#i dropped everything the second i saw this

[ibtisams]

The student protests for Palestine have been an amazing show of solidarity and support and seeing the way that so many young people are willing to stand up for their values is admirable when so many others stay silent. But this is all to say that we are entering a pattern of glorifying these white “martyrs” from the global west to put all of this effort and resources and media coverage into instead of the actual cause they are fighting for.

I saw the same thing happen with Aaron Bushnell, when his self immolation was being talked about more than the actual genocide in Gaza (which went against everything he said he was self immolating for in the first place).

And again this happened with the prisoner from the US who worked 136 hours just to be able to donate his $17 check to Palestine aid efforts. In response to this, people wanted to help him and ended up raising over $100,000 in a gofundme for him. This feels almost satirical, as every gofundme to help Gazans evacuate Palestine and get to safety has a goal of less than $100,000 and most of them are not even close to reaching it.

And now, there are more and more posts on how to get aid to the college student encampments, and the “urgency” of getting enough bail funds for the students who have been arrested during them. Talking about Palestine itself and getting resources to Palestine has almost been put on the back burner in favour of making all Palestine related news about college students in the United States.

It think it is valuable to recognise the selflessness and importance of these protests, and getting these students resources but what is MORE important, and what these people are truly fighting for, and protesting, and make a statement about is PALESTINE. We have unsurprisingly reached the point where there are people who care much more about the white people fighting for the cause from the comfort of living in the global west than they care about the Palestinians undergoing a genocide in Gaza. It’s become almost blatant racism, the way people begin to drop everything the second a white/usamerican person does something in regards to helping Palestine, but will not put the same effort into a Palestinian IN Gaza who is telling their story or asking for help. I respect anyone who has done absolutely anything to help Palestine, but I hope people are starting to see the pattern of how the media gravitates towards the “white saviour/perfect martyr” instead of the first hand accounts coming from those in Gaza.

Anyway FIND A GOFUNDME AND DONATE TO HELP FAMILIES IN GAZA ESCAPE GENOCIDE

[rafecameroninterlude]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 𝟐𝟒

pairing: dark!rafe x fem!pogue!reader

summary: ❝there’s only 24 hours in a day, and half of those you lay awake with thoughts of murder and carnage.❞ — when you accidentally witness rafe commit a murder, he’s willing to do everything he has to do in order to make sure there’s no loose ends. even if that means tracking you down and killing you himself.

warnings: predator/prey dynamic, murder, descriptions of violence and blood, time skips (just hours apart), choking (not the good kind), rafe quite literally tries to kill you, it kinda gives stockholm syndrome ngl

word count: 3.1k

a/n: series masterlist

hour one - 9:00 PM

“i can’t believe you talked me into taking this short cut to the boneyard, this is creepy as fuck.” you shivered, regretting your shoe choice as the gravel crunched underneath your sandals. “you’ll be here in no time, i swear! did you pass that abandoned house on the left already?” you froze, glancing back at the isolated dirt path. “girl- i haven’t seen anything since i turned this way like fifteen minutes back.” your friend gasped on the other end of the line. “where the hell are you then?!” lizzie yelled, attempting to shout over the music in the background.

“you tell me!” you cursed under your breath when you got a low battery notification. “look, my phone is about to die, i’ll try to call when i get closer.” you hung up, spotting a clear field to cut through. up in the distance you could see what looked like headlights. “thank god.” you sighed, making your way over in hopes of getting a ride out of here. as you got closer, you started rethinking your decision when two men came into your view, one pushing the other onto the ground. “what the fuck?” you whispered to yourself, your heart dropping as the man that was standing up pulled out a gun.

“please don’t do this! i’ll never steal from you again, man. i swear!” you were stuck, your feet not moving no matter how hard you tried. “you didn’t just steal from me, you stole from my family.” the cock of the gun was loud enough for your heart to beat wildly in your chest. “please, i’m begging you!” terror flooded through your system when the man on his knees glanced up, pointing a finger at you before the sound of a chamber being emptied pierced through the chilly night air. you jumped, covering your ears as they rung. the man fell with a thud, the realization of what you’ve just seen made your breath catch in your throat.

“hey!” the guy with the gun started running towards you, sending a shock of fear down your spine as you stumbled back. you whimpered when the palms of your hands landed on the bed of grass below you, the man’s footsteps only getting closer with each second you stayed on the ground. finally, when he was close enough for you to make out his face, you bolted in the opposite direction, a scream leaving your lips when he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling you against his front as he breathed against your skin. “you shouldn’t have seen that.” he traced your arm with the cold metal of his gun. “please, i won’t tell anyone, i was just trying to get to a party when i saw your truck. i thought you could help me out.” you whimpered.

“thought i could help you out?” he repeated, turning you around in his grip, “you’ve seen my truck, and now you’ve seen my face. i don’t want to do this but your pretty little self was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.” tears welled in your eyes as he held the gun up to your head. “i won’t go to the cops, i promise!” you cried, hands wrapping around his wrist. “i’ll forget all of this even happened.” truth be told, he really didn’t want to kill you. the second you saw his eyes soften, you knee’d him in the groin, pushing him in the chest as you took the gun from his hand. “sorry, not sorry!” you shouted, running as fast as you can while he groaned in pain. “you stupid fucking bitch!” he yelled, punching the ground in frustration.

you put the gun on safety mode, throwing it in your purse as you ran and didn’t stop until you reached what looked like the beach. sure enough as you got closer, you could hear the cheer of nearby partygoers. you sighed in relief, making your way to the center where lizzie and jj were sitting down at. “oh my god, are you alright?!” your best friend wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug while jj examined you closely. “dude, you look like you just climbed out of the woods or something.” you rolled your eyes at his words. “thanks, jayj.” you sat down, contemplating if whether or not you should tell lizzie what happened.

“i texted you like fifteen minutes ago to check on you!” she hit your arm playfully. your phone. you quickly patted yourself down, subtly looking through your small purse for the device, only to realize that you might’ve dropped it during the whole ‘escape from the killer!’ fiasco. “oh, fuck.” you whispered to yourself, lizzie and jj already back in their own little love bubble. meanwhile just on the other side of the island, rafe was seated in his truck, still sore from you kicking him in his manhood. he didn’t dwell on it too much, everything he needed to physically get ahold of you currently sat in the palm of his hand.

not only did rafe have your phone, but when he took off your phone case just to see your state id wrapped in a twenty dollar bill, he also had your full name along with your address.

hour ten - 7:00 AM

you barely slept a wink last night. after you got home from the party, you showered with the bathroom door open, way too paranoid to go over five minutes without looking out the window. you glanced at your purse, still not being able to bring yourself to open it. the flash backs of the man’s lifeless body falling to the ground was enough to keep you up. now, with the morning sun flooding through your bedroom, you knew had to get up at some point and get yourself together. “fuck.” you rubbed your eyes, quickly brushing your teeth before making your way to the small kitchen. washing some dishes from the day before, you stared out the window as you got lost in your thoughts.

he doesn’t know my name, how could he even find me? what if he found my phone with my id in it? eh, he’s probably too busy burying a body to worry about me.

“ouch!” you hissed, looking down to see that you accidentally cut yourself with one of the kitchen knives. “snap out of it.” you sighed to yourself, sucking on your finger as you looked through one of the drawers for a band aid. just as you spotted one, your heart stopped when you heard the familiar crunch of gravel in the driveway. your worst nightmare coming true when you saw the same black truck from last night parked outside. “no, no, no, no, no,” you ran to the front door, where you were met with a loud bang. “open up, y/n.” you paced around nervously, having no phone to call anyone for help. “leave me alone! i didn’t go to the police last night, and i won’t go to them ever, okay? please leave.”

“i can’t do that. you have something of mine, and i want it back.” you shuddered at the sound of his voice. “if you give me my gun, you’ll get your phone back. easy trade off.” that explains why he knew your name and where you lived. “you have my phone?” you wiped your eyes, walking closer to the trailer door. “i sure do, babe.” you debated with yourself, your breath quickening with each second you stayed silent. “will you leave me alone after this?” you unlocked the small latch, your heart beating in your ears as you opened the door, revealing the, rather beautiful, psycho that tried to kill you yesterday. “i’ll leave you alone. promise.” his eyes danced over your body. you were just in a tank top and underwear.

“i’ll be right back.” you took a deep breath, grabbing the gun out of your purse before returning back to him. when you opened the door once more, he was no where to be seen. “you make this too easy for me.” he clamped a hand over your mouth as he dragged you out of the living room and into your bedroom where he shoved you into the wall. you had no idea where the gun was pointing to, but you still pulled the trigger in a last minute effort to defend yourself. both of you jumped back, a bullet hole now adorning a spot next to your bed frame. you held the gun up, your hand shaking as you aimed at his head. “where’s my phone?” all the fear in your body was now replaced by anger. he held his hands up in defense, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“here,” he took the device out of his pocket, tossing it on your bed. “if i was going to rat you out i would’ve done it already,” you started, “this gun has my prints all over it, too. if i went to the cops with this i’d look just as guilty.” you watched as his face fell in realization. “i don’t even know your name.” you emptied the clip of the gun, the bullets falling to the floor with a clink. “rafe.” was all he said as you pushed the gun into his chest. “listen, rafe, i’m not a runner, i don’t run from anyone. you, however, killed somebody and i happened to witness it. that’s all. you got what you wanted now, so leave.” you grabbed your phone, walking past him to the kitchen.

“i believe you, but i can’t trust you. ‘not when i have too much to lose.” he followed you, unaware of the knife you had in your grip. “so make a move.” you turned around. rafe glanced at the knife in your hand, a smirk forming on his lips. “i’m into knifeplay, don’t threaten me with a good time.” he charged at you, knocking the weapon out of your grasp. before you could react, he wrapped a hand around your throat, lifting you up onto the counter as he started choking you out. your eyes widened while you frantically reached to the side for anything to hit him with. just as your vision started getting hazy, you felt the cast iron of your skillet on the stovetop, swinging it across his head. he fell instantly, his eyes fluttering shut as he his body slumped against the floor.

you rubbed the skin of your neck, tears running down your face as you fought to catch your breath. “oh, shit.” you whimpered, leaning down to check if he had a pulse. still alive, dammit. you leaned against the wall, trying to come up with something fast before he woke up. thirty minutes later, and you had him tied to a chair in the middle of your living room. “this will have to do.” you sighed, sticking a piece of tape over his mouth.

hour eighteen - 3:00 PM

“what the fuck?” rafe’s voice was raspy when he woke up, his eyes widening slightly as he spotted you staring at him from the couch. “what time it is?” he groaned, nearly knocking his chair over at how hard he was thrashing in it. “three o’ clock, which means you’ve been knocked out cold for eight hours.” you blinked. “eight hours?! what the fuck happened?” he looked around. you couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips. “what happened? you started choking me like a crazy person and i hit you with a skillet before you could actually kill me.” you moved closer, showing him the purple marks that now adorned your neck. apart of him hated that he did it, but it was too late to take it back now.

he licked his lips, cringing at the weird taste. “did i have tape on my mouth?” he grimaced. “yes, but you started breathing weird so i took it off.” you walked to the kitchen, rafe’s eyes glued to the way your jeans hugged your ass. “can you untie me?” he sighed when he heard you laugh. “not a chance,” you came back to the living room with a water bottle and a chair. “we’re gonna talk first before i let you go anywhere.” you took a seat in front of him, your knees knocking against his. you opened the water bottle, bringing it up to his lips. “i choked the shit out of you and you wanna give me water?” if he felt like crap before, he felt even worse now. “do you want it or not?” he nodded.

you hated how attractive you found him, the way he was gazing up at you right now made butterflies flutter in your tummy. once he hummed that he had enough, you leaned back in your seat. “before you shot that guy last night you said he stole something from your family. what was it?” rafe sighed, shaking his head. “why should i tell you?” he scoffed. “i’ll answer whatever questions you ask me in return.” you leaned forward, your cleavage making him uncomfortably hard in his cargo shorts. “any question?” you tilted your head. “yes, but answer mine first.” you ignored the smirk that lifted in the corner of his lips. “he stole gold,” rafe cleared his throat, “like a shit ton of it.” he swallowed.

“did you get it back?” you peered up at him through your eyelashes, completely oblivious to the tent in his shorts, or so he thought. “of course i did.” you shivered at the deep baritone of his voice. rafe knew both of you were treading dangerous territory as your looks started lingering a second longer, your fingers tracing his chin everytime he asked for more water. “what does one do with that much gold? when they’re already rich, i mean.” you licked your lips, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. “get more richer.” he shrugged. “my turn.” rafe cleared his throat.

“you can’t go to the cops, and you can’t leave me tied here forever. what are you gonna do?” you sighed, spending the last eight hours asking yourself the same thing. “i don’t know, rafe. if i let you go, you might try to kill me again.” he watched you carefully, guilt settling in his gut. “i won’t do anything, i swear i’ll-” you cut him off, “you said that last time.” rafe’s eyes flickered down to your neck, his jaw clenching. “nah, you have my word.” even though he looked sincere, you knew better than to give in right away. “no.” you got up, grabbing your purse as you made your way to the front door. “woah, where are you going?” rafe started pulling at the restraints, shouting after you as you walked out your trailer.

hour twenty three - 8:00 PM

the last thing you expected to see when you got home was rafe lying on his side, staring at nothing as you rushed over to help him up. “what the hell?” you grunted, pulling the chair up. “i tried to get out of this.” he looked completely defeated as you pulled your hair out of your face. “yeah, i can see that,” you placed the bag of food you had on the kitchen table, returning with a pair of scissors. “y/n, it’s been well over a day since my last meal, just let me go i swear i’ll be out of your hair.” he swallowed dryly. kneeling down on the floor, you started cutting the ropes from the chair, mumbling a ‘don’t make me regret this.’

rafe stared wide eyed as you set him free, immediately backing away from him as he rolled his shoulders back. “your keys are on the small table by the front door.” you were practically trembling with fear when he loomed over you. with a gentle hand, he softly traced your face, his fingers trailing down your neck to touch the bruises there. “i’m sorry.” rafe whispered. not knowing how to respond, you simply blinked with a small nod. “i got you something to eat in the kitchen,” you motioned towards the white paper bag with a burger and fries in it. rafe looked at you as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

“you bought me food?” you relaxed when he stepped away, his hands on his head as he slowly paced back and forth. “yes..” your voice came out small. rafe was quiet for a minute before he looked at you with a look that sent shivers down your spine, except this time it wasn’t out of terror. “do you want to play a game, y/n?” he eyed your frame, loving the way your tits looked in that pretty tube top of yours. “i’m kind of tired of games, don’t you think we’ve played cat and mouse long enough?” you smiled softly when he laughed. “while you do have a point, this is a game that you win regardless.” rafe watched as you let your hair down from it’s claw clip, “why not?”

“i’m sure you’re familiar with hide and seek?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “of course i’m familiar, but why that one?” you questioned. “well here’s the thing; i’m gonna count to sixty and give you one minute to hide. if i don’t find you in two minutes, you’ll never have to worry about me showing up at your doorstep again, but if i do find you.. i fuck you.” you were immediately taken aback, your heart pounding in your ears as he got close to you once again. any normal person would immediately reject, not even giving it a second thought before declining, but a large part of you was thrilled at the idea of being hunted down. only when your life didn’t actually depend on it, of course.

you looked up at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as a nervous habit. “okay.” rafe smiled devilishly. “run.” his eyes were dark when the word left his mouth. “w-what?” you stuttered, panic coursing through your veins. “i said fucking run.” he said through gritted teeth, your feet moving as he started counting down. you ran into the bedroom, cursing under your breath as you look around for a concealed hiding spot. you lived in a trailer for god’s sake, you had limited space. choosing your best bet, you squeezed into your closet, bringing your knees up to your chest as the words ‘ready or not, here i come!’ echoed in your ears.

you could hear shuffling in the bathroom and the kitchen, your eyes screwing shut as his foot steps got closer to your room. rafe was already a minute down. just as you thought he was going to walk away, the door to your closet swung open.

hour twenty four - 9:00 PM

“gotcha.”

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[nonstoplover]

all of my heart ~ carlos sainz (cs55)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz jr. x fem!reader

summary: a short story of carlos becoming a father

words: 2K

warnings: one tiny swear word in spanish ig, otherwise nothing, just fluff fluff fluff and dad!carlos which deserves its own warning tbh

a/n: i know you love the dad!driver trope, @vetteltea, which is why i dedicate this blurb to you (though i think you'd maybe prefer this to be with seb now that i think about it), as a thank you for all the amazing fanfic you provide this fandom with. i love you so much, you're so talented, so inspiring, and i truly wish to be like you. <33

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Carlos is still a little out of breath when he hears it for the first time.

A delayed red-eye flight and an excruciating traffic jam caused him to almost miss this appointment. The first he finally has the chance to attend – having had a race when the initial one happened –, and he almost missed it.

As a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face, obvious sign of how only seconds ago he was still running up the stairs of the hospital, a smile forms on his lips. Looking at her, lying down, the screen beside the bed showing a picture of their baby.

Well, at least they say it's that. For the love of God, Carlos can't see anything on it. He still nods along with a wide smile when the nurse asks him if he sees it. The focus shouldn't be on him and whether he can see it or not, but on his girlfriend.

God, this woman. He hasn't seen her in over a month now. And this is how they meet again: when they meet the little one officially as well, though on a screen only. Hell, the last time he saw her, they had no clue of this wonderful piece of news. From watching her wave with a smile through the glass at the airport, before he turned a corner towards his flight and disappeared, fast forward to now, when he catches sight of her lying form, just as gorgeous as ever, if not more, with a baby growing inside her. A creation by him and her.

They're gonna have a child, Carlos thinks, and as if it's the first time he realises this, his heart stops for a second. In happiness, in awe, in fear.

Because as the image on the screen gets displayed, and Carlos gets lost in-between words like embryo and transvaginal scan, suddenly the doctor announces that the baby indeed has a heartbeat, listen, you can hear it. And this one sentence, followed by the almost inaudible little thuds, is enough to make everything feel real.

Of course, he already knew what the positive pregnancy test meant, the one she showed him first on a FaceTime call, then sent as a separate picture later. But this, hearing that tiny heartbeat, it made everything even more real. They had actual proof now of what is going to happen in the near future. It might not have been planned, but it doesn't make it any less sweeter.

With his heart beating away in a rapid rhythm, he feels his facial muscles pull as his lips curve into a smile, so wide that it even showcases his pearly white teeth.

When he sees her the next time, the first thing Carlos does is place his palm against her tummy. The bump is already visible – well not in the hoodie she's currently wearing, but it's there underneath, he knows –, and he's been dreaming about holding it for many, many days now.

She lets out a giggle, throwing her head back a little, having expected a kiss upon her arrival, not this. Carlos practically doesn't pay her any attention, his sole focus is on talking with his baby.

Later on in the car she inquires jokingly the reason behind why she's not the first to be greeted by him, and he explains with a serious tone why that's the priority. "You get all this time to speak to her and bond with her, and she's already inside you which is a bonus, but she has to know exactly who her father is."

"She, huh?" she raises a teasing eyebrow, and he simply smiles, shrugging in a nonchalant way.

"I can feel it in my bones."

He looks so self-assured that she can't help but lean in and press her lips against his cheek. She still can't believe she'll get to have a kid with this man.

Doubt starts rising in his mind when they reach the third trimester. The date underlined in bright red in his calendar creeping closer and closer, making him more self-conscious and unsure than he's ever felt.

What if he won't be a good father? What if his job gets in the way of his child really feeling close to him? What is he supposed to do anyway? He already has no idea what he's doing in this whole pregnancy, safe to say, how is it going to be when he finally gets to hold the baby as well?

He's read multiple long articles, spending every flight he's had to take nose deep in his phone, until his eyes hurt and words started to lose their meaning. He wants to be the best father he can be.

This even includes several calls to his parents, asking for advice from them as well, trusting and valuing their words far more than the ones he can find online. He knows that his parents proved already that their methods work, they've been good parents to him and his siblings.

Still, the only thing that seems to reassure him is that they – the baby and him – have her. His superwoman of a girlfriend, who simply seems like she was actually born to do this, to be a mother, taking every obstacle in their way with a cheerful step and a smile reaching from ear to ear on her face.

How did he deserve her?

As he's gritting his teeth to stop himself from letting out a groan while the pain he's feeling in his hand spreads – mierda, this woman is strong – he repeats one sentence as a mantra. Only to keep him from worrying his heart out for the love of his life, who's currently letting out loud gasps and occasional curses, her eyes teary and her cheeks red from the strain of pushing and pushing and pushing.

I hope the baby looks like her.

Why is this so important to him? He has no idea. He doesn't even know why the thought popped into his mind in the first place. He just knows he has to keep on repeating it to divert his mind, otherwise he'll lose his sanity.

Simply, he has to focus on picturing a baby with her eyes, her hair colour, the elegant line of her nose, the curve of her lips, her rosy cheeks. Every inch of their baby looking like a mini-her. Because what would be better than looking at his girlfriend and marvel at her beauty? Of course, looking at her and his daughter, and seeing the exact same beauty? Sure, it would be nice to have a tiny detail of him in their baby girl somewhere, just so that it would be obvious to the whole wide world that this is his baby, that the woman giving birth to her now is his woman. Maybe the exact copy of his eye colour? Or his locks of hair, silky and thick? It doesn't matter. Honestly, who cares about how she looks, he will love her no matter what. With his whole heart, with more love, a deeper connection than he's ever felt before.

Minutes pass, then some more, until it feels like an eternity has gone by since they arrived to the hospital. But then he hears it – crying. The unmistakable baby sound, entering the haze of his mind like a sharp knife, bringing him back to reality in a millisecond.

Everything seems to quicken up, and the next thing he knows is that the bundle of his child is placed in his arms, and after that initial wave of slightly terrified chills running through his body, immediately a mixture of relief, joy and tranquility spreads in his veins. He has no idea why he was so scared this whole time. This is... subconscious. Instinctive. Meant to be.

In that very moment he wordlessly promises the baby to always be there for her, always looking out for her, always caring and loving her with all of his heart. He won't let any harm ever reach her.

"Congratulations, Mr. Sainz, on the birth of your son," the doctor approaches him, and that last word bursts the bubble Carlos has been surrounded with.

Son?

His eyes widen, lips fall slightly open in shock – right until he hears the exhausted sounding but unmistakable giggle coming from the bed. "I told you," she grins.

"A boy," he mumbles dreamily, glancing at his girlfriend, lips curving into a smile matching hers.

"Good thing I came prepared with boy names as well," she continues, slight pants leaving her lungs still.

The memory when she practically wanted to force him into choosing a male name as well, just in case – because he was so sure about their baby being a girl that he didn't even want to spend a moment thinking about names for the other sex –, pops into his mind, and he shakes his head. He was wrong.

Tiny feet patter on the floor, growing louder and louder, before a second later they suddenly cease and get replaced by a high-pitched giggle.

She glances up just as Carlos appears in the doorway to the kitchen, their son hanging from his arms, his little cheeks red from all the laughter. Her heart swells at the sight and sounds, her eyes shine bright, connecting with his easily – the love of her life.

Miracle. That's what the little boy is in their lives.

Watching Carlos be a father has been the best thing she's ever had the chance to witness. The way he plays with him, practically going back to being a child, his sole focus being on entertaining his son.

The Sainz household they established not too long ago is filled with laughter every day, the walls reverberating with the joyous sounds until they fill their hearts.

"When's dinner ready, mi amor?" Carlos leans in, pressing a loving kiss on her temple.

She cheerfully smiles, her fingers moving to caress the impossibly soft, dark brown hair on the little boy's head. "A few minutes," she replies, catching her fiancé's eyes once more. "If you two help me set the table, we can eat sooner."

Her son nods eagerly, as much as his three-year-old energy allows, and waves his tiny arms to wordlessly tell his father to put him down on the ground. Carlos obeys, then opens the cupboard to find the appropriate plates – all plastic, reserved for the times when it's only the three of them eating, to allow the young one to help them without the worry of him breaking anything.

She watches from the corner of her eyes as her two boys move towards the dining table, where Carlos lifts their son to stand on a chair, this way allowing him to reach the tabletop. His hands never leave the boy's waist, just in case, and when he's finished setting the plates, helps him back on the ground.

"Good job, chiquito," Carlos holds his palm out at the proper height.

"Gracias, papá," the little one slaps into his father's hand eagerly, making his mother smile so wide it's close to actually hurt the muscles in her cheeks.

They walk back to the kitchen counter with proud looks on their faces, and she places the bowl of salad in Carlos' hands. "It's too heavy for you, pumpkin," she explains when her son opens his mouth to complain.

"Te adoro," Carlos steals a melting kiss from her lips as his fingers get a hold of the bowl, before leaning back and fully taking it from her. I adore you.

With her heart fluttering with nothing but pure happiness and blood rushing to her face, she enjoys the way that bashful smile forms on her lips that only he can achieve. Her gaze follows his movements, the way the T-shirt clings to his arms, to his back muscles, and how the soft material ripples with every move he makes. He is breathtaking. He truly is, because unawares, she lets out a soft gasp watching him and has to endure the knowing glance and that smirk he casts her way above his shoulder. He knows her too well.

She shakes her head, attention going back to her son still standing by her feet, patiently waiting for his next task. A perfect mini-him, way more than she could've ever asked for.

A perfect child, a perfect man to call the love of her life, a perfect life. And it's all hers.

a/n: i'm back baby!! i've been gone for the longest time ever (since last summer) but i'm in my final year of uni and i had to write my thesis too so hopefully that's a good enough excuse. writer's block ain't fun still. it really just feels nice to post something again.

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

[theemporium]

blue-"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." nico being devastated he’s hurt and just needs to be held by his girlfriend

i made it a bit more emotional hurt than physical! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

29. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

.

It was bittersweet. 

He knew it was coming. The team knew it was coming. The fans knew it was coming. It had been a rough year with messy strategies, tough injuries and bad luck slapping them in the face after the season they had the previous year. It was rough and it weighed down on everyone and it was shattering. 

But, deep down, there was this little spark of hope in his chest. 

Hope that they could pull through and do the impossible. Hope that they could defy the odds and make it through to the playoffs. Hope that they would click and be the amazing team he knew they could be. 

He had so much fucking hope and it was completely washed away the second that final buzzer went, the reality that they had been eliminated finally settling amongst them as they looked at each other on the ice.

But Nico stepped up. He was the captain. He had these boys looking up to him and seeking him out as a pillar of comfort and reassurance. He couldn’t be moping around the locker room, not when he had to take care of his boys first. Not when he had to face the media and drag the interview out as long as he could so the other boys didn’t have to spend too long with them. Not when he had to deal with whatever debrief meetings and logistics the coaches and team wanted to have.

They may have been eliminated but he still had his duties to perform. 

He felt like he was running on pure muscle memory by the time he left the Rock, settling behind the wheel of his car with a heavy sigh. His brain was racing with a million different thoughts as he drove home, plaguing him with what if’s and could have been’s. Despite the exhaustion settling in his body, his mind felt far too wired and overwhelming and, fuck, he just wanted it to stop. 

And then he walked through the door and saw you cuddled up on the couch, drowning in one of his hoodies and a blanket his mother had gifted you both when you moved in, and the last of his resolve crumbled.

“Hey, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft and sweet and soothing as he dropped his bags at the door and quickly made his way towards you. He didn’t even hesitate as he practically draped himself on top of you, burying his face into the fabric of your—his—hoodie.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out because the words had been on the tip of his tongue. They had been lingering in the back of his head since the season had started, had been lingering after every loss and hardship the team and fans had to face. 

“Shhh, it’s not your fault, Nico,” you cooed, your arms winding around his body to hold him tight. Because somehow you knew what was going through his head, you knew the way he was spiralling, you just knew him. “None of this is your fault.”

“Just their faces—” he cut himself off with an unpleasant sound, something stuck between a sob and a scoff. Instead, he nuzzled himself closer like he could bury himself between your ribs and stay there forever. 

“I know, baby, I know.” Your fingers ran through his hair, your nails lightly scraping along his scalp in an attempt to soothe him. “Last year wasn’t a fluke, okay? This year was the fluke. Next season will be your season, I just know it.”

“You don’t know that,” he murmured, his words twisting the self-deprecating knife lodged in his heart since the season had started going downhill. 

“I know everything,” you corrected before lightly tugging on his hair until he lifted his head. You flashed him a soft smile, your hands gently holding his face as your thumb smoothed over the small scar on his cheek. “You’re gonna lead that team to the win you all deserve, Nico. I know that. The boys know that. The fans know that.”

He could only muster a small smile.

“And I will happily remind you until you believe in yourself again,” you added before leaning over to peck his lips, feeling the tension in his body finally start to leave for the first time since he entered the apartment.

“I love you,” he murmured when he couldn’t find any other words to capture how he was feeling.

“I love you too, baby.”

.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hiii Miss Ravennn! 😊 I’m sure you’ve seen the new club Leona by now and if not now then at some point you will. 🎤 Care to share with the class about what your thoughts on it are?

-Insert groaning sfx here-

IF I MUST... 💀

***Spoilers for Epel, Ruggie, and Leona's Club Wear cards below the cut!!***

*aggressively leans into the mic* ALRIGHT, WHICH ONE OF YOU TWST DEVS DECIDED TO PUT THE GUY WITH THE BIGGEST CHEST NEXT TO TWO OF THE FLATTEST GUYS IN THE WHOLE CAST 🤡 That poor belt looks like it's going to burst, it truly is the strongest soldier of Magift/Spelldrive Club... I'm going to have to avoid scrolling on socials for like the next week or else I just know I'm going to be clocked by fan art after fan art of Leona in uniform 🪦

BUT HEY, IT'S OKAY, IT'S FINE, IT'S FIIIIINE. Let's compare the club outfits of Leona against his teammates to distract me from thinking about rolling for L*ona!

Many fans already predicted Leona's new hairstyle would be something that kept his hair out of his face, similar to what we see for Epel and Ruggie. This makes sense, as you would not want anything obscuring your line of sight if you're going to be playing a sport. I like that they differentiated Leona's ponytail from the one he wears in his PE Uniform card! In his new Clubwear, Leona's bangs are slicked back to not get in his way, and the ponytail is much higher. The PE Uniform ponytail still has his usual bangs and the ponytail is very low.

Around Leona, Epel, and Ruggie's necks appears to be some kind of... cord???? (I'm not familiar with sporting gear, so I don't know what the terminology for this piece is. Sorry!!) There is a different number of golden notches, and I wonder if this corresponds with their year level since Epel (the first year) has one, Ruggie (the second year) has two, and Leona (the third year and club captain) has three.

RE SO EXTRA?????? 'An interesting detail is that Ruggie and Epel have goggles with different colored coatings on their lenses to reflect their dorms (golden for Savanaclaw, purple for Pomefiore). Leona, however, does not have traditional goggles, nor are they mounted on his head. He seems to have a pair of sunglasses dangling from the little side pocket that holds his magical pen. Ruggie and Epel's footwear also indicates their dorm allegiance via colors. Leona's shoes are that signature Savanaclaw yellow as well, but... ahbdbyovqyfefe THEY'RE'An interesting detail is that Ruggie and Epel have goggles with different colored coatings on their lenses to reflect their dorms (golden for Savanaclaw, purple for Pomefiore). Leona, however, does not have traditional goggles, nor are they mounted on his head. He seems to have a pair of trendy-looking sunglasses dangling from the little side pocket that holds his magical pen. Ruggie and Epel's footwear also indicates their dorm allegiance via colors. Leona's shoes are that signature Savanaclaw yellow as well, but... ahbdbyovqyfefe THEY'RE SO EXTRA???? At first I thought it was a bunch of shiny golden particles but upon closer inspection, it looks to be more like a purposefully textured fade. Truly, hats off to the designers and artists for somehow making a variant of the club uniform that conveys Leona’s arrogance and includes luxurious fashion (though let’s be honest, Ruggie probably maxed Leona’s credit card buying these accessories for him www).

…

<_<

>_>

A n y w a y

I think my favorite part of this new card is Leona’s face. You can unfortunately get a good look at how handsome he is here 💀 The cocky smirk, the sharp and bright eyes, his sharp jawline, how his locks fall around his face and call attention to… YOU KNOW, EVERYTHING???? 😭 His regal aura really is there front and center…

But no, no!! I shan’t roll for him 🙃 I can appreciate from afar, I don’t need to have ojitan in my card roster, nope.

Since the Epel Clubwear first dropped and I saw the buckles… I’ve been on a spiritual retreat in the mountains and lived a humble life as a nun, meditating in the peace and tranquility of nature to attain enlightenment. I have no worldly desires such as Fake Cat 🙏 This is me coping

[jenomi]

imgonnagetyouback

a/n: I've been obsessed with this song from Taylor's new album and I keep imagining it with jeno </3 i hope you like it :3

cw: alcohol

✧･ﾟ: *✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Whether I'm gonna flip you off or Pull you into the closet, I haven't decided yet But I'm gonna get you back"

your friend had brought you to a party of one of her friends - it was a small party but not too small that you had to interact with everyone, thank god. it's only been two weeks since you and your ex, jeno, broke up. you weren't sure whether or not to go to this party, but you were in the mood to go out. your friend had insisted that you didn't need to go to this party too, but deep down, you wanted to see jeno.

when jeno had broken up with you, it caught you off guard, you had no idea his feelings had started to change. "things have changed - i just don't feel the same anymore. i'm sorry" he had said. you were so stunned, you didn't cry, you didn't even say anything at all. "i- i'm sorry" he repeated before leaving you at the front door of your house. you cried so hard that night, it hurt to open your eyes the next day. everything had been so abrupt, one second he's being sweet and the next he's saying he doesn't feel the same. he breaks it off with you in a matter of minutes, not giving you any explanation at all. you didn't know whether to be angry or sad. your mood had been volatile a week afterwards, switching from sharp pangs of sadness one minute to raging anger seconds later.

even at this party, you didn't know whether you felt sad or angry towards jeno. it didn’t help that as soon as you walked in, you locked eyes with him. it was almost like you were two magnets, bound to find each other no matter the distance. you felt your heart drop to your stomach as you quickly looked away and your friend dragged you into the kitchen to get a drink. your friend handed you a cocktail, and when she turned away to talk to donghyuck, you snuck some more alcohol into your cup.

when you stepped out of the kitchen to say hi to everyone, you tried to plaster on a smile and act like you were fine. however, every time your eyes wandered away, they would find jeno almost immediately. and sometimes he would already be looking at you.

you knew that look in his eyes - it was care. it made your heart strings pull toward him, you could feel a knot forming in your throat. you could cry. you wanted him to come up to you first, you wanted to wrap your arms around his waist, you wanted to feel his warmth on your lips.

but it made you so angry that you felt this way. what gave him the right to keep looking at you the way he used to? he knows how that look makes you feel. you felt red with anger, you wanted to hurt him the way he hurt you.

"I hear thе whispers in your eyes I'll make you wanna think twice You'll find that you were never not mine (You're mine)"

as the night went on, your two groups seemed to wander closer and closer to each other, the look in his eyes never faltering. jeno had always been very expressive, you could always read his thoughts and mood from his eyes. he looked at you the way he's looking at you now when he asked you to be his girlfriend, when you were sick, when he first told you he loved you, and every time he came home from work to see you cooking in the kitchen or relaxing on the couch.

after a year together, you learned that that caring look in his eyes was his silent way of telling you he loved you, every second of every day, in private and in public.

little did you know, jeno could read you just as easily. when he saw you walk in and lock eyes with him, he could see the shock and sadness in your eyes. it made him feel horrible. had he made a mistake? a piece of him will always belong to you the same way a piece of you will always belong to him.

the party only picked up as it got later, you could feel yourself getting tipsy and letting loose despite feeling jeno's gaze on you. some girls were trying to approach jeno, but he would politely decline them before they moved on to a different member of his group. he couldn't talk to another girl, not with you within arms reach.

he turned around to check on you again only to find you laughing with another guy. he could feel the jealousy quickly bubbling up in his veins. he had a very short debate with himself before deciding to pull you away. surely, you didn't want this guy approaching you? he's only trying to save you, that's what he thought.

"I can feel it coming, humming in the way you move Push the reset button, we're becomin' something new Say you got somebody, I'll say I got someone too"

you had no idea who this guy was. normally, you wouldn't entertain any guy you meet in a party setting, but you were feeling bold with the alcohol coursing through your veins. you could see jeno in the corner of your eye, shoulders squared and with a set jaw, walking your way.

"hi baby, i was looking for you" jeno come up to you as he smiles and wraps a possessive arm around your shoulders. he can feel you tense under his arm, making his smile fall briefly. you were suddenly wrapped in jeno's heat and his smell, just the way you yearned for every night but standing here, it doesn't feel right. the guy you were talking to looks confused as he smiles and excuses himself before walking away to grab a drink.

as soon as he walked away, you quickly stepped out of jeno's grasp looking up at him in anger. he only looks back at you before grabbing your hand and dragging you through the crowd onto the balcony. you let him, not wanting to cause a scene and because you were distracted by the familiarity of the warmth of his hand perfectly fitting in yours.

you didn't know what he was dragging you out for. you knew he wanted to talk, you can feel it in the way he's holding your hand and the heat in his step.

luckily, there wasn't anyone on the balcony when you got out there. you rip your hand away from his, "what do you want" you spat. hurt flashed across jeno's eyes before he replied, "i just wanted to talk. how are you?" you scoffed before crossing your arms and looking away as you try to tamp down your tears and anger.

"y/n..." jeno whispers when you don't respond.

"so how is she?" you ask. you figured he had found someone else and that was why he left you. it was so sudden and he gave no explanation after everything was fine in the days leading up to your breakup.

jeno looks at you in confusion before saying, "who?"

"the girl you left me for"

"what? i didn't leave you for another girl"

you feel relief wash over your body as you can feel your shoulders relaxing just the slightest. so it wasn't your worst fear, not being enough only to be replaced. you're wrapped up in your own thoughts when jeno whispers, "i've missed you"

"Told my friends I hate you, but I love you just the same Pick your poison, babe, I'm poison either way"

you stare at him in shock. had he really missed you as much as you missed him? you still loved him, you knew that no matter how much you tried to deny it - it's only been 2 weeks. but as much as you loved him, you hated him for ending it the way he did with no closure and so abruptly. if he loved you the way you loved him, he wouldn't have treated you in that way, you have enough self respect to know that.

you feel a tear slip down you cheek, but before you could swipe it away, jeno catches it with his thumb, his palm on your cheek. you instinctively lean into his touch, your heart squeezing at the familiarity of it all.

"i'm sorry. you know i hate seeing you cry. i never meant to hurt you. i'm sorry" he repeats as he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs swiping away the remaining tears running down your face. he tilts your head up towards him, and you look into his eyes with your tear filled ones. he slowly closes the gap between you as he lightly kisses you. and you kiss him back.

you let him deepen the kiss for a minute before you push him away from you. he was like a drug, poison, once it was in your system, it would be hard to get it out. always leaving you wanting more. you had just started to purge him out of your system, but he’s back and you’re left craving him harder than ever before.

but you didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve this - reconciliation without an explanation.

"Whether I'm gonna curse you out or Take you back to my house, I haven't decidеd yet But I'm gonna get you back"

"why?" you ask, but your voice only comes out as a rasp.

"i don't know" he shakes his head "i was having a hard time at work and i felt like i was letting you down. i thought you were feeling the same, so i let you go. i thought it would be easier to blame it on myself"

"what makes you think you can make those decisions for me? you just left without an explanation! you could have told me this, and i could've helped you. instead you leave me hanging, combing through everything i've done to try to figure out where i went wrong for you to have changed your feelings. you know i love you, we would've worked through it together" you cry shout.

"i know and i'm sorry! i regretted it immediately, i tried calling you but you never picked up and i tired coming by your house but you were never home when i came around" he replied. admittedly, your friend had his number blocked on your phone and you had stayed with them, unable to stay in a place filled with memories of jeno. your heart hurt knowing jeno tried to reach out to you after.

"it's not an excuse" you whisper.

the sadness on jeno's face is clear as day, "i know it doesn't excuse the way i treated you. i'll never be able to apologize enough for that and i'll never forgive myself for it. it haunts me knowing i hurt you in that way. let me make it up to you. let me show you how much i still love you. let me show you how much i care for you. let me show you how much i mean my words."

somehow this was all you wanted to hear from jeno in the last two weeks. you didn't know what to say. fuck you? but you settled with, "i need time"

jeno nodded quickly, grabbing your hand. he felt hopeful. he pulled you into a hug, "all the time you need. i'll get you back"

"me too" you whisper into his shoulder.

[losersiren]

Yandere! Vault Dweller

N: I just finished the Fallout show, went on YouTube and fell down a rabbit hole of lore about the game. I decided Vault 11 shall be sacrificed (hehe). Everything I put in this fic is from the videos I've watched and the fan wiki, so it's like semi-accurate… Cw: talks about suicide, suicide (not the reader), violence, yandere tendencies, gore(?), death, manipulation, coercion, talks of death, should be gn! reader safe.... if not, put me in the chamber WC: 2.2k

Quiet. It was quiet. The silence is deafening, yet the ringing in your ear grows louder and louder, each second feeling as if eons had passed. The automated computer voice repeats in your head like a catchy song you’ll hear on those dusty records, the ones Mama used to play and dance to.

“Congratulations, citizens of Vault 11! You have made the decision not to sacrifice one of your own. You can walk with your head held high, knowing that your commitment to human life is a shining example to us all. And to make that feeling of pride even sweeter, I have some exciting news. Despite what you were led to believe, the population of Vault 11 is not going to be exterminated for its disobedience. Instead, the mechanism to open the main vault door has now been enabled, and you can come and go at your leisure. But not so fast! Be sure to check with your overseer to find out if it's safe to leave. Here at Vault-Tec, your safety is our number one priority.”

You were young when your parents escaped the bombs to the vault you're situated in right now; you grew up believing that damned computer about sacrifices and watched your fellow vault mates get killed one by one. You waited for the time it would be you in that same chamber. Now, with this information surfaced…they died for what? An experiment? What would have happened if you had been voted overseer…

The lump in your throat grows heavier, and the arguments and yelling in the background become more and more apparent that you can't ignore them anymore. Your eyes drift to the man standing tall and proud beside you, Charli, his hair still somehow slick back; he still looks perfect even after the maddening chaos of events that transpired these past few days. His blue jumpsuit was as crisp as an ironed suit that the actors would wear from the moving pictures on television before the vault. His expression is as vacant as his blue eyes, his soft lips decorated with a barely visible smile. As he watches the other three vault survivors argue, Your brows furrow. 

Why isn’t he affected by the news like everyone else? This information is soul-crushing and life-changing!

Then again, you reason with yourself that maybe this is his way of coping; who are you to judge and microanalysis him like some psycho? Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep or the sense of safety ripped out of your hand like candy stolen from a baby. Heavens, you might nearly flip your lid entirely if something else happens. You sigh. To believe you almost were insinuating that Charli would even be a drop suspicious, and of what, exactly? He saved and shielded you from the massacre that only left the five of you remaining; he was your childhood best friend..how could you? You reprimand yourself.

His eyes finally meet yours, and the sympathy and worry you sought appeared when the blonde saw how distressed you were. “Are you alright?” his soft voice fills your head–drowning out the talks of whether the group should commit suicide in honour of your dead vault men or venture into the outside world to educate others on how your vault was misled. You were somewhat dissociated from the whole conversation. Reasonably so.

His hands, soft yet calloused, turn your head side to side to check for any visible injuries he might’ve missed, which he shouldn’t have—knitted eyebrows and razor-sharp eyes search frantically for anything. 

Charles or… As you’ll call him later in your relationship, Charlie, has always been like this. When you met him, he was a reserved kid, a trait that would carry on from his pubescent to adolescent years. 

When other kids grew out of their shyness and worrisome attitude and eventually adapted to the vault, he was pushed aside. Well, that wouldn’t be the only reason. His father was the first overseer of Vault 11, the same overseer who thought the best course of action was not to tell the vault residents about the sacrificial system they were now to live with. That same choice he made was the reason for his death, and he was the first to test the new system. He wasn’t a good man. He was greedy, a neglectful father and husband, and so on. A family now ruined by one man’s ill-considered decision; Charles's mom wasn’t much better, the textbook definition of a hypocrite. Bad-mouthing her dead husband, the same one she defended when said husband would push his son away.

Most would fear having no one at the end of the world, but it became Charles's life; while everyone adapted to vault life, Charles adapted to the misfortune of the consequences of his old man’s actions. You decided one day to talk to him while others stood clear. It was a simple conversation; others would just brush it off…which he did initially. But after that day, you would constantly seek him out, and with that, you wore a genuine smile and interest every time you talked to him. His walls crumbled into dust for you and only you. You were like a shooting star he wished for. His reputation grew because of you and, with that, his feelings for you sored. You became his way of life. In his teen years, he decided to become the best match for you– He would participate in every extracurricular activity the vault would provide to make him an unstoppable force of a man. The perfect golden boy was made..for you.

He had the “perfect body,” perfect sperm count, unmatched intelligence, and charisma—he perfected them (even if you were the only one he talked to for long periods)—strength, agility, endurance—all of it. He will be everything you need and more. With that, he made sure no one would vote you as overseer…

He was so soft on you that it would rival feathers. Do you need help lifting that? He's already there. Do you need help with your pre-war history? He’ll just sit you down and study with you for hours. Are you bleeding from an accidental cut? Don’t worry he just finished his first aid training. He already had a plan for you both for everything that would happen.

Everything

“I’m fine…” You grab both of his hands gently. “...Well, not fine, fine, but I'm not hurt.” You smile weakly up at him. “It’s okay. You and I will get through this,” He coos, pushing strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. His touch is warm and tender, yet the words you hear next aren’t.

“Fuck..I..I can’t do this I’m sorry.” A man, short in stature, starts backing away, gun in hand, clearly distressed. Your eyes move away from Charli’s to your fellow survivor; unknowingly to you, Charli rolls his eyes at the man's “dramatics.”  “We don’t deserve to leave...That thing called us a shiny example..f..f.fucked! Thats fucked! I..I can’t live with that!” Another man says, “Anyone would’ve done what we did.” A woman comments, “You ask me? That's exactly the problem. Now, let’s get on with this.”

“Wait,” you say, stunned, as if he had predicted this would happen. Charles moves his hands to cover your eyes. The short man is first, putting his gun on the roof of his mouth and pulling the trigger, not sparing any more time; the woman is next, the second gunshot. Then, with a sigh and short prayer, the last man repeats the action done by the others. Each lifeless body hits the floor one by one, and then there is silence.

What the hell.

You try to understand the situation, but your brain has yet to catch up…it’s all too much. Charli whispers calming phrases while he shields your eyes with one hand and rubs patterns along your back with the other. Tears start rolling down your face…and you sob. Hard. His hand moves to pet your hair, soothing you while you let it all out of your system.

He moves his body to shield you from the gruesome events that have just taken place; he moves both of his hands and cradles your face. You try looking behind him out of curiosity, but he stops you before you can.”Hey! Look at me with those gorgeous eyes,” He mummers, and of course, you comply. “There we go. You listen to me so well,” he whispers lovingly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll both go back to my vault room. I have enough supplies for the both of us to survive outside for a while, okay?” He asks you, and you nod, agreeing to whatever he says. 

“I need to hear you say it..” 

“…yes, of course, whatever you think is best.” He smiles at you, thumb caressing your cheek. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?” He takes your hand and leads you through the halls. It's quiet… you don't like it. Your eyes are trained on his back, Charli…he’s your lifebuoy in the angry sea, the only thing keeping you afloat; if it wasn’t for him…you might’ve met your end with the others. As if sensing your inner turmoil, he squeezes your hand, comforting you…and you squeeze back. Your world just fell apart, yet…it doesn’t seem entirely gone with Charli by your side. 

It's only a short time till you reach his vault. You’ve been here so many times it's basically your room by now. The tall blonde turns to look at you. “I’m going to let you go, just for a second, okay..? I just need to get the supplies.” He holds your one hand with both of his– you reply with a soft okay, and with your permission, he starts to move. He moves towards his small desk to grab a small, flat-headed screwdriver, walks to a particular spot, and pops the floor title beneath him, revealing a hidden compartment. It's filled with two modular military backpacks, filled to the bream with necessities for outside the vault.

He was prepared for all of this…

Then he starts talking about what he has in mind for the two of you, settling on the surface of living together and everything. Charles gets lost when talking to you; he can speak his mind about almost anything, and rambling is second nature with you. The hermit turned a social butterfly in your presence.

“You know that computer may have been our downfall, but god did bless me with more information than I could handle…good thing, huh, glad I went through all that code…Vault-tec tried to make it secure, but I found a way...We could go somewhere called New Vegas…” He keeps talking. 

But you stand there, still, as a statue, looking down at him as he gathers everything…What did he just say? 

You think back to the start when killing between the blocs started..he was right there, ready to protect you, when you and the other surviving tested out if the chamber would kill all of you…he almost seemed to be too assured nothing bad would happen to any of you, almost like…no…no. You’re overthinking, right? But the more you listen…

“You knew…” you shakingly exclaim out loud, cutting him off. “Hmm?” He looks up at you as he puts the tile back…” You knew we didn’t need sacrifices…you knew it would play out like this…” you say louder and more confidently. Those once-homey blue eyes become cold and distant… analyzing you.  

You both stare at each other.

You turn and run.

 But your efforts are in vain; you don’t even leave the room before two muscular arms wrap around behind you, overtaking you, holding your arms down around your waist, dragging you back. You scream and kick with no success. You end up with his arms around you while he sits down, his back against the wall, and you in front of him with his head in your neck while you let it all out. “When?” you croak out, “When we were fifteen, I didn’t want you to become overseer…I didn’t want you to die..so I wondered if it was the computer that sent signals to kill whoever was sent in that chamber and wondered if I could stop it from killing you specifically; that's when I found out .” He answers swiftly and truthfully, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” You question, “I didn’t care, honestly, the only thing that matters is you…If everyone died in the process, it would be less work for me…I wanted it to be us from the beginning, anyway. I want you to need me as much as I need you…and now you finally do.”  

You feel weak and sick to your stomach… All your peers would’ve ended up dead either way. “I want to leave.” he hums, not mocking you but in acknowledgment. “And do what? You don’t know how to defend yourself; you have no supplies prepared, barely any survival instincts, and you don’t even know any information on the surface above. You can leave, but you’ll die…I can’t let that happen, sorry.” Charles buries himself more into you. 

“I hate you,” You whisper.

“That’s okay…all that matters is that you're here…with me and only me… I’ll keep you safe and sound.”

N: This was a long one, whew! I had to think about how I could make a Yandere fic with Fallout, and I had tons of concepts, but this one stood out the most. I hope my execution was good enough....Anyway, my next fic will most likely be a jealous fic about my Yandere lord, so stay tuned! Till then! see you soon my little guppies (´꒳`)♡ extra note: Throughout writing this, I thought "My Way of Life by Frank Sinatra" would fit Charli perfectly.

[eggyrocks]

hii can you write #82 & Atsumu?? but make it silly pls!!

YES I CERTAINLY CAN

500 follower special: #82 “This is all your fault! I can’t believe I listened to you!”

atsumu x gn reader, domestic fluff, established relationship, goofy nonsense, UNREALISTIC BAKING, not proofread

Atsumu always talks so confidently. Everything he says is so convincing, without him even really trying. And maybe, after dating him for all of these years, they should know better than to just blindly listen to whatever it is he says.

But sometimes they can't help. Loving him makes them stupid.

It was just supposed to be a simple cake. Nothing complicated. Nothing too intense. Just one, extraordinarily plain cake. It looked fine before they put it in the oven, the batter the right color and consistency, at the very least.

But now, it is erupted, the glass pan completely shattered on the inside of their still very hot oven, and cake completely massacred. Smoke pours from their kitchen as Atsumu rushes to open every possible window they have.

They're standing on a chair, using the end of a broom to try and silence their smoke detector. And it does occur to them that maybe it would be a bit more effective if their current roles were reversed, given their height difference. But Atsumu is flinging opening their living room window and tripping over himself to get to their bedroom window, and they're already standing on the tips of their toes, cursing their high ceilings. No point in thinking rationally now.

The tip of the broom finally slams into the smoke detector in the right spot, and the loud, incessant beeping stops. "Fucking finally!" Atsumu calls from the bedroom.

"Get something we can use to fan the smoke out the window!" they call, leaping off the chair, eyes almost watering from the smoke in the air.

And that is how they both end up whipping broken down cardboard boxes, trying to dissipate the smoke that still emits from the oven, both of them desperate to avoid a visit from the fire department.

"This is all your fault, y'know!" they call to their boyfriend, arms exhausted from all the fanning at this point. "I can't believe I listened to you!"

Atsumu scoffs, indignant. "All I did was read ya off my gran's recipe. Are ya sayin' this is her fault?"

Their eyes narrow. "You goddamn liar. I saw you look up the recipe on goddamn Sally's Baking Addiction. Is your grandmother Sally? And either way, the recipe didn't say to bake it at five-hundred-goddamn-degrees!"

Immediately, he drops the facade, and gives them a sheepish sort of grin. "Alright. I'm caught."

They continue fanning, the smoke starting to gradually thin out again. "I need to stop trusting you so much. You are a habitual liar."

"I wasn't lyin'!" Atsumu insists. "I really did think if ya doubled the temperature, it'd bake it in half the time."

They sigh. They can't be mad at him, since they didn't even doubt him for a second when he originally said it. All they could think of was the excited look in his eyes, and how eager he seemed. It distracted them.

"Ugh," they ground, arms sore and dropping by their side. "You're too pretty to be this wrong about so many things."

At the slightest bit of praise from his partner, Atsumu abandons his makeshift cardboard fan and smirks, light in his eyes shifting. "Pretty, huh? Ya tryin' seduce me?"

They can't help but roll their eyes, and the smirk on his face once they say, "Maybe after you clean all the broken hot glass out of the oven."

an: i know that this is not realistic but let's just pretend for the sake of the silly little fanficition ok. also i didnt know how to end this lol

[elisaintime]

Woah, I must have missed something, why are people jumping down your throat?

From what I can gather at this point, it seems like they feel like anyone who likes Anne Rice herself and the books better than the show=automatically racist. Even if they ALSO enjoy the show and support the race change of the characters and all the racial conversation the show incorporated into its adaptation.

Personally, I think it does a disservice to the fandom to assume that the only reason one could like the books over the show is because of racist reasons. Anne's books speak to so many people in so many ways, especially those who have ever felt like outcasts or apart from mainstream society, and many fans have extremely personal connections to the books for a huge variety of reasons.

Like I said in my videos, I was excited and intrigued to see this AU version of the story (I love AUs!) but my complaints with the writing of the episodes mostly came back to when the show was trying to stick TOO MUCH to the books.... Because the show was really making its own thing with its own versions of the characters and all these new ideas, but then suddenly it would shove in a scene/dialogue straight out of the books which would contradict or make no sense with everything else the show had already worked to set up with the new direction it was taking itself.

Critiquing sloppy/weak writing does not mean I or any other fan who feels the same is doing it for racist reasons. Much of my criticism was about how the scripts changed Lestat's character to make him so much worse than he was in the books (which would be fine, it's their story, whatever--except the show runners told us over and over again that the whole reason Louis was doing a second interview was so that this time we could see the real version of Lestat and how Louis felt about him instead of the mean, insulting version he gave in the first interview). There was a lot promised by the showrunners about what their adaptation would be like that was not delivered ("closer to the books than the 1994 movie," "true to the spirit of Anne Rice" etc). The entire reason I made my videos was to evaluate how well the show measured up to those promises.

Worse than making Lestat so irredeemable, the way the first season ended in a way that made so many fans believe that Louis might have been lying about everything didn't sit well with me at all--it's a harmful stereotype to make the black man a liar, especially when it comes to abuse. I know the "the DV didn't actually happen and black Louis was lying or mind controlled by his evil non-white boyfriend" became a running fan theory, but I personally don't believe it one bit. But I can see why so many fans do--again, sloppy/weak writing on the show's part.

Like I said in my video, the only thing Louis actually lied about in ep7 (and he was lying to himself, not deliberately lying to Daniel) was the depth of his love for Lestat at the end. And that's entirely canon for Louis to deceive himself about--admitting how much he truly loves Lestat always came hard for him. I personally don't think it's going to turn out that anything Louis told us in season 1 was a lie. I think the show would have revealed that at the end of the season, not waited another season (or two or three) to reveal that. And the theme of season 2's promotional material has all been about memory, not honesty. I don't think Louis could mistakenly remember getting dropped from a mile in the sky and the months/years of recovery afterward, so I personally think all those memories were real.

The first three episodes of season 1 made Louis's struggle with race its primary focus, and the series description began with how Louis was chafing at society as a black man. But then from episode 4 on, the focus of the show shifted entirely. Obviously racism still existed in Louis's world, but the show pushed it all entirely to the background with little things, like segregation on the bus, and we saw the characters quietly taking in stride, not making any plot out of it. Suddenly all of Louis's character-driving moments weren't about that anymore and we were in a whole new story, when his battle against racism had been the entire theme of the first three episodes. This was something I noticed and pointed out in my videos--I didn't say it was a bad thing (after all, seeing people be racist to Louis on screen, while "realistic," isn't exactly fun for anyone, and we'd already seen plenty), but I did think the sudden dramatic shift in story focus weakened the show's themes and throughline.

Again this comes down to writing, and the premise/script was written by white people. I think they could have done much better with much more non-white involvement on the writing level. I think the show could have been stronger with some more care taken to create consistency and smoother transitions between episodes (like when they take Claudia out to feed in episode 4, suddenly all the race riots are gone, when everything was on fire 2 hours ago). It's common for shows to have each episode written by a different person, even though they all collaborate in a writer's room, but to me it felt like the show lacked efficient script supervision to make sure all the scripts flowed into each other without any contradictions or inconsistency.

When I talked about these things in my videos, when I said I would have liked the show to do better with the way it missed the mark sometimes in handling racial aspects (even though other parts I commended as being great), and the way I critiqued the inconsistencies and contradictions, some people took that to mean I hated the show entirely. The point of my videos was to see how well the show measured up to Rolin Jones's promises that it was so faithful and respectful to the spirit of the books and that all he wanted to do was honor Anne's work. I know the books back and forth, enjoy having a ND hyperfixation that gives me near-encyclopedic knowledge of the texts and Anne as an author. So people ask me questions about them all the time, especially in comparison to the adaptations. Who better to make videos evaluating how well the show measured up to RJ's promises and claims of faithfulness? But some people took me comparing the show to the books to mean I thought it was a bad thing that they weren't the same, and I hated the show entirely for not being the same as Anne wrote it, and therefore that meant I (and anyone else who loves the books) was racist 🤷

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Okay so time for me to dump my thoughts on the Underworld Saga because I am going insane and tbh I'm not sure how coherent this will be because my brain is mostly keyboard smashing.

The Shades: "When does a man become a monster? 558 men who died under your command. CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! Why would you let the cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy?"

Okay so the harmonies of the Shades are amazing! But also this whole bit is just so... haunting. The call back to Just a Man and Ruthlessness does something to me. Could you imagine being screamed at by the ghosts of everyone you've failed? Also Jay confirmed that the shades in this song are just repeating their final thoughts in life. They drowned begging for their Captain to help them and died wondering why he failed them. This probably fucked Odysseus UP.

Odysseus: "I keep thinking of the infant from that night. I keep thinking of the infant from that night."

I swear I can hear the PTSD in his voice holy shit. Also Astyanax's music box motif being played in church bells in the back. I never would have noticed it if not for Jay's behind the scenes videos but knowing it's there makes this bit so much better.

Odysseus: "Polities..."

I was not nearly as wrecked at this bit until I saw this post mentioning that Odysseus quiet little "Polities..." is a mirror of Polities strangled "Captain..." when he died and now I will never be the same.

Odysseus' Mom

I am not exaggerating when I say I cried during the watch party. Everything about this is heartbreaking. His mom was thinking about him in her final moments. "Odyssues when you come home I'll be waiting" except she wont be. The shocked defeat in Odysseus' voice with "I took too long...". He's right there in front of her, but her shade just doesn't register him. They are so close physically yet still separated by death. Also the fact that Jay's mom voices her that is so sweet omg.

The change from "Here in the Underworld the past seems close behind" to "But in the Underworld your past is always close behind."

STTAGKDUKFUTAATUFOUCOUXGJXG

THE STRINGS!!!!! AND THE PIANO!!!!

Tiresias' voice is so haunting omg

Mason absolutely NAILED prophet who is constantly being shown everything all the time at one I love it sm.

The lyrics in this song are just.... so good. And the foreshadowing is top notch

Jay's voice acting for Odysseus' is also great in this.

The distress and frustration in "We've suffered and sailed through the toughest of hells. Now you tell us ur efforts are for NOTHING?!" and the absolute anger in "WHO!?!?!" (Its you, Ody. See your about to go through a complete change in morals about 5 minutes from now and become a completely different person).

THE DESCENDING ORGAN FOR THE SECOND CHORUS MY JAW DROPPED

Jorge don't think I didn't notice the Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hellfire, vibes at the end I see you.

This is my favorite song released in Epic so far and I am not normal about it at all.

The GUITAR! THE ELECTRIC GUITAR!

For those unfamiliar and being dragged along this nonsense post, Odysseues character is associated with the guitar. The acoustic guitar is when he is softer, kinder, and more "human" while the electric guitar represents him at his most brutal, ruthless, and "monsterous". This song is his turning point to which he is done being merciful. He will do ANYHTING to get home.

"Oh Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves..."

Really taking Poseidon's lesson to heart there.

Odysseus: "AND IF I GOTTA DROP ANOTHER INFANT FROM A WALL IN AN INSTANT SO WE ALL DON'T DIE? THEN I'LL BECOME THE MONSTER! I WILL DEAL THE BLOW!... SO WHAT IF I'M THE MONSTER?"

Ayrsgstusigxjgsutaut holy shit holy shit holy shit-

Play this back to back with Just A Man for some psychic damage. What an end for Act 1!

[otterlyart]

New Intro!

[rinisdrawing]

amidst the ruin

[tunanoodlesoup]

So my friend got me into stickmen anime.. SHKFJCSLGLBBLFUETU they mean so much to me you have no idea

[cheriboms]

found the cutest bts photo ever when i was looking for references and decided i needed to redraw it for their first-date-iversary uwu

(original pic under the cut)

like come ONNNN oTL LOOK AT THEMMM ;A;

[mari-lair]

thinking of them again

[ghost-of-you]

Same energy?