#and more importantly... MOVE ON FROM THAT???

[foreveradreamaway]

helmets and hats- MV33/1

summary- the stress his father put on him never left his head, and neither does his helmet. only until you turn up with his lucky cap.

yes i know max won 2021, this is for the plot don’t come for me

Abu Dhabi 2021. the ride or die race for max and lewis. both of them just one race away from being the world champion. this was one of the biggest races of maxs life. this was what he had been waiting for his whole life. everything his father had put him through was for this. he could not mess this up.

but he did.

you stood in the room with all the engineers and important people who help to ensure maxs car runs perfectly throughout the entire race. you knew how much pressure max had been putting on himself in the weeks leading up to the race. spending 10 times more time at the race simulator and even more time working his body tirelessly to make sure it was race ready. you had watched hopelessly when he would do this many times before and knew this was just how he works. no protest from you will stop him, only make him work harder. he will come to you whenever he needs that little bit of comfort and reassurance, or even just a quick kiss to keep him motivated.

it was your favourite thing. knowing that he still needed you. he could be so deep in his own mind and would still seek you out. only you. he relied on you. for some things more than others, but he still did and you both knew it. he didn't always admit it, or want to, but you both knew. you were his main source of comfort and he couldn't go a day without it. he needed you in every sense of the word. he needed your love, he needed you there to remind him to pack enough socks when he goes away, he needed you to look after him when he was ill and most importantly he needed you there for the losses.

your heart drops when they cross the finish line, further than its ever dropped before. he wanted this so bad, needed it even. he had never lost a race this big before. but you were prepared, you would do the exact same as you did every other loss.

your feet carry you over to the intern whos specific job was to hold maxs hat. it was a very important hat and needed a whole person for it. you had had many interactions with the intern, retrieving his hat every time he lost. she gave you a knowing smile as you took the hat from her hands and went to meet max at you're usual spot.

he doesn't look at anyone as he exits the car and storms off. he physically cant. he doesn't even remove his helmet as he walks over to you, something you were already prepared for. his head is hung low as he approaches you, your hand immediately finding his shoulder. his feet stop in place, keeping his head down. the visor of his helmet was still all the way down so you couldn't make out the expression on his face.

he doesn't say anything as he places his hand softly over yours that sits on his shoulder. you knew not to push him at a time like this, letting him take your comfort when he needs. you stayed like that until you felt a sob rake his body. immediately wrapping your arms around his neck. his arms stayed at his side as you just held him. it wasn't often that he cried, but when he did, he did.

you weren't sure how long you stood there until his hands found your hips. you took this as your sign to move both your hands to his shoulders, finally speaking the words on your mind.

"you did so good baby" your hands moved to the sides of his helmet, attempting to lift it over his head but his hands quickly grabbed yours and brought them down in between the two of you. your face scrunching in compassion. lots of people knew what his father was like when max was younger, you more than most. the constant badgering and abuse never left his head, sticking with him throughout his life. as much as you comforted him and told him how proud you were of him, he always did the same thing after his losses. refusing to take his helmet off.

instead, you move to lift his visor up, catching a quick glimpse of his tear stained cheeks. you didn't see them for long before he quickly swiped it back down to cover his face again. your hand, once again, went back to swipe it up. his hand repeating his previous actions. smiles appeared on both your faces as you both kept up the act. his hand returning to yours when he heard a giggle escape your lips, allowing the visor to stay up. your laugh was his drug.

your head tilted to the side when you finally got to look at him. his cheeks slightly squished from the sides of his helmet and those slightly red eyes staring back at you, full of emotion.

"let me take your helmet off max" you whispered. his eyes shut as he shook his head, dropping it down again. you rested you forehead against the helmet in front of you. hands still gripping each others.

"you're safe baby, ive got you. its just me and you here." his head still didn't rise until you pressed a kiss to the top of his helmet. "im sorry" he croaked. your arms wrapped back around his neck to provide the comfort he desperately needed in that moment. the front of his helmet rested on your shoulder causing your head to tilt to the side, when it did you caught a glimpse of his oh so special hat.

you let go of one of maxs hands and leaned slightly to be able to grab the hat. as you did max slowly lifted his head up to see what you were doing and caught you with the hat in hand. a small smile appeared on his face when he noticed. it was always the small things that he loved about you. the fact that you noticed all the little things that comforted him made him feel so seen and loved in a way that he never had before.

you made eye contact with max and he gave you a small nod, approval to remove his helmet. your hands reached up to the sides of his head and slowly lifted it off. you placed it on the table where the hat had previously sat and moved back in front of max. one hand going to the back of his neck to carefully remove his under layer. you had never seen his face look sadder.

he closed his eyes and moved his head to rest between your neck and shoulder. this time you could feel the tears that were coming from his eyes. your heart breaking even more with every tear that fell.

"im so proud of you max" you whispered gently in his ear.

"i did so bad, schatje baby" his voice could barely be heard as he just felt too weak from everything. his body was filled with emotions that he didn't even know existed. the disappointment he felt was sickening and he didn't quite know how to deal with these feelings. the only thing he could do was cry in your arms.

"no way you didn't, you drove so well my love. that race was yours, it was a split second thing. there was nothing more you could have done. ive never been more proud of you than i am now max, everyone is so proud of you" you always tried your hardest to comfort him after a loss but he was stubborn and rarely actually took in what you said.

"not my dad" his voice was low, as if he didn't even want you to hear what he said. but you did. his father always loomed in the back of his mind no matter what he was doing. his fathers voice booming through his brain.

"he isn't here, no one else matters but me and you right now. im proud of you and thats all that matters. you've given this season your all, trust me i would know" a soft smile fell on your lips, max couldn't help but stare at your mouth as you talked. "you've spent countless hours in that bloody gym at home and did everything you could to make sure the best max was out on them tracks this season. i promise you max so many people will believe that you won this race and are standing behind you" his face had seemed to calm down a little now. his eyebrows no longer scrunched and his frown was slowly become flat.

his eye fell to the hat that was in your hand, your eyes doing the same. your smile got bigger as you knew what he wanted. you quickly secured the hat on its rightful place on maxs head. hats had slowly become a comfort for max. you would hardly ever see him without one, especially on race weekends. it became a shield between him and the scary eyes of the world. all he needed to do was tilt his head slightly down and he was alone and away from the chaos.

he quickly secured his lips to yours as his hands found the sides of your neck. your hands grabbing his wrists. he needed one final reassurance from you before he had to face the horrible questions of the media.

"go do what you need to do baby, call me and ill come find you. remember, im so proud of you." you placed a final kiss to his nose and cheek before he grabbed his helmet and began to make his way out the room. "you'll always be my champion max verstappen" you winked before he disappeared out the room.

he was a champion, he didnt need a trophy to prove it.

i hope you enjoyed my first max fic, many more to come. please send me requests i love hearing them

[zaczenemiji]

Can you do a spiderwomen x kenji sato. Maybe she was sent to retrieve emi and then got caught by kenji, and she was put into a jail like thing. So now she's just stuck there. She starts flirting with him. If yk what i mean 😏👉🏿👈🏿🎀💓🌸

Have an ice cream cone. 🍦

Thanks ♡♡♡♡

Kaiju Heist

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,066

Author’s Note: This one was a bit challenging, I hope it’s to your liking. Thank you for the ice cream, I offer you this fic.

MASTERLIST

Your plan was simple: sneak in, grab the baby kaiju, and get out. But things rarely went according to plan.

Let’s begin where it all started—that damn spider.

Long story short, your parents were scientists doing experiments on radioactive spiders. You help in their lab and one day, an earthquake enormous kaiju shook the city, causing a containment breach. The next thing you know, a particularly aggressive spider bit your hand.

Of course, you gained extraordinary abilities. Others would’ve loved this and used them for good—be like Ultraman or whatever. But to you, it’s more like a curse. Seriously, you didn’t ask for this so ain’t no way were you going to become a selfless heroine.

So you did nothing with your abilities; you didn’t hone it whatsoever. You looked at it as if it’s just another arm that grew out of your body. Like grabbing a bag of chips from across the room, you’d shoot spider webs out to get it without standing.

Despite living your life as privately as you could, somehow, the Kaiju Defense Force was still able to find you. So here you are now, in their headquarters.

You stood there, arms crossed. “I’ve told you before, Dr. Onda,” you said. “I’m not looking to be a hero. I just want to be left alone.”

Dr. Onda, chief officer of the KDF, and old acquaintance of your parents, leaned forward. “I know. But this isn’t about heroism,” he replied. “This is a highly sensitive mission and you’re the only one who can pull it off.”

"And why should I care?" you replied coolly. "What's in it for me?"

"Payment, of course. A substantial one. Enough to ensure you can continue living the peaceful life you desire without any further interference from us,” Dr. Onda answered.

“And more importantly, it's a one-time deal. Complete this mission, and you'll never hear from the KDF again."

Your face expressed a guarded neutrality but inside, you found it so tempting—the promise of financial security and freedom from future obligations.

“What’s the job?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Dr. Onda tapped a few keys on his desk console, and a holographic image of a baby kaiju appeared, rotating slowly.

“It’s an entity of importance for the goals of KDF to be fulfilled,” he said. “Recently, it fell into the hands of Kenji Sato. We need you to retrieve it and bring it back to us.”

You studied the hologram, noting the details. "And how exactly am I supposed to move a 20-foot-tall kaiju baby without causing a scene?"

Dr. Onda leaned back, a small smile playing on his lips. "We have a special containment unit designed specifically for it. It's portable and can be deployed with your help. Your task is to get close enough to activate it and secure the kaiju.”

"And the payment?" you pressed.

Dr. Onda named a figure that made your eyes widen slightly. It was more than enough to ensure your financial independence for years to come.

"Alright," you said finally. "I'll do it. But remember, this is a one-time deal. After this, I want nothing more to do with the KDF."

Dr. Onda smiled, “You have my word."

You turned to leave but paused at the door, and glanced back. "I hope you're right about this, Dr. Onda,” you said. “Because if this goes sideways, I won't be the one paying the price."

Going back to the present—here you are, in Kenji Sato’s basement, trapped in a cylindrical glass containment unit, similar to the one the baby kaiju you were supposed to retrieve was held in.

A floating spherical robot circled around you. “We knew they would send someone,” it said in a mechanically feminine voice.

Suddenly, it projected a red light over your body, scanning you. “But I didn’t expect a spider-woman.”

You pressed your hands against the glass, testing its strength. "Nice trap," you said. “But it's going to take more than that to keep me here."

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” a voice came out of nowhere. Turning around, you see THE Kenji Sato with an eyebrow raised and his gaze locked with yours.

The biggest mystery that bothered you upon accepting this mission was how the hell did this famous baseball star had a giant baby in his basement.

You leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest. "So, what's the plan, Kenji? Keep me here forever?” you asked. “Or do you have something else in mind?"

Kenji smirked. "Depends. Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?" you replied, your tone flirtatious. "I was sent to retrieve that kaiju baby. But now, it seems I've found something else worth my attention."

Kenji's eyes narrowed slightly, "And what might that be?"

You gave him a slow, knowing smile. "You, of course,” you answered. “You're much more interesting than a simple retrieval mission."

Kenji chuckled, though he tried to hide it. "Flirting isn't going to get you out of there."

"Maybe not," you conceded, stepping closer to the glass, "But it does make this whole situation a lot more entertaining, don't you think?"

Kenji took a step closer, his eyes studying you. "You're not what I expected."

You tilted your head, your smile widening. "Good. I'd hate to be predictable."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you sized each other up. Finally, Kenji spoke. "You know, if you weren't here to take Emi, we might have been able to get along."

"Oh, I think we still can," you said, your voice low and seductive. "Besides, I never said I was strictly here for Emi."

Kenji looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction. "And what if I let you out?"

You pressed yourself against the glass, your eyes locked on his. "Then maybe, just maybe, we can help each other."

Kenji pondered this for a moment before shaking his head. "Nice try,” he said. “But I need to know more about you before I make that decision."

"Fair enough," you replied, leaning back once more. "But remember, Kenji, sometimes the spider catches more than just her prey."

Kenji turned away, a small smile playing on his lips. "We'll see about that."

You didn’t wanna include this in your escape plan because things rarely went according to plan. But in your mind, you noted: flirt, make him fall for you, and escape.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@moonlight-starlight-lady01 @eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Inspired by @pilot-boi's Fusion AU!

Warning now for talking about suicidal ideation, self harm, and self loathing. And mentions of Vomit.

None of it is explicitly detailed.

~~~~~

The Wildfire Knight had been in the Ever After their whole … Life? Existence. Whatever one would call this desperate act of survival. Jaune and Cinder both cringed and recoiled at the fact their fusion was a person. Maybe it was the Ever After, Maybe it was the fact The Wildfire Knight had time to develop into a person from them both. Nen was almost a person with how close and reliant Ren and Nora were on each other. 

Stars Fell. Four of them.

RWBY.

Hurt Them.

Help Them!

Kill them!

Save them. Please.

Cinder was angry. She usually was. it was often the only choice she had, and all three knew it (Cinder almost hated that the most.) She’d calm down soon. Jaune could negotiate with her.

They shook their head clear of the other’s thoughts, and hopped on Jewels.

Jaune wanted to call it Juniper, Cinder was defiant. She didn’t want to give it name and was half-tempted to kill the Jackalope just to hurt Jaune.

Cinder suggested the name Emerald for all the wrong reasons.

They settled on Jewels.

Cinder and Jaune wanted to be out of here - first take care of RWBY (Whoever won out at what that meant), and then try and leave. That was always the goal. The Wildfire Knight was scared they might die when it happened. Jaune was open about feeling the same way. Cinder was more guarded about it, as she always had been, but in raw, open moments, Jaune and Wildfire knew she cared.

Wildfire was reliant on Jaune’s survival knowledge, tactics, and most importantly, his kindness. They also relied on Cinder's skills in fighting, her ability to be both shrewd and deceptive, and, most strongly, her unending will to survive.

Their leg hurt. Their lack of a leg hurt. Their missing eye stung slightly. It all always did.

Cinder wanted freedom, but was bound to Jaune.

Jaune wanted to protect his friends. Cinder was only able to comprehend actually caring for someone after the first decade or so. After Wildfire came about.

Wildfire wanted to live. For RWBY. For JNPR. Because Cinder couldn’t just die, not after all the work she put in.

Wildfire hated themself at first. Because Jaune and Cinder hated each other. Because Jaune and Cinder Hated themselves. Because They were Jaune and Cinder.

It was only because they had Cinder’s need to survive that they didn’t kill themself. They did, however, hurt themself. Jaune’s self-sacrificial tendencies and his need to be punished for the mistakes he thought he made, and Cinder’s feelings of never being strong enough, and that weakness deserved to be punished.

The scars on their arms burned, like they did when they were fresh.

They thought back to the first time They did something for themself- Cinder and Jaune were arguing about Alyx - they’d just been poisoned and left to die. It was loud. Too loud. They needed to leave. To clear their head - the Herbalist was too raw, too recent - they tried to tear each other apart.

So The Wildfire Mage Walked.

And Walked.

And Walked.

And eventually stumbled into cool, clear water.

Cinder and Jaune were surprised - too caught up in their argument to notice their vessel had been moving. 

Someone New was here - no. They’d always been there. They’d just woken up.

Wildfire was shook from their thoughts at the noise of fighting, immediately whipping out Corcea Ignis - Crocea Mors’ shattered blade extended and reformed with Obsidian Glass into a Cutlass-esque form, the the shield expanding in front of them as they charged into battle on the back of Jewels.

~~~~~

Meeting in the lotus with Rwby caused Wildfire to be pushed back by Jaune’s - and as loathe as she was to admit it, Cinder’s - relief at RWBY - the real, living, breathing team RWBY.

The four of them were, of course, shocked when they saw “Jinder” Weiss being the most surprised.

It didn’t get any better as the situation was explained.

~~~~~

The Paper Pleasers were gone. The only stable thing outside of themselves was gone. The ones that Jaune Protected, the ones that Cinder commanded, the closest things to friends Wildfire had - They were gone. Just like that.

Ruby screamed at them. At Jaune. At Cinder. She didn’t acknowledge Wildfire as a part of them. That might’ve been the worst.

All of Them were angry at Ruby. They’d suffered. They’d all suffered. Jaune’s hope and love was betrayed, Cinder’s rage was Reignited, Wildfire’s fear of not being anything but a mistake  was getting thrown in their face.

He could never be a hero.

She was Weak.

They didn’t matter to anyone.

He was a killer.

She was a Failure.

They were nothing.

Anger reacted with Anger, reacted with Anger, reacted with Anger, and it coiled in on itself ever further.

An eye lit with golden fire.

A fist was swung.

Ruby was knocked to the ground several feet away.

Gambol Shroud wrapped around their midsection, yanking them back, Yang gappled their arms behind them, and an Arma Gigas as white as the Atlesian Tundra got between Them and Ruby.

“EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH FALLS APART! EVERYTHING YOU TRY AND SAVE CRUMBLES!”

“Mercury Stopped you from saving Penny the first time- You were too slow, Too WEAK- The Paper Pleasers were all I had! The JabberWalkers Followed YOU, Because Neo HATES YOU- THEY WERE LIKE ME- MADE BY THIS PLACE- You Don’t get to act like they’re NOTHING-”

Wildfire, Cinder, and Jaune Spoke over themselves. Over each other, their anger feeding on each others, till their voices broke with pain and at the emotions pouring over themselves. 

Three Souls in one body was an awful lot to handle. They stopped straining against WBY and collapsed to their knees, heaving and shaking. “We’re not right - I know I’m broken pieces - We just want to live - You’re suppose to care about people- to care about us-”

The three of them fell into each other, the distinctions between Jaune and Cinder and Wildfire collapsing.

They were crying. They were numb. They were sore. They’d hurt their friend. She deserved it. That wasn’t true. They were Weak, not good enough. That was true. Wasn’t that true? Weren’t they powerful?

They were all exhausted.

The three of them vomited.

They fell over, just out of range of the puddle they made, curled up as they clutched their head, and they cried.

When they finally opened their eyes again, Weiss was sat nearby, petting and consoling Jewels.

No one said anything.

Weiss eventually moved over to them.

“Hey. That was a lot, and I’m certain there’s been a lot going on in, but Ruby’s in trouble it sounds like. It’s urgent. Can get to her quickly on a summon, and I need to get going now. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.”

Weiss Summoned the Lancer Queen, and started getting on it.

Jaune Urged them all to stand, out of guilt and a need to protect, even if he was still upset. Wildfire knew Ruby didn’t know them, not in the ways that distinguished them from other fusions. They felt guilty and a need to make it up to Ruby. They propped themself up on their knees. Cinder, in her own odd way, had respect for Ruby. She was a survivor as much as she was a thorn in her side. Even she felt a smidge of guilt for much of what she’d done - guilt tempered with the ‘knowledge’ it was the only way for her to survive. She helped them up.

The three of them climbed onto Jewel’s back and chased after Weiss.

~~~~~

When they Arrived, Ruby was lifting the Teacup to her mouth. 

Cinder hit her with a fireball, splashing the tea on the floor and sending Ruby Tumbling again, a burn on her upper chest.

They cringed at the harm.

The cat Lunged at her.

Yang Lunged at the cat, blocking it.

Neo lunged at Ruby as well.

She was knocked away by icicles from Weiss.

The Wildfire Knight Ran to Ruby, Guarding her with their body and applying Jaune’s semblance to her.

Ruby Batted at them, scurrying away with tears in her eyes.

They cried out an apology.

Neo slashed across their back.

Blake tried to wrap her ribbon Around Neo.

She shattered into glass.

There was a fight.

Eventually the fusion’s aura broke, The Ever After keeping them from falling apart.

The Curious Cat raised a claw, prepared to kill, Neo coming in from behind.

They were Going to die. Jaune was Going to die. Cinder was going to die.

In the moment they couldn’t be mad. Cinder didn’t like it, not one bit, she was rather peeved about it, but … There was something about not having to fight anymore that let her let go.

Wildfire figured they’d get an answer on what they were - Living or just a means for Jaune and Cinder’s survival.

Jaune saved his friends. Now that he was actually faced with his death he didn’t like it, in a very personal manner. He realized just how horribly wanting to die felt.

But there was nothing the three of them could do.

He was strong enough to protect his Friends. 

She wasn’t strong enough to survive on her own, by making enemies, seeing as how it came back to bite her, but she was Strong. Strong enough to protect others, something she’d never thought she’d do.

They meant something. They’d been the one keeping Jaune and Cinder alive, and it was their body that saved Ruby.

So they “Held Hands,” Being completely open about how the three of them felt, and embraced the end together. 

None of them expected to feel so weightless.

~~~~~

They found themselves … somewhere.

Somewhere.

There was a tall person in front of a grinding wheel, sharpening … Crocea Mors? 

The person looked over their shoulder, setting the weapon into its sheath and walking over to The Wildfire Knight.

“I am happy to see you three after so long. I am the Blacksmith of the Ever After. You are welcome in this place.”

The three were confused.

“Did we die?”

“No, not in the way you may be thinking. You are ascending. I will say, however, that you are a unique case - usually I only find one to help at a time more than enough.”

They grimaced a little at that, sheepish at being different. “S-sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for. In fact, something new is quite welcomed!” The Blacksmith was grinning widely. 

It was comforting.

“Now, I unfortunately cannot separate you three myself - You have been entwined for too long, and it is only you that may decide where one of you ends and the next begins.”

The Knight looked and the Blacksmith, confused.

“Separate? We may separate?”

“Yes, if you would like.”

Jaune and Cinder both “Jumped” at the idea - but were held back by something. They’d been together for so long, what would it be like to be apart now? What would Happen with Wildfire?

The Blacksmith produced a small knife from their apron.

Alyx’s Knife.

“She left this piece of herself for you, when she left. I know it may seem daunting, but as I said I cannot do this for you. You must decide if and how you come apart, and who gets what from yourselves.”

Wildfire took the knife.

Cinder Trusted them. They had her drive to survive.

Jaune was worried, but also relented. They all had to be in agreement on this.

The three of them plunged the knife into their stomach.

~~~~~

Wildfire Blinked. The area was different, their eyes straining - Eyes? They stepped, one foot in front of the other- They had both feet?!?

Wildfire looked over themself, staring at both hands, running them along their leg.

“AH-”

“Hold Still Arc - Bite the hem of your clothing I need to cauterize the wound-”

“RRRG!”

“There. Not the worst feeling, ever, right?”

“I Suppose not Cinder.”

“Excellent. Now help me stand.”

Wildfire whipped around to see Jaune - one eye shut with fresh blood trailing from it, tears in his remaining eye, with Cinder standing on a black-glass prosthetic.

“What- Why-”

“I can keep going without an Eye. You deserve to see the world with your own two.” Jaune interrupted, Grinning even through his obvious pain and Cinder hanging off of him. He was old, hair tied back in a low ponytail, rusted plate armor surrounding him, with gray streaks in his golden locks.

“I figured … I could rely on you. I can also fly. I supposed I could live without being able to walk quickly.” Cinder avoided looking at them, clearly shocked by her own kindness and embarrassed by her seemingly having gone soft. She was also old, crows feet in her eyes, a dark cloak wrapping entirely around her body, hair long and graying.

They looked hardly different, tears welling up in both their eyes at the kindness Cinder and and Jaune showed them.

The idea of Wildfire being their Child - a new person born of two souls - had crossed their minds before. It made them cringe and recoil, especially when Jaune and Cinder actually started viewing Wildfire as something closer then just a combination of them.

“That was very selfless from both of you, if perhaps unnecessary. Another part of Alyx’s gift was that you would be put back to being young, and now all of you can be young again.”

“We’ve been told the Mind forgets but the heart remembers. If we become young again …” Cinder trailed off. She was scared - she held no power in this situation. She was willing to do just about anything to be young again, but she also … she couldn’t quite betray Wildfire … and … Jaune … just like that after everything.

“If you choose yourselves, No. But in this place you may be anything-”

“If we choose ourselves can we … change some things? About ourselves?” Cinder stared at her Grimm Arm for the first time in decades. She was glaring at it.

“To a degree, yes. Changing what you are changes who you are-”

“Get rid of my Grimm Arm.”

“So you choose yourselves?”

“Yes!”

The Blacksmith handed Cinder a Bow made of Glass.

She accepted readily, the gray leaving her hair, arm dissolving into mist as she erupted into a brilliant new flame.

“Yes?”

The Blacksmith handed Jaune a reforged Crocea Mors, a visible line from where it had shattered on the Bridge.

He accepted it tentatively, turning into glowing, golden motes of dust, blinking two blue eyes as he left.

“ … am I … myself?”

The Blacksmith smiled.

“Yes, but I do not have a weapon for you. What you wielded was theirs.”

“... may I make myself a weapon?”

“Yes, but it may take some time.”

“ … May I have Alyx’s Dagger?”

“It was left for you.”

“ … Thank you.”

“You are very welcome Wildfire.”

And Wildfire smiled, seemingly melting into an glowing Amber slag, tailing behind their progenitors, excited to see what they would become as their own person.

~~~~~

I have Ideas about what happens next, and I do feel I left things unanswered, but the open ending feels right. I know they help RWBY Fight Neo and the Cat, but that’s all. 

[wejustvibing]

right after AD21 they blamed teamlh of bullying masi instead of giving much needed attention to the actual theft. the reason i'm bringing it back is because they've shifted the narrative again to "lunatic" fans while also leaving Lewis to fend for himself (as always). while getting the police involved in investigation makes perfect sense, how's he sure no mercedes employee did it? he said himself they're still looking for IP and email addresses? so, how did he make that claim?

and how are we ignoring other and more important facts and questions? how is apparently this email list the same as the one used during the horner case? why has no one addressed the issue of tyre blankets which is basically the main thing most of us are still confused about? how have we moved on from legit inquisitions about lewis' treatment by the team to this? and most importantly, how are they going to explain faceless "lunatics" having access to personal contact numbers of the same accredited journalists (they also received these messages on whatsapp right?)

i've said several times that eye hate teamlh (the people who put him on a pedestal and judge him through their own moral standards) but i'm also well aware that #teamlh are also the most hated people just because they stan lewis. it's extremely easy to turn the attention entirely on them and enjoy the chaos and i see it's what's happening 🤷🏾‍♀️

[paleoart]

I hear so many discouraging things about paleontology as a field and career, but I've always been drawn to it and want to make a career out of it, but I'm worried if I go through with it, I'll end up struggling and houseless. I'm really drawn to lab work and paleoart..Is it possible to have a career in this field and make a liveable living? People say how bad the pay is, but I'm unsure..

I can't say much about actual paleontology, because I have no background in it other than as a hobbyist. I think this also depends a lot on where in the world you intend to study/work, because some countries offer a lot more opportunities than others.

When it comes to paleoart, while I have been fortunate enough to be a full-time paleoartist for almost a decade now, there are a lot of factors that made it possible for me and I know of very few other people who can say the same.

Most importantly, as I've talked about before here on Tumblr, I am based in Brazil and able to take advantage of stronger currencies from my mostly international clients to sustain a comfortable living here. I probably wouldn't be able to live as comfortably and independently if I were to move to the US or Europe while earning the same.

Having said that, paleoart is a pretty specific niche within the art sphere. If you don't limit yourself to be a paleoartist, but deal with scientific illustration at a broader scale, you may well be able to make a living as an artist - though it takes a lot of time to hone your skill and craft an audience or portfolio of clients, and that's not the most secure or well-paying job out there.

[hrtsfromjules]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 - aubrey griffin

Aubrey Griffin sat in the stands, a UConn Huskies jersey draped over her shoulders, but her heart was firmly with the Iowa Hawkeyes tonight. Her eyes scanned the court, searching for her girlfriend, y/n y/l/n, who was warming up with her Iowa teammates. It had been a tough loss the last time UConn faced Iowa, but the respect and admiration for Iowa had only grown since then. It was why Aubrey and her family had come to cheer for Iowa today.

UConn and Iowa had forged a strong bond over the years, a mutual respect that extended beyond the court. As the teams exchanged good luck before the game, Aubrey caught the y/n's eye and gave her a small, encouraging smile. y/n, whose heart always raced at the sight of Aubrey, returned the smile nervously. She knew Aubrey wanted her to meet her family tonight, but her anxiety gnawed at her. What if they didn't like her?

Aubrey's family had made the trip too, their respect for Iowa deepening after their last encounter. They were excited to meet y/n, having heard so much about her from Aubrey. "You'll do great, I promise," Aubrey had whispered to her earlier, but the reader still felt a knot in her stomach.

Aubrey's mother, a kind woman with a warm smile, had always been supportive of her daughter's choices. Her father, a man of few words but deep convictions, had shared stories of his own basketball days and the importance of team spirit and respect for opponents. They were eager to meet the person who had captured their daughter's heart.

As the game began, the reader tried to push her nerves aside and focus on the game. Iowa needed this win, and she was determined to give it her all. The adrenaline coursing through her veins helped, but she couldn't entirely shake off the anxiety about meeting Aubrey's family.

On the court, y/n was in her element. She moved with grace and precision, her focus intense. She knew the eyes of the crowd were on her, but more importantly, she knew Aubrey was watching. That thought gave her strength. The first quarter flew by, with Iowa maintaining a slim lead. The reader made several impressive plays, drawing cheers from the Iowa fans and a proud smile from Aubrey.

During a timeout, y/n glanced at the stands again. Aubrey's family was sitting together, and she could see them clapping and cheering for Iowa. It was a strange but comforting sight. Aubrey had told her how her family respected good sportsmanship and strong character, regardless of team affiliations. Still, y/n couldn't help but worry about making a good impression.

As the game progressed, y/n's focus was tested. One of the player's on the other team, jealous of the attention and praise y/n had been receiving, decided to take matters into her own hands. During the second half, she tripped y/n, sending her sprawling to the floor. The gymnasium echoed with gasps, and Aubrey's heart stopped as she watched her girlfriend hit the ground hard, her nose starting to bleed. All she could see was her teammate, Kate go up to the ref who -looks like- didn't saw what happened, and didn't blow her whistle.

Medical staff rushed to y/n's side, helping her to the bench. As she sat there, trying to steady her breath and wipe away the blood, Aubrey's father approached her. "Hey, kiddo," he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Take a deep breath. You've got this. We believe in you."

His words were like a balm to her frazzled nerves. y/n nodded, her determination reignited. With her nose bandaged and her mind focused, she returned to the court, playing with a fire that had been sparked by Aubrey's father's encouragement. She moved with a new confidence, scoring points and making plays that left the crowd in awe.

Iowa emerged victorious, the final buzzer sounding like a triumph. y/n, exhausted but exhilarated, looked up at the stands where Aubrey and her family were cheering loudly. Gathering her courage, she walked over to where they stood.

Aubrey met her halfway, wrapping her in a tight hug. "You were amazing," she whispered. "Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

With a deep breath, y/n approached Aubrey's family. "This is her," Aubrey said proudly. "Mom, Dad, this is the girl I've been telling you about."

Aubrey's mother smiled warmly, pulling y/n into a hug. "We've heard so much about you. It's wonderful to finally meet you."

Aubrey's father nodded approvingly. "You played with heart out there. Welcome to the family."

y/n felt a wave of relief and happiness wash over her. The anxiety that had plagued her before the game was gone, replaced by a sense of belonging and acceptance. She had not only won the game but had also won the hearts of Aubrey's family.

As the night wore on, the two teams mingled, y/n staying close to Aubrey and her family. She realized that she had nothing to fear and that with Aubrey by her side, she could face anything. And as she looked around at the smiling faces, she knew that this was just the beginning of something truly special.

After the initial introductions, y/n found herself in a conversation with Aubrey's mother, who was curious about her background and how she got into basketball. "I've always admired players who show such dedication and passion," he said. "Aubrey speaks so highly of you."

y/n blushed, feeling both proud and bashful. "Thank you. Basketball has always been a big part of my life. It means a lot to have your support."

Aubrey's father chimed in, sharing stories of his own playing days and the lessons he learned on the court. "It's not just about the game," he said. "It's about character and how you handle yourself off the court as well. You showed a lot of resilience out there tonight."

y/n smiled, feeling a connection with Aubrey's family growing stronger with each passing moment. They were kind, supportive, and exactly the type of people she hoped they would be.

As the evening progressed, Aubrey and y/n managed to steal a few moments alone. They walked around the perimeter of the gym, talking quietly and sharing smiles. "I told you they would love you," Aubrey said, giving the reader's hand a squeeze.

"You were right," y/n admitted, feeling a sense of peace and happiness that she hadn't felt in a long time. "Thank you for being there for me."

"Always," Aubrey replied. "We’re a team, on and off the court."

y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest. Aubrey's words meant everything to her. They had been through so much together, and tonight felt like a new chapter in their relationship.

As they rejoined their teammates and families, y/n couldn't help but feel grateful. The support from Aubrey and her family, the encouragement from her teammates, and the victory on the court all combined to create a night she would never forget.

Eventually, the celebration began to wind down, and the teams started to head their separate ways. Aubrey's family invited y/n to join them for a late dinner, an invitation she eagerly accepted. It was another step towards integrating into Aubrey's life, and she was excited about the future.

At the restaurant, the conversation flowed easily. Aubrey's parents shared stories from Aubrey's childhood, and y/n found herself laughing and feeling more at ease with each passing minute. It was clear how much they loved and supported their daughter, and it made her feel even more connected to them.

As the night drew to a close, y/n realized that she had found more than just a girlfriend in Aubrey. She had found a family that accepted and cherished her. She had faced her fears, played her heart out, and come out stronger on the other side.

When it was time to part ways, Aubrey's mother gave her another warm hug. "We're so glad to have you in our lives," she said. "You're always welcome with us."

Aubrey's father gave her a firm handshake, a gesture of respect and acceptance. "You did great tonight," he said. "Keep playing with that same heart and determination."

y/N thanked them, feeling a profound sense of gratitude. As she and Aubrey walked away, hand in hand, she felt a surge of confidence. She knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, she had a strong support system in Aubrey and her family.

[gingerlee-holds]

I would love another part of the letting of steam fic! :3

OH MY GOSH ITS MY FIRST REQUEST BATTLE STATIONS EVERYONE- thankyouthankyou so much for the request i love requests and i love you <3

Ler!Alastor and Lees!Charlie and Vaggie

A Rampage

Read the previous one here!

Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Feet twords, barely any editing, and its sorta short

Alastor’s shadowy form snuck from hallway to hallway. To him, the game was no longer hide-and-seek but cat-and-mouse. He played with his food, tripping up the other residents, cackling distantly, and occasionally flickering the lights. He had decided to leave Lucifer in his little tickle trap until the game ended, but he was hungry for more. He had no idea that tickling could be so exhilarating! It was the perfect way to get energy out and feed his sadistic tendencies, all while not harming anyone! What could be better than that?

The radio demon’s subsequent targets were two floors below. The princess of hell lay under the bed of an empty room while the fallen angel was hidden in the closet. 

Charlie whispered to Vaggie, practically vibrating with excitement. “I can’t believe it! We’re all playing a game together! This is the first time everyone’s participated in an activity since Dad moved in. Can you believe it, Vaggie? I can’t believe it!”

“You said that already.” Vaggie’s hair stood on end. If Charlie hadn’t spoken first, she would have immediately denied Alastor’s request to be the hunter. If there’s anyone you wouldn’t want stalking people down, even in a nonviolent way, it’s the radio demon. Vaggie would never admit to anyone, much less herself, that she was afraid of Alastor and, more importantly, what he was capable of. Her hand rested on the shaft of her spear warily.

Charlie, by contrast, was far less afraid of Alastor than she should have been. The bedframe kept her from moving too much, but if she could, she would flap her hands and kick her feet. Her pride had been wounded by the death of one of her hotel residents just a week prior, and the fact that everyone was participating in this group activity gave her hope that maybe the future of the Hazbin Hotel was bright. 

“I can feel it, Vaggie! The group bonding exercises are paying off, and soon, this place will be absolutely crowded with sinners, all on the path to redemption!”

“Wacky nonsense, as Alastor puts it,” Vaggie whispered back, bringing the subject back to their problem. “We still don’t have a clue what happened in that fight he had with Adam. He had angelic weapons and the element of surprise, but he didn’t die. We don’t even know if Alastor confronted him at all. What if he just tucked tail and ran, leaving us to deal with Adam?” Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth, which felt cold and dark.

“Shhhhh~!” The quiet voice of the radio demon hushed. Vaggie held up her weapon, but before she could use it, she felt dark tendrils wrap around her arms, binding her hands to the shaft of her spear. The fallen angel yelled out curses into the palm over her mouth and struggled in Alastor’s grasp, but the radio demon simply pulled her up straight and hung her spear on a coat rack, leaving her suspended snugly and muted. “Now, watch the fun~!” 

Her eyes widened in horror as she looked through the slats in the closet door at her girlfriend under the bed. She couldn’t warn her!

Charlie sighed, oblivious as the silent fight in the closet continued. “Don’t be like that, Vaggie. I’m sure he did his best. Honestly, in hindsight, it was silly to entrust him with such a big responsibility. All of that’s in the past, though! And besides, Alastor’s never tried to harm us.” She waited for a minute for Vaggie’s response, and not hearing one, she whispered again, louder, “Vaggie?”

After still no response, she began to get a little nervous. She slowly crawled out from under the bed and approached the closet, knocking quietly. Vaggie’s muffled shouts were completely silenced. Charlie laid a hand on the doorknob but was suddenly yanked backward by her legs, sending her to the floor in a heap. She yelped in shock and looked behind her, seeing a shadowy face grin from the darkness under the bed, dark hands reaching out for her. “W-what??” She kicked at the arms, but they swiftly wrapped around her ankles and tugged her toward the bed. 

She was about to protest more. But she suddenly recognized the magic, and she began to laugh. “Alahastor! Hohow did you find me? My hihiding spot wahas so good!”

The radio demon’s voice seemed to come both from under the bed and from the closet: “Hence why I caught you the moment you stepped out from your hiding spot, princess!”

“Okahay, okahay! We were at least the last ones found, right?”

“Nope! I found you second. His Highness wasn’t even trying,” Alastor answered the question before Charlie could ask it. 

“Ugh, fihine. Lemme go, and you can continue hunting!”

“Hmmmmm… no deal!” Alastor’s staff, resting against a dresser, let out a laugh track, seemingly at his command. “I’m not just going to let you go, darling!”

“What? What do you mean?” Charlie asked, a bit of a quiver in her voice. Suddenly, two more hands extended from the darkness, with shadowy fingers wiggling in her direction. ‘No. No, no, he wouldn’t. There’s no way-!’ Charlie felt her face heat up, and her squirming increased in intensity. 

“Tell me, my charming demon belle, are you ticklish~?” Alastor’s voice got staticky when he said the word as he dragged it out playfully. Nervous giggles began bubbling from her lips as she remembered all the times she had been tickled as a child by her mother. Alastor should know very well how ticklish she is since Vaggie loved to sprinkle tickles into their daily routine. The fallen angel loved to unravel the usually anxious princess and let her happy squeals out, and everyone in the hotel knew that Charlie was an absolute fiend for tickles.

“A-Al, come on, let gohoHoho!” The hands reached forward and scribbled on the underside of her socks, making the princess melt into giggles. She rolled over onto her stomach and looked as the closet door slowly creaked open, showing Alastor leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest, smiling impossibly wide. Beside him, Vaggie dangled by the arms, eyes wide and filled with mirth as Alastor’s tendrils squeezed her hips. The sight was utterly precious - Charlie didn’t even know her girlfriend was ticklish! And evidently, Vaggie’s body went limp when she was tickled. She wished she could hear her laugh, but it was completely muffled. Nevertheless, Charlie could coo about the adorableness after they were freed from the deer demon’s clutches.

The radio demon waved to the princess, and Charlie’s ankles were tugged harder. She tried kicking to no avail as she was slowly dragged under the bed, clawing at the floor and squealing for mercy from Alastor and help from Vaggie; neither came. 

When her lower body was entirely under the bed, Alastor got to work. With two hands on each foot, one for the sole and one for the toes, playing ‘this little piggy,’ Charlie instantly dissolved into hysterics. The princess banged her fists against the floor and thrashed as much as she could as her death spot was tactfully exploited, her shrieks and squeals filling the room. 

Alastor came forward, bending down on a knee to ruffle Charlie’s hair. “I’m afraid, my dear, that your hotel is horribly infested! Didn’t your parents ever teach you to always check for monsters under the bed~?”

Charlie snorted, hugging herself to contain her laughter, but it was impossible. It just tickled so so much! And everyone in the room knew that she was enjoying every moment of it. The squeaks she made when her knees were squeezed were so cute that it almost made Alastor want to be merciful. Almost. 

“Well, darlings, I’m afraid I must leave now to find the others. I must say, Charlie, I hope we play hide-and-seek again! It’s so dreadfully fun… for everyone involved~!” 

Vaggie wanted to shriek out a ‘Don’t you dare leave us,’ but she could only make hiccupy laughs as she dangled limply. The feeling was utterly alien to her, but strangely, she didn’t mind it. She could see why Charlie loved being tickled so much. As Alastor faded from the room into the shadows again, leaving the two girls to face their tickles, Vaggie was at least grateful that Alastor didn’t muffle Charlie. She could listen to that precious laugh all day.

[tennant-davids]

anyone else just stuck on that image of mobius alone at his desk, clearly miserable and lost without loki, and want to cry forever?? and of loki, who only really wanted to have his friends and be with them and not be alone in the end, ending up entirely alone so he can give everyone what he can't have??? and i'm supposed to be normal about that?

[humanmorph]

I step all around the pieces on the floor / Wires and cords, and records, and tapes

[thaliagrayce]

y'know what we don't talk about enough? Hazel died. We talk about how she grew up in the 30's and 40's and we talk about how out of place she feels in the modern world, but! She died! She was dead! She has spent more time dead than alive, and not by a close margin!

How does that effect a person??? We got some of it in the flashbacks, but once those caught up with her present timeline and she shared them, they just kind of... disappeared. And she was a regular girl with some weird past experiences. That's one way of doing it, sure!

I think it would have been a lot cooler if she was just a touch creepier. If she felt a little bit Wrong. Yeah, in general she's more approachable than her brother, she's more sociable and less closed off, but. If you actually spend any time with her, it can be difficult to tell which child of the underworld is actually more unsettling.

Hazel is bright of personality and has a dazzling smile, but sometimes she'll just... shut down. She'll go completely blank for like half an hour and nobody knows what to do with it. Sometimes she forgets she's alive. Sometimes she'll spout the grimmest shit you've ever heard like it's nothing, she won't even notice it's weird until the room goes quiet. She spent decades in Asphodel, which is designed to make people forget about themselves and wander around for eternity, only she didn't have the luxury of forgetting! Wild! After she comes back to life, sometimes she forgets that she's allowed to Do Stuff now. She can spend so long sitting and staring at nothing. Sometimes she'll start crying on cloudless days because it hits her again that she can actually feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and she can hear birdsong. Every little mundane experience is a blessing and she will make you remember that in the most foreboding way possible.

[lawlietscaramels]

i. want. to. draw. rieliet. angst. RIGHT NOW. I meant to put why in the tags but I got distracted providing context anyway read the last few if you're interested I'm gonna share the tags on my Instagram where everyone is interested I'm gonna WRITE RieLiet angst!!!!!

[ikemenomegas]

loss is a condition acquired to bury our pity

pairing: Uchiha Madara x Reader a/n: I should be working on something else, but it's like dragging rocks to do that one, and this one emerged somehow; title from the unnatural apologie of shadows; morning glories sometimes stand for short-lived love, yes red ones do exist c/w: omegaverse (alpha reader), grief turning into anger, nihilism, reader and madara both have post-warring states trauma, hints of characters experiencing war-crimes, madara's terrible plans, 18+ below the cut - reminder that alphas of all sexes have cocks

There is no kind love between you and he. Madara lays on his side, watching you wake slowly. He can feel the sun, low and heavy on the horizon.

It feels as he does, autumn reluctant.

He shifts on the futon, relishing the ache between his thighs and the sharper pain of new wounds on his body. He never knew how to love without a fight - brothers, father, friend, and now lover.

But his hands knew precision, they knew gentleness, they had known surrender.

He watched your chest rise and fall in a great sigh, your face turning towards him. With the red blush of dawn starting to peak through the window and splashing across your skin, you reminded him of asagao, morning glory, blooming with the dawn.

This was how you had met: the first two dark-eyed travelers awake in a dusty inn as far away from other people as you could get. He had been alone for too long, the day he had given into speaking with a stranger, seeking news from across the nations.

And then it had amused him to travel alongside you for awhile, as you were going the same direction as he was.

Until one day had stretched into two, and on into many, and you laughingly admitted to his late inquiry into your destination that you had none in mind. So you had been following one another, in an odd roundabout way.

It was the laugh that had done it, he recalls as you stir and wriggle beneath the covers, the heat of your body beginning to rise. It was bitter and biting, aching, like the empty places punched into his own heart.

He'd made you take him that evening, made himself open up to you like he had not done in years to anyone who was not an enemy. He had needed to, to find the right way to get what he wanted.

And what he wanted was not kind. He knew you were capable of it. He had seen your hands too, precise, capable of gentleness, capable of surrender, capable of a fight.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Does it matter, anymore?" you had asked, heavy and ironic, lighting the fire with a look that told him you knew he could do it as well and was shoving the duty onto someone else.

It was rather Uchiha of him, although you didn't know that. Fire was new life of all kinds. Maybe he should have given into this sooner. You've built one up more nights than he had on these near-nonexistent roads. In the old ways, it was one of many forms of courtship.

But he knew what you meant. Boundaries were shifting, alliances with it. Loyalty. You were clearly not one of those who bent yours easily.

But he needed to be sure.

"Not making one of the new villages your home then? I've heard they offer safety, negotiating power so we're not all used up against each other."

You gaze at him, long and wearied, as you stir a pot over the bright, flickering flames.

You don't fear exposure on the road, which tells him your are strong enough to do something about it. You are also clearly old enough to have survived many battles, which tells him more.

"It may be misguided of me, but I think you also know that the wars do not end so easily. Peace happens only too late, when both sides have lost too much. It won't last."

There again, that hopeful flicker of something familiar when you said It won't last.

"What will you do, when it starts again?"

You are quiet a long time, long enough for the soup to be done to your satisfaction, the game he caught so easily before this simmering and tender. You have salt carefully stored in a battered wooden container which you have sprinkled over it. The taste of it is, as always, divine.

Salt is still a coveted commodity, but he has seen you pay only with coin, never offering anything more valuable.

You ladle up a healthy portion for him and pass it over before serving yourself and expertly scraping the embers around the pit so the leftovers won't burn while you feed strips of dry wood to the live fire.

Your eyes flicker right to his and it's thrilling. No one wants to look an Uchiha in the eyes.

It feels like being in a time long ago, neither of you have given the other your family name all this time, as is shinobi custom. He wondered if you would look at him so dead on the same way if you knew what he was. He wondered if somehow you didn't know already. He wondered if you knew what it meant to share words and food like this across a living fire.

He cannot call the look in your eyes haunted. There must be some out-of-time out-of-place spirit inside for such a thing. This was the hole in his own heart, the place where regret and sorrow should live.

It blinked away when you found whatever you were looking for.

"Fight if I must, and die in whatever way I should."

It was an oddly unsatisfying answer.

"Why should you die?" he demanded.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "You're oddly inquisitive today. What will you do?"

He shrugged and smugly observed the irritated twitch of your eye.

It was all the opening he needed to goad you into further snipping at one another. It felt good, to feel the fire of another mind set against his.

Complaining of the repetitive movement of the road drew you to your feet and although only one person could match him blow for blow, it felt good to spar, to flex those muscles, to see the admiration in your eyes at the smoothness of his movements, to see the vital ferocity in yours.

He did not let you get him down in the dirt, only limited his power so that when he went down it was for real, but when you did, he kissed you, lips pressed full to yours.

You pulled back, full of surprise and questions. He glared at you, full of challenge and accusation until you glared right back and got to work seeing how far you could push him.

It was an alpha thing to do, but not done the way he knew most alphas did things. It was rough, but you were so in tune to every shift of his body, learning him.

It amused him to see you spread out a bedroll. The ground was soft sand and rough, but cushioning grass. It would not have bothered him to do this on the bare earth, but he felt a flash of affection as you ran a hand through his hair and undid the tie before laying him down again, combing out what dust had gathered in his thick, coarse hair, careful, never tugging hard enough for pain.

Tugging at your clothes irritated you. He knew this already because he'd seen the flash of ire as an irritable horse had caught your shoulder when bargaining with some farmer, and then the farmer's children had brushed too close and the reaction had been shinobi-muted, but you'd been in a terrible mood for hours.

He did it now because he refused to be the only one bared. You let him because you understood as much, and Madara relished the first warning nip of teeth against his collarbones as a certain galling heat in your scent spiked. You tugged your arms free of your sleeve with a defiant flash of movement, dragging your teeth over the same spot in a way that made him twist into you, hissing.

You pulled back, pausing. "I hate this world," you said. "It can be nothing but hateful when it has none of what I once loved or protected left in it."

"That is not what you want to tell me," Madara said, his breath hot on your ear as he bit the lobe. Your breath hitched in response.

The ties closing his coat had come apart easily but you could not bring your hands to go any further.

"How did you lose?"

"Slowly," Madara growled, yanking on your other sleeve and relishing the dark bleed into your eyes. "And too much."

"Did you watch it happen?" You shivered beneath his calloused hands, tracing over your shoulders and down, catching on the low edge of your sarashi when he skimmed your hip.

"Oh yes," he groaned as you leaned down and sucked a mark at the hollow of his throat. "I watched him die by inches, for days, while his mate fought to save him."

"Who was it?"

All at once it was too much and it was with an easy surge of strength that Madara flipped the two of you so he was leaning over you, teeth bared.

"Who was yours?"

Your hands were clasped with his, and you turned your head, pressed your lips to his fingers as you answered.

"They held me by my robes while they gutted her slowly, right in front of me. It was not fast enough."

You tilted your head to look at him and he saw that same detached absence in your eyes that he knew filled him whenever he spoke of his own last, worst loss. He was also certain that the full story of the event was worse than your abbreviated explanation.

He let you go slowly, untangling his fingers from the bunched fabric pulled down from your shoulders and pooling around your ribs on the bedroll. He sat back and you lifted yourself on an elbow.

He knew you were watching his hands when he shed his jacket. The high collar caught scent and held it close to his skin and he could see the way your pupils blew out as it released and wafted over you.

The scent of your own arousal pleased him. He'd been told before that he was handsome, and it was nice to be admired, thought beautiful.

There was no one else for miles and miles. Without shame, Madara reached down, slid his hand under his waistband and cupped himself. He was slicked-wet.

When he withdrew his hand, he caressed your cheek, felt how you shuddered and turned toward that concentrated portion of his essence.

You did not care that he smelled like blood and the sweet bite of rice grain alcohol. Maybe he would find more like you if he spoke to more people, but he had found you.

You tried to trade places with him once more, but he resisted you, his teeth bared and expression wild. You attempted to lean back and he snarled, deep and feral.

That sound called out to something in you, and you snarled back. He tugged on the exposed mesh armor that covered your chest and arms, and you made an ugly sound in the back of your throat.

"Take it off," Madara commanded.

And suddenly you were angry. He wanted so badly to see what the world had done to you?

He was alight with some kind of victory as you pulled the disarranged top over your head and extricated yourself from the mesh.

He finally did the same as you finished, pulling off his own thin layer, baring scars that spoke of survival.

You came together in a bruising collide, upright like wrestlers, nails scratching at one another as though to mark the moment as different from a state of blind existence.

It was a different kind of violence, but one that he thought perhaps he could get used to. He had already learned there was no replacing what was lost, but here was someone who understood as no one else had.

He pulled his pants off only enough to expose himself, impatient suddenly for something more. You bit his lip when he did the same to you, pulling at the ties on your pants until he could get your cock to spring free.

He was at such an angle where the tip immediately bumped up against his slick opening and the sensation surprised him, invigorated him.

But you were watching him ever so warily.

He moved his hand so that it was beneath him and shivered as he began stretching himself open, the slick sounds of his fingers in his own opening goading you into biting hard on his chest, your fingers digging into his shoulder blade hard enough to bruise.

His scent was a riot around you, heady and clean somehow. He did not smell like the sick, dead tang of a battlefield, but like new iron, ready for steel.

You licked a stripe up his sternum and he shivered, back arching.

His fingers were cooling and wet when he gripped onto your shoulder, nails grasping like claws. The flash of pain spurred you onward and you guided his hip with one hand and yourself with the other until you were pushing up and inside of his hot, wet heat.

The sharp spike in his scent, like the exhale of breath over a clear cup of rice wine, spilled over.

Madara ground down on you, pulling you deeper.

"It's all a farce," he murmured into your ear finally.

You were breathing hard against his chest, buried to the hilt inside of him. You didn't know if it had hurt, to take you all at once, but you knew if it had that he would not care.

"What is this reality worth?" He showed you for only a few seconds the type of pace he wanted you to set, and then urged you on, scoring a line of red marks over your ribs.

You bucked up into him, hitting deep places that put stars across his vision, better even than being dashed over the head or bled near dry.

He straddled your hips. Your legs were braced against the ground to give you more leverage. Yes, his intuition had never truly failed him, and he could feel the strength of your body pressed against his, inside of him.

If he were the type for children, you would have made a good enough sire.

You took him with a warrior's precision and knowledge that time was never on your side, but you also held him in your warrior's perception. He let himself shiver at the intensity of that focus.

You took advantage of the way every shift of his body made his insides tighten around you and heighten his own sensation. You played the remaining soft points on his body like an expert at the koto.

It had been so long since there was time for music, he had not thought to check your callouses for the kind of wire that didn't mean to draw blood and kill breath.

He should ask you to play, he decided as you dragged a shiver from him like a run from the instrument, your nails dragging a pattern across his back and down to his hips and thighs.

He came when you drew blood on him, your teeth digging hard enough into the muscle of his breast to mark him for days.

As ever, once the pulsing shocks had calmed enough to make him want it, he gave as good as he got and reared back, leveraging himself enough to bite down on your shoulder. Hard.

You bared your teeth, some of them outlined in his blood, but locked the roar away in your chest, well practiced in keeping essential silence.

You felt the force of Madara's will lock down against your own, pushing you towards your own completion. Because that wasn't just a retaliation bite, which would have been welcome and well-deserved.

That was an omega's bite, placed over a scent-gland with the intent to own.

Madara did not bite down in a normal way either, sinking his teeth in carefully to leave an elegant scar. He bit like you were enemies, twisting his head as he did, as if daring you to watch him, to stop him, to stop pressing up into him, coaxing his finish long.

It was a very, very old way to do things, a fire way to do things, in more ways that one. The Sarutobi had regimented ways of doing this, now, involving agreed upon combat, and a certain amount of posturing. Some of the other close-fire clans told old tales of mates courting by fighting, long and hard until someone gave in.

You placed your fingers in a loose ring on the nape of his neck, the only moment you would give him to change his mind. He could feel the swelling of your knot at his opening.

Uchiha Madara did not easily change his mind.

You bite was cleaner than his but broke the skin all the same, shredding down until you could taste him, blood and blood and that sharp fragrant note underneath of it.

You bucked up into him, harder, faster, abandoning the normal course of seduction, and lighting his nerves on fire instead of easing them.

He groaned, hard and euphoric, with blood still in his own mouth. Your knot, filling him full, pushed him back over the edge, easy enough, and he let it go, felt the pulse of it behind his eyes. He felt your warmth fill him and it felt right, satisfying. He had been his own fire for so long.

"Madara," you groaned in turn. You did not stop moving, even as he pulsed and fluttered around you, even though it must be causing you your own discomfort.

You laved your tongue over the mark you had left behind, which both eased the ache of it and made it sting as you disturbed the fresh wounds.

It was enough to remind him that all the pain in the world was just a moment, bright like sparks.

All will be as it should, better even, someday.

He had not quite meant to bond with you the first time, but it seemed fitting, after. You had stayed knotted within him long enough to send him into a third, near painful finish, and there were many more bites across both of your shoulders.

He touched one of those now, which had scarred fainter than the bondmark, but still showed evidence of that first, true encounter.

You started, suddenly perfectly alert, half-sitting. Alert to the world around him, around you.

"Wha'sit?"

He smirked a bit at the stumbling stiffness of your tongue. A low, rumbling purr coaxed out from him, filling the room. You spared a brief brush of awareness over him, which was wise of you, but otherwise flopped back down among the cushions.

He curled up against your back so that you own chest cavity was filled with the echoes of him, your senses vibrating with it.

It was not comforting and was not meant to be.

"It's today?" you asked, after you knew the words would not slur and your heartbeat was back to rock-steady.

"Mhm," Madara hummed through the purring.

It wasn't really the right answer. It could have been any day, but if you said so -- well, you had a sense for these things, a nose for disaster that he'd seen develop among some of his own clansmen.

You certainly had a nose for the restlessness that took him, that demanded satisfaction the way his heart had once demanded escape to the riverbank. And despite what Hashirama thought, he did plan their little competitions. Around his own whims, certainly, but they were not entirely random.

"I'll find you, after" he promised. The purring faded, but the warmth of sunlight filling the little room took its place.

It invigorated him, warmed his muscles. You were not so in tune with such things, but he felt the quiet flex and extension of your hands and feet and then your wrists and ankles as you shifted beneath the covers.

He leaned over you, pressing his lips to one of those old scars, fingers finding one of the new marks he left on you.

He will want a bath, before he goes. This is his. He's not interested in Hashirama accusing him of an accomplice. Although he of all people should forgive Madara of no longer being so alone.

You stroked over his knuckles, scarred and toughened with over two decades of battle. "You always do."

With him here, you could believe that the lonely, aching emptiness was just a dream.

With him, it was not kindness, not like the closer, comforting love he had observed between other mates, but you knew his dream, knew his loss and did not deny it.

He thought again of his plan, and looked forward to what would likely be the last time he met his once and only friend. He no longer had the Nine-tails but for a final feint he himself would be enough.

Just as this was. He would not be alone on the other side.

For now, that would be enough.

[magnusbae]

To realize with a shock that you've forgotten something that you've thought you'd always be hurt over. The baffling relief of it, the understanding that try as you might— you cannot remember the details of it. That searching through your messages to see if you can find a retelling of that story is not working because you've switched phones and those messages are long gone. The realization that it's possible that, without your notice, time will sand the things you consider unthinkable to forget today, as well.

[essektheylyss]

Not gonna lie, both vindicating but also deeply sad that every single literary magazine I've looked at recently, having visited those site in the past, has edited their submission requirements to specify that AI work will not be considered.

And at the same time, I'm extremely fearful of how many writers are going to give up writing when it becomes impossible to tell AI from real anymore, and markets are utterly saturated with content to the point that getting anything published is nearly impossible as scammers try to make some quick change.

I imagine it wouldn't be worth it in the long run as a scam, because it doesn't exactly pay to write these days even prior to this, so it may then die out within a couple of years, though that might be optimistic given the plagiarism that makes it into the Amazon self-publishing realm. But even still, I do worry that in the meantime it's going to push writers out and force already struggling lit mags to shut down, and I'm so, so worried about it.

[djservo]

do you Perhaps have any screenshots that didn’t make the cut in a story post ? ive realized how much i miss my silly guys and i rlly like the b roll stuff so I was curious if u had any outtakes :0

4 Sure!! i'll often draft a story post & decide after 2 much contemplation that i don't like it & end up going a completely different direction (so if u think i meander enough as is, know it could be 10x worse 😤☝️) unfortunately i do try practicing the radical art of tidying up my digital space so i delete most pics i don't use BUT last story post was gonna be a phone call moment instead of the #investigationroundtable so here's a salvaged screenie of sergio looking like a lil bitch on the phone

and FINE here's sergio + joaquin unintentionally playing footsie -_-

a disgusted diego getting drunken wet dog kisses (around this time last year actually! cheers!) a la cheesy romance novel cover :-/ (yw diegio stans)

this wasn’t gonna be in a story post i simply just had to capture the moment

again not intended for a story post but i’d like to think joaquin does a mean shelley duvall impression

& lastly joaquin cradling rata to cleanse the eye palate <3 #unleashedpassions

[saetoru]

anon that sent me the ask about the geto fics being similar—yes :,) i agree they were eerily similar :,) so i did message the person to handle it privately and they’ve agreed to take it down so thank you for bringing that to my attention :,)

​sorry to make a vague post ab this on dash but i wanted to address it to the anon so they were acknowledged