of this village gonna be happy with simply throwing them out into the wilderness again. so reigen takes them in

anyway that's how they meet <3 GVEYAI mob is back to his normal self (the occasional Moment of Confusion comes around from the brain injury, but they taper off after a while) and reigen is very much surprised to see that mob, as ritsu has described to him, still very much loves every pkmn he comes across. he gets a bit nervous around rapidashes in particular, but other than that, mob is still just as caring and just as respectful as ritsu described him to be. ritsu is scared of bigger pkmn like any other kid is. mob is an exception, even after that experience.

reigen waits about a year so that they have time to settle and recover (and so that he has time to observe), and then he gives them each a pokemon. this might seem odd, but mob has never expressed any ill will toward Any pkmn, and ritsu still smiles at the smaller ones

he gives them a choice between the pla starters that have been hanging around his office. mob picks cyndaquil and names her cindy. ritsu picks rowlet and doesn't name him at all (this gives reigen pause, but ritsu seems to have a new fire in his eyes, so he brushes the worry away)

when they're of age (mob waits for ritsu to reach 13. they do everything together) they both join the survery corps, and mob ends up becoming reigen's assistant :]! reigen is admittedly a little worried abt this development, about his kids going out into the wild, but they both seem ready for it (ritsu seems ... a little Too ready for it considering his past) so he relents

mob has made his opinions about pkmn clear, especially to reigen, and reigen has ended up adopting some of his ideals since he met him bc they,, well thwy sound reasonable. they sound nice. mob doesn't ever put cindy in a pokeball, and cindy had never once been in a battle other than play fights with rowlet. mob treats cindy like any other normal pet, like a friend. he looks at those boxes of pokeballs in reigen's office with a frown. he finds the idea of fighting pkmn in the wild for sport despicable. he openly scratches out the pokedex tasks like "defeat 10 times" with disdain. reigen starts seeing another world that he never rly considered before, with mob

this is where reigen senses some,,, tension, between the boys. ritsu evolves his rowlet into a dartrix remarkably quickly since joining the survey corps, and not even a few weeks later he's a got decidueye on his side. ritsu catches pokemon left and right and if they're "not strong enough" he keeps them in pokeballs until he remembers they exist again. he works on building a team with no weaknesses, or as few weaknesses as possible. bro invents competitive pkmn

obviously, mob sees this and ,,, doesn't like it. he doesn't like how Distant ritsu is with his pokemon, with creatures that he wholeheartedly believes should be treated as friends or family. he doesn't name any of them, he spends nearly all his earned money from the survey corps on items that boost their strength, but almost no money toward items for comfort, or even treats, or toys. ritsu treats his team like they're tools. the relationship between ritsu and his pkmn is,, strained. mob can sense they aren't nearly as happy as they could be

but mob knows that he can't just,, police ritsu on how he should handle his own pokemon. he may not agree with how ritsu approaches the subject, or with how ritsu's first instinct for anything pkmn is usually "fight it," but mob knows ritsu Does like pkmn. ritsu's never hated pkmn, he's just,,, scared of them, sometimes. he thinks maybe this is his way of making himself feel protected. mob doesn't like the idea of taking that away from him, no matter how much seeing ritsu refrain from giving his team a break grinds on his soul

little does he know, ritsu's strictness with his pkmn isn't born out of a fear for himself at all. he's building a dependable team to protect his brother. that's the whole reason he's doing this, the whole reason he didn't name rowlet when he first got him. ritsu knew that if he were to do this, he couldn't get attached to them, bc losing pokemon in fights is a very real possibility. it's been drilled into each and every one of his pkmn's heads that they r to protect mob at all costs. if there's a repeat of That incident, ritsu doesn't think he can handle it (>:])

WOW THIS IS ALREADY SO LONG i haven't even gotten to the kleavor part yet. fuck. if ur still reading this can i have ur hand in marriage /silly

OKAY SO . The Game's Plot comes in, finally. took long enough. reigen starts getting reports of frenzied nobles and he's most worried abt kleavor bc it's rather close to them, and the village could very well be in danger if kleavor decides to say fuck you in particular. so reigen goes Hey This is an Actual Threat That Needs My Attention I Have to be Competent For a Sec and spends the next few weeks tirelessly searching for an answer for this kleavor. some of the staff have already gotten mauled by it. reigen cannot ignore this and put it on somebody else like he usually does

the whole town is getting antsy, and mob most definitely notices. ritsu's jumpy all the time anymore, like he expects kleavor to rampage through the streets any second now. reigen looks tired and worn down, and he's been coming home later and later. mob watches as reigen makes plans to use force against kleavor with a sour taste in his mouth. he tries to tell reigen that force isn't the answer here. reigen, bless him, doesn't know how to tell a kid that friendship and rainbows isn't always the answer

after another week or so, mob's had enough. they've gotten nowhere closer to calming kleavor and more people have gotten injured, so mob quietly writes a note and leaves it on his bed, makes sure he doesn't wake up ritsu or cindy, and leaves the house before reigen comes home. he sneaks out over the fence so the guards at the gate don't catch him. he sets off to go see kleavor

he fully and truly believes that force is not the answer. he fully and truly believes that if he goes up to kleavor with no pokemon to fight it with, no weapons or spears pointed at it, and just a calm voice and peaceful demeanor, kleavor will see there is no danger. the galaxy team's previous attempts have all centered around violence and scare tactics. nobody has recently come up to its territory without posing a threat. mob genuinely just thinks that kleavor needs calm

reigen finds the note. freaks the fuck out. immediately rounds up every person in the village that's capable of fighting and they march out of the village to save a kid who's in way over his head. reigen makes ritsu Promise him that he will not leave the village. he can see it in ritsu's eyes, the way he wants nothing more than the come with them, but reigen gives the argument that ritsu is their strongest soldier back home and they still need to protect the village from anything else while everybody's gone. it takes all of ritsu's self-control to not go against him (he's fully set on coming with them until reigen Grips him by the arms and says "i can't lose both of you.")

mob's plan does end up working in the end, but not quite perfectly and not at all in a good way. he steps into kleavor's territory and has it calm at first, but smth changes in kleavor's eyes and whatever Force that's corrupting it surges and kleavor snaps.

mob gets Fucked Up by that thing. sliced and thrown and clawed until he can barely stand up to run away, but it's the last blow that matters. kleavor comes down on him with a chop right to his middle and everything stops. there's a sizeable gash that cuts through mob's side horizontally and kleavor's axe is stuck in the flesh there, but once mob isn't moving anymore and nothing is making kleavor afraid, the fog in its brain clears and it sees what it's done

it also sees that mob is still awake, and despite everything kleavor did to him, he's still looking at it like he knows its capacity for gentleness. even through the pain mob looks at kleavor like he Knows this isn't what it's rly like. and as soon as mob sees the light return to kleavor's eyes he smiles, blood gurgling in his throat

kleavor hears shouts from the forest, sees torchlight and panicked yells for mob. it doesn't know what to do, don't like what it sees, what it Did to this poor kid. it winces when it has to slide its axe out from the gash in mob's side—the squelch it makes and the Noise mob lets out is the last thing kleavor needs to book it

u can only imagine how fuckin hysterical reigen feels when he sees mob on the ground like that. they brought half of the medical team just in case and reigen is rly glad they did bc if they didn't there's a good chance mob would've bled out right there within a few minutes.

he's in rly rly bad shape and is barely conscious by the time reigen grabs his face and tells him itll be okay. they bring him back to the village at record pace and every minute they take he looks paler. reigen is so scared the kid's going to die in his arms before they even get there

when they get to the gates someone from the medical team takes him from reigen's arms. reigen hears ritsu scream. the kid's shoving people away who're trying to comfort him and beelining his way to mob, but reigen catches him before he can fully see the damage bc he does Not want that bloody mess to be in ritsu's nightmares for the rest of his life

ritsu fights him and pushes him and shoves him away, screaming that he just wants to see his brother, but reigen holds him back and he ends up pulling ritsu close when the kid loses steam and just starts sobbing into his chest

to ritsu, he's failed again. to reigen, he's failed them both. to mob, despite holding onto the living world by a thread, he succeeded.

anyway that's the story so far VGEAYVUA I HAVEN'T .. FIGURED OUT TERU YET. or dimple. i know the gist of i how i want teru and mob's meeting to go tho. teru is just like ritsu but like . Worse when it comes to pokemon. uses them as tools and doesn't even rly think of them as sentient at all. until he meets mob that is :]

i'm thinkin he's the warden of sneasler! and yaknow what, just for shits n giggles and bc i love ingo too much to get rid of him, what if ingo is teru's unofficial teacher. what if. wouldn't that be fuckin hilarious and completely ruin any sense of consistency here. what if (it's happening)

i'm also pretty set on making dimple one of the wisps from the spiritomb quest that ends up following mob around. that's fitting i think

#qktalks #asterleavess #okay but like . i Just now thought of ingo and teru being teacher & student and it's kinda hilarious #ingo would be so fed up with his bullshit. i think ingo meeting mob would be like ''please make my student not an asshole''#''he's good at heart i know he is. he's a very good kid. but god he's so obnoxious''#that's gold. fuck it it's happening #putting two blorbos from different fandoms into a blender and watching it spin #i thought abt it as a joke and then 2 minutes later it was no longer a joke #bald best friends ??????????????????????????????#i hate that tag i want to delete it GVEYIAGVA #im hoping y'all aren't waiting for a conclusion that ends with the actual plot of pla cuz .ihaven't thought abt the legendaries at all <3 #this is just me beating up the main cast. mostly mob. okay it's just mob but im beating the others up emotionally

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halfagone · 8 months

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hi, hello, big fan! literally all of your writing is so good and top tier and i love every second of anything of urs i've read. which the most recent thing i read was ur jason and danny big hero 6 story. and i was so excited bc i love big hero 6, and u served like u do every time. that voice recording from mech-Robin took me out into a puddle of my own tears.

that being said i had a potential scene stuck in my head after i read that and i need to make it ur problem so here (i love love sibling angst) :

(kinda playing on ur implied engineer/inventor jason and implied danny's weakness being electricity above a certain threshold):

danny' despite telling dick that he would do a last patrol to say good bye, does not actually do that. he can't. not after- he has jason's face. he calls himself the red hood apparently. murder, mob boss, assassin, call him whatever you want. danny knows jason and that- that's not words people use for jason.

danny knows all abt pple coming back. first hand. that- that was is jason. they fought a few times. danny tried to figure out what was going on. either red hood (bc hes not jason- not yet) is being extremely tight lipped, or he doesn't know wither.

this time had been like every other time this past week danny encountered red hood in jason's turf (it would always be jason's, danny was just taking care of it). they met on a roof top, or rather danny had intercepted him. dick had told him not to go, said red hood was too dangerous, no one knew how far he was capable to go, what he was capable of doing. (danny didn't have the words to tell dick who was under the hood). danny didn't listen.

danny could tell red hood was getting annoyed of him. he was being more and more drastic, trying to get in heavier hits. if danny wasn't already half-way dead, hood would've gotten him there himself by now.

so when hood turned to look at danny, almost expecting- ready for a fight- danny hadn't been surprised. they fought like the always did. hood tried to kill, danny tried to subdue- get through to him. you can't kill whats already dead.

but hood was trying getting as close as anyone had gotten. a weird metal rope rapped itself around danny's foot, and before he had the chance to go intangible and get rid of it, electricity spiked through it.

danny could handle regular electricity, wall circuits, random door nobs, chargers - he was fine.

this- this was not normal electricity.

danny couldn't stop the scream that came out of his mouth as he crumbled to the floor in pain. pain that he'd only ever felt once before- thought he would never feel again. after all you can only die once.

danny did have a way with breaking rules though.

"danny!" he heard dick yell for him.

"danny you're hurt. on a scale from 1-10 how much pain do you feel." robin came out from it's hiding spot danny had told it to stay in. he didn't want jason to make that connection. if he even remembered.

"fucking a thousand." he barley managed before everything went dark.

dick knew he should've tried harder to stop him. should've known the kid would need more than a measly tracker. at least a comm, at least some good tech. not like they were short on funds. dick was suck a goddamn idiot to only realize that when he heard the most thought shattering scream of pain in his life.

"danny!" he screamed, not even thinking of code names.

"nightwing. what happened?" oracle asked in his ear.

he didn't have time to respond, only focusing on getting to danny as fast as he could. he's promised jason- god damit dick- you promised jason that u'd take the kid if smt happened to him. he would screwier dick if he had even known that he let danny go out vigilanting in crime ally of all places. unsupervised at that.

red hood towered over an unconscious but still withering in pain danny, crow bar in hand, ready to make the kill.

dick knew he couldn't get there in time. "danny!" he cried again, not feeling this helpless since his last circus act. oracle said something urgently, then b, but dick couldn't hear over the static in his own head.

red hood heard him that time. the crow bar inches away from danny's skull froze from what would've been a critical hit.

"danny?" he heard red hood's robotic voice echo from under the mask, but he didn't let the implied confusion deter him. he tackled him to the floor.

hood stayed there. watching dick as he untied the metal rope from danny's foot and called be to bring the batmobile and for someone to prep the medbay.

dick felt danny's pulse. it was light, feint, almost gone.

he could work with almost.

"danny." red hood said again, this time more sure of something.

there was something familar about the way he said that, but dick couldn't figure out why. (it sounded like jason) it didn't matter, because he would make sure danny never had to take on red hood again. not on his own.

he made a promise and he would keep it.

---

sorry i didn't think it would be that long, but it was such a bad itch in my brain and i needed to get it out.

OH MY GOSH YOU USED THE LINE

Poor Dick, he's Trying™ so hard but you cannot save/solve everything 😔 But also I'm sure this was intentional but that very similar parallel to the Joker was Concerning. Still oh so angsty though, thank ye for that. This is why I shouldn't be allowed to write for Whumptober, and yes I'm still thinking about writing for Whumptober despite of that lol

But all this was inspired by "On a scale from 1-10?" asfhjdsgh

But you are right that fic was very emotional (it didn't help that I wasn't feeling the greatest at the time so I probably added some extra angst as a result lol) I'm so glad you enjoyed it!! It was very heavy so I know not a lot of people could/would read it, but to know that there are fans out there, that really did enjoy it 🥺 Thank you so much for sharing <3

#halfagone replies #halfagone's fics #i guess?#technically yeah #but also #not my writing #but from a lovely fan #<3

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