#what on earth is even going on here?????????

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bone on his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru imagines #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fluff #dad!gojo #satoru gojo fluff #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jutusu kaisen x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo

[texas-gothic]

Dracula Daily Prep: Gather Your Paprikash!

It's that time of year again. Even as we speak, Jonathan Harker has departed for Transylvania, and the unhallowed halls of Castle Dracula. And as he makes his way towards that foreboding country, he will encounter a singular, most enticing of dishes: Paprika Hendl, or as we might know it better, Chicken Paprikash!

This traditional Central European dish explodes in popularity each May as we all gather around our virtual mess hall to enjoy the spirit of this most influential of gothic novels. Perhaps you yourself are considering throwing together a pot this year? Well, if you are, let this be your guide.

So, first, let's discuss the most important of the ingredients here: authentic hungarian paprika. Now, the recipe I first used last year called only for Sweet Paprika, but I personally found that version to be a little bland. I'm remedying this by adding some Hot Paprika as well. However, this is just my personal experimentation. Hungarian Hot Paprika can in fact be very hot, so if you're not comfortable with anything too spicy, feel free to opt only for the Sweet Paprika.

(Both of these I had to order online.)

Next, is another very important addition. As youre gathering your basic cornerstones of cooking (namely yellow onion, roma tomato, and garlic for this recipe) you may find yourself passing up on something that could vastly improve your dish. I'm talking, of course, about Hungarian Wax Peppers. These peppers range in heat, from meak and mild to slightly hotter than you'd average jalapeño. As per instruction, you should only use one. But on my end, I found the single pepper to be a little underwhelming, and I had trouble picking out it's flavor. So, this year, I'll be using two of them.

I got these from Central Market, an upmarket gorcer on Westheimer. They're a cousin of HEB, and you can find one or two in every major city in Texas. If you're elsewhere, try an alternative like Whole Foods, or try to find a European or International food market in your area.

Next, let's talk chicken. You can't have Chicken Paprkiash without the chicken, after all.

You're going to want to go with dark meat cuts for this. Traditionally the dish would use a mix of legs and thighs. Personally, I suggest using only the thighs, which you'll want to get bone-in and skin-on. The thigh provides a flater surface for browning than the leg, as well as more meat.

(A note on food safety, raw chicken will usually only last 2-3 days in the fridge. So you'll want to grab that fairly close to the day you're actually cooking this. If not, you can do what I'll be doing, and sticking it in the freezer until about 24 hours before I start cooking.)

So, as you gather your meat, produce, and spice you're probably asking yourself, "what on Earth am I going to be eating this with?" And the answer to that is spaetzle! A popular dumpling present in lots of Central European cooking, this is exactly what you need to tie this all together.

Now, while you should be able to find some in the international isle of most major grocers, you might also have to visit an international food store, or perhaps something more upmarket. If none of these options work, then there are a variety of other side dishes that work just as well. Egg noodles are a very popular choice, and in my very American attempt last year, I found that mashed potatoes work especially well.

Now that you've got all these things together, you're very nearly done. All that's left is the thickener. Paprikash is thickened using a blend of flour, heavy whipping cream, and sour cream. We'll get onto preparing this mixture in my post on actually cooking the paprikash, but until then, acquiring them should be a cake walk at any place food items are sold.

Now that will conclude the actual grocery list for just the Paprikash itself, but I do have one more pointer on how to really liven up this meal. Now, if you're under 21 or if perhaps you take after our dear, depraved, beloathed Count

Then you can skip this next bit. As a wine professional myself, I find that a well paired glass can add a tremendous flare to nearly any already great dinner. In the case of something like Chicken Paprkiash, and keeping with the Central European theme, I could hardly think of a better match than a good German Pinot Noir, also known as a Spatburgunder. Pinot from Germany typically has a very light body and a refreshing acidity that plays very well with the rich and creamy sauce of Chicken Paprikash. The palate of earth and red fruit should always pair nicely with the smoke of the paprika, as well as being a general good partner for any chicken. I myself am going with this 2020 Rheingou from August Kesseler.

And with that, we are done! Hit those checkout isles and make sure to get home before dark. Terrible things have sway over the world once the sun has gone down. So if the crowd does keep you locked up until nightfall, make sure to graciously accept any crucifixes given to you by kindly, elderly grandmothers and inn keepers. But whatever you do, make sure to pop in on Friday, when I'll be sharing a step by step guide on taking these ingredients and turning them into a dinner that will make our good friend Jonathan go red as a fire truck!

Happy Dracula Week everybody!

#dracula daily #re: dracula #bram stoker #chicken paprikash #paprika hendl

[hbyrde36]

STWG Daily Prompt 04/28/24

as chosen by our own @penny00dreadful

Fairytale✨

He was never going to find her.

Steve sighed heavily, letting his lunch tray drop to the table as he plopped down into his seat next to Nancy and Jonathan, the spot he’d been occupying ever since he’d had some sense knocked into him and dumped Tommy and Carol as friends for good. 

He’d gotten a lot of funny looks for that move, not only because he’d nuked his popularity along with his friendships, but because Nancy had dumped him for Jonathan, or so the rumor mill said, and yet here he was beside them. The truth was that their uncoupling had been a mutual decision, they just didn’t care enough to correct the narrative. 

But, back to Steve’s lament. 

It’d been almost a week since he saw her, the mystery girl that he’d spent almost the entire Halloween Ball with. They hadn’t spoken at all, the music had been too loud for that, but they’d stuck close to each other all night, danced, shared a few laughs as they pointed out their classmates' costumes–both good and bad– and shared a brief, but earth shattering kiss in a dark corner of the gym.

Now normally, Steve wouldn’t have been caught dead at one of the school’s dances, but his high school career was rapidly coming to a close, and honestly he was just trying to get himself out there, make some better memories before he was forced to grow up and enter the adult world.

Also… Nancy and Jonathan had made him.

Then they’d ditched him to go make out in the darkroom, but that was fine, It’d all been worth it to meet—her.

Steve only stepped away for a moment to get them a couple drinks, but when he returned to their spot by the bleachers, she was gone, the only evidence that she’d ever been there at all was a ring left behind on the floor. He picked it up, remembering how she’d fiddled with them a lot, her many rings, and must have dropped this one without realizing. 

He pocketed it, knowing it would be the key to finding her again.

Because, and this was his dilemma, on top of not knowing his mystery girl’s name, he also had no idea what she really looked like. While his Indiana Jones costume had left no question as to his own identity, she’d been dressed as a mummy, wrapped up in layers of gauzy fabric, only showing off her long dark curly hair, the biggest most gorgeous brown eyes he’d ever seen, and perfect pink pouty lips.

After spending the last several days combing the school, asking every brunette he came across if the ring was hers—to no avail—Steve had all but given up, assuming the girl had been someone’s friend or cousin visiting from out of town.

“What’s all this?” Steve asked, finally noticing the stack of photos Jonathan had spread out on the table around them. 

Jonathan took a bite of his sandwich, answering with his mouth still half full. “group shots of all the clubs for the yearbook, I just got them developed.”

Steve pushed his own lunch away, not hungry, and pulled a few of the pictures closer to him. He wasn’t really looking, looking, there wouldn’t be anyone in those pictures he hadn’t already seem roaming the halls, or so he thought. Then he spotted a familiar piece of jewelry on the finger of someone entirely unexpected. 

Eddie Munson, head of the Hellfire Club. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled the ring out, keeping it hidden under the table as he looked between it and the one in the photo. Same band, same stone, same black nail polish on the hand’s fingers too.

Dark curly hair, check. 

Big beautiful brown eyes, check. 

Soft pouty pink lips, double check.

Okay, so, the mystery girl wasn’t a girl at all. It explained why he’d had so much trouble finding her at least.

Steve sat with that fact throughout the rest of the lunch period, and by the time the bell rang had decided that it didn’t change a thing. He wasn’t freaked out that he’d kissed a boy, he didn’t even care that it was Munson, certified freak and D&D nerd. He was a little embarrassed that he’d assumed his special someone was a girl just because he had long hair and pretty eyes, but moving past that—

Now Steve just had to woo his man.

“Hey, Munson?” Steve called out as he jogged down the hallway, approaching the other boy from behind just as he was closing his locker. 

Eddie startled, his eyes going wide as he turned to see who had snuck up on him, but recovered quickly.

“Steeeeeeeve Harrington, what can I do for his former-royal-highness?”

Steve stepped in close, glancing around to make sure no one was watching them before he took Eddie’s hand, gently turning it over, and placed the ring in the center of his palm.  

“I think you dropped this.”

Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic

[haeryna]

the sadness we shared is my clarity ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ↪ fushiguro megumi x reader

summary: it's spring when fushiguro megumi finds you. it's summer when he realizes he loves you. but as the days shorten, and time runs out, megumi realizes you're slipping away.

tw: angst, as per usual. mentions of gore, and sexual tension but nothing explicit or nsfw. you and megumi are both idiots. half of this was churned out in a day so please give the author grace. not proofread. arrangedmarriage!au and friends to enemies to lovers. megumi is Mean. mutual pining, so much that i want to throw up. mmm yummy clan politics

notes: banner by the lovely @/cafekitsune! title taken from txt's deja vu. had this fic rotting in my head and in my drive. dedicated to riko, for being one of the first mooties i ever had. love you @riaki !!

also i'm sorry everyone for vanishing off the face of the earth pls accept this fic as an apology :'))

part one/??

It’s summer, and the air in Kawasaki is miserably hot and oppressive. Tacky skin clings to thick cloth, and Megumi grimaces at the feeling. Gojo had finally decided to send all the first years together on a mission to deal with a group of Grade 3 spirits, deeming his pupils “worthy to finally make their debut!” To celebrate, Nobara had corralled everyone to a small cafe, located near the train station. “Cmon, this place has air conditioning, and Ijichi won’t be here for at least another hour,” she insists, fingers wrapped around the curve of your wrist. Begrudgingly, Megumi follows along, heavy with the knowledge that where you go, he'll follow.

He can’t help but sneak glances over, as you and Nobara fawn over the icy desserts and drinks the cafe has to offer. The soft swoop of your neck is revealed as you lean in closer to peer at the deserts hidden behind the glass. A bead of sweat trickles down into the hollow of your collarbone, and Megumi swallows hard, forcing himself to look away. The flush on his cheeks is from the summer heat, he tells himself. He can’t quite bring himself to believe it. 

“Fushiguro!” you call out, and he forces himself to look at you. “What is it?” 

“Aren’t you going to get a drink?”

Megumi hesitates, before grumbling an affirmative. As the other three move to secure a table, he turns to face the cashier. She seems younger than him by a few years, makeup done even in the hot weather with mascaraed eyelashes batting at him innocently. She misses the proffered bills, running her hand along his, before apologizing a bit breathily. “It’s fine,” Megumi sighs. His thoughts wander as the cashier chatters away mindlessly. You were favoring your right side. Were you injured? Had one of the curses somehow reached you before he could stop them? Your technique had seemed to wane towards the end of the fight. Were you overexerted? Did he have to speak to Gojo about how hard he’d been training you? 

He pulls himself from his thoughts just in time to notice the cashier leaning over the counter, watching him curiously. “Would you like a receipt, sir?” 

“No,” is his curt reply, shoving all of his traitorous thoughts of you deep down inside of himself. The cashier pouts. “If you fill out a survey, you can get five dollars off on your purchase!” 

Megumi can feel himself grimacing. Nobara would kick his ass if he didn’t at least take it and offer it to her. “Fine then.” As he turns back to the table, he scowls at the too-bright smile on Yuuji’s face. “What’s that look for?” 

“Fushiguro, she was totally hitting on you!” 

He swats away the eager high five. “Did the curses fuck with your brain or something?” 

“No, seriously, look at the receipt she gave you!” 

Megumi can feel the heat of your gaze as he unravels the receipt. Under the printed text of “FIVE DOLLARS OFF AFTER SURVEY COMPLETION!” was a line of neatly printed numbers. Scowling, he shoves the offending piece of paper in your direction. “Here. Take it.” 

“I don’t want your leftovers,” you shoot back, eyes blazing, and his traitorous heart wrenches. “It’s not for the number, idiot. Weren’t you and Kugisaki just complaining about spending that much money on drinks? Take the survey and stop whining.” 

He lets himself fall back in the familiar rhythm of bickering with Nobara as she swats at him. He’ll do anything to avoid the way your offended gaze turns thoughtful, how you seem to study his face as he forces himself to continue the lie he’s let himself live. You cannot be his, Megumi thinks desperately, even after the four of you depart the cafe, and after you toss the crumpled up wad of paper into the trash can. Even as you fall asleep in the backseat of the car, head perched onto his shoulder, he fights down the growing panic and nausea. He would rather break his own heart in the process than let you suffer from his affections. 

Cursed, he thinks. There’s a reason his mother passed, his father killed, and his sister stolen away. He’s as cursed as the shadows that seep from his domain with their tendrils that wrap and curl over every inch of light. Megumi has already accepted that the feelings that grow by the day can never be revealed. You, with your sunshine laugh, whose tender hands would always reach for him after a mission. Fushiguro, you’d say, kindly. You’re hurt again. Let me grab the first aid kit. You, with your hands that are soft and gentle, as much as Megumi’s hands are calloused and stained. 

I love you, he finally admits, as he carries you from the car back to your room. Yuuji had an ankle injury, and Nobara couldn’t handle hauling your weight up the stairs leading back to Jujutsu Tech. At least, that’s what he tells himself, as he shifts your weight in his arms, feeling the way you subconsciously pressed yourself closer to him. I love you. Your eyelashes flutter in your sleep, brow crinkling ever so slightly. Gently, Megumi smoothes it over with his thumb. I love you. 

Fushiguro Megumi was by no means a religious man. He’d known that there was no god in the battlefields of a sorcerer, no mercy in the torturous death that only curses could offer. And yet, as he lowers you down to the comfort of your mattress, he finds himself praying. I’ll do anything, he thinks, as he watches you in the depths of your slumber. I’ll give up my body, my soul, my life. Just please let her live. Please let her be happy. 

Please give her someone that could take better care of her than I ever could. 

Fushiguro Megumi found you in the first rainfall of spring. 

You hadn't noticed him, quietly watching the droplets fall on the sakura trees planted near the perimeter of Jujutsu Tech. The edges of your kimono were stained with mud, with a chunk of your haori ripped out on the left side. Megumi frowned. Silk, he noted, and gold. You’re dressed too well to be here, but too oblivious to be a threat. Just to be sure, he let his fingers curl around the handle of one of his tonfas before he spoke. 

“Who are you?” 

Startled, you turned to face him, and his scowl deepened. You were pretty, even with your eyes rounded in shock, and the undignified noise that had escaped you when you realized you weren’t alone. When you told him your name, voice hesitant, Megumi couldn't help but hate the way his heart reacted as you spoke. 

“I’m looking for Gojo Satoru,” you finished, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip as you waited for his response. Megumi swallowed hard.

“A lot of people do.” He kept his tone steady, forced himself not to let the heat in his chest rise to his face. “What’s a Kamo doing here, looking for him?” 

Megumi had heard of you, of course. Gojo had raised him with at least a basic understanding of the three Big Families, and their prominent figures from both the past and present. The half-sister to Noritoshi Kamo, you had been held behind while your elders sent him away to the sister school in Kyoto. Women, Gojo had said, tone playful but eyes cold, are seen as nothing more than breeding stock and political pawns. They’ll probably keep her there until she’s married off. 

Something seems to settle inside you, and Megumi can’t help but watch, ensnared in the web you weave. Your hands smooth over the creases in your kimono as you exhaled, shoulders rounding back. Even covered in grime you radiated elegance, though you were betrayed by the still-skittish look in your eyes. “I’m here to make a deal with him.” 

A few days after the four of you had returned from your assignment in Kawasaki, you realized that Megumi was behaving rather oddly. 

At first, he seemed moody. Tired, you assumed. With promotions coming up, Gojo-sensei had been training the four of you even more rigorously than usual. Your mornings were filled with research, analyzing the few texts that Jujutsu Tech had recovered on cursed techniques that were even remotely similar to your own. The evenings were spent sparring, with thick dust kicked up under the lukewarm breeze, and the faint howls of Megumi’s shikigami in the distance. 

Sighing, you squat down, calling softly into the woods until one of his Divine Dogs trot out, tongue lolling out happily. You can’t help the wistful smile that tugs at your lips as you run your fingers through soft, black fur. They’d taken a liking to you, after you started carrying a few dog treats in your gear to give to them. Megumi had always complained that you spoiled them, babied them too much. You couldn’t help it. You loved his shikigami dearly. 

What did that say about you? The thought makes you lightheaded for a moment. The heat, you think, a bit desperate. It was all the heat. 

“You’re late.” 

You tilt your head backwards, startling at how close he’d gotten to you. He’s dressed for the summer heat, ditching his uniform for something more practical. Linen pants brush by you as he reaches your side, and your heart seems to convulse when you realize you can see the slight ripple of muscle under the fabric of his shirt.  Heat flares in your cheeks and you look away. Stormy eyes study you, a flicker of something predatory passing through them before he turns to his shikigami. 

“And you. Stop running off like that.” 

The Divine Dog whines, and you crinkle your nose, turning back to meet his gaze. “I was calling for it because I couldn’t find you. You weren’t where we normally spar.” 

“Gojo wanted us to use the other fields.” 

“Fine, fine.” Petulant, you reach for his wrist, hoisting yourself up off the ground. Before you can even speak, he’s tearing it from your grasp as though you’ve burnt him. “Hurry up. We’re losing light.” 

You follow after him quietly, ignoring the sting in your hand from the phantom contact. He’s probably overwhelmed with the work we’ve been doing, you remind yourself, yet you can’t help the slight feeling of dread that runs up your spine. His dog noses at your palm, whining softly, as thought it can sense your distress. Its owner however seems none the wiser. 

“Why did you want to spar today? Didn’t Gojo-sensei say we could take today off?”  

“The next mission is the one that the higher-ups are sending us on to see if we should be recommended for a higher grade. That means it’s going to be more dangerous than usual.” 

The trees clear to reveal a clearing, grass matted down from hours of sparring. “I hate when you’re right.” 

Megumi spares you a sharp glance but says nothing else. “Warm up quickly. I want to be back before it gets dark.” 

You stretch out under the waning light, letting your technique run through your body for a few moments. Cheating, Yuuji would insist, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager for a fight. The upcoming mission loomed over you, anxiety building as you thought about the uncertainties of it all. You hadn’t trusted the higher-ups from the beginning, and you especially didn’t trust them in any circumstance where Itadori Yuuji’s life was at risk. You exhale, feeling the familiar buzz of your cursed energy flow as you move. “Okay. I’m ready.” 

Sparring with Megumi feels like a dance, more than anything else. He was your partner long before Yuuji and Nobara had even transferred to Tokyo, and your body has been trained to move as seamlessly with him as possible. Every step forward he takes you step back, and with each swing of the staff, your katana rises up to meet up. You lose yourself in it for a moment, watching the way his jaw clenches in concentration, eyebrows furrowed as you narrowly avoid a pointed elbow. A sharp jab of your blade, and Megumi is suddenly right in front of you. The air leaves your lungs in his presence taking in the scent of his laundry detergent and the slightest tinge of the soap he uses. He takes advantage of your distraction to disarm you, flipping you neatly into a hold. 

“Yield,” he says, pressing his knee down into your stomach a little more firmly. You try your best to ignore the sight of him kneeled between your legs as you try to kick out from under him. His eyes darken at the sight of you, pinned and struggling to free yourself. 

“Yield,” he says, once more, and you do, letting your body rest against the ground as you stare up at him. There’s a bead of sweat trickling down his temple, the veins of his slender hands raised as he holds his staff. You let your hand curl against the wood of it, feeling the pressure of it resting on your throat. 

“I yield,” you say, and in that moment you know that you have. Fushiguro Megumi has stolen your heart from the day you met him. I’d give you everything, you realize, as Megumi helps you to your feet. There are 35 trillion blood cells in the human body, and every single one of them runs for you. You let your fingers intertwine with his for the briefest moment before forcing yourself to pull away. I would do anything to have you. My greatest sin and my holiest salvation wrapped into a single body. 

“That was a good fight,” he tells you, taking your silence for sulking. Maybe I wanted to lose. Maybe I did want to fall for you. Would that be such a sin? 

“Thanks,” is your stilted answer, the setting sun sealing your fate. You’re in love with Fushiguro Megumi. And you don’t quite know what to do about it. 

The mission is simple enough, until it isn’t. An abandoned hospital, Ijitchi had said in the car ride over. Residual curses had been spotted clinging to the interior, feeding off of an unknown source within. Intel had suggested that it was a Grade 2 spirit at most. You watch as Nobara takes a bit too much pleasure in nailing the swarms of weak curses that had greeted you at the entrance, Yuuji laughing at how easily his fists send them to a rather unpleasant demise. Yet, you can’t shake the feeling of unease that settles over you. This is too easy for a promotion mission. What were they hiding? 

Then Megumi opens the doors to what would’ve been the emergency room, and all hell breaks loose. 

Bloodstains, bright red, catch your eye first. They’re splattered all over the room, on the floor, curtains, and on the hospital sheets yellowed with age. You see the bones next. Human; skulls, ribcages, femurs, all picked clean and white enough to shine under the fluorescent lighting. The light flickers. A tumorous mass sits in the center of the room, a conglomeration of hair, teeth, and eyes that blink slowly at you. Your spine stiffens, and immediately, you pull Megumi towards you as a ropelike strand of hair tightens around the spot where he was standing. 

Those fuckers. A Semi-Grade 1? 

“Megumi,” is all you can make out. In the hallway, you can hear something more menacing, something equally as terrible as what sits in the room inside with you. You can hear Nobara’s cry of pain as a nauseating crack rips through the air. They won’t survive without him. “I’m sorry.” 

His eyes widen in understanding a fraction too late as you gather all your energy and shove him back out into the corridor as the curse flings a file cabinet at you. It crashes into the door, and you can hear Megumi calling your name with something that sounds like desperation. The hinges rattle as he throws his weight against it, but the cabinet holds firm. When you turn to face the curse in front of you, the look in its eyes is amused as you draw your blade. A cavernous maw opens, splitting it down the center as misshapen lumps of flesh spill out. Smaller curses, remnants of the innocents it had lured and devoured. A sudden chill goes through your body. 

This isn’t a Semi-Grade. This is a full-fledged Grade 1. 

There’s something vicious in the way you move, tearing through cursed spirits as though they’re paper. Ichor stains the ground around you, as red as the blood you channel through your veins. Dimly, you think you’re screaming. It was a set up, you think desperately. Of course the higher-ups would try to kill Itadori Yuuji at any cost. They didn’t give a fuck about you, or Nobara, or Megumi. Fury fills the cavern of your chest as you lunge for the hulking Grade 1, as it grotesquely pushes out the corpse of one of its victims into something far more sinister. You rip it to shreds without a second thought. 

The sound of steel on flesh makes the hair of your arms rise as you finally manage to cut a nasty gash into the misshapen curse in front of you. It howls in pain, tendrils reaching for your body as you leap away. Instead, the tendrils open the serrated wound a bit further, opening a new pocket for its children to crawl out of. That was the first blow you’d been able to land; ten minutes have passed since you trapped yourself inside a room with it. Will you make it out alive? You shake the thought away angrily.

Gritting your teeth, you increase your blood flow, shooting it down to your legs and the fibers of your muscles. Your blade shines as it cuts down curses, the Grade 1 merely watching with a demeanor that you can only describe as bored. It’s toying with you, you realize, but what pricks your heart isn’t fear, but resignation. Your foot catches on the rubble for only a moment, and the Grade 1 moves, slamming you into the wall with enough force for you to feel your ribs shatter. Blood fills your mouth and you choke, lungs heaving. Punctured, your technique tells you, a liter gone. The air tastes like iron and salt, and you realize with a start that you’re dying. 

You feel oddly calm as the world spins, watching as the ropes of hair approach your prone body. The last thing you see is the door shattering open, and the look in Megumi’s eyes as he sees you. There’s terror in his normally stoic expression, his arm outstretched towards you as Nue dives for you. Nobara and Yuuji are moving, but all you can see is him. His hands are bloodied at the fingertips, as though he’d been clawing at the door with his own hands to pry it open, his lips moving soundlessly. There’s a dull ringing in your ears, the toll of death that signals your end. His hand cups your face, and you allow yourself to lean into it for a moment, reveling in the touch. I could die like this, is your final thought as you succumb to your injuries. I’m happy that you’re holding me, Megumi.

The world around you feels muted, when you finally awaken. Your vision is blurred as you peel your eyelids back, and you wince at the sensation. How long have you been out for? Slowly, the blurred tinges of light start to focus. A lamp, dimly lit to your right on the nightstand next to a pitcher of water and an empty cup. A punctured lung, a liter gone. Your hand drifts to the bandages that wrap your chest, carefully letting your cursed technique scan your body. A few lacerations, but for the most part you were fine. Crisp sheets rustle as you sit up, examining your surroundings. The hospital in the infirmary. Somehow, they managed to bring you back. 

Megumi’s eyes, so desperate and lost as his hand reached for you. 

You try not to think about it, as you carefully test your body. Your limbs ache, but that’s to be expected. Your hair has been neatly pulled away from your face; Nobara’s work, no doubt. Her screams from behind the door, the dread in your chest when you realized they might not survive without Megumi. You watch your fingers shake as you reach for the water, letting it soothe away the pain in your throat. Did she even make it? Did they live? 

The door opens, startling you from your thoughts. Megumi stands in the doorway, hand pushing through his hair. You take a moment to examine him, noting the dark circles under his pale skin, and how his long hair seemed mussed. His eyes scan the room, passing over you before focusing on you with startling clarity. 

“You’re awake.” 

Hesitantly, you nod, as he drops into the seat beside you. “Did…did they…”

He cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence. “Kugisaki and Itadori are fine.” 

You stare down at your hands, letting the silence wash over you. Yet, you’re dimly aware of how suffocating it feels, how your shoulders were unable to relax even with the knowledge that your friends were alive and safe. Megumi continues to watch you, but before you can say something, anything,  his voice fills the air, terse and clipped. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” 

Startled, your eyes meet his. “What?” 

“Did you think I was too weak? That I couldn’t handle it just because you’ve been a Grade 2 longer than I have?” The eyes that normally watched you with a hint of affectionate exasperation were cold, and hard. “You behaved recklessly. Did you even think about how it impacted the rest of us? Because of you, Kugisaki broke her leg, and Itadori almost had his arm cleaved off. You did all of that just for the rest of us to find you half dead in a puddle of your own bones and blood.” 

“Stop it,” you whisper, but Megumi’s voice only twists into something far more cruel. “You thought you were being so brave, sacrificing yourself, only to realize that you weren’t that special. You couldn’t even take down that Grade 1 alone. Kugisaki had to save you, even as she was practically screaming from the pain.” 

“Megumi,” you whisper, and he pauses, clearly unused to his name falling from your lips. “Why are you so angry at me?” Your voice breaks ever so slightly and you bite your lip hard enough to taste blood, ashamed at the wetness in your eyes. “Where is this coming from? I don’t understa-” 

He slams his palm against the wooden surface of your bedside table, rattling the drawers. “Are you really that stupid to ask what you did wrong? You fucked up. I thought you were different, but in reality, you’re no better than the rest of your clan, are you? You’re just another filthy Kamo.” 

Your hands shake as you twist them into the off-white infirmary sheets. “What are you talking about?” 

Megumi laughs, but it’s jaded, sharp. “Congratulations. You’re being promoted to a Semi-Grade 1, all because of your little stunt that landed the rest of us into hospital beds. Even though we all had to help you finish it off, they’re only choosing you. I wonder why.” 

“Megumi.” Your voice rises, as your heart finally shatters. “I did it because I thought you would die, you know that. I don’t give a fuck about the politics of the higher ups, or my clan, or even my grade. I just wanted to protect you all. You know that.” 

He rises from the chair next to your side, expression indifferent to the tears that are rolling down your cheeks. “As if I’d believe you.” 

“Megumi,” you call out, desperately, as he walks away. “Megumi!” 

He doesn’t look back, and you’re left alone in the dark with only the moon to bear company as you sob. I don’t understand, you think, deliriously. Can’t you see that I love you? Can’t you see I’d rather die than watch you break in front of me? 

Megumi barely makes it to the lawn before he retches into the bushes. Bile rises in his throat and he squeezes his eyes shut as he replays the moment over and over and over again. For five days, he’d held vigil at your bed. For five days, he realized that your love for him would get you killed. For five days, he’d wrapped his heart in iron, knowing that what he was about to do would break the both of you. I would’ve only gotten you killed, he thinks, numbly. It’s what landed you here in the first place. 

Yet, Megumi can’t stop recalling the exact moment the relief in your eyes had turned into betrayal, how your lips had trembled and your hands shook. Your voice, desperate and pleading, calling his name as he forced his legs to walk away from you. How he can hear your sobs faintly trailing from the windows above, matching the tears that are trailing down his cheeks. 

You’ll hate him forever, he thinks, dazed, as he forces himself onto his feet. You’ll hate him forever, and by god it’ll be the most painful thing he’s ever experienced, but as long as you’re alive he can bear it. As long as he never has to see you there again, laying in a heap of your own blood, eyes dazed and unseeing, he will carry the sins that it takes to keep you alive and away from him. 

I love you. I love you, and I’m sorry that someone like me ever fell for someone like you. I love you so much that the thought of being without me tears me to shreds. I love how you take care of my shikigami like they're your own. I love how every touch you give me heals something that I didn't know I was missing. I love you, and I need you to live more than I need air to breathe.

I love you, and even though I don't think you'll ever forgive me, I'll always follow wherever you go.

#haerinwrites #megumi x reader #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader angst #i would like to apologize in advance #that is all </3

[lilasamaaa]

In the crowd | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genres | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3.6K.

Warnings | Alcohol consumption, drugs, mentions of violence.

Summary | Reader's an engineer at Scuderia Ferrari in Maranello. While attending the season's launch party, her drink gets spiked.

Author's Note | Hi all! After the longest time, I've felt the need to come back here for some silly writing. New blog because the last one got cringe. Let me know what you think!

One might think that after two years within the scuderia, the season’s launch parties would make her less uneasy. That after two years of being apart of the engineering team, she would finally be used to attending public gatherings. That after two years, she’d be a natural at walking in the open, feeling the glances slide over her figure. She is stunningly beautiful. Perhaps that's her burden. She doesn't realize it. 

When she walks across the paddock or the stands, she knows people are staring at her. She avoids meeting their gazes, feeling embarrassed. She thinks there must be something wrong with her outfit, with her gait. Why else would they stare for so long?

In Maranello, there’s a bakery at the corner of the HQ building where she stops every morning. The cashier always offers her something extra. A coffee. An additional pastry. She finds him polite, very customer-oriented. One morning, as she was freeing her croissant from the paper napkin it was wrapped in, she’d discovered a phone number scrawled in pen ink, with a hastily drawn smiley face. She’d stared at the napkin, perplexed, seated at her desk. He must have made a mistake, she thinks. It must have been meant for the customer before her. The one with the beautiful blonde curls and the Chanel perfume. She didn't call, didn't send a message. She continued to visit the bakery. The cashier never mentioned the number, proving her theory.

Someone brushing past her brings her back to earth. The party is in full swing, and she’s just not. She spots her colleagues bustling around the buffet and the bar, engrossed in lively conversations. While some don't even notice her, others wave their hands, encouraging her to join them. She forces a smiles, returns the wave. Then she tightens her grip around her clutch. Anything to make her feel like she’s in control. To make her forget that the music’s too loud, the lights too vibrant, the air too hot. 

She doesn't remember ever feeling comfortable in her body. Years of growing up in an unstable family where love was doled out sparingly do that to a person. 

"Hey," comes a familiar voice. She turns her head, her big eyes catching sight of Livio’s, one of her colleagues. "Are you not dancing?" he continues, a drink in hand. His whiskey breath hits her straight on. She discreetly glances at her watch, noting that it's barely nine.

"I haven't had enough to drink for that," she replies, trying to dodge the invitation.

"Let's go get you something then," Livio responds, grabbing her arm and heading towards the bar.

She's noticed that men always do that with her. Not just her colleagues, but people she doesn't know either. She's too kind, too gentle; she never raises her voice. So they grab her by the hips, the arms, the wrists. Anything is an excuse to touch her. She hates it.

"What do you want?" Livio asks.

Nothing, really, but she can't say that.

"Something sweet, please. I don't like strong alcohol," she replies. Livio seems to ponder her question for a second, his mouth pursed.

"I have something for you to try, wait," he continues, signaling to the bartender. "You're going to like it, don't worry."

A few seconds later, a glass of Plymouth is placed in front of her, and she looks up at Livio. Does he think I've never tasted gin in my life? she wonders, puzzled. She would like to refuse the drink, ask for the cherry liqueur she discovered last time indeed. But already, Livio has grabbed her glass and hands it to her with a big smile. "Salute," he exclaims, downing his own glass in one gulp.

Cries and applause suddenly echo in the large reception hall, causing her to turn her head. It takes her a few minutes to understand the reason for this sudden commotion. Until she sees them, a few meters away.

Charles and Carlos.

Her eyes can't seem to tear away from the two pilots making their way through the crowd to a small stage where a microphone is set up. It's tradition : to kick off the season in style, the entire team eagerly awaits the drivers' speeches. Everyone wants to hear their words, their encouragements, their hopes and goals for the season.

A friend once asked her if she knew Charles and Carlos personally. She can't really say yes. That would be a lie. She's exchanged words with each of the athletes before, giving them information about the race, their car, and the expected weather. These exchanges have always been brief and cordial. Professional. Nothing more.

Even though... No, she thinks, lightly shaking her head. That was nothing. But still...

It had happened just before the race in Singapore, last year.

A friend from engineering school had moved there at the beginning of the year, and they had agreed to meet for dinner at a fancy restaurant in the city. It was an opportunity to reminisce about the years spent at Polytechnique, studying (a bit), suffering (a lot), and getting drunk (a whole lot).

She had chosen a long emerald green silk dress, slit up to mid-thigh. The perfect balance between classy and sexy. She had no intention of charming her companion - notoriously attracted to men, anyway - but this meal was the perfect excuse to leave her eternal Ferrari jumpsuits for something more feminine.

In the long corridor leading to the elevator, she'd suddenly felt on a catwalk, letting herself get caught up in the moment and rolling her hips perhaps a tad too exaggeratedly. The person emerging from the corner at the far end of the corridor surprised her, but not enough to disrupt her stride, her heels clicking against the floor.

She had recognized him immediately, of course.

Dressed in a simple fitted black polo and a pair of dark jeans, his eyes had not left hers throughout their crossing. When the two had finally reached the same level, she'd breathed out a small "Good evening, Carlos," suddenly insecure about everything. Her outfit. Her gait. The messy bun revealing her neck. The cleavage leaving no room for a bra and showing the beginning of her breasts.

He had passed her, nodding in acknowledgment, and each had continued on their way. She was certain... No, almost certain, that she had dreamt the words that had followed.

"That's one lucky guy."

Yes, she was almost certain she had dreamt it. Watching the Spaniard in the distance take hold of the microphone and tap it gently to check the connections, she became increasingly convinced. There was no chance that this man, chiseled from marble, could have noticed her. Desired her.

His accent echoes throughout the room, and she instinctively closes her eyes, as if bathed in the gentle sun of Madrid. She's not listening - not really - only catching words here and there. "Truly an honor," "Very impressed by your efforts," "Promising changes." But her mind is elsewhere, between Maranello and Singapore, tethered to the memory that makes her lower abdomen tingle in the sweetest of ways.

"And now, it's time to celebrate!" Carlos says as the room erupts with joy and anticipation.

"Earth to you?" comes a much less pleasant voice than the one that has just quieted down.

"I'm sorry, what?" she says, returning her attention to Livio.

"Oh, wow, you've got to be kidding me. Is it just me, or are you completely absorbed by this guy?" Livio replies, his mouth twisted in a grimace.

"Who?" she asks, genuinely confused.

"Sainz. You were hanging on his every word."

"I just think it's nice that they're giving an encouraging speech. Both of them," she explains, avoiding the Italian's gaze.

"Yeah, okay. Should we get another drink?" he asks, taking hold of her arm again.

She wants to protest. She can still taste the gin at the back of her mouth. It can't have been more than twenty minutes since her first drink. But Livio is already almost dragging her behind him, clearly determined not to let her escape tonight. And once again, that hand locks around her arm. Firm. Not open to discussion. She feels something almost territorial in the gesture, something that strongly displeases her, so she vows to mention it to Livio. Someday. Not tonight.

This time, he doesn't even pretend to care about what she wants to drink, ordering two whiskies straight away. She hates it. The taste, the look, what this alcohol does to her mind and body. But Livio has already slipped two bills to the bartender, and a moment later, the amber liqueur lands in her right hand.

While her drinking companion is already tilting his head back, clearly unaware that this type of alcohol is to be savored and not downed in one go, she observes the glass, intrigued by the few bubbles that are forming on the surface. I had no idea whiskey could do that, she thinks before bringing the liquid to her lips.

A few minutes later, she's managed to shake off Livio by claiming she needed to use the restroom. She crosses paths with Carlos walking in the other direction, maybe three people ahead of her, but he doesn't notice her.

In front of the restroom mirror, touching up her lipstick, her focus changes as she sees a drop of sweat trickle down her temple and slide slowly onto her cheek. I'm rather cold, though, she thinks, almost suppressing a shiver. Her head suddenly feels very light. She blames the alcohol. Putting her lipstick back in her clutch and tucking a strand of hair that threatened to escape from her bun, she pushes the restroom door open again, bracing herself to face the social world once more.

Passing by the buffet, a wave of nausea washes over her, forcing her to stop for a few seconds, leaning against the table and closing her eyes.

"I thought it was you," echoes the sunny accent in her ears. With her eyes still closed, she wishes their new encounter, one that she'd admit she's dreamed about, had happened differently. At a better time. A time when she wasn't battling a fierce urge to throw up.

"Are you okay?" Carlos inquires, raising his hand as if to support her but stopping halfway.

She takes a few seconds to push the unpleasant sensations from her body as far away as possible before lifting her head, opening her eyes, and being rewarded with the exquisite sight of his luscious hair and amber eyes.

"Hi," she manages to utter in a faint voice. "Great speech," she continues, still leaning against the table.

"You look pale," the driver responds, looking concerned.

The words escape her lips before they even reach her brain. She regrets them instantly. Something inside her just give way, like a dam.

"Sorry. I must have looked better in Singapore," she says.

Carlos widens his eyes, surprised, before letting out an awkward laugh.

"Sorry for staring at you like that, that night. You were... Well, you are...," he continues, seeming to search for his words.

She would so love to hear the rest, to know what he was going to say. But dizziness seizes her, and she feels herself tipping against the table. Well, almost, because suddenly, an arm wraps around her waist, pressing her against a chest that, yes, she's also dreamed about several times. But not like this. Not in this state.

"Hey," Carlos says, his voice tinged with worry.

"I'm so sorry, this never happens to me. I must have had one drink too many, I—"

"I saw you at the bar not even ten minutes ago," the Spaniard continues. "No alcohol hits you that fast. Not even shots."

"I'm fine," she says, and the pilot understands that she's saying it not only to reassure him but herself as well. And, as if the words had commanded it, the fog in her mind dissipates a bit. Enough for her to gently detach herself from the pilot, finding her balance on her own two feet again. She'd like to take advantage of this newfound clarity to keep the Spaniard close to her. Him, that she never crosses paths with, whom she never speaks to, and yet who appeals to her so much.

But Charles arrives. He smiles at her, asks if she's okay, if she's enjoying the evening, and oh, "I'll borrow him for a moment, I'm so sorry, sponsors, you know," and oh, once again, she finds herself alone at the buffet, watching the two men walk away, Carlos still watching her as he reluctantly retreats.

"I was beginning to think he'd never leave," Livio says, leaning against the buffet, his hip brushing against hers.

She wants to scream. Oh, how badly she wants to.

Sensing that she's not going to respond, the Italian tries his luck again.

"Should we dance? You seem intoxicated enough, now."

She doesn't even have time to respond before her colleagues guides her onto the dance floor, eagerly pressing his body against hers. His breath, previously tinged with whiskey, now betrays hints of tequila. The guy never has enough, she thinks, twirling reluctantly.

And there it goes again. The nausea, the queasiness. Spinning her around like a puppet doesn't help, she tells herself. She comes to a halt, cutting off Livio's momentum, causing some dancing couples to narrowly avoid colliding with them. Feeling vulnerable, she tries to get away, to seek refuge elsewhere. But her wrist is once again trapped.

"You don't look well. Come on, let's get you some fresh air," Livio says, heading towards one of the large glass doors.

She's often been described as naive by her loved ones. She believes that the whole world means well towards her, never suspects anyone of ill intentions. She would even say about herself that she has no instincts, let alone survival instincts. No sense of danger. Yet, perhaps for the first time in her life, something deep inside her is screaming not to follow the man. Her signals are on alert. Everything is flashing red in her mind. For her, it's a first. So, without thinking, without worrying about offending her colleague, she acts.

"I don't need to go outside," she says, trying to free herself from his grasp. She's sweating. She feels the unpleasant sensation of a thin layer of dampness creeping over her neck, her back, her hands.

Her feeble resistance is no match for Livio's strength, as he pulls her outside despite her protests. The music is too loud for anyone to hear their altercation. Divided between the buffet, the bar, and the dance floor, no one pays attention to this mismatched couple, to the determined man dragging a struggling woman behind him.

The door closes heavily behind them, stifling the sounds of the party, captured on the other side. It's cold outside, she feels it because her whole body shivers. But she, who was cold just a short while ago, feels like she's boiling. She raises her hand to her forehead, wiping away another bead of sweat that's formed between her eyebrows. What's happening to me? she thinks internally, troubled. Alcohol has never put her in such a state before.

"I'm so glad I ran into you tonight," Livio begins, either oblivious or indifferent to the young woman's condition.

She doesn't respond, feeling her head spinning, leaning against the wall behind her, gasping to try to catch her breath. Trying to control the burning heat that's engulfing her body.

"You look really beautiful tonight. Quite a change from the work overalls, huh!" the man continues.

She's not exactly sure at what moment he slipped between her legs, facing her, just a few centimeters from her face. But he's there, too close, forcing her to turn her head to the side to avoid his gaze - and his alcohol-laden breath.

"I said, you look really beautiful tonight," Livio says. "Are you not going to say anything?"

"What do you expect me to say to that?" she says, jaw clenched.

"Do you find me attractive?" the man asks, meeting her gaze.

The warning signals reappear along with the nausea. She barely has time to push the man away and lean to the side before emptying her stomach inches away from his feet. The naivety stops there. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place, realization hitting her painfully.

"What did you do to me?" she asks, her knees giving way under her weight, sending her crashing to the ground. He sneers, rolling his eyes, as she crawls a few meters, trying to put some distance between them. She's now sitting on the ground, her back to the wall.

"What? What are you talking about?" the Italian replies, offended.

"Did you put something in my drink?" she asks again.

"Come on, now. I've been helping you ever since you said you weren't feeling well. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

For a moment, her colleague's wounded look makes her seriously doubt herself. Maybe it really is just the alcohol, she thinks, trying to calm her racing mind. After all, why would someone deliberately choose to harm her? Why jump to that conclusion? Livio has always been charming. A bit clingy, but charming.

"I'm sorry for implying that. I'm gonna head back inside," she says, trying to stand up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Livio answers, pushing her back down.

"What? why?" she asks, surprised.

"It wouldn't be very wise to parade in front of your colleagues and superiors in such a poor state," the Italian begins, his tone almost mocking. "It really doesn't give a good impression of you. It's not very professional."

"I haven't done anything, just had a few drinks," she responds, annoyed. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"You're so wasted you can't even stand. At a work event. Do you want to get fired or something?"

She opens her mouth to speak, to defend herself, but no words come out. She can't seem to figure out if Livio is with her or against her anymore. His words are harsh, aggressive, but deep down, the engineer probably isn't wrong. She struggled to secure a position here, at Ferrari. Even though she believes herself to be fairly skilled at her job and puts in long hours, there are hundreds of others doing the same work as her every day. And hundreds more who could replace her if the need arose.

She's not indispensable. She's not even that good at speaking Italian, having always had more ease in English or in French, even though she spends the majority of her evenings reading books in the language. She's just a tiny cog in the machine. She thinks about Carlos, too. What would he think, seeing me stumbling in the middle of the dance floor like a mad woman?

"Let me drive you home," Livio says, extending his hand. "Spare you the embarrassment."

She hadn't realized how tired she was. The offer is rather tempting. Getting back to her apartment, her cat, her bed. Above all, escaping the crowd. Forgetting this evening. Forgetting whatever she thought there was with Carlos, too, while she's at it. As a stronger wave of sleep washes over her, she temporarily closes her eyes.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get you in the car."

After her brain, her legs refuse to cooperate too. Her body barricades itself, trying to keep her firmly sheltered. Losing patience, Livio hoists her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She wants to protest against the position she finds herself in. That's so unladylike. Her last few connected neurons grapple over strange thoughts. I hope nobody sees my underwear, she thinks before her brain disconnects once again.

She's so far gone, yet the next words sound crystal-clear in her ears.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Sounds like Carlos, she thinks, delirious.

"What does it look like to you? I'm bringing her home. She's wasted," she hears, and she thinks it might be Livio, because she feels his body shaking with each words.

"There's no way I'm letting you leave with her. Put her down."

"Yeah? So you can have your way with her?"

"No, so I can punch you in the fucking face," the accent-thick voice shouts.

She must have passed out for good because she doesn't remember anything else. When she wakes up next, which feels like an eternity later, she's sitting against a wall, this time indoors, wrapped in a golden emergency blanket. There's no more music. Opening one eye, then the next, she's met with Carlos' brown ones. She tries to speak but her mouth feels dry. The Spaniard hands her a glass of water, helping her bring it to her lips.

"I somehow managed to look even worse," she jokes, reminiscing their earlier encounter.

"The paramedics have just arrived. They're going to take you to the hospital for a check-up," he says and she nods.

"Thank you, Carlos," she replies.

"I haven't done the half of what I would have wanted," he says, regret filling his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"This has to be the worst timing ever, but I... I actually wanted to ask you out, before Charles interrupted us and before, well... this," he says, gesturing around them.

He doesn't see it, but hidden under the blanket, she pinches her arm. Hard. Just to make sure she won't wake up a second time. Seeing that nothing changes, she lets out a little laugh.

"If you wanted me to wear that silky green dress, I'm so sorry, but I ruined it in the washer."

"You can wear a garbage bag for all I care," Carlos replies, looking at her fondly. "You'll still stand out in the crowd."

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #formula1 #f1 2024 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you

[loveinhawkins]

for the one word ficlet prompt thing!!

I'd love to see something steddie with the word "sun". not picky about how you use it and im good with whatever season you'd like! 💕🌻💘☀️

pre season 3 crossing paths in high school, my beloved ☀️💕 ao3

There’s a blind spot just on the outskirts of the school grounds, before you get to the woods: a little hill that if you sit at just the right angle, back pressed up against the grass, no-one can see you. Eddie goes there whenever he needs some peace—like now, reading alone during lunch. He can still hear the distant laughter of students floating along on the breeze, but it’s far enough away that it doesn’t intrude as he reads.

The air smells like summer’s approaching. His fingers skim through drying blades of grass; they feel almost as delicate as pressed flowers.

Despite the calm solitude, the words aren’t going in—and he knows that with the right teacher, he kinda gets Tennessee Williams, but Mr Hauser’s gone, and he was the only one who allowed Eddie free reign to go wild when reading aloud in class, every other sub since then would say he was being disruptive and… okay, that was true some of the time, but most of the time it was because it helped, damn it, gave him at least some hope of scraping a pass—

A shadow falls across Eddie’s page—it doesn’t loom in the way a teacher’s stance would, but he still jumps at the suddenness of it.

“Jesus!”

Eddie tips his head back against the hill, cranes his neck to look upside down. Squints against the sun.

It’s Steve Harrington, and he must have gym straight after lunch because he’s already changed into a T-shirt and shorts, which is an odd decision in Eddie’s opinion as a perpetual gym-ditcher, but whatever, it’s a free country… and it’s not exactly like the guy’s an eyesore.

”You trying to give me a heart attack, Harrington?”

“No,” Steve says shortly; he looks a mixture of embarrassed and… annoyed? Which would be a new personal best for Eddie, considering he’s done nothing to piss him off save for just sitting on the ground. “I didn’t know you were here, dude.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the idea,” Eddie waves his hands in explanation, “welcome to my hiding spot.”

Steve scoffs. “Not much of a hiding spot if I found it.”

It comes out a little petty, sure, but nothing major, Eddie thinks; it’s not like Steve’s picking a fight.

“What’s up with you, man?” he asks lightly.

It’s something he’s pondered more than once over the last couple of years, in between the stress of failed tests and the same platitudes in school reports: Eddie must apply himself next year; Eddie must try harder; Eddie must…

In the background of it all was the enigma that was Steve Harrington. Eddie had found that you couldn’t not look at him, his eyes drawn to even the most fleeting impressions: walking past the lockers or driving in and out of the school parking lot. Seasons changed—whole damn years changed—and still the question remained: just what on earth is up with Steve Harrington these days?

At least now, asking the question is profoundly less upsetting than it had been last fall, when Eddie silently tracked the progression of bruises healing across Steve’s face—along with Billy Hargrove’s intimidating stare.

“Nothing, I’m just…” Steve sighs. “Didn’t wanna spend forever in the cafeteria when it’s so nice out, but… Honestly?”

“Nah, I’d prefer you lie to me,” Eddie says deadpan, and Steve snorts before sighing again; Eddie almost asks him to read some Tennessee Williams out loud, ‘cause he’s surprisingly got the dramatics for it.

Steve flops down onto the grass, lies right on his back with no concern for his precious hair. “I’m so damn bored, Munson.”

“Gosh, my heart bleeds,” Eddie says. “Puh-lease tell me how hard it is to have passed everything and literally not have a care in the world?”

Steve blinks up at him, frowning. “Shit, are you repeating again?”

He sounds earnest, and there’s something in his phrasing that means Eddie isn’t nearly as defensive as normal—maybe because it’s about repeating again rather than failing.

Eddie lifts up the script in demonstration. “Not exactly reading this for fun, dude.”

“God, I’d take that over gym right now.”

“Okay, you’re bullshitting me. You love gym, Harrington. You, like,” Eddie gestures at Steve’s get-up, “actually make an effort and everything.”

“Not when the semester’s almost over, man. We don’t even have a cover right now, so we’re just left to, like, do whatever, who gives a shit. I’m bored outta my mind.”

“Tragic,” Eddie says—gym without a teacher sounds like a dream; he’d literally just leave. “I’m weeping for you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. But it doesn’t feel like a dismissal, even when he doesn’t reply and just lies back in the grass with another sigh.

So… Eddie mulls it over. What the hell, Steve’s graduating; it’s not like they’ll cross paths after that.

“Bet you can’t run to the woods and back before the bell rings.”

Steve sits up, a gleam of interest in his eyes. He checks his watch. “The bell’s gonna ring in, like, two minutes, Munson.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were so bored. Well, if you’re not up to the challenge—”

“No, no,” Steve says, standing up. “I didn’t say that.” He actually gets into position like he’s on the running track, looks at Eddie expectantly.

Eddie covers his bemusement with theatrics; he mimes firing a starting pistol.

And… shit, Steve Harrington can run.

Objectively, it’s not like it’s a surprise; he wasn’t exactly bringing up the rear in the swim and basketball teams. Still, it’s one thing knowing it, another to see it up close like this.

Eddie puts his book back in his bag, watching as Steve disappears from view. Reluctantly, he edges away from the hill—if he doesn’t, he’ll risk being late for class again by the time he walks over, and… He thinks of ‘86, what has to be his third time lucky. Start as you mean to go on, and all that.

Eddie turns back to look. Sure enough, Steve comes sprinting out of the woods, racing up to the hill right as the bell rings.

“Still counts, Munson!” he calls, a little breathless.

And Eddie knows that he’s not really solved the mystery of what’s going on with Steve Harrington.

What he does know is that Steve is smiling as he raises a fist in victory, the sun turning his hair golden for just a moment; he looks utterly free—as he should be, graduation’s right around the corner.

And Eddie can’t begrudge him that.

”Inspirational,” he shouts, cupping a hand around his mouth as he walks backwards. “I’ll get John Hughes on the phone, stat.”

The bell stops. Eddie turns around before he can trip on his own feet.

He’s getting closer to the school building now, can feel the change in the air, cliques unwillingly disbanding as teachers move them on.

But as he heads to class, Eddie faintly hears evidence that the moment hasn’t been broken entirely: Steve Harrington’s laughter, drifting across on the wind.

#i’m so obsessed with the last days of school as a setting #pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

[kaylatoonz]

Context

I have always loved how Amy always has faith there’s good in everyone even if they don’t believe in it themselves. Most of her allies and sometimes enemies view this as a strength, but what about those that view it as a Weakness who would take advantage of it? Surprisingly I haven’t seen that much content that has someone take advantage of Amy’s kindness and compassion. So what if when Amy first arrived on earth in the SCU someone took advantage of Amy's trusting nature?

(Like her origin in the game) Amy does a tarot card reading that leads her to Earth in search of her hero

She arrived a couple of months before G.U.N. Locate and release project shadow

Unfortunately, G.U.N. are the first humans Amy encounters who gladly accept Amy’s offer to aid on their mission

They were even kind enough to gift her a new outfit and high-tech pack that would be more practical for the “adventure” they’re going on.

In reality, the “gift” was Eggman's old tech that they refurbished to keep new intergalactic arrivals in their control (they were originally going to use it on Shadow once they found him).

The pack on her back is meant to send a controlled shock to keep the chosen subject in line

Sadly By the time Amy discovers that these people are up to no good she is already in too deep, experiencing her first shock at her first act of defiance.

Since then, Amy unwillingly works for G.U.N alongside Shadow (and eventually Rouge too).

Despite the circumstances, Amy remains kind and compassionate toward the humans she works with.

She even won the hearts of some of the more compassionate agents who worked at G.U.N (unfortunately they couldn’t help as much as they wanted to).

She still retains hope that she find her hero, and they’ll put their heads together and get her out of this mess.

Until then, she begrudgingly obeys orders and tries her best to wait out the storm (and maybe try to find her way out).

Shadow is the opposite of Amy, he is a lot colder and sometimes even aggressive towards other humans (especially G.U.N. Operatives).

He just works with G.U.N. For his own means to an end ( like the game shadow has amnesia and his memories have been tampered went to exact his revenge on humanity for Maria’s sake).

Despite his cold nature toward those around him, he forms a genuine bond with Amy Rose (and eventually Rouge too).

Amy is one of the few people Shadow finds comfort and peace in despite her sometimes overwhelmingly bubbly and energetic personality.

He can’t help but be reminded of Maria whenever he catches Amy taking in every nook and cranny of what Earth has to offer whenever they’re on their missions.

G.U.N. Takes notice of this and eventually takes full advantage of this to keep Shadow in their control

Shortly after Shadow was released, Rouge arrived on Earth, her sights set on the legendary master emerald.

Fortunately, Rouge was able to keep her distance (and guard up) enough to not let G.U.N. pull something similar to Amy (much to Amy’s relief).

Rouge and G.U.N. Do strike a deal, if rouge works with them the emerald is her’s (at least it is what they lead her to believe)

The team officially form intending to apprehend Sonic and his friends

Throughout their missions and training sessions, Shadow and Amy's bond grows stronger along with their new teammate Rouge.

Shadow and Rouge form a friendship built on trust and respect.

While Amy and Rouge's friendship is rough around the edges (they bicker a lot), they do have some form of respect for each other (they kind of have a sister relationship going on that neither of them would admit).

Rouge eventually gets curious about what is in it for Amy working for G.U.N. Which gets Shadow curious. they both know Amy is not the type to work for these goons to get something out of it.

Amy hesitantly replies that she wanted to help them out, but things got… complicated, so now she’s here.

Amy doesn’t want to worry Shadow or appear weak to Rouge, nor does she want to get them too involved in her problems.

Shadow and Rouge are suspicious that there’s something more going on between Amy and G.U.N that she’s not telling them.

Sadly, their suspicions are confirmed when one of their missions goes wrong and Amy takes the brunt of the blame.

shadow and Rouge witness firsthand what the pack on Amy’s back is meant for, and they both don't like it one bit

Shadow steps in to stop them while Rouge comforts Amy the best she can

with the confirmation that not just Shadow but Rouge cares deeply for Amy, G.U.N. not so subtly threatens Shadow and Rouge that this could happen again if they aren't so compliant on their next mission.

As Shadow comforts Amy, his hatred for G.U.N and humanity has cemented if it wasn’t already. He promised himself that he would stop at nothing to get Amy out of this place and make every last one of these agents pay. Unbeknownst to him, Rouge had made a similar promise to herself (but not to the full extent of ending all of humanity).

Eventually, the team encounters their target Sonic heroes, which leads to a lot of conflict

Amy is certain that Sonic is the hero that she was destined to meet and that they should accept the help they are offering

Shadow disagrees, feeling that Sonic is nothing but an idiot who can’t save anyone (and besides he didn’t need saving).

Amy is willing to take that chance with Sonic and attempts to accept his help but Shadow quickly intervenes when he notices the two warning beeps and her pack starting to activate.

Before the final warning, shadow grabs Amy (unintentionally sending the message that Shadow is taking Amy hostage to the heroes and pissing Amy off).

Realizing that G.U.N would never let Amy go so easily (assuming that the pack would terminate her if she were to side with the enemy). Shadow decides to take a risk with the heroes.

Before Shadow Chaos controls away with his teammate/hostage, he gives the heroes a good look at Amy’s pack and glares down at the heroes stating “If you’re truly looking for someone to save then pay attention!”

Sonic and Knuckles are enraged by Shadow's cowardly and low action of taking the girl hostage to escape their fight.

That was until Tails showed his brother what unit managed to pick up on Amy.

The brothers are horrified by what could’ve happened if Shadow hadn’t intervened in time. They all agree to take things carefully when trying to help Amy.

Sonic wants to help Shadow reignite after learning what he is willing to do to save Amy (he was just gonna be a tough nut to crack).

Rouge later gives the heroes blueprints on the pack to aid them in safely getting Amy free

Eventually, thanks to the help of Rouge and Tails’ careful planning, they were able to free Amy from their control.

With Amy safe, Shadow finally initiates his revenge against G.U.N and humanity.

Amy isn’t having it, so she confronts Shadow who doesn’t understand why after everything the government/humans have put her through she would still defend them.

She calmly replies that yes, she has experienced the worst of humanity, but she also witnessed the good in humanity with her brief time on earth.

Amy’s heartfelt speech strikes a chord with Shadow, reminding him of his true promise to Maria.

Wanting to make things right Shadow makes a new promise to Amy before aiding Sonic in saving the world.

#sonic movie 3 #amy rose #movie amy rose #sonamy #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #movie rouge the bat #rouge the bat #procreate #shadamy #sorry if there’s errors #i caved again…

[fictionobsession]

doubt

Pairing: Alastor x f!Reader

Summary: He wouldn’t give anything for her.

Word Count: 1,494

Warnings: toxic relationship, emotional abuse, manipulation, drinking, soulmate au…ish

A/N: alrighty friends so this is part 2 of devotion and uh… it’s rough. this is not a healthy relationship. I’ve got one part planned after this one. if you like happy endings, please just pretend that devotion had one part, okay?

--

She dutifully followed Alastor through the double doors into the smoke and dim lighting of Mimzy’s. It was early in the day, but as it was still Hell, the bar had a few patrons here and there. The pair approached the bar, where Husker was working on loan to Mimzy.

“My doe, please do stay here with Husker. I have some business to discuss with Mimzy. And if you do get bored, there are a few thugs in the abandoned building at the end of the block that could use dealing with. Oh, and don’t forget you still must go to the butcher, you know the one.”

“The one across town? But Al, there’s a butcher on the next street ov - “ She stops at the raise of his brow. “Of course, Al, I’ll go to the one in Cannibal Town. I know you like it better.”

He doesn’t acknowledge her again, turning on his heel to go into Mimzy’s office to discuss business.

“So how long has he been treatin’ you like that?”

She startles at Husk’s question, but relaxes upon seeing his genuine expression. “Like what, Husk?”

“You know what I mean. How long has he had so much control over you?”

A shrug was all she could muster. “Oh, long before I met him on Earth, I’m sure.”

She could watch Husker trying to figure out the phrasing for his next question, the confusion written plainly on his face. “How’d he own your soul before you even met him, in the living world?”

“Oh! Husk, no, he doesn’t – well, not exactly – he -” she focused her energy inward, a black cord coiling around her middle before snaking off to find Alastor. “He doesn’t own my soul, Husker. He’s my soulmate. Platonically, obviously, not the red string of fate, romantic nonsense.”

It was something she’d never seen in Hell aside from her and Al, but people could hide it, so she had to assume there were others. Based on the look Husker was giving her, though, it wasn’t something he was used to seeing either.

“O...kay… so you’re soulmates. Which means you… share in owning souls, right? If one of you two makes a deal, it’s automatically split between you?”

“Well it’s not like I asked to…”

“Uh huh, we’re coming back to that. But, that means your power is… equal to his. You’re an overlord. Why do you let him treat you like that if he doesn’t own you?”

“He treats me fine, Husk. He’s just – well. you know. He’s Al.”

“When was the last time he consulted you or even told you afterwards about a decision affecting both of you?”

Her lack of answer was answer enough for him.

“That’s what I thought. He doesn’t respect you. He’s using you, just like the rest of his little pets.” He spat the last word with such malice, she couldn’t help but wonder what Alastor was doing with the Sinners whose souls he owned. She assumed they all had decent jobs and responsibilities, like Husker and his bartending. She filed that question away in her mind to consider later.

She gave Husker a warning look, though. She couldn’t just let people refer to her as Alastor’s lapdog. But… that’s what she was, wasn’t she? When had he consulted her about decisions? Well, never, but isn’t that the way she had wanted it?

“I’m sorry, I just…” Husk allows himself to trail off when he realizes she’s no longer listening to him. He fills up her whiskey, her usual drink.

“Husk?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you make me something different? Something new?”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before mixing her a Tequila Sunrise and leaving her to her thoughts.

As she’s finishing her third drink, Alastor emerges from Mimzy’s office, and the day outside had turned to night. She hooked her arm through Alastor’s proffered elbow, allowing him to guide her out. She pretended not to notice the pitying look Husker was trying to hide from view.

When they stepped out into the night, Alastor finally acknowledged her. “And what all did you get up to while I was busy, my dear?”

“Oh, nothing really, just talking with Husker. He made me a new drink to try! It’s called a Tequila Sunrise.” Alastor wrinkled his nose at her description. “Oh, I don’t think you’d like it at all, Al, it’s very sweet. And I know you’re not a fan of… well, anything but bourbons and whiskeys really.”

“That’s nice, dear. Shall we head back home then?”

She nodded, and suddenly his shadows were swallowing them and depositing them back at Al’s radio tower. She said nothing as Alastor fixed himself a drink, turned on the radio, and made himself comfortable on the sofa. She stood motionless, watching him go about his business as if she weren’t in the room.

“My doe, why don’t you come sit?”

She shook her head slightly before glancing up, remembering that Alastor didn’t make real requests. He made demands framed as requests. She crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the sofa cushion, her back straight and tense, her eyes facing straight forward.

“My dear, what is going on with you tonight? You’re not yourself.” His tone gave away a concern his face would never.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, remembering that they were soulmates for Lucifer’s sake. She could talk to him. He couldn’t hurt her without hurting himself anyway, so they’d have to resolve anything like adults – with proper communication. Which, despite his life being in radio communications, Alastor was distinctly bad at.

“Al, do you actually respect me? Or am I just someone to run your errands?”

“Of course I respect you, my dear! I don’t keep people around if I don’t respect them.” Her eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Well, if I don’t respect them or own them, at least. Where’s this coming from?” His eyes were tense, his smile tight, as if he were clenching his teeth.

“You just… I’m never included in business deals. You’ve never taken me to Overlord meetings. People think I’m someone who made a deal with you, not someone who’s an equal partner with you.” She looked down shamefully, missing Alastor’s eyes briefly turn to the dials that signified his rising temper.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to calmly respond. His tone was upbeat and his smile was wide, his eyes the only sign of his inner thoughts. “Why didn’t you just say so! I hadn’t included you in dealings because you’ve never asked! And I would never subject you to Overlord levels of danger and responsibilities if you didn’t want it, ma chérie!”

She looks up at him then, a soft smile not quite reaching the crinkles of her eyes.

“Did Husker make you doubt your place with me, my doe? I can take care of that. Permanently.”

All forgiveness she had been feeling in that moment vanished with the threat on her friend. Maybe her only friend, she allowed herself to think briefly. She jumped off the sofa, Alastor following her with a slightly panicked look on his face. Her eyes flashed green dials, shadows darkening the room, and green strings shooting out to tie everything together. She bared her teeth as her own antlers grew. “You will do – NO – SUCH – THING.”

Alastor took a single step back, his smile not quite faltering. She had never had the confidence to threaten him, not ever. He wasn’t even sure she had known she had that kind of power, let alone how to use it.

“Of course, of course! I wouldn’t hurt someone under your protection, I just wanted you to know that I will take care of any potential pests that would come between us! There’s absolutely no need to worry.” He started taking steps toward her, his hand outstretched.

The moment he touched her, she deflated, coming back into her normal calm state. “I’m sorry, Al. Just… don’t hurt Husker, alright?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t harm a fur on his fluffy little head.” He ruffled her hair, smiling softly down at her as exhaustion took over her features. “Now, I’ve got to do my show -”

“Can I stay and listen tonight?”

“Anything you want, my dear.”

She curled up on the sofa, watching Alastor, allowing her mind to wander to all the wrong places. She knew what he played on his radio show, but where did he get them? She’d never even thought to ask. He hadn’t really promised her anything, had he? Not until she showed her teeth.

She sighed, bringing his attention back to her for a brief moment. He flashed a genuine smile over his shoulder, the screams playing a perfect background to the scene as she brought her hand to the bit scar that had once made her feel so close to him. She watched him, not for the first time, but for the first time really looking for any clues about his true motivations and feelings toward her.

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #alastor x f!reader #toxic relationship #tw: emotional abuse #tw: emotional manipulation #alastor is not a good guy #aroace!alastor

[youandiwerealive]

Só quero ir para casa, para ti [rd]

Author’s note: my best friend described this as “disgustingly cute”, so here you have some cute dad!Rúben to compensate for the last one 🫣 thank you to the anon who requested this, hope you enjoy it! Mwah mwah

wc: 1601- English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Rúben absolutely hates being far from you, especially now that you’re pregnant with your second baby.

He is currently in Abu Dhabi with the team, preparing the upcoming season. Not only is he 4 hours ahead in the clock, he is also full of trainings and recovery sessions - leaving him so little time to talk to you.

You are now five months pregnant and your baby is starting to kick and move like crazy inside of you. You try your best to show everything to Rúben, not wanting him to feel left out for losing all these special moments. But, you both agree that video calls might help a bit to ease the sadness of being away from each other, but those minutes don’t really make up from all the time that Rúben spends without his wife, daughter and son.

Every time he looks at you through his phone screen, he can’t help but think how beautiful you look, the pregnancy glow really showing again - more and more each day now. He misses you like crazy, even just a couple of hours would already be too much time away from you and your family, but spending weeks so far is killing him already.

He especially misses sleeping next to your belly, wanting to feel as close to his boy as possible, while Matilde is wrapped strongly in his arms. He misses the way you would laugh when he peppered your belly with kisses. He misses talking to his children - having full conversations about every thing and anything at the same time, really. Always promising his entire love and dedication to the other love of his life, his baby - Dinis.

Rúben has been sad lately, thinking non-stop about all the times you call him, or send him videos of his son moving inside your belly. He hasn’t felt it yet. Every single time the baby decides to move, he’s not around, and when he is, Dinis decides to keep quiet.

“Maybe he is just shy. He’ll move for you when he feels like it, we can’t rush these things” - you would always say to him, trying to get a bit of all the guilt Rúben held upon his shoulders to go away. Why wouldn’t the light of his life kick for him? He even smiled at the first time you told him in between laughs ‘he’s not kicking because he’s afraid that you’ll tackle him’. Yeah, jokes about him being a footballer and his son not kicking around him.

But lately he has been feeling down, his mind thinking about that all the time. What if his baby gets here and doesn’t feel comfortable enough around him? He would always move to the sound of her mom’s voice, but not to his. Matilde was a very active baby, always moving and kicking to the sound of her dad’s voice - totally a daddy’s girl, still today being always glued to him, playing him with, sleeping with him, cuddling with him.

Either way, Rúben is tired, missing you, his princess and his baby. You are video chatting once again, him seeing how his boy’s tiny feet would mark your belly and talking to his princess, Matilde. He tries to smile, glad to see his baby moving once again, even if he’s not there to feel the sensation.

You can sense that he is a little down, but you try to shrug it off since he said he was feeling tired and sleepy.

“Tenho tantas saudades vossas” (I miss you so much) - he says lowly, like his voice is threatening to start shaking if he speaks any louder.

You smile, understanding why he is so down. “We miss you too” - you say to your husband, noticing how his face falls.

However, the voice of his angel on earth brings a smile to appear on Rúben’s face. “Volta rápido, papá” (come back soon, daddy) - Matilde says, showing his daddy her newest growing teeth, that has been giving her mommy so much trouble and sleepless nights.

“Eu já só quero ir para casa, para vocês” (I just want to go home, to you) - by the way he is talking portuguese to you, you know he really means it. He takes the value of saudade very seriously, no translation can do that feeling justice.

Rúben goes to sleep with a headache. Maybe he should stop pushing his baby, stop begging him to kick into his hand. Maybe he should go back home with a different mindset. Trying to fight some kind of war with his son really sounds crazy to him, and he kind of hates himself for being so annoyed about something so trivial as that.

When he finally goes home, after so many weeks apart, you and Matilde are waiting home to greet him, you even cooked your daughter’s favourite cake - she insisted so she could share it with her daddy on their usual tea party, something that has became a tradition between Rúben and her already.

Berny the bunny and Johnny the bear are patiently waiting on the three year old girl’s lap for her most important guest to arrive - the little girl anxiously setting every thing up.

When you hear the door handle click open, Matilde immediately runs to the door.

“Papá, papá! You’re home!” - she girl screams as Rúben immediately picks her up and wraps her on his arms, taking in the wonderful and unmistakable scent of his daughter, breathing deeply and hugging her tightly, scared that she would run away if he puts her down - but she would never run away, she loves her daddy more than anything in this world, his embrace is her favourite place to be. The little girl wraps her tiny arms around her daddy’s neck even tighter, telling him how much she loves him and how much she missed him every day that he was away.

That alone made some tears appear in Rúben’s eyes, walking with his princess still in his arms, going to greet you with a passionate kiss, missing you like death. His hand instinctively goes to your belly - nothing happened. But Rúben is not going to worry about that anymore. He has his family by his side again, and that’s all that matters to him.

After the tea party with Matilde and a small family dinner, the little girl was already fast asleep on her father’s chest - never letting go of him since he arrived, and Rúben silently thanked her for that, really in need to feel his light near him as well, begging her to illuminate him a little more. Which she does, all the time, even if she doesn’t realise it. Rúben is already feeling lighter, being home near you and his babies helping him a lot with his mood.

After putting your sleepy daughter in her room, you and Rúben finally have some time to yourselves. He immediately wraps you in his arms, cuddling you close to him, hugging you and kissing your neck, face, shoulder, anywhere he could reach.

“Amo-te tanto” (I love you so much) - Rúben softly speaks in your ear, making your heart tingle like it’s the first time he is saying those words to you.

“We love you too” - you smile as you grab his hands that were already touching your belly, massaging your baby boy now.

Rúben smiles and tries his best to not think about the kicking topic.

“Is my boy behaving? Hope you’re not giving mommy much trouble already” - he speaks softly to his son, with a smile on his face.

When those words leave his mouth, Rúben’s hand feels a light kick. His face shows a shocked expression, not really believing what’s happening.

“What was this? This wasn’t a kick, right?” - he asks you, his mouth still agape at the feeling. You laugh at his reaction.

“Yes, it’s a kick, babe. Our son is answering your question” - you kiss the shock out of his face.

“Are you, filho? Are you answering daddy?” - Rúben keeps talking to the baby, hoping that he would keep kicking, amazed at the feeling of his baby’s kick for the first time.

Dinis kicks two more times, harder now at the sound of his dad’s voice, and Rúben’s eyes are full of tears, all the emotion and happiness falling down his face already.

“I can’t believe he’s finally kicking to me” - he says, more to himself.

“He loves you so much, never doubt that” - you reassure him.

“Oh god, I love you so much, Dinis. Dad will always be by your side, to play football with you, to teach you everything about space and astronauts, to take care of you and lead you the way” - he confesses while hugging you tightly now.

Rúben knows how badly you wanted this to happen, just as much as him. And he’s not a religious man, but it’s like he could feel all your prayers on him now, feeling such a powerful love wrapping your hearts, feeling extremely grateful for you, for being such a supportive wife and for bringing to life his biggest dream, the biggest loves of his life, his babies.

When you’re together, everything feels better to him, he’s only happy when he is holding his wife and daughter strongly in his arm - and now you are preparing your family for another beautiful adventure, almost welcoming your baby boy into this world - soon to be Rúben and Matilde’s best friend.

#dad!ruben #ruben dias x you #ruben dias oneshot #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias #thoughts about ruben #thoughts about football players #football imagines #football fanfic

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for April 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ and so I have to say (before I go) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [M, 27k, Harry/Louis]

Sometimes falling in love is taking a leap of faith, jumping into the unknown with your eyes closed, hoping someone will be there to catch you.

Sometimes falling in love is seeing the person in front of you, all their flaws and imperfections, and taking that leap nonetheless.

Sometimes it's both.

In Louis' and Harry's case, it's both.

＊ Pathema Proteleia by @persephoneflouwers [M, 53k, Louis/Harry]

A few years ago, Omega Prince Harry left his husband and mate Alpha Louis without any apparent reason. When enemies of the Royalty make an attempt on his life and threaten to hurt Omegas, Louis has to ask the Prince for help.

Or The Greek Tragedy AU (but with the happiest ending).

＊ I Want You Here With Me (Like How I Pictured It) by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 345 words, Harry/Louis]

"I just- Everyone was there and- and they were all happy and in love and I just- I needed to get out of there, Lou." Harry sniffled, wrapping his coat closer to himself as he trudged down the street. "It's not fair. It's not fair that they all get to be happy and in love and have their partners with them when I can't be with you."

OR The one where Harry misses Louis

＊ A Frail Farewell by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings [M, 11k+, wip, Louis/Harry]

Louis can’t believe his luck when he is offered one of the easiest jobs he has had as a long-term house-sitter for the wealthy. He loves the money, and the peace and quiet of the empty mansions he looks after. Most of all he likes that there are no surprises until he gets the shock of his life from ex-pop star Harry Styles who isn’t supposed to be home.

＊ tell me what the hell we're feeling (if you don't do feelings) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [M, 4k, Harry/Louis]

Harry is getting over a breakup. Louis doesn't date. Neither of them is interested in a relationship -- but they are interested in each other's bodies. It takes a global pandemic for them to admit that maybe there's more than just lust between them.

＊ April Drools! by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 1k, Louis centric ot 5 pairings]

Louis offers a particularly slobbery blow job to his clients who'd rather not be made a fool of on April 1st. Of course, he's got an option for those who don't mind being a little humiliated as well. Part 12 of Glory Hole-idays

＊ I'm Praying (that you don't burn out or fade away) by @lululawrence [NR, 74k, Louis/Harry]

“Louis,” Harry breathed happily. His smile widened as he realized he’d finally found him, and he was stood before his soulstar. This was the closest they’d been in 31 Earth years, which had felt extraordinarily long for Harry, even in his star form. He could hardly withhold his happiness at seeing him again.

“Erm, yeah,” Louis said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts with his brows furrowing and looking clearly suspicious. “And you are?”

Harry and Louis are literal stars who have known they were soulmates from their creation eons ago, however when Louis came to Earth to start the next phase of their fated future, he forgot everything. Even Harry.

This leaves Harry to break the rules and instead of waiting for Louis to call him and join him on Earth, he crashes down on his own. Without Louis there to guide him and help him learn how to adjust to having a human body and everything associated with that, Harry has no other choice but to do the best he can.

As Harry tries to correct what has gone wrong, he finds that friendship can be a light even in the darkest night, and through those bonds even separated soulstars can find their fated path once more.

＊ Love Like This by @reminiscingintherain [E, 32k, Zayn/Louis/Liam]

A Zouiam RWRB AU, featuring Louis as the First Son, Liam as the Prince, and Zayn as Liam's friend and equerry. With appearances from Lottie as Louis' helpful sister, Harry as his best friend, and Niall as Liam's golf instructor (or gardener? or something else?).

＊ Ghost of a Name by @signofcomfort [G, 35k, Louis/Harry]

Louis leaves the band in the middle of the tour and drops off the face of the earth. Five years later, they might have a chance to meet him. Harry can finally have some answers and tell the truth for the first time.

- Podfics -

＊ Finally, You and I (Collide) by @lululawrence read by @podfic-pals [NR, 14k, Zayn/Louis]

Funny how Louis could sum up everything he’d had with Zayn so easily.

Ex. One syllable, two letters. Fourteen years of friendship and marriage and everything else they had been to each other, put together and explained to anyone who asked with that one tiny word. Ex. Ex-Best Friend. Ex-Lover. Ex-Husband. Ex-everything, really. Zayn had truly become his everything, and Louis still ached in the spaces within that used to be filled by him, even all these years later.

Sometimes love was a bitch.

Or the five times Louis was accidentally wooed by cookies and the one time he was purposefully wooed by brownies.

#28th appreciation #hlcreators #hljournal #hltracks #1dficvillage #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #ficsfor4am #cristalreads

[dahliakbs]

Batfam x Reader: Unexpected Trip To The Future

❥synopsis: You sneak out of the house to hang out with your long time bff only to be caught in the cross fire and forcibly ripped away from your family.

✷

Here you sat alone around the small camp fire, su itrrounded by the endless heaps of trash you'd found that were still of use. The night sky shone a prominent blue colour with the clouds being seen far off in the distance.

The air around you was calm and quiet and seeing as how you were the only human being left on this earth it'd be weird if you all of a sudden started hearing noises.

On nights like this you'd sit around the camp fire and think back to the life you'd lived before the accident occured.

You'd always reminisce back to the day you first came to the manor. Bright eyed and filled with joy and enthusiasm, your closest friend Richard Grayson obviously sharing the same enthusiasm as you.

The two of you were know to be quite inseparable, always being seen together no matter the circumstance. The only times you weren't with each other were when Dick had to go out on patrol, reluctantly leaving you in the cold and dark manor by yourself.

Even though at the time you understood why he had to leave you didn't want him to. Back then it was your clingy behavior that got you into the accident.

Both of you having lost your parents at such a young age had left you yearning for some kind of affection and Dick felt the same way. So at any moment of the day you two would be together, playing whatever games you two could come up with until Bruce came home.

But since you two were together every second of the day you didn't see why you weren't allowed to go out on patrol with them. So when you were sat at home by yourself waiting for Dick to come home you'd just decided that if he wasn't gonna come to you you were gonna come to him.

On that night you'd snuck out of the manor, Alfred having not noticed since you escaped through your bedroom window.

You'd somehow squired one the tracking devices B used to know your precise locations and used it to find your way, arriving in less than ten seconds.

"Dick- I mean Robin I'm here!" You yelled out as soon as you made it to the scene. Having not noticed the intense battle going on between your father figure and the joker.

"N/n what are you doing here?" you could see his eyes light up under the mask as he quickly sprinted of the battle field towards you, arms opened wide and awaiting your hug.

You'd returned it quickly, holding out your hands towards him in a silly manner.

"Don't tell B but I snuck out to come see you, I stole one of his tracking thingies and now here I am" you showed off the gadget in your hands to a wide eyed Dick.

"Wait you stole it?!" He exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention towards the two of you.

"Keep quiet or else you'll get me in trouble-"

"What do we have here" Joker suddenly appeared behind Dick, roughly pushing him out of the way to get a good look at you.

"What's a little thing like you doing out here, did you come to say hi to your old uncle Joker?" he asked, you liked down to his hand. Noticing the strange gun he held in his hand. It looked like any regular gun, just deformed and reeking of a strange acidy smell.

"Get away from them" Dick jumped towards the Joker only to be harshly side kicked away from the two of you.

"Well since your here" he grabbed onto your arm, harshly yanking you closer towards him before flashing his deranged yellow smile at you.

His eyes held a mischievous look in them, bloodshot and looking down towards you as if you were nothing more than a puny joke to him.

"I've been meaning to test this thing out and you seem to be quite eager to help your ole uncle J, right?" He asked, pointing the gun in some random direction and pulling the trigger.

The gun shot out a murky green colour, the murky green forming into a circular portal that led to somewhere unknown.

The panic set in for you as you noticed the smile in his face grow to inhuman proportions. Harshly trying to jerk yourself away from him as you called out for anyone's help.

"Someone help me, anyone" your eyes turned blurry with tears as you turned to Bruce then to Dick for help.

"Daddy please help me" you cried out before you felt yourself being thrown towards the portal.

The last thing you saw before being thrown into you the green portal was Bruce chasing after you, wearing an expression you could only describe as scared and desperate. Calling out to you before you were fully submerged inside the portal.

Immediately feeling your body be transported throughout time and space before finally ending up in the wasteland you currently resided in.

The wasteland being the ruins of the former crime city known as Gotham City. Apparently the world had gone to ruins a little after you'd gone to the future, leaving behind a vast dry land ready to be taken over by mother nature.

And all you could think of as you reminisced and watched over this forgotten city were the regrets you had, you just wanted to see your family one last time.

Seeing that expression on Bruce's face really shook you to your core, you didn't think he'd even cared that much about you until you saw how desperate he looked that night.

One of the biggest regrets you had was not being able to see Dick's face one last time, to atleast be able to see his expression before you left him and all you do about it now was cry and look up to the night sky. Hoping that if there was a god out there that they would send you back to the family you belonged to.

Hoping that if you'd finally be able to confess to tell Dick about the silly feelings you had for him when you were both so young. Or maybe hoping to finally spend some time with your cold and hurt guardian.

And as if someone was really out there listening to your pleas you saw a familiar murky green colour fill up the space between you and the campfire.

Immediately lighting up the small space you were in.

A couple seconds of staring at it later you heard someone speak from the other side before s figure emerged from the portal.

?

"Richard is that you?" You asked the figure. They looked exactly identical to him, only difference was that this person was much taller and looked around the same age as you. His suit was very different, instead of the bright red, green and yellow he wore when he was younger he instead sported a black and blue skin tight suit.

The figure kept walking closer, expression slowly crumbling as they inched closer and closer towards you before they stopped Infront you. Taking off their mask to get a better look at you.

"It's time to go home n/n" his voice trembled as he forced the words out of his mouth. He crouched down in front of you, placing his arms underneath your legs and hoisting you into the air without giving you a chance to think to much in the situation.

He hurriedly passed through the portal, almost as if he was trying to get you away from the cursed wasteland as soon as possible. A wave of nausea overcoming before you emerged in the other side.

The intense feeling forcing you into a deep slumber before you could even get to see what was on the other side of the portal.

#dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfamily x reader #batfamily #batfam #Bruce Wayne #batman #batman x reader #dc #dc x you #joker #dc joker

[rs-wonderland]

Good morning! May I please request a scenario with 💗 and 💖 where Yandere!Male!Reader and Yandere!Floyd try to kidnap each other, only to realize each other's efforts, and deciding to date and occassionally let each other kidnap their lover just for funsies? Thank you. 🖤

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Floyd pov, Octavinelle:

A normal day at Octavinelle, and in Mostro Lounge the students were working well with lot of guest. What can possibely ruined this day. "Im going to get Shirmpy, don't wait for me at dinner~" Floyd said as he was walking fast with rope and- handcuffs...?

"Floyd, may i ask why are you-" Azul was cut of with Jade putting his hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure that they are ready? You know, humans are very, complicate for does things." Jade said in his usual voice, the twins were nothing a like. All tho, they must all agree, the one thing they had in common, other than there looks, was understanding desire's they had for there goals. And if Floyd wanted you, then who is Jade to stop him.

"Yeaaaa~ i think he is finally ready to live here with us. He can get some rest here, far away from others and that little cat-raccoon thing. And if he is not, well, he will be soon~!" He said in his usual cheerful tone. Azul looked at both of twins as he shifted his gaze back to his paper. "You will have to work double after your little 'love emergency' you just took, Floyd." Flyod nodded, and continue to go his way.

"You think that this is going to end bad?" Azul asked Jade. Jade simple looked at Azul and smiled softly. "We'll see, but, knowing Floyd and Y/n, i think they'll both be just fine." Azul sighed as he got annoyed, the twins relationship and there understending for one another was weird mistery to him. "I hope so, and just for a information, i am not feeding another mouth here."

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Your pov, in dorm:

Normal day for Grim, laying around and doing nothing. Until his human decited to ruin it, "Do you think Floyd would walk me back home so i can lock him in?" yea another dumb idea by him.

"How do you think to lock him? He is huge?" Grim didn't quit get the whole thing, but he didn't care he has his tuna. "Camon Grim, wouldn't it be nice to have a roommate?" Y/n was delusional by thinking Floyd was stupide but yet again who care? He has no choice after all.

Grim sighed as he sat up. "I am not sharing my tune." Y/n sighed as he looked down at Grim, while fixing his uniform. "I don't think a fish would eat, a fish Grim..." "It's Floyd, you never know."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Floyd was walking around the school, looking for his little darling. He didn't even try to hide his ropes. Y/n was looking around trying to find him, as he spoted Flyod he sighed as he smiled warmly. "Floyd~! Hey-?" He stopped as he saw the ropes.

Floyd smiled widely as he looked down at you. "Shrimpy~!" He hugged you tightly as he put rope behined you. "Stand still~!" You looked at Flyod confusted with a biggest blush on your face. "What on earth-?" Floyd looked down at you with a smirk. "What's wrong Shrimpy?"

You couldn't believe, rope? Tight hug? He couldn't possibly have the same idea, right? "Floyd are you trying to-?" Floyd just smirked as he pulled you closer to him while wrapping whole rope around you. "My little Shrimpy~! You aren't getting away from me~" You smiled as he picked you up, carring you like a huge prize he just won. "Yes, yours only, Floyd...."

What a start to an oh so beautiful love story~♡

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#twisted wonderland #twst floyd #floyd x y/n #floyd leech #floyd x you #floyd x yuu #floyd x reader #twisted wonderland floyd #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech x yuu #floyd leech x y/n #leech floyd x reader #floyd #twst x y/n #twst x yuu #twst x mc #twst x you #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x yuu

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Here is the koi fish au I kinda typed up?

Pros to nothliting as koi:

1. CONTAINMENT - the yeerk and taxxon population becomes an inert non threat. Koi are basically powerless against humans, and it's not like they could manipulate people cuz what can Koi Esplin offer? And the greatest advantage is we can keep an eye on every single nothlit, because Koi Can't Escape, especially if we keep them in, like, Nevada or Siberia or something.

2. FAMILIAR but UPGRADED environment - a koi pond or an aquarium can be beautiful spaces. Much like a yeerk pool, yeerks natural environment, a koi pond or aquarium can house potentially hundreds of koi, and multiple can be hooked together. They could swim around, thought-speak, take visitors, even read books and use computers (depending on security level). It's a straight upgrade too, because koi experience all 5 senses and pass the mirror test, so even if you're just going from the yeerk pool to the koi pond directly, it's way better than being a yeerk OR a taxxon OR Any Wild Animal

3. COMMUNITY - yeerks, taxxons could live in community together. Humans would definitely bond with yeerks if the aquariums were visitable. Humanity is scarred by the yeerk invasion, but I believe that we could have a path forwards with our new Koi friends. Imagine this (https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/s/fdDEsPmZku) but giant talking goldfish are you kidding me??? I would go every day to talk to my new fish friends. Koi can also live long and fulfilling lives, unlike most wild animals.

4. Anaconda plan flaws - it wasn't clear to me why the yeerks were allowed to turn into apex predators and roam free in the first place. Seems. Likely that you'd get, oh idk, some renegade guerrilla warrior anacondas mixed in with the rest. Maybe even some who saw from precedence a whole bunch can be. If it wasn't completely clear by now, I completely disagree with Cassie on the amazon idea. You can't just loose a bunch of snakes in the amazon! You have no way of controlling the outcomes there. And nobody seems to be considering that they're all going to starve in a few months (sciencedirect com/topics/earth-and-planetary-sciences/lotka-volterra-model). Why not put them in a zoo? Or y'know. A koi pond.

*john hammond voice* Somewhere where we have a bit more control

This is amazing and I love it.

#animorphs #yeerks #koi #koi fish #this is buckwild and i'm here for it

[blackgirlcinephiles]

Incoming: Long post! Black media discourse! Zendaya think piece!

Two years ago I wrote this post about Zendaya, Keke Palmer, and how colorism shapes the career trajectories of Black actresses.

This past weekend Challengers released in theaters, sparking a round of online discussion about Zendaya, her star power, her talent as an actor, and how a raunchy film like Challengers fits into a cultural landscape that’s less enthusiastic about on-screen depictions of sex.

Early reviews of the film lauded Zendaya’s performance, and even after it’s release, the general consensus remains overwhelmingly positive, with quiet buzzing of a potential Oscar nomination for Zendaya. Kudos to her!

I’m not here, however, to discuss or analyze Zendaya’s acting chops. (To some ppl, she’s outstanding, to others she’s overhyped. Personally, I think Zendaya is talented. Her work in Euphoria was no small feat and she’s proved herself capable.)

The reason I’m writing this now is that an excerpt from this article about Zendaya and Challengers got me thinking again about what it takes for Black actors to become “stars” in this day and age. I’ll insert screenshots here.

Now I’m sure the reviewer’s tone in these excerpts will be off-putting to some, esp those who identify as a part of the Zendaya standom. It’s clear that Ms. Angelica Jade Bastien has yet to buy into the fanfare about Zendaya’s acting abilities.

But she touches on something very interesting to me. Zendaya is THE most prominent Black actress of the younger generation and I’d argue her degree of star power is unmatched by even her non-Black peers, some of them having comparatively longer (& more impressive) resumes. Zendaya is incredibly well liked. People want to see her and she’s been so visible these past 6 years that it’s hard to believe Challengers is her first leading role in a big release.

So…why her? Why has Zendaya been able to garner this level of star power and leverage behind the scenes while other equally talented Black actors fight for adequate roles and visibility? After reading several opinions, I’ve come to some conclusions.

I think colorism, racial identity, and desirability politics all play a role (as was discussed in the colorism post). But I also think Zendaya has been very smart about managing her online presence and overall brand. She’s maintained Beyonce level privacy about her personal life (virtually scandal free since her teens) and has managed to exude poise while still being seen as delightfully down-to-earth. That in itself is praiseworthy b/c it’s a delicate balancing act and many have faltered.

I also think that as AJB states, there’s an indictment on Hollywood to be made here. I think since Zendaya’s exit from Disney, the projects she’s taken on have used her likeness to stoke public interest in the films. (Similar to the way ppl watched Selena’s film choices post- Wizards of Waverly: “What’s this beloved disney kid up to next?”)

And this is noteworthy b/c the significance of Zendaya’s roles in the early films of the Spiderman and Dune franchises have been disproportionate to her visibility in promotional materials. Zendaya’s screentime in the first Dune couldn’t have amounted to more than 10 minutes, but she was prominently featured on the press tour and red carpets. The same goes for the first Spiderman. She’s clearly been used to sell tickets to these movies, even when she doesn’t have a lot to do in them.

And Zendaya, to her credit, has made the most of these opportunities (earlier this year she received high praise for her performance as Chani in Dune 2). She once stated in a vogue interview that she started going out for roles initially written as white to see if she’d be able to change the casting team’s mind. And it seems that she’s succeeded, as evidenced by her presence in several huge releases over the past 6 years. But these were often small, supporting roles where her identity as a biracial Black woman didn’t impact her character’s arc within the overall story. (This is not necessarily a bad thing in itself, but stay with me)

This then begs the question, “What does it mean for a star like Zendaya to take up roles originally reserved for white actresses?”

The conclusion I’ve come to is that it means providing a film with enough racial diversity to give the impression that Hollywood cares about being inclusive, while not being so different that certain audiences are unable to “connect” to the character. I think that “Hollywood’s acceptable Black girl” has to be Black enough to fulfill a diversity quota, but not so Black that audiences are reminded the character has a different lived experience from them and feel uncomfortable.

Like AJB said, I don’t believe mainstream audiences are actually interested in Black female rage. It makes them uncomfortable and lately certain factions of the population have been extremely vocal about being “tired of woke.”

I find it strange that Justin Kuritzkes (the Challengers screenwriter) stated it only made sense to write Tashi as a Black woman bc of the visibility and dominance of Black women in tennis, but didn’t think it’d be important to explore any of the challenges that come with that in the film. And for this to be followed by the decision to cast a light skinned, biracial actress in the role? It doesn’t make any sense.

We’re shown that Tashi Duncan is a fierce, unapologetically competitive athlete. And yet, these are not qualities that Black female athletes are usually applauded for having. Just look at the narratives that have swirled around athletes like Serena Williams and Sha’Carri Richardson since their debuts. There’s always a barely concealed desire to humble high achieving Black women who are confident in their abilities. The press coverage around Serena & Naomi’s infamous match (which Justin Kuritzkes said inspired Challengers) is a perfect example of that. It’s strange to model a character after these figures and give no mention of these struggles and how they’d influence character motivations.

IMO, this reads as another case of not wanting to be critized for lack of diversity in your film, while also not wanting to do the work that goes into making your diverse cast authentic. (like getting input from or writing alongside other BIPOC screenwriters. That “little white boys” line is truly meaningless without any context or backstory. And it doesn’t sound like they’ve given Tashi much.) The result is an Black female lead character who is under-written and whose importance has been overstated in the promos in contrast to the actual story. (Which seems to fit right on trend for films Zendaya’s been a part of.)

Zendaya seems to have become the go-to Black actress for when big budget films want to “go ethnic.” She’s mixed race, conventionally beautiful, near universally well-liked w/ a loyal fanbase, and has been recognized as talented enough (Two Emmys! Count ‘em. Two!) to get the job done. She’s a safe bet that allows them to kill two birds with one stone. By adding Zendaya to the mix, the studio gets to check a diversity box for their cast and gets leading star guaranteed to get them sales.

I really don’t want anyone to misconstrue this as downplaying Zendaya’s achievements or her talent, b/c it’s not. But no part of the society we live in is a true meritocracy. As I discussed in the original post re: colorism, there are always structural and social forces at work shaping our ability to advance. Like Beyonce, Zendaya is an incredibly privileged Black woman who is talented, has worked hard, and has made the most of the advantages she’s been afforded. And I don’t think Zendaya has any control over the way she’s been used to advertise the films she’s done over the past 6 years.

I just think this conversation is another opportunity to adjust our perspectives and examine the limitations of representation in Hollywood. I’m reluctant to acknowledge Zendaya’s current success as a marker of progress or even see it as a win for Black female representation.

“Zendaya is officially Gen Z’s Hollywood star. Gen Z’s first true Hollywood star is a Black woman!”

What does it say about the stage of progress we’re in if our generation’s chosen Black leading lady has to have such close proximity to whiteness that people can choose to overlook her Blackness, if they so desire? Is the mere presence of a Black face in a high place progress? Or is it what that person’s power allows them to do for others who are also marginalized? As AJB asked, how meaningful is Zendaya’s position as a Black female producer if everything about the projects she’s involved in is white except for her? (Just throwing out food for thought: How different would Challengers have been if a MoC was casted as one of the male leads instead of the two “white twinks” everyone can’t stop talking about? No shade to Mike Faist or Josh O’Connor, but would it still have gotten buzz? Would the marketing team have known how to advertise the film if there were two main actors of color instead of one?)

I think it’s amazing to see Zendaya’s growth and success as a biracial Black female entertainer, but I won’t attach any meaning to her success that isn’t there.

This is actually a really shitty time for Black art and Black actors in Hollywood. Last year, so many wonderful Black shows were cancelled. DEI rollbacks are hitting all parts of society, but especially entertainment and the trend doesn’t seem to be reversing any time soon.

It’s not comforting to see Zendaya reach the heights she’s soared to, while other equally talented yet less privileged Black actors fall into obscurity waiting years before they get another role that showcases their abilities. Black actors continue to suffer from lack access to opportunities/roles. Their projects are not marketed and given time to grow. And even when the support is there, the shows will still be cancelled. What does it say that the one Black actress who has had consistent enough access to these opportunites to achieve “star” status is the one with the closest proximity to whiteness?

Things are actually very bleak.

#blackgirlcinephiles #black girls on tumblr #discourse #black actresses #black actresses in hollywood #zendaya #challengers #what does it mean to be a star in this day and age #what is the true importance of having a Black hollywood star? #should it mean anything? #black representation #black representation in media

[wolfsmeat]

commission for the very cool @combaticon, who wanted me to draw a scene from her fanfic ODD [Onslaught Defiance Disorder], I was allowed to choose the scene, so I picked the lovely interaction between Zainab and Jazz. If you are curious about the fic, here is the summary and my thoughts on it down below:

Post-war is as good a time as any to try for recovery. On a healing Earth, various practitioners in the rebuilt field of psychiatric care are learning how to serve the various extraterrestrial patients, including Transformers. On a new Cybertron, Onslaught has been bullied by his Combaticons to go to therapy--if only he can find a human counselor to stick with. Very few people are thrilled about this arrangement.

ODD is about trauma and how isolating it can be, sometimes downright alienating, but it is also about finding a home -a family- among those who might feel just as alien.

I was impressed with how it discusses the complexities of recovery and the struggles that come with it, be it internally or from outside forces. The writing respects its characters, (no matter how flawed) by highlighting the importance of their bodily autonomy, especially when they struggle with their mental or physical health. It highlights certain aspects that seem 'natural' and 'normal' in the medical system and asks the simple question of "is this really the right approach?".

ODD's central conflict is about not wanting to lose control, which is highlighted not just by the few antagonists that appear, but also by those who want to help their loved ones. It reminds us that even if we might know whats best, we aren't the ones who get to decide that.

Zainab was also a very engaging character and learning about her and how she interacts with the established Transformers characters was really interesting! She fits so well with the themes of TF as a whole, I consider her to be canon (lol) If you haven't please give ODD a try: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50786803/chapters/128296210

#maccadam #transformers #jazz #commission #my art

[anemoiashifts]

mental health check-in for reality shifting.

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as we all know, reality shifting is generally neural thing but tends to be glorified & romanized by a select few due to people wanting to have a better situation or a more desirable life.

that in itself is totally fine but this post is created with the intent to make sure the community has a healthy relationship with shifting & if not possible solutions.

if mental health is left unchecked it can lead to destructive behaviors & can worsen preexisting mental health concerns. for me personally, that’s not what shifting is about. you can learn about yourself & grow without even shifting. the expansion of your perspective & becoming more empathetic to yourself is something i believe is extremely important.

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♡ how often do you think about shifting ?

while it’s fun to daydream & think about your desired reality — does it consume your life or take away from other tasks that need to get done in this reality? if you’re somebody who has maladaptive daydreaming disorder (like myself!) it can exacerbate the fantasy-like aspect of thinking about shifting.

if you’re someone whose mind wanders a lot do something productive. this could be finishing some homework that you’ve been putting off for a long time or rearranging your bedroom. stuff like partaking in hobbies while listening to youtube videos in the background may help too.

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♡ why are you shifting ?

is it because you’re searching for something bigger ? maybe you’re looking for friends ? while you probably aren’t going to be able to meet your favorite characters here, you can meet lots of other people & make new connections at anytime. if it’s in person or even if it’s in an online space , i bet there are lots of people in this comment section or any shifting video who would love to be your friend.

defining why you want to shift can do wonders for uncovering more about yourself. 90% of the things people want to shift for are & can be found here & you’re more then worthy of them. just because you want something like love or a sense of belonging doesn’t mean you have to travel the multiverse for it.

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♡ “i want to k!ll myself because i can’t shift.”

while i understand frustration, extremes that result in life altering & ending choices are never good and quite frankly, frightening for a creator to see in their comment sections. most sv!c!des are committed on impulse. we go through so many emotions on the daily & process so much information a day. taking a moment alone to think & break down thought process & long term effects your actions will have is a nice way to come back down to earth.

meditation is also a great tool to calm down. you can even use shifting guided meditations without the actual intention to shift. breath work has also been helpful to me.

i understand these suggestions aren’t long term fixes but if you’re someone who has echoed these words & truly meant it then i cannot recommend therapy & possible taking a break from shifting even more to focus on yourself right here where you are. this may not be the answer you’d like to hear but it’s the one that is possibly needed.

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♡ timing.

there is no specific time frame that you have to shift. both children & adults do hold the capability to shift. if someone tells you, you can’t shift because ___ or that you’ll age out of something its simply not true. things take time & it’s okay if your journey doesn’t look like everyone else’s. there’s no need to stress yourself out. try to enjoy the journey as well as being excited for the outcome. essentially, a large part of the shifting journey is meditation & affirmations which are both beneficial to your mental & physical self. try to sprinkle in some self love affirmations or general positive thoughts too. even if you need to take a step away from shifting & pick it up at a later date, i encourage you to do so if it’s stressing you out or you’re only focusing on shifting or neglecting your life / responsibilities here.

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♡ shadow & trauma work.

answering questions that are meant to make you think & deeply reflect are tools that hi light some issues you may not even realize you’ve had. i have a tumblr post here with some, but for tiktok, ill list some on the next side. these ones are specifically for shifting but i encourage you to venture out to discover some more personal ones to expand upon your answers to these.

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i should also mention, i’m not a therapist so take what i say as non-professional advice & mere suggestions & a starting point to truly expand what shifting has done for you, negatively & positivity. im a huge advocate for therapy & if you feel comfortable enough expand upon these conversations in sessions if you feel comfortable.

i understand my audience is varied in age but i do notice a lot of you are younger then myself. it’s hurts to see people who are so young stress themselves out this much over trying to shift. i really do care about you & want to see all of you happy — with or without shifting.

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#reality shifting #desired reality #shifting #shiftblr #shiftok #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifter