#what the fuck are you on? have you ever actually talked to a 13 year old?

[heedra]

honestly i think my biggest pet peeve bar none, especially when it comes to talking about media and social media, is when ppl who clearly spend a minimal amount of time around kids (particularly little time listening to how they talk to each other and to adults they actually trust) critique something by adamantly asserting that kids of a certain age group 'wouldn't talk like that/say things that complex' when they absolutely fucking would and youd know this, if, again, you knew kids at all

[sillypilled-friendcel]

"what do you know about drinking" "what do you know about smoking" "what do you know about weed" "what do you know about drugs" you do not know me or my life!!!!!!

[inkskinned]

the other day we were talking about balance beams because you said that your family had one of those cool winch ones that wrap around trees to make a high wire. even though i was pretty good i had to quit gymnastics at 12 because we couldn't afford dance and gymnastics but. i had something-other.

and i got excited because i think it's a funny story. i didn't have a door for about 4 years. 13-17, or there about. i only got it back because i replaced it myself.

i think my dad took it off the hinges just because his very-macho friend david had said - i do this to punish my kids. and then about a week later it was down on the ground and then eventually rotting in a shed. i used to visit it on occasion and tilt it between two boxes so i could try to walk across the side of it. i have a scar on my foot from attempting the act of balance-beam fancy dancing. it's shaped like a crescent moon. a hinge sliced into my skin when the whole thing slipped out from underneath me.

and you looked at me and you said - what the fuck?

and i said, do you want to see? because i thought the thing you were replying to was the injury. i was already undoing my shoelaces.

you're supposed to have a door, you said slowly. you were a teenager. you - i've seen your house. you lived at the end of the hall.

i didn't understand the problem. so? i wriggled out of my shoe and then my sock.

so, you said it gently, which made me slow down. you said it in the way people tell me that i experienced something bad and i have no idea that it was supposed to be something-else instead. anyone coming down the stairs or in the hallway could see directly into your room. you were in a fishbowl for four years, am i understanding that correctly?

i stared at you, and then said the other things: well, it wasn't so bad. i just wore a towel and tucked myself into a corner to change. i could always just change in the bathroom. privacy didn't really exist for any of us. i wasn't allowed to decorate so it wasn't really my room anyway. i didn't have a lot of things growing up; so it's not like i minded having a semi-public space. my siblings left me alone if i needed them to. what's the big deal anyway.

this is accidentally what emotional vampires incorrectly label as a "trauma dump". this is accidentally how you learn that my house was actually unsafe. i don't even consider this a problem, because everything else was so much worse, in a way. i didn't know it was supposed to be different. at the time, i didn't know what privacy was. i just lied about most stuff and got good at hiding in public. i haven't ever lied about this because i didn't know it was supposed to be different. i am 31.

you looked pale and ready to throw up. you had a right to a door for your room. you were a kid. someone should have helped you.

i was busy examining the sole of my foot. the scar really does look like the moon.

[chaoticace2005]

Why Vox needs to GET THE FUCK OVER THE RADIO DEMON:

(By Velvette, the only competent of the Vees)

(Her list for Valentino here)

1. He’s just not into you

2. We have better things to do than allocate company time to this.

3. He makes you look stupid

4a. He makes US look stupid (and Valentino already does that enough)

4b. Seriously how are we supposed to stop your boy toy from chasing whore around town when you can’t do the same with your ex? We need to set a (gag) good example for him.

5. What do you even see in him? Tacky coat. And that voice is so old-school.

6. You have two people who (reluctantly) want to work with you. Why spend energy on a guy who doesn’t?

7. This was seven years ago babe. Give it up.

8. I’m tired of finding your Alastor Body Pillow around the penthouse

9. Speaking of the body pillow, did you really have to spend 5k on it?

10. Company money should be used for COMPANY things. The fact we even have an “Alastor” budget is stupid. HE DOESNT EVEN GO HERE. ( @onesidedradiostatic )

11. He fucked off once, he probably will again.

12. Do you really want to fuck with someone who has the princess and king of Hell on his side?

13. It makes Valentino insecure about his sexual prowess, which is not good for anyone.

14. I have to LISTEN to him complain about it.

15. No matter how hard you try, nobody will ever beat “Susan” for #1 rival in that man’s heart. (Which is valid cause Susan SUCKS.)

16. Also you’re wasting company time by having Val put together shitty-Alastor look alike porns? Angel Dust does NOT look like Radio Demon ffs, I though Val was the blind one not you.

17. Your screens keep crapping out whenever you think about him, and we’re running out of ones in storage.

18a. I don’t want to keep having to go to overlord meetings for you because you’re having a breakdown over of he’ll be there or not.

18b. Speaking of breakdowns, STOP MAKING THE WHOLE CITY LOSE POWER.

19. You’ve taken over the entire office space with your Alastor-shrine. It’s not really an inconvenience, just creepy.

20a. Not to kinkshame but I walked in on you and Val fucking with Alastor-wigs on, REALLY?!

20b. Also I think you’re making Val insecure about his lack of hair.

21. STOP asking me to design Alastor-cosplay clothes for you. I don’t want anything to do with this.

22. I already have to deal with one pissbaby

23. Seriously, he isn’t into you. Maybe it’s cause you’re a mess. Maybe it’s cause he’s AROACE. Who knows.

24. You keep interrupting channels to brainwash people into hating the Radio Demon, when we should be brainwashing them into other things.

25. We can all hear you talking to yourself in the shower when trying to come up with shitty comebacks.

26. You display your dreams when you sleep, and while it was funny at first at this point it’s so boring. Val and I want to watch something actually interesting for once rather than the same shit.

27. You keep glitching out in bisexual whenever he comes up and it’s annoying waiting for you to put your shit back together again.

28. I’m sick of movie nights where we just watch your self-made compilations of “Alastor’s Epic Fails” or just watch security footage of him at the hotel.

29. Why do you even try and film him? Your shitty cameras can pick hardly anything up.

30. Honestly this whole thing is just pathetic.

31. Like it used to be cute but now?

[hoe4sports]

How this ends p3

Alexia Putellas x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Thank you to @karsonromanoff for giving me inspiration and ideas for this part.

A note from the author: This is the third part of how this ends based off of Lewis Capaldi’s how this ends. Read the part’s chronologically. I have changed the age of them becoming a pair to 13, in order to make the story make more sense. Part four coming soon.

Also, fuck me, this was really shit.

Warnings: A lot of talking.

Summary: It’s been a few months since Alexia broke up with you and you handed over your promise ring to her. You and Frido make plans for the summer.

-

You found yourself sat in Frido’s spare bedroom, but by now; it was practically your bedroom. The thing about Fridolina was that you met her ages ago. Frido had been in the room when Alexia had told you that she had to miss out on an event she had promised to be a plus one to. It made you feel sad, but as the good girlfriend you were; you kept it inside. Fridolina had then suggested that she could tag along, which you happily agreed to. It was your first time being invited to such a big prestigious event so having someone familiar there was a big safety thing for you. The event was an invitation only charity event by the Red Cross. To your luck, Fridolina had actually volunteered for the organisation back in Sweden which lead her to be your first reserve.

The pair of you instantly hit it off, and from that moment; you were inseparable. She was what could’ve been described as a soul sister, the kind of friend that just gets you.

It had now been 2 months since you walked out of your Alexia’s apartment with everything you ever knew packed up in cardboard boxes that was shipped off to a storage unit until you could figure your life out. You hadn’t seen Alexia, not that you had made much of an effort. It felt like an emptiness, that slowly had started to close. The costs of it were clear, you stayed away from her part of the town. More so, you had avoided going to the places she would usually go.

Being the girlfriend of a famous athlete wasn’t for everyone, and you sure felt the statement in your bones. You see, you and Alexia had been together since you were teens. She had promised you a ring, a big white wedding, kids and a real house. Instead you got 10 years worth of waiting, a cat and an apartment not suitable for children. People had made up competitions based off of when Alexia would purpose to you, when you would have kids or what your next pet would be. The plans you had were now placed on the back burner.Life had just spun out in the worst possible scenario, but Frido was on a mission to help you heal.

“Y/N! Are you awake?”

You huffed and covered your head with the fluffy pillow hoping she would go away.

“Ugh, you are taking to long. Hide your titties, I’m coming in!”

You looked over at the door which a second later had Frido barging out of it. You giggled at her silly little manoeuvre. Her face showed off a surprised grin before she walked to the window and pulled the curtain apart to let sunlight in. She then turned around and laid down in the big bed next to you, while you kept looking at her.

“How are we feeling today, Y/N?”

“Like shit”

“Y/n..”

“Okay, fine. I’m feeling a bit less empty. More like, half full than half empty actually.”

“Do I sense a sliver of positivity? Have I just discovered something we thought was extinct?” Frido teased with a fake surprised grin, and you playfully shoved her shoulder while staring up at the ceiling.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’m not sure where to begin. What to do about my job, you know? My job is social media, sadly built on being the girlfriend of a famous footballer”

“I have a solution”

Frido looked mischievous, and you could see the trouble a million miles away.

“Oh god, now what?”

“Until I can find a way to become keen on women so I can wife you up, then I’m sure some of the girls on the team would be happy to bag you! How about Jenni? Cata? Ona? Or, I think I even have the phone number of Leah Williamson and Mary Earps!”

Frido fished the phone out of her pocket and demonstrated by going through her contact list loudly. You just rolled your eyes at her again before giggling.

«Oh, Mackenzie Arnold! No, wait, she’s dating that aussie Girl»

«Okay wait, Ada Hegeberg? No, no. She’s straight and old.”

“Maybe this is the one! Lucy Bronze! No, that would be so weird”

“But, what about Alana Kennedy or Claire? You’d get to hang out with the Mathildas and I’m sure mini’s wife would love a extra set of hands”

“Wait, no, girl! Here, Jessie Fleming! She’s hot, and I’m pretty sure she likes all the photos you post!”

Frido was ass deep in her phone which made you smile at her. You loved her silliness. It always seemed to bring some joy into your life. Her suggestions were out of pure love and you could spend forever listening to her.

“Fridolina, I appreciate the effort but unless you are about to turn gay, then I think I’m taking a break from the whole dating a football player thing; didn’t seem to work out for me”

Frido stuck her tongue out playfully at you, before looking down at her phone again.

“How about that rugby player from the Olympics?Ilona Maher! Oh, wait. Straight. But then, what about the rower from Germany?”

You playfully smacked her in the back of her head with a pillow before Frido put her phone down and sighted. Frido dramatically threw her hands in the air while gesturing dramatically.

“You are gonna be alone until you turn 50! That cannot happen! I wanna be your bridesmaid, i wanna be a moster!

“Well, you might have a chance now since I’m not with alexia anymore. She wasn’t planning to purpose anytime soon, and she was for sure not having kids within the next 5 years. She’s gonna die alone with a bunch of cats while refusing to retire”

You looked at Frido; Frido looked at you while holding her head up. There was a silence before a smile appeared on both of your faces. You both broke into a laugh and laid down next to each other again.

“How about we go to breakfast? I’ll treat you”

You smiled. If there was anything you loved, it was to go out for breakfast. You hadn’t gone out for breakfast since you and Alexia were at least 2 years younger. The truth was that you missed it.

“I haven’t gone out for breakfast in forever. Alexia didn’t want to because of the calories”

Frido furrowed her brows in annoyance of Alexia.

“Fuck the calories, Fuck Alexia, I work hard to be able to have them”

You let out a chuckle.

“I think I have had enough of fucking Alexia for a lifetime, babe”

-

You found yourself sat down by the window in this beautiful little cafe. It had an almost magical view of the park with a river slithering through it and a view of the little playground. The sun was beaming outside, and it was peaking out from the lace curtains hanging from the ceiling.

The coffees you ordered arrived, and you took a sip of yours before breaking out in a disappointed grin. The grin on your face caused Frido to giggle, nearly spilling out the contents of her cup. She looked at your cup, and back at hers before pushing her cup towards you. You took a sip and instantly felt satisfied. Your eyes were practically seeing stars. Frido smiled before accepting your cup as hers. The gesture made your heart swell with pride of your bestfriend. Alexia hadn’t done anything like that for you since you were teens.

“You know how they say that women see it coming? I honestly think that I did see it coming, and that’s why I’m doing okay. It’s weird, but she was spilling away for years. She forgot all dates and dinners, and she would tell me that i could just go to be because she was gonna be home late. Like, it feels like the love died before our relationship did.”

“I get that, isn’t it like an intuition thing? I’m pretty sure i saw a tiktok about it from a psychiatrist earlier.”

“Intuition? Interesting. I guess you could say that, I mean, I’m sad of course. Anyone would be. But then again, I’m okay with her decision. I’ve come to terms with it. If she didn’t love me anymore, then it’s better that she ended things.”

“It’s just so odd, Y/N. I don’t understand why she ended things with you. She makes it seem like you weren’t together for over 10 years.”

“That’s actually funny, she never gave me a reason! Perhaps I didn’t do her laundry well enough or maybe my cooking is shit.”

You frowned a bit when things about all the things you probably did wrong. Frido raised an eyebrow before letting out a short laugh.

“What are you even on about, you mad woman! Your cooking is elite. You have better housewife skills than my mom. Gud, if i ever encounter the woman then i might have to end her.”

You laughed softly at Frido until you noticed that the server was coming over with two steaming plates. She sat them down in front of you and you looked up at Frido who were grinning from ear to ear.

“This looks delish! Devine! If I were out on the deathrow, this would be my last meal.” Frido joked while studying her plate.

“Let me take a quick story of you and the food, pretty please?”

Frido raised her brow at you in confusion. The worry in your pit appeared, but was quickly erased by Frido’s reassuring words.

“Babe, you don’t have to ask. I’ve already said that! You support my work by coming to games, even Sweden games. I support your work by appearing on your socials. Alexia really did rearrange your head, is that why she suddenly never appeared on your socials?”

You nodded before raising your shoulders. Your phone was grabbed from the table and Frido did a wink to you when you turned the frame in her direction. You placed down you phone before stabbing the pancake with your fork and dipping it in the Canadian syrup. The meal went on, and you talked about everything from your work to when Frido’s next international match was going to take place.

“The match is set for July 11th, it’s a home game at first before the return in Ireland.”

You nodded eagerly while having strawberries filling your mouth.

“I’m planning to head out a few days earlier. You know, to see Morsan and Pappa. My grandparents have also been missing me.”

You swallowed down the berries before taking a sip of coffee.

“Oh, how are things with Simon now? Is he still busy being needy?”

“Haha, I guess I didn’t tell you! I ended things with him, it just wasn’t working out”

You raised your brow in confusion before putting your fork down.

“But you were so in love just a few months ago go? What happened?”

Frido shrugged her shoulders while leaning backwards to her chair.

“It wasn’t really love, more like a friendly kind of love. I don’t really think I ever felt in love with him, you know. The butterflies kind of love?”

You nodded at her while giving her a sincere smile.

“Hot girl summer it is then!”

Frido laughed at you before smiling widely. The pair of you started eating before Frido’s head suddenly popped up towards you.

“Girl, you should come with me to Sweden! You can meet my family, I can show you my childhood memories and you can join me to Ireland! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

You looked at her, slightly skeptical.

“Are you sure? Not to be a party pooper, but have you asked the team?”

“I’m sure they’ll just be happy to have a social media specialist joining us! Besides, there are some pretty good looking girls on the squad.”

Frido winked before you giggled again. Nobody could make you laugh like Frido.

-

A few weeks later you were sitting in your temporary bedroom at Frido’s while editing some content for your social media. It was an event you did a few months prior with an organisation that has volunteers who cleans the beaches. It was all done as a part of their summer campaign, and the deadline was creeping up on you. The issue was that Alexia had tagged along on the event, and you watched clips of you filing vlog style while other clips were filmed by a crew.

The clips made you feel numb, but this was work and it was already a done deal. You had already signed it, and Alexia had agreed to it earlier. You made a mental note to send Alexia a text about the video coming out before it was live. It was the last content you had of the pair of you together and quite a few of the huge amount of followers you had, had started questioning it. You had always been all about transparency, but this time it was different. This was personal, and it was something that needed time. At the same time, you felt like the fans deserved honesty from you.

You write down in your book to talk to your PR adviser about how to address it in the meeting that was coming up in a few days. But what was also coming up in a few days, was your trip with Frido. The excitement has finally started blossoming when she got the green light from her national team, and the trip could’nt have come at a better time.

“Y/N, hide your titties, I’m coming in!”

You giggled as Frido walked in with her hands over her eyes.

“You are all clear babe, no titties out. Besides when have I ever had my titties out?”

You asked in a sassy tone. Frido peeked through her hands before looking at you innocently while shrugging. She flopped onto your bed right next to you and pulled out her phone. She sat for a moment while you edited before she broke the silence.

“So, Alexia came to practice today”

You could feel your stomach drop to the ground. Your suddenly good mood turned into clouds and thunder.

“Good for her”

“Well, yes. But that’s besides the point. She asked about you.”

You felt yourself becoming protective and hostile when her name was mentioned. How dare she ask about you when she broke up with you? It made your blood boil, and your cheeks rushed with blood. You closed your MacBook before looking at Frido.

“What did she want?”

Frido looked at you.

“Do you want me to tell you the truth or what you want to hear?”

“The truth”

“She asked if she could come over to talk to you, and she handed me this. She said it belonged to you, that you forgot it behind.”

You looked at Frido with anger in your eyes. It was building up rapidly, like steam was about to come flying out of your ears. You couldn’t form a sentence, not even say a word. Frido looked apologetically at you.

“I’m sorry babe; but this is all yours. I’m gonna hop into the shower, i have dinner with Cata and Caro soon”

She moved to stand on her knees in the bed before she kissed the top of your head and walk out of the room, closing the door behind her. You looked at the box Alexia had sent with her, and you wanted to burn it up. You wanted to destroy it, to throw it off a cliff and to hand it in to a charity shop. Whatever was left in the box was something that you had been perfect without.

You sat and stared at the box for a good 30 minutes debating on whether to open it or not. The decision ended up on leaning into your natural curious side. You pulled the lid of the box before closing your eyes and holding the box infront of your face.

Your eyes opened up with a squint, scared to see what was inside.

The first thing you pulled up was a picture of your cat. Gosh, you thought to yourself. I’m going to get him back.

You reached into the box and found a picture of you and Alexia. It was taken at a water park when you were 14, and your families had decided to do a shared vacation.

Then your hand found a little box.

You picked it up and shook it.

You immediately knew what was inside.

The lid was pushed off.

There it was.

In all its shining glory.

The band of Alexia’s promise ring.

You instinctively closed your eyes.

You picked it up and turned it around to face you while having your eyes closed.

You flipped it around towards you.

You opened your eyes in agony.

Wrong.

It is your promise ring.

Or.

It was your promise ring.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |9|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Blood, Fighting

Word Count: 2.5K+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

You stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind you. You couldn’t believe them, you weren’t surprised by Amber, that was actually completely expected, but the others, that hurt. You weren’t the biggest fan of them, they weren’t the biggest fan of you, you didn’t ever think they’d actually think you’d hurt Tara, that you were capable of something like that. 

Mindy was the movie expert, that was her thing, but she didn’t hesitate to back Amber up. The second Amber accused you, Mindy was right there, giving her accusation logic, even if it was all bullshit. Then the others just sat there silently, letting them accuse you, not a single one of them stood up for you, none of them even tried to argue in your defense.

You got to your car, slamming the door closed and aggressively turning the key. You pulled out your phone, quickly calling Tara before peeling out of the driveway. You sped down the street, not bothering to pay attention to how fast you were driving. 

“That was quick,” Tara said, answering after only two rings. 

“I never should have come,” you said, coming to a hard stop at a stop sign. “This was pointless and a mistake,” you hit the gas, speeding down the street again. 

“What?” Tara asked, concern clearly in her voice. “What happened?” 

“They think I’m the fucking killer!” 

“What?” Tara whispered in disbelief. 

“Fucking Amber!” you smacked the steering wheel. You were sure Tara wanted to say something, but she stayed quiet. “No one disagreed! Actually, Mindy, gave them all a fucking reason!” 

“Are you okay?” Tara asked, still as calm as ever. 

“No one defended me,” you whispered. “Not a single one of them. They all just listened to Amber and Mindy. They actually think I’m the fucking killer,” you let out a humorless chuckle. “Even fucking Dewey!” 

“Dewey?” Tara questioned. Tara didn’t know Dewey personally, but you had told her about him. It took some time to open up, but you didn’t have secrets, she knew all about the shit you got up to when you were younger. You told her all about your run ins with Dewey. 

“Guess Sam brought him in for advice,” you shrugged. 

You unclenched your jaw. It wasn’t a bad idea, Dewey used to be the sheriff, he had been involved in all the previous attacks. It made complete and perfect sense that he’d be the best person to bring in. You couldn’t believe he actually questioned you though. After all the years, you figured he’d know you well enough by now. He knew all the shit you got up to, he was the one that always brought you in, he never arrested you though. He was too much of a good guy, you always got a slap on the wrist and a warning. 

You were pretty sure he pitied you. He thought you were some broken, abandoned kid, someone who needed saving. You guessed eventually something stuck because your junior year is when you started to turn everything around. You hadn’t talked to him since the last time, the summer before junior year, you only saw him some nights at the bar, and he’d just give you a little nod, then usually a decent tip when he left. You assumed he saw the progress you made, that you were trying, that you were doing better. Out of everyone, you didn’t think he’d look at you like that, he wouldn’t hesitate to question you. You guessed you really couldn’t trust anyone though, that when it came to Ghostface everyone was the enemy. 

“Every last one of them,” you said, shaking her head. “They all think I’d actually hurt you.” 

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Tara whispered. “I know you’re not the killer and that you’d never hurt me.” 

You gave a small smile, that’s all that mattered to you. It didn’t matter if her friends, her sister, the police, or the entire fucking world, none of it mattered if they were against you, as long as Tara still believed in you. “Thanks,” you whispered, much calmer than before. “I’m going to stop home, shower,” you looked down, wrinkling your nose, “and change. Then I’ll be right back by your side.” 

“Okay.” You could practically hear Tara smiling through the phone. “See you soon. Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Almost as soon as you hung up with Tara you were arriving at your apartment. As soon as you parked you ran into the apartment. Your apartment was small, it was cheap, but you could afford it. The only real downside to the place was that it was across town, meaning you had to shower quick so you could get back to Tara sooner. 

Despite just getting off the phone with her you shot Tara a quick text, telling her you arrived at your place. You unlocked your door, mindlessly tossing your keys onto the coffee table like you always did and kicking the door closed behind you. 

You made your way to the kitchen, tossing your phone on the small kitchen island, and opening the fridge to see it practically empty. You sighed then grabbed a bottle of water. You always told Tara to eat properly, you used to make sure she always had dinner and didn’t rely on snacks, and yet you couldn’t even keep your own fridge stocked. You let the fridge door swing closed, then brought the water bottle to your lips. 

You quickly took the bottle away from your mouth when you heard your phone begin to vibrate, figuring it was probably Tara. You furrowed your brow when you saw it wasn’t Tara but a number you didn’t recognize, with a different area code. Your finger rested over the screen, you knew Ghostface’s thing was calling people, but it wasn’t an unknown number, and it wasn’t Amber, or anyone else you knew, like it had been with both Tara and Sam. You shook your head then quickly tapped the red ignore button. 

You finished off the water and tossed it in the trash. You froze when you heard a slight creak, then you slowly turned around, your eyes scanning across the small room, your keys were still on the coffee table, but your front door was slightly ajar. You grabbed your phone and slowly began inching your way towards the door. You stopped when you passed the small hallway that led to the bathroom and your bedroom, narrowing your eyes but nothing looked out of place, your bedroom door was open, like always. 

You gripped your phone tight as you got closer to the front door. You strained your ears, listening for anything or anyone who might be on the other side. You held your breath as you reached for the door, then you whipped it open, being met with an empty hallway. You peeked your head out, looking left and right, seeing the same dimly lit empty hallway as always. You let out a shaky breath, shaking your head as you closed the door, making sure to lock it this time. You were clearly getting too paranoid. 

 You turned to walk back to the kitchen, but your eyes widened as Ghostface stepped out of the hall, tilting his head as he looked at you. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that Ghostface got into your apartment and hid down the hall while you were just in the kitchen, you heard the door creak yet didn’t hear someone moving through your apartment. 

You backed up, instantly hitting the door. Your hands fumbled, feeling around for the lock but Ghostface was on you before you could unlock the door. You dove out of the way just as Ghostface brought their knife down, impaling it in the door. 

You nearly tripped over the coffee table as you made your way back to the kitchen. There wasn’t much space, so you turned around, putting your back to the sink and cabinets, facing Ghostface head on. Ghostface ripped their knife out of the door, quickly closing the space between the door and the kitchen. You knew your apartment was small, but Ghostface was standing before you in seconds. 

Ghostface swung his knife, which you instantly dodged. You reached across the stove, grabbing a pan, it wasn’t ideal, but you needed something to defend yourself with. Just as quickly as you grabbed the pan, you dropped it when Ghostface brought his knife down, slashing down your arm. 

You lifted your arm up, hissing as you watched the blood pour out of the wound. You put your other hand over the cut, trying to stop the bleeding a bit, if you survived you were sure you would need stitches. You couldn’t focus on your injury too long though because next thing you knew you were ducking, just as Ghostface’s knife swooshed over your head. 

You jumped back as Ghostface swung their knife at your stomach. 

They swiped at you again and again, each time you just barely dodged the knife. 

Ghostface raised their knife high but as they brought the knife down you instinctively raised your hands, catching their arm as they tried to stab you. 

You held their arm back, using all your strength to keep the knife as far away from you as possible. Ghostface used your distraction at trying not to be stabbed to push you back until your back hit the sink. 

Despite being pinned against the sink you continued to fight back. With the two of you pushing back against each other you eventually both fell to the floor. Ghostface ended up on top of you and began pushing the knife further towards your chest. 

You gritted your teeth, ignoring the burning in your arms and the way blood continued to drip from your cut as you kept the knife up with your hands. You began kicking with your feet, hoping to get lucky, you needed just one good kick to get the upper hand. 

You couldn’t get enough force to kick Ghostface hard enough, but you ended up getting your legs tangled up with theirs, allowing you to flip them over. During the sudden change of position Ghostface lost their grip on the knife, allowing you to rip it out of their hand. 

With all your strength you took their knife and began pushing it towards their chest, exactly as they had done to you. You were much more aware of them now that they were underneath you, they were much smaller than you imagined. 

In all the stories, in the interviews, in the movies, in literally anything you had ever seen or heard, Ghostface was always talked up as this large dark figure that loomed over you. You couldn’t help but wonder if Ghostface was always tall or if the terror and their mere presence made them seem larger. Ghostface always seemed to tower over people, no matter who it was, the victim always seemed small against Ghostface. 

You narrowed your eyes as you stared down at the white mask, you could just barely make out eyes behind the mask. You couldn’t tell who it was, you couldn’t even make out an eye color, but there was a familiarity, you knew the person behind the mask. 

You gritted your teeth, using both hands you shoved the knife down harder. Ghostface was holding you back, both of their hands wrapped around your arms, the one thing preventing you from shoving the knife into their heart. Ghostface suddenly let go with one of their hands, allowing you to push the knife closer to their chest. Out of the corner of your eye you saw them slapping their hand around like they were reaching for something, but you couldn’t pull your focus away from the knife in your hands. You were so close, just a little more and the knife would be in their chest. 

The knife had just touched their cloak, you could feel the blade catching on the fabric. Before the blade could go further and pierce their chest something hard hit you on the side of the head. Your vision suddenly went blurry, you shook your head trying to clear the haziness, then you felt something under you move, Ghostface had wiggled free just enough, allowing them to use all their strength to shoved you, slamming you into the cabinets. 

You blinked a few times, shaking your head slightly, trying to stop the ringing in your ears. Your vision slowly started to clear up, you looked to the side, seeing the frying pan you had been trying to grab when Ghostface first appeared, you figured that must have been what Ghostface smacked you on the head with. 

You were on your hands and knees, trying to recover. The first thing you saw when your vision finally started to clear was black boots. You lifted your head, blinking a few times, when you finally saw clearly you saw Ghostface was already standing tall, waiting to attack again. 

You pushed your hands off the floor and sat there, kneeling in front of Ghostface. They just tilted their head, watching as you tried to stand, your knees wobbling in the process, as if they were about to buckle from under you. Your legs did actually give out, taking you down to one knee, you reached to the side, blindly searching for the counter to grab onto. Ghostface tilted their head to the other side, then without warning they brought their knee up, nailing you in the face, sending you back to the floor and sliding you into the cabinets, again. 

Ghostface began slowly walking towards you, keeping his arm low as he comfortably twisted the knife in his hand. Ghostface stopped in his tracks, his head snapping to the front door. You furrowed your brow, you didn’t hear anything, but your ears were still ringing and everything was blurry once again. 

You blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the blurriness. You could just barely make out Ghostface standing over you, twisting their knife in their hands, tilting their head as they looked down at you. They crouched down, staring at you through the empty black eyes of the mask, holding their knife up so you could see it clearly, see your blood from where he had sliced you the first time dripping from the blade. 

“Did you think Samantha was the only one with a family secret?” Ghostface asked, tilting their head, as they gently ran the blade of the knife down the side of your face without cutting you. Despite the voice changer and the mask, you could practically hear the taunting in their voice, you could picture the sadistic smile on their face. 

You scrunched your eyebrows, watching as Ghostface abruptly took the knife away from your face and stood up, looking down at you. You didn’t have time to process what any of that could mean before Ghostface kneed you in the face again. Your head snapped back, hitting the cabinets again, then everything went black. 

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

POPULAR DEREK SIMPING FOR NERD STILESSS (please <333)

Sure thing!

Come Along Because I Love Your Face by cardel

(1/1 I 1,035 I General)

Derek doesn’t mean to stare, he knows it’s rude but he can’t seem to help it. The guy has been talking to his circle of friends for the better part of the lunch period and they’re all listening, riveted, just like Derek.

Hot Nerd Alert by alisvolatpropiis

(1/1 I 4,537 I Not Rated)

Derek can't believe he's actually doing this: taking a selfie snap of the guy he’s been crushing on for weeks to prove to Danny that one, yes, he really does exist, and two, he really is that hot and thus he is totally justified in being too scared to make a move.

Or you know, even talk to the guy outside of the class they share.

In his defense, this isn’t just any guy. This THE guy. Hot Nerd. The utterly adorable but still somehow insanely sexy freshman in his twentieth century American Lit class who he’s been lusting over since the first day of the semester. If there were ever a time for him to be that person who tries to be subtle while taking snaps of other people, this is it.

Game On by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 6,391 I Teen)

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

Playing Hard To Get by stereksterek

(3/3 I 6,911 I Not Rated)

“Is that your best pick-up line?”

Derek was taken aback by the blatant call-out from his clearly intelligent mate, but if anything it just made him grin.

“I can do better.”

“Then why would you start with something that wasn’t your best? Maybe you’re not really that interested in me and could go and reflect on that somewhere else?”

Before Derek could refute his mate’s doubt with all the ferocity of his wolf, Stiles turned back to the bookshelf and continued searching for the book he'd been looking for. Apparently his mate wanted to play hard to get, but that was fine with Derek. He didn’t mind a challenge.

“Trust me. No one could be more interested in you than me.”

living in a movie i've watched by thoughtsandthings

(13/13 I 20,995 I Teen)

Stiles scrambles to his feet and holds his hand over his heart like he’s about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “I solemnly swear I will try my damnedest to woo the crap out of Derek Hale.”

Scott laughs and tosses a couch pillow at his head. “Deal."

Stiles and Scott shake on it.

But Then What... by Stoney

(3/3 I 24,343 I Explicit)

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

[slimmestofshady]

Bad Habits Kill You

Summary: The 90s in Detroit wasn’t exactly easy to live in with two kids and a boyfriend who redeveloped a bad habit.

Warnings: Drug Addiction, relapse, toxic relationship, abusive on both sides, accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, swearing, mention of smut, mention of drug dealing, breast feeding, robbery

6 calls, 13 text messages later and you found yourself driving home with your 3 year old daughter strapped in the carseat, livid that Marshall hadn’t picked up the phone. Working two jobs and trying to live life comfortably was becoming difficult as you felt like you were the only one here trying to keep the family afloat. This had been the fifth time this week you had to leave early and pick her up due to your boyfriend not showing up. Two write ups later with the check engine light on the car, hardly any gas in it and needing an oil change that you couldn’t afford you unbuckled her, carrying Ellie inside only to hear your newborn screaming once again.

Scoffing, you pushed open the broken screen door, the object squeaking when it was pressed back only to find Marshall’s blonde head fast asleep on the couch, a bowl of weed sitting right out on the rickety table next to Sara’s play pen.

“Mommy, why is daddy always tired? He never eats with us either.” You knew what this was, rehab hadn’t been working and it wasn’t just the sleeping pills he was taking. What were you supposed to say to her?

“Daddy’s just been very busy, why don’t you go play with your toys? Okay?” You smooched her on her delicate little head, ruffling her hair. A child at that young of age shouldn’t even have to ask those questions or ask why other kids have more than you did. Even in a relationship it felt like you were a single mother just trying to make ends meet. 

Picking up Sara from her crib you kneed him lightly in his side in irritation, causing him to moan and groan, mumbling something about being cold in the process. You kneed him again to which he turned around and shouted in his groggy state, his baby blues eyes dilated with dark circles shading his white skin.

“What?!” His temper was not in the slightest controlled, only pushing you farther past your limit of being civil or concerned for his well being.

“You were supposed to pick Ellie up, and do you hear that? That’s your other daughter crying to be taken care of which I can see you’re doing a great job at.” He clenched his jaw, folding his hands together, rubbing them. He got up, closing the distance between the both of you pointing an accusing finger directly in your face.

“I know how to be a fucking parent Y/N. Besides you’re one to talk, did Andre fuck you yet cause he been blowin up the phone all god damn day.” Taking Sara to her room, you rolled your eyes from having the same argument every fucking day while laying her in the crib, but he followed.

“At least he offers to watch the kids, more than you’ve ever fucking done! Tell me how many pills did you fucking pop today and don’t lie to me because I can see you’re clearly stoned. Fucking blanked out and shit.” You closed the door once you layed her down, refusing to argue with him in front of the kids but that didn’t mean they didn’t hear.

His hand wrapped around you arm pulling you back until you were pushed against the wall of the tiny hallway, giving you no personal space as he spat his venomous words.

The tensions was rising, only fueling your immense anger. This was the same old song and dance as every other fucking day. Why didn’t you leave? Well it’s easier said than done when you loved someone.

“I’m not fucking stoned babe I’ve been working on a new song and just fell asleep. Besides I don’t see you bringing any money so where you been if it ain’t work?” He pulled out a red piece of paper in his pocket with the words “EVICTION NOTICE”. Snatching the paper out of his hands, you noticed they only were giving you a week to pack your shit and get out due to being nearly three months behind on rent.

Scoffing you shoved the paper at his chest, trying to walk away but he didn’t let you shoving you back against the wall again.

“Marsh, don’t start your fucking shit okay?! I’ve been working my ass off but god forbid I work a full fucking shift because your ass has to be sat on this fucking couch, smoking dope and taking your fucking sleeping pills and xanax!” As he started cussing you out, you didn’t think before slapping him harshly across the face when he accused you of cheating once more based off the basis of no money coming in yet you’re always “at work.”

“What the fuck y/n! You don’t want to play this fucking game with me aight?!” Right before you could spit fire back, Ellie walked out of her room crying, causing you both to stop. She was just a child and didn’t ask or sign up for any of this. A sympathetic look of sorrow washed over Marshall and yourself the tension dwindling ever so slightly when you saw her teary, beading eyes, her cheeks reddened from the hostile situation.

With open arms, he picked her up cradling her against his chest as his hands rubbed her back gently.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. Mommy and I will stop arguing okay?” You crossed your arms, huffing from this constant fighting but seeing how quick he was when he was awake to console her, and ensure those crybaby tears stopped was heart warming. He had the potential to be such a good dad if he would just set the drugs aside but maybe that was too much to ask.

“My-my tv is gone, all-all my stuff is gone!” With frantic eyes, you both pushed open the door to see the room a wreck, and multiple items missing. Some of her blankets on her bed, her stuffed animals gone, even her piggy bank that had nearly $500 in it. It had taken over a year to save it, in hopes of starting a fund for her when she was 18, and now it was just gone. 

You couldn’t hold back the tears, feeling like everything was just crumbling down. They flowed freely down your cheeks, Marshall noticing and trying to pull you in to his side with his other arm but you waved him off, walking into the bedroom and closing the door. How much more of this could you take? There were shootings at least once a week, you were barely able to afford food, living off food stamps that barely covered shit. Whenever it seemed to be going great or a little better than before, everything would just turn to shit.

As you slumped down onto the bed, you couldn't help but notice the bathroom light still open, the shattered mirror from the night before slightly ajar.

Pushing yourself off the bed, you walked into the room with a dreadful feeling, hoping you weren't right. Taking a deep breath, you opened the object only to find the 3 pill bottles completely empty with their lids off, how much shit did he fucking take.

There was a knock at the door pulling you from your thoughts, but when you heard his voice asking if he could come in your blood boiled. When you didn't respond he pushed the door open, Sara no longer in his hands. When he saw you had found the empty bottles, he had a guilty look on his face but not remorseful.

There was a dead silence as you stood with your arms crossed shooting daggers his way.

"Tell me again that you're not fucking using. I'm not fucking stupid. How do you expect me to become closer with you when you can't even own your shit! This is getting old, and I don't know how much longer I can do this!" A switch like the atomic bomb flipped inside of him and he wasn't thinking before he pushed you on the mattress as you pounded against his chest, but you were never a match compared to his strength.

He folded his hands around the warmth of your neck, shaking you in place but not squeezing hard enough to cut off circulation.

"You don't know what it's like! Who the fuck are you to judge me huh? We're livin in this broke down piece of shit fuckin trailer, I'm tryin to fuckin write songs and start a good life for us, while you bring some dude around our fuckin kids when I'm not home, actin like you perfect, you ain't perfect either!" The tears welled in your eyes in a mix of emotions. He was right neither of you were but how did you get to this point. You had a plan, a good one, but everything kept getting taken away from you. It was like playing ring around the rosey but always falling down. You stared into his ocean eyes while sniffling when he finally released your neck.

"Fuck!" He screamed with profound irritation. You were both tired of fighting nearly every day, it was draining but the love was still there even if it was minuscule at times.

"Can you tell me truthfully I'm not being replaced by your fuckin' boss at work?" His eyes settled for a moment, just needing to know the truth.

"Marshall there is nothing there, nothing has happened. I'm just trying to find someone to watch the kids and I clearly have to even when I'm not home." A sorrowful look of hurt and guilt crossed over his face. You weren't wrong that he wasn't trustworthy to his own god damn kids and he wasn't wrong that you should've at least asked him about Andrei watching the kids. He was a private man, he didn't like strangers around the house let alone his kids.

As your breathing steadied, Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, allowing a singular tear to slip from his eye and land on your skin. He wanted to be better a father, a better boyfriend but it was so difficult during times like these.

"You need to get help baby..." A choked sob escaped you. You hated seeing him like this, he was better than this.

He had gone five months sober and when you noticed the signs he was using again you hadn't asked again after how irritable he was with you the first time, until today at least.

This wasn’t all on him though, the relationship issues anyway.

in his own head he felt there was no going forward, there was no escaping the impending, disastrous thoughts in his mind. The drugs soothed those intrusive thoughts, how could he lose himself inside his own head if he was asleep?

“I know, I know…” You both layed there for a moment in each others company. Neither of you calling the cops about the break in since they never seemed to actually do anything given where you lived.

“Maybe we should take the kids out for dinner or something, get Ellie’s mind off her things being gone.”

“Well how much do we got in the account?” You shook your head, sitting up and waving your hands up in the air with defeat.

“Not enough. I think altogether for the month we have around $120.” Fuck. He couldn’t do shit for his kids but somehow had enough money to get drugs? His mind twirled, the stress and realizing his priorities weren’t straight pressing an immense weight on his shoulders.

A thought crossed his mind of what if he started to sell only using every now and then? That would surely bring in money, especially around this neighborhood and keep you afloat for the time being but he didn’t say it.

He also had to worry about the kids. He refused to let them be homeless.

“Let’s take them we’ll figure it out. We aigh’t now?”

“Only if you promise me you’ll get help. I’m here to support you, okay?” Your hand caressed down his cheek as you stared into his baby blue hues, he nuzzled into your touch nodding before helping you out of bed.

Ellie was sat coloring with the crayons she still had on the living room floor wrapped in a blanket. That was another thing you were behind on, the fucking heat bill but that was a concern for another day. Luckly the electric and water seemed to still be on for the time being.

Marshall swooped her up in his arms peppering her face with loving kisses while ruffling her hair. He was always so good with her, such a caring dad and the sight made your heart melt. Moments like these made the fights seem almost pointless.

“Are you and mommy done fighting?” Her voice was so sweet and innocent, her small fist clenching and grasping at Marshall’s white shirt. The small gesture warning his heart. He just wanted his daughter to be happy.

“Yes baby. Daddy loves mommy we just have a lot going on, adult stuff you don’t need to worry about. Let’s get you and sissy some dinner, okay?” She nodded against him, perking up when he mentioned McDonald’s. It wasn’t the healthiest but it was affordable and it made her happy and that was all that mattered right now.

Passing her to you, Marshall went out to the car throwing a raggedy, old gray sweatshirt on before lighting a cigarette as he started the car. It took him about three times for the car to turn over, rickety old piece of shit, he was just grateful the heat was working for his angels. Checking the glove box, he ensured his gun was still there while a car passed by slowly, music blaring. He was skeptical of everyone and everything in this neighborhood, especially when something like today happens for the fifth time this year.

Pushing the door open, Marshall rushed to your aide to help Ellie down the stairs, avoiding the section with a nail sticking out of the wood while you carried Sara in your arms.

“Should we get gas?” You shrugged, nodding and informing him you still had work and Ellie had daycare to attend.

“How much we’re paying for that again?”

“Nearly $100 a month.” He hasn’t realized how expensive it was, scoffing and mentioning how the government expects people to live off minimum wage jobs and take care of their children.

Dinner seemed to be going smoothly, Ellie was making friends and playing in the play pin section of the restaurant while you and Marshall sat with Sara near the window in a close distance, sharing a milkshake while laughing over the memories of the past.

“Be careful sweetie!” Marshall yelled after Ellie noticing how close she was to slipping a falling off a plastic cube. She nodded to her dad, going back to her activity.

He couldn’t help but glance down at your tits, they’d gotten so big from the swelling of breast feeding. One of the things he loved that happened when you were pregnant. He bit down on his bottom lip intrigued, making a comment about how even after giving birth he still would take you right here right now over this table had their been no kids around.

Smacking him playfully with your cup, you giggled. It was about time she needed to be fed but before you could excuse yourself to the restroom, Ellie came up to have a drink break, not wasting a minute before she blurted out,

“Mommy, when is Andre coming over again? He likes to color with me and he talks about you a lot…” You we’re at a standstill for words, being left speechless by your toddler. Marshall’s jaw clenched, his hand forming a fist as he held his composure. He simply said, “Believe me now? Hows that for truth?” Ellie yanked on her dads sleeve, asking for a refill on her drink giving you the perfect way out of the situation.

“I’m going to feed Sara, I’ll be back in a couple minutes.

“Yeah, aight. You do that.” Arriving home, the car ride was mostly silent. Marshall laid Ellie down in your bed as she fell asleep in the car, too worried about her being in her own room and the same for Sara moving her crib for the night near the back corner of your room where the light wouldn’t be in her face but she’d still be close.

While you were still in the living room changing laundry, he stumbled into the back of the closet, reaching for a small box that was hidden under a flap in the carpet, popping a pill or two in his mouth, rinsing them down with water from the sink.

He closed the door lightly to not wake either of your kids, walking out into the living room and not hiding that he was not in a good mood, slouching down into the couch.

“So when the fuck did you plan on telling me that he been coming over into my fucking house with my fucking kids? You didn’t even ask me.” You sighed, knowing that resurfacing the topic if anything to with Andre would end badly, especially after the comment Ellie made.

“It was only one time babe, you were out with your friends, I was working late, Nate was out of town. I didn’t exactly have a choice. Those things Ellie said, I understand you are upset but until we can find someone else I don’t know what you expect me to do or what we’re going to do come next week.” Closing the dryer, you accompanied him on the couch, not looking for a fight but a resolution, but he loved to fight.

“I don’t want some strange, douchebag guy that wants to sleep with my girl around my kids Y/N. Plain and simple. Don’t worry about next week I’ll figure it out.” The way he ended the sentence meant there was no room for any other decisions. He wouldn’t allow it and quite frankly he was ready to choke this bitch out and arrange a little meetup in an ally to beat the shit out of him “And I don’t want a boyfriend who is high all the damn time yet here we are. Your bad habit isn’t just killing you, it’s killing us.” Yeah maybe you were right but maybe his trust issues got in the way of that cause as far as he was concerned if he saw Andre or even heard about him being here again he was gonna call up some of his buddied and make him a dead man.

This constant back and forth bullshit was getting you nowhere and frustrating the every living fuck out of him.

“I promise you I’ll go into rehab again once we get this shit figured out. But you gotta promise he ain’t coming around our kids anymore, and tell him to get rid of this fuckin number.”

“ And I will okay? No more Andre. I promise.” He nodded still not believing this guy was going to leave you alone but for now he wanted to relax, the pills already taking effect and making him drowsy he just hoped you couldn’t tell. Trying to avert attention from himself, his hands grasped your thighs pulling you into his lap and caressing your ass cheeks making you giggle.

“What’re you doing?”

“What I cant feel my girl up? C’mon the kids are asleep. We could get in a round or two.” That would be nice and a big stress relief, you could already feel his large bulge growing beneath you, causing your pussy to throb in anticipation while you rolled your hips down against him before pulling your shirt off, revealing your breasts.

“What’re you waiting for then?” You leaned in closely to his ear, lips just brushing over the bottom lobe and biting playfully.

“Fuck me.”

[tinytennisskirt]

Tease

summary: a poorly written horny montage of Patrick’s crush on you and how he uses sexual urges to mask the fact he’s completely head over heels for you

warnings: teasing, unprotected sex, mention of oral f!receiving, kissing, kissing Art onceee one timeee, a slight moment of misreading but it’s not actually misreadingggg

Oh Patrick is insane when he has a crush on you. Absolutely insane, he turns himself into this stupid fucking dick of a jock when you’re around during practice, playing to impress you as if his tennis swing will make you fall into his lap, his bed…

He balances the innocence of his crush on you with the idea of you on your knees and he can’t help but wonder what you feel like. And it’s only to combat the feeling that he wants to take you out on a real date, do stupid shit with you like take walks and watch rom-coms and kiss the tears off your face when you’re crying over some animal video you saw online. His method is effective but nothing ever beats the idea of you being his best friend and girlfriend all in one. Nothing beats the idea of coming home to you at the end of a day. He’s turning into some wholesome freak and it’s scaring him.

When you’re talking he hears every word you say but with a slight echo because he’s busy wondering when it’s appropriate to kiss you between sentences. You’re his friend, you’ll meet him after class but in his head it’s terrifying and completely thrilling that you want to spend time with him. Usually he’d be cocky about it but with you he feels like he’s 13 with a schoolboy crush the way you reduce his stomach to butterflies. A schoolgirl crush maybe.

And when you’re with him on the bleachers and your hand rests on his knee he wonders about how your hand would feel wrapped around him and he can’t help it, it’s the only thing he can do to keep from telling you that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and to combat the idea that he wants to wake up next to you for the rest of his life because he’s just that sure that you’re it. It’s going to be you.

Art knows Patrick has a problem. At the mention of your name his neck snaps to pay attention, even after his own name was called about ten times. Art just chuckles. “You’re going to have to tell her sooner or later. Pretty sure she’s got you figured out, bud.”

And yes, you have an inkling that he likes you but the extent of which you have no idea. He has no idea that when his hands slip down his boxers at night while he reminds himself of how perfect you are, your hand makes it’s own way down your stomach and breaks your waistband, thinking about him too.

You’d never say it. The crush he has is something you like to play around with. It’s fun to make a twenty-year-old man blush.

Art and Patrick invite you to pregame a party and you show up with a case of twisted tea and a miniskirt with (thank god) shorts built in but the presence of your perfect thighs in his line of sight, of course you notice how he zones out on your body. Of course his eyes linger on your hips, your thighs, your chest, it’s what keeps him from thinking about how gorgeous your smile is and how much he wants to see it between kisses, in between breaths.

Then there’s the day you show up to tennis in a halter top and even Art is a little distracted by the low cut. The other girls practicing on the court all want to know where you got it because it held the girls sooo well during practice. Patrick missed almost every ball you hit at him. He tried. You smirked and you were so so pretty as you cheered at all the extra points that came from distracting him.

The flirting was occasionally physical. Patrick sometimes allowed himself the grace of a hand on your back when you were next to him and you didn’t seem to mind. It wasn’t exactly flirting but it sure felt like it.

Patrick is a pretty physical guy altogether, his spatial awareness not great but also partially something unintentional. So when his face gets close to yours in conversation, you never bat an eye. But you do bat your eyelashes and listen to him forget what he was going to say or begin to stumble over his words. It always feels a little emasculating, but Patrick loves it, surprisingly. You turn him into something weak. Nobody has ever done that to him before.

You in your short skirts and low cut shirts and you with your perfect body making it absolutely impossible to avoid looking at you, but helping so much to distract from the fact you’re kind and sweet and completely perfect. The need to run his hands over your waist, hips, and ass is the perfect distraction from the want to kiss your cheek, nose, and forehead. Fuck!

It’s so fun to drink with him and call him pretty with his face so close to yours you can smell the fizz of the orange soda he mixed with his vodka. Fun to smirk and rest your finger under his chin and talk to him with your noses practically touching. Fun to sit on his lap just because it’s ‘comfortable’ and feel him struggle to hide the fact he’s hard. He’s looking at Art for help but Art knows it’s not true misery- he’s doing Patrick a favour.

Having Patrick in your dorm room late at night and you’re in these short, loose pajama shorts that show off your ass and bending to pick up your laundry off the floor. Watching his jaw slack just a little and seeing him scramble to pretend he was looking elsewhere. He’s a mess over you, going home and jerking himself off to all the dirty imagery you’ve given him just by being around him. He’s breathing hard by the end of it and he’s completely spent and he’s been home ten minutes having come three fucking times.

Going to a diner with Patrick and Art and both boys are all-too focused on the way you eat the strawberry from the side of your milkshake. You blink, looking at them both as they act as if they were staring at the menu.

The second the boys are alone back at Art’s dorm Patrick is gushing. “You see what she does? It’s like it’s on purpose.”

“No, I- I definitely see that,” Art says. “She’s always like that? Even when it’s just you two?”

“Always. She wears the least amount of clothes possible, she’s touching… me, she’s got this smirk, this sly one- I think she’s trying to kill me.”

Art agrees and admits that he can see what Patrick sees in you aside from the fact you act a bit like a slut when he’s around. But Art has observed you in other settings and you’re no slut in general. The second Patrick is home his hand is down his boxers thinking about how it’s all for him, seeing the intention through your actions.

And the next time you’re with him you’re in another short skirt and crop top as well as one of Patrick’s big zip up hoodies on and he’s trying to look past how it feels to see you sit so pretty in his clothes. His crush is absolutely massive and unfortunately so is his dick, so hard that it hurts, as he imagines fucking you right there right then. That short skirt bunching around your waist as you bounce on his cock… the idea of it is all too much.

You move closer to him and you ask him a question but he’s not hearing it. He’s too focused on the fact you’re not wearing a bra under your tank top. Your pointer finger taps under his chin and his face is so close to yours. He answers your question, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips and that beautiful smirk spreads up your face again. He looks half drunk on you, his eyes so half-lidded. He’s imagining his fingers in your mouth instead of thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.

His crush is driving him insane and he would have kissed you if he didn’t have to go meet Art in ten minutes. He knows you know he likes you. You know he knows you like him and the second he’s gone you’re on your bed with your hand down your underwear because there’s nothing more fun than the game you’re playing with him but the game doesn’t get you what you need. Not yet.

“I want to fuck her so bad,” Patrick confesses to Art over his beer. “It’s not even funny anymore.”

“I’m with you,” Art says after hearing the whole story. “I mean I would… I would be the same way.”

“You think she wants me too?” He asked. He hated sounding like he had a nerdy crush on some popular girl. “I mean- fuck, honestly. I’m going to lose my mind over her.”

Art just nods in agreement.

Getting high with Art and Patrick near midnight and you’re outside on the grass on a blanket of yours and you’re in one of Patrick’s t-shirts because you don’t want yours to smell like marijuana. The shirt is a saving grace when you stand but when you sit and your thighs are on display the way they are, both boys are finding themselves a bit stuck on where else to look. Patrick having an especially hard time as you’ve draped your legs across his, the back of your upper thigh the part resting against his dick. He’s too aware of it as you shift just slightly, pressing more against him and he has to not make any noise.

You look at Patrick and ask him gently what’s wrong? He’s all flushed. You ask if it’s from the weed and if he needs water or a snack or something but he could truly not be high enough. He’s staring at your lips, how full they are, how sweet they’d be to kiss and how fulfilling it would be to kiss down your chest, your stomach, between your legs. Art can sense the tension from across the blanket so he suggests something stupid, a plan to fix things up a bit. He proposes truth or dare.

You laugh because you haven’t played it in years but you agree and so does Patrick and Art opens it up with Patrick. Patrick goes for truth and Art asks him something simple. “How many times do you jerk off in a day?”

You giggled and Patrick groaned just a little. His answer was three. Usually. You weren’t surprised and you nudged him just a little bit, teasing him for his answer. Patrick then asks you and you say dare. He then dares you to finish the rest of the bowl Art had packed. You do so.

It goes around again twice until it’s Art asking you. Truth or dare?

You pick dare and this time Art plays true wingman. Or tries to. He’s so sure of himself. “I dare you… to kiss one of us.” He says. He’s SO sure you’ll take this chance to kiss Patrick, who you’re draped across and leaning against. But you don’t, you move over him and crawl to where Art is, kissing him gently. Art is more than surprised but Patrick is just staring at you, going over that decision of yours. You chose to kiss Art instead of him… it should have hurt. But it didn’t. Instead it just existed alongside every other fantasy he’d had of you. And you ask Patrick now, pulling away from Art who is wide-eyed and frankly impressed by how well you kiss, truth or dare?

Patrick says dare and he is met with, “I dare you…To kiss me.” It’s an order and it’s a dare and you’re giggling like it’s the funniest thing in the world but it’s all he’s been able to think about since he met you and you were asking…

Art is grinning. It’s the outcome he’s been waiting for. And you’re waiting. “No.” He says. “Sorry, I’m not- I won’t-“ he says. Or he tries to say he can’t kiss you here, not JUST because of a dare. He wants to kiss you when HE wants to. Your eyes are wide and you sit cross legged, looking a bit paler than you should.

“I’m sorry,” you say, immediately straightening out. Your hand goes up to cover your mouth but it doesn’t get all the way up. All of your teasing, all of the fun you’d been having with him, and you finally tried to close a gap to be met with refusal. “I’m sorry, Partrick. That was too much.”

Patrick looks at you and your big genuine eyes and he wishes he didn’t stop himself but some stupid part of him, although he wanted you on top of him nearly every night, although the image of you in your pajama shorts were burned into your mind as a permanent form of motivation for masturbation, even though he thought day in and day out about pleasing you, he wouldn’t kiss you. Not for fun. Not without intention. Because at the base of all of this he did like you. A lot. He couldn’t find the words…

His lack of response is what provokes your further mortification. And suddenly you’re doubting everything you knew. Did he like you? Why wouldn’t he? You thought for sure he would. “I’m so sorry, I’m going to go,” you say.

Art shakes his head, “It’s fine, you can stay.” He says in Patrick’s silence. But you’d kissed Art now and not Patrick and one would have been meaningless and the other meaningful but it was all a stupid game anyway and you had just made a major mistake. An even bigger mistake than you knew it was.

“I have class tomorrow anyway,” you say kindly, pulling your shorts down just a bit further for more coverage. “I’m really sorry. Both of you. I’ll talk to you guys soon.” The embarrassment is crushing and Patrick isn’t saying anything and now you’re stuck with some stupid consequences on your back. This was what you got for being a supposed tease, you thought as you grabbed your things. You should have been more clear on how Patrick felt before you asked him to do something like that. He didn’t want to kiss you. You misread him?

“No, really, don’t go,” Art says. “Please.” And he makes eye contact with you in a way that sends a message, which gestures you to Patrick.

Patrick looks at you. “Come here.”

You move back toward him. The game is over. This is him, this is not his dare. And he kisses you before you can wonder what it is he wants. It’s a good kiss. It’s long and it’s more tender than you’d have imagined from him. And when it ends and you both pull away, Art is nowhere to be found.

Your eyes meet his, his eyes meet yours and it’s only a matter of minutes before you’re pressed against the door of your dorm room trying to unlock it while Patrick’s mouth trails over your jaw and neck with so much haste you’d think he was on a timer. You manage to open the door and you’re stumbling in loudly, kissing and slamming the door behind you. Nothing mattered aside from him in this moment as your shorts made their way off of your body. Patrick didn’t even try to remove your shirt as he took off his own clothes. You could feel him hard against you as he pressed your body to his.

You’re giggling between kisses, slightly high, like something is funny. His hands on your jaw as you walk backward toward your own bed. You wanted to tease him for months on end, you wanted to give him something to want so he was going to show you just how fucking badly he wanted it. In seconds your hand finds purpose as it slips down his shorts and finds his dick. It’s all he’s wanted (aside from taking you out to a really nice meal) and he groans loudly as your hand grips him. “Fuck, I want you so badly,” he says against your lips and you just grin, stroking him up and down and in two seconds his shorts and boxers are down and you’re on your knees next to your bed and as your hands work his shaft, your lips gently kiss his tip and he wants so much to push your head down but he swears he isn’t that kind of guy.

You’re so gorgeous, your lips wrapped around his dick but he can’t sit and watch it happen, he needs you now and you know it as he taps under your chin and you eagerly stand to kiss him again, his leaking cock pressed against the space between the end of your third and your bare thigh. Patrick can barely take it, there’s been so much he’s thought about and you’re kissing him like you need it and the second the words, “fuck me,” fall from your lips he’s on the task. He almost ripped your underwear off you, the lust of it all gets the best of him and he’s on the bed, long arms ridding you of your underwear and his hand dipping between your thighs. You’re so wet, it’s all for him, he’s always wondered how affected you were by him. In seconds he’s positioned and in one thrust he’s inside you.

It’s almost violent how rough he is. He’s already lifted your leg over his shoulder and he’s fucking into you harder than he even knew he could and you’re moaning in his ear and it’s all he’s wanted for far too fucking long. “God- you feel so good.” He groans, hand gripping the flesh of your thigh as it rests against his shoulder. Your hand is tangled in his curls, pulling ever so slightly. This was for every time you bent over in a short skirt, this was for every time you sat on his lap, this was for every time you gave him that sly smirk. And you could feel all of it, all of him as he pounded into you mercilessly. “Fuck…”

You’re moaning his name just how he imagined it and it feels almost pornographic the way he’s getting exactly what he wants. But your nails are digging into the skin of his back and you’re enjoying it too, so he’s happy you’re happy and it’s all perfect. “Harder,” you plead and you’re breathing hard, moaning his name louder as he does exactly what you say. He hates feeling his orgasm approaching he doesn’t want to waste this perfect situation. “Fuck, I’m so close, I’m so close-“ he manages. You kiss him and it’s harsh and a little sloppy but it’s the fact he’s rapidly and roughly thrusting into you that makes it a bit difficult. Patrick leans away from just for a moment to see you better and, “God, you’re so beautiful,” slips out of his mouth and you’re kissing him again. “I’m so close-“

“Uh huh?” You smirk and it’s gorgeous and it’s evil.

“Oh, fuck, I’m-,” he couldn’t get the full sentence out, skin against skin harder than before, harder than anything and you’re moaning as he finishes into you just as hard. Your hands slide over his skin and back into his hair and he kisses you as his orgasm is dying down into just heavy breathing and a slight sheen of sweat. You’re smiling like something is funny and without the thrusting Patrick takes the chance to kiss you again, you giggling between every breath and cupping his face sweetly like he didn’t just fuck you into the mattress.

“Say you’ll-“ he’s interrupted by a kiss. “Go out with me.” Patrick says, cat out of the bag whoops he fucked you turns out he really fucking likes you. “Go out with me.”

“When?” You ask. He’s not expecting that answer. He grins and kisses you again, hard, passionately. And you’re giggling again and you’re adorable and he hasn’t even pulled out yet.

“Tomorrow,” he answers. Still breathing hard.

“Perfect.” You grin so widely. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and he’s finally letting himself feel the wholesome side to wanting you. He cleans you up, which he’s never done for anyone, but cleaning ends up with his head between your thighs just to finish the job and another tied end is Patrick no longer has to wonder how you taste.

He doesn’t tell Art about any of it.

And he picks you up the next day and you’re gorgeous and your skirt is mid-thigh and as fun as it was, Patrick likes being able to talk to you without having to worry too much about staring at anything the wrong way. It was fun to tease but it’s more fun when the date is over and you’re feeling euphoric over the way he looks at you and his smile and how his hands slide around your waist before he pulls you into a kiss. There’s no reason to tease anymore. He’s right where you want him. And Patrick has no need to want anymore, he has too, in all the ways he could possibly need. He kisses you and it feels right. Sweet.

Sure, a few hours later he’s back in your bed but it’s only after the longest conversation of your life. Apparently, Patrick has kissed Art too and it’s something you laugh about for far too long. Without anything to want he’s no longer able to distract himself from just how perfect you are. He kisses your forehead when he says goodnight and all is well. Ask anyone though, Patrick is absolutely insane about his girlfriend.

[nyx-is-missing]

hello! Can you write a Clarisse La Rue x reader where they met before Clarisse got sent to camp halfblood when they were little and were best friends then Clarisse left for camp with no explanation then years later reader goes to camp and sees Clarisse for the first time in years and it’s kinda awkward but cute

thanks :)

This is kinda long sooorrry, to help, the part where she gets to camp (kinda) will be in green

Girls on film 📷

Clarrise la rue x fem!reader

Warnings and explanations: bad words (take the kids out of the living room she swears) gender is specified cause it was written as wlw, but it doenst actually makes a diference, fluff, like two sentences, there is a kiss in the picture but they dont actually kiss sorry.

Unspecified parent gender for both sides so yall can pick wichever

Trying not to kill myself.

That was what i was doing 15 hours ago, just as any normal teenagers living (or as i prefer saying fighting for the soul to stay on the body) during finals week.

In my room there was nothing but piles and piles of normal work, piles for extra credit, piles of old quizzes to try to get me prepared for the new ones and a dumb incomplete project for photography class that was due tomorrow.

Okay ill admit, i had a month to make that, and all i needed to do was shoot pictures, but that was the problem, i prefer taking pictures of people, their emotions, whatever they might be, just never ceases to amaze me.

And my dumb project made take pictures of....landscapes.

Not too bad, if i had any actual real talent for that type of photography, but i dont, every picture gets ruined somehow, its the lightning, the lack of it, my camera falls, gets full of dirt and i get so mad that i just give up.

That whole speach was necessary for me to explain what i was doing 14 hours ago, and that would explain what i was doing 5 minutes ago.

14 hours ago i decided to shoot the photos, i could try many times before it got dark, and if o was lucky enough i wouldnt go insane before the golden hour, and could actually get some nice pictures.

I grabbed my totte bag taking with me only the necessary, camera stuff, the camera, some snacks and my notebook to upload the pictures before i went mad.

13 hours ago i was running to save my life.

And do you know that moment went you go through so much your mind decides to erase it?

That happened, now, what i do remember, i was sitting in a bench by a calm road not too far from the town, i had got some actually good pictures, some of me, some of the trees, some of a butterfly, maybe three cars had passed by since i was there, driving slowly, always saying hi and doing a thumbs up, normal, friendly people from the town.

And then i heard a noise that shook the trees.

I remember seeing something, but never what, i remember running to home as fast as i could, feeling my heartbeats in my neck, i remember the noise, but the people in the streets looked at me like there was nothing behind me and i went crazy

I remember getting home, having a desperate talk with my parent while they got my suiticase ready, and i dont remember a single word.

I remember a funny looking guy my age that got to my house, with goat legs and a more desperate look, and i remember one last hug before i left.

And thats all, aside from a hell of a lot of running nobody cares.

Aparently i passed out from shock or exaustion because i woke up in a unknown place, at night, in a hospital bed, with no actual doctors other than 15 year olds teenagers.

And a horseman standing in the corner, with quite a intelectual look actually.

And let me tell you guys that after the talk we had, if somebody told me i would marry queen Elizabeth within 4 days, i would just belived it.

Because nothing ever in my life would ACTUALLY beat up the level of crazyness of finding out i DO have another parent, they are just, A FUCKING GOD. GREEK. GODS. AH.

Then, after telling me my whole life was in fact, a big fat lie, the horseman... left.

Telling me i should sleep in the infirmary this night for precaution and that he was going to get me to a cabin tomorrow.

Like that was the most normal thing to ever happen to a human, he said goodnight and left.

While i sat there just trying to...basically form a sentence that wasnt "for fucks sake what the fuck was that"

I would have loved to say that i did slept that night, dreaming about glory and greek myths but that did not happened, at all.

I walked around the infirmary for hours, opening every cabinet and trying to make my mind to something, i searched for my stuff, and thankfully found my camera, with some pictures i hadnt noticed i had taken, one specific had a blurred thing in the forest.

When the first rays of sunlight appeared i got dressed, and decided that, in order to prove to myself (and probably to the mental hospital afterwards) i was not insane, i needed proof that i was actually living, actually there, being a demigodess, thats what they called.

Very few people were up already, and i did received some weird looks, it was clear nobody knew me, that was fine, i didnt knew anybody either.

I walked around taking some pictures, sometimes getting lost, but everything amazed me, the forest, the cabins, the stables, i found the entrance to a beach too, and then i got to the training area, aparently, i stayed far away, god forbid i woke up from this nightmare with a spear in my head, oh no, that would be bad.

Openning my camera i zoomed in the people, my speciality, it was sweet, seeing them trully smile, and not pretend for the picture, it was a genuine feeling the camera would keep forever, i zoomed around other peoples faces, but my camera focused on a face i could never forget, and she looked back at me, and realized i was there, but not that i was me, because she came towards me with a angry look.

Ill admit, the look scared me as hell, so much i tried to pretend i was never taking pictures of her, i slightly changed the angle and kept my face hidden behind the camera.

Do i need to say that did not fucking worked? No? Thank you.

"Who the fuck do you think you are taking random pictures of pe-"

She yanked my camera off of me mid sentence and stopped completely, looking like she had seen a ghost for some seconds.

"(Y/n)?"

"Clari?"

"How- what are you doing here!?"

She asked, with a worried look, still kind of confused, she did this look since we were little girls, and for a moment i had a big deja vu.

Two little girls running around, playing all day, telling each other secrets and stories, running to hug each other eveytime they were close, i still saw that girl in her eyes, but by her previous look, she did not.

"What am i doing here? What are YOU doing here? One day you dissapear without a trace, and your family said you went to a new school even though it was the summer, and now i find you sparring with a spear? You are that too? A demigoddes, i mean?"

I spoke fast, nervous, as if my time in the world with her would end just as it did once.

Instead of responding me right away, clarisse did something that maybe would scare every single soul she knew in the past years.

She hugged me. Hard.

Breathing me in, and not letting me go exactly as you would expect of someone who hasnt seen me in years.

"I couldnt tell you anything... it wouldnt be safe...im sorry, i missed my friend... i missed you."

I just looked at her for some seconds, and then hugged her again, this time i was the one making it extra tight, i was the one going insane by the reconforting smell of her shampoo, praying that she couldnt feel my heartbeats against her chest, and how strong they were.

"Just.. dont leave me again okay? And ill forgive you, i promisse"

[coolestzed]

Alright, I’ve been holding this inside for years but I’m finally gonna say it.

Misako haters are actually fucking annoying at this point.

They always were to me, but now, they’re just OBJECTIVELY an annoyance. And they need to STOP.

They take literally ANY chance to slander her, even when it’s completely unwarranted. Like, I’d just look at a picture of her on Pinterest, and there’d be multiple comments going "the world’s worst mother". Or I’d see content about Koko and there’d always be comments comparing her and Misako and going like "Koko way better fuck Misako".

I’d even see a fucking meme and people would slander Misako. Like they couldn’t resist.

And that’s not even mentioning his people constantly make her seem way worse than she actually is. Im not gonna quote everything, but basically they act like she never does good things for Lloyd. That she doesn’t care about him at all! And it’s just- so WILDY out of character!! And it’s the same vice versa! I saw a funny Ninjago video the other day with a "your mom" joke and someone in the comments was like "jokes on you, Lloyd would never call Misako mom". I’m just?????? Yes he DOES????? ALL THE TIME???

People just act like their relationship is nonexistent! Like they don’t care about each other, or that Misako doesn’t care about Lloyd! Which is OBVIOUSLY not true!

People claim that she disappears every other season but the only seasons she was absent in are 12 and 13. Also, she has a job. She goes on expeditions. Obviously she’s not there 100% of the time. And she and Lloyd clearly spend time together off screen.

People don’t even acknowledge the reason why she left in the first place. They act like she dropped him off at a boarding school and dipped to take a vaycay. She was literally trying to stop her husband and son from having to fight to the death. You ever think about that? You ever think about how SHE felt in the situation? With her husband being consumed by evil and later being banished, and learning that he and their son would have to fight each other? She was HORRIFIED and GRIEVING! Ultimately she did it to save her family. It doesn’t make leaving Lloyd right but it’s understandable.

But apparently not to almost all of the fandom.

Most of y’all, completely ignore that, and everything else that came after season 2.

Misako constantly being worried about Lloyd in Tournament of Elements and Possession.

Both of them spending Day of the Departed together.

Her getting/building the Destiny’s Shadow as a birthday gift for Lloyd.

How she supported, fought beside, and risked her life for Lloyd in Hunted.

How she wanted to stay and fight with him during MoTO but only went inside because Lloyd urged her to protect the civilians.

Not to mention just their general interactions. THEY’RE ALWAYS HAPPY TO SEE EACH OTHER!!! Do you know how many times they hug?!

And this dialogue here:

"Aren’t you going to kiss your mother goodbye?"

"Mooom, we've-we've talked about this-"

WHAT MORE PROOF DO YOU NEED?!

Lloyd and Misako have a good, healthy and loving relationship. Misako has long since made up for her mistake and they’ve moved on.

Yet THE FANDOM REFUSES TO!!!

EVERYONE, TO THIS DAY, STILL TREATS HER LIKE THE FUCKING DEVIL!!!

I CAN’T EVEN COUNT THE NUMBER OF TIMES PEOPLE HAVE HAD OVERDRAMATIC TANTRUMS FROM HER JUST EXISTING.

IT MAKES ME SO UNREASONABLY ANGRY.

AND THE FACT THAT I’VE SOMEHOW BEEN SEEING EVEN MORE MISAKO HATE DURING AND AFTER MOTHERS DAY IS ACTUALLY APPALLING.

NOT EVEN FUCKING ENDEAVOR FROM MHA GETS THIS MUCH HATE AND HE’S DONE MUCH WORSE TO HIS FAMILY.

IT. HAS. BEEN. OVER. 16. SEASONS. AND. A. MOVIE.

GET. OVER. IT.

*deep breath*

Look, she’s not perfect. Obviously. She fucked up. But who in this series hasn’t? She came back, and she’s made sure to be a better mother to Lloyd. He forgave her, and they have a good relationship now. They’re close.

She wouldn’t be as hated if the writers didn’t do her dirty. Her introduction wasn’t handled the best, and having her and Lloyd have a more in depth discussion would’ve made the reunion and forgiveness feel less rushed and forced. That love triangle with Wu and Garmadon certainly didn’t do her any favors either. 😑

Regardless, her character’s gotten better over the seasons. Again, she and Lloyd and close and have a good relationship.

But hardly anyone acknowledges that, almost everyone in the fandom hyper fixates on that one mistake from years ago. They don’t pay attention to anything else. Like how she’s a better mother, or how she’s just a generally good person.

You aren’t supposed to judge characters or irl people solely on their past mistakes. Especially when they’ve already made up for them. Thats why the "Misako’s a horrible mother" statement is always bullshit to me.

Seriously, Misako’s been a part of Lloyd’s life longer than she’s been absent from it at this point.

The amount of passionate, unforgiving hate she gets is so undeserved and over the top. Too many people are projecting their own issues onto her. Or just being plain hateful. It’s not fair to define her entire character on a single mistake that she’s long made up for.

And it’s definitely not fair to people that actually like Misako. Often times on the few positive posts about her, there’d be Misako haters in the notes or reblogs complaining about her or insulting her, or just stating they hate her but love the content. And that is completely uncool and rude. It’s so unnecessary. You don’t do that, that’s so shitty. The again Misako haters have a habit of spouting unnecessary hate. Like it’s a terminal condition they have.

So, please, for the love of god, COOL IT. Stop and think, try to ACTUALLY look at her character without the veil of blind hatred.

If you still dislike or hate her, fine! But if you’re gonna detest her, at least hate her as she is and don’t make her worse than she actually is to justify hating her more.

And PLEASE stop bashing her at every turn, it’s annoying, upsetting, unwarranted, unnecessary, and just not good.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[caputvulpinum]

Why can't you people be normal about slurs for 2 seconds

Just because YOU reclaimed and identify with something doesn't mean everyone else does. No one cares about you IDing as a queer or dyke or fag or whatever, people just don't want strangers to randomly assign them words that have historically been used as slurs.

Like, do you understand that people have had this word used against them by bigots? Do you understand that maybe, it's tasteless to get upset at people for having trauma regarding a word? Are you able to comprehend that maybe insisting people be okay with being called a word that means odd, spoiled, ruined or weird is not a good look?

I'm autistic and have a severe learning disability. I'm totally fine when people use the word retard, I call myself a retard, I don't care. But I'm sure as fuck not going to walk up to a bunch of other autistic people I barely know and go "lmao what is up my fellow tards!!!"

I'm not trying to start shit, I'm legitimately trying to understand why you find it appropriate to make fun of people, often victims of abuse or hate crimes, for being triggered by a word.

"I'm legitimately trying to understand why you find it appropriate to make fun of people, often victims of abuse or hate crimes, for being triggered by a word."

Gay is a slur. Lesbian is a slur. Homosexual is a slur. Every single word we have ever had has always either had its roots in cruelty and oppression or has been used against us by our oppressors. There is no term that is pure and clean and innocent and has never hurt anyone's feelings.

Let's disregard fag for now. That one's still in the process of reclamation, I'll admit. Let's just talk about queer. Queer has been the academic term for non-cisgender and non-heterosexual history for half a century now. Queer theory has been around for thirty years. Queer was the word which we shouted as a radical inditement of our treatment by our oppressors: "We're here, we're queer, get over it" and "Not gay as in happy but queer as in fuck you" should both sound familiar to you.

And now it's 2012 or so and queer is known as the most inclusive term we have. It's less unwieldy than LGBTQIAAP+. It's not based in a necessity of defining yourself through your oppression like MOGAI. It's, important, a deeply private word. Not in the sense that it is used privately, but rather than it grants its user privacy. If you're queer, everyone instantly knows you're a part of the community, but you aren't being forced to out yourself or give more details about your personal life and identity than you want. It was always a word about identity.

TERFs hate this. TERFs hate this so much, because it's inclusive of people they hate, like asexual people, trans women, and other freaks of nature who society needs to put down like dogs. Queer means TERFs can't as easily define you as the Bad Other. Queer means TERFs will be recognized more easily as bigoted towards the larger queer communities. So, obviously, they do what anyone would, and decide to take advantage of the language of social justice warriors of the time and attack impressionable young kids from 13-16.

The average 13-16 year old doesn't exactly have much experience in real-life queer spaces. They don't get to go to rallies or protests, they don't stay at community centers, their lives are insular and based entirely online. Their understanding of social politics is inherently rooted in the importance of posting in the right language. Their activism is one which tweets correctly. So TERFs slid into their inboxes and went "Hey, just so you know, queer is actually a slur used to oppress people and it's problematic to use since some people have been called it".

And this works, because of course it does, and now I have people like you in my inbox bitching and whining about how queer is a slur and how you've been called queer once or twice in your life. To this I say: My apologies, but fucking suck it up and reclaim it. I don't care about traumatic events you have with queer. It has been reclaimed by the greater community and was done so long before you were born if you aren't literally 50, and more importantly, by giving queer validation as a slur, you actively give our oppressors that power over you. I'm not going to let my oppressors know that if they say an identifier for us meanly enough then we'll stop identifying as that word. I'm not giving the power to silence and repress who we are to people who would use it.

Anon, I respect you enough to say that people who consider my identity as a slur should get punched in the face, because alt-right fash cunts, pig cops, evangelical christians, TERFs, and hyperconservative political lobbyists all consider my identity as a slur. Why should I treat you any different to them? What about your specific treatment of queer as a slur ends up with a meaningfully different result? The neonazis on kiwifarms won't care why you're telling me to shut the fuck up about queer. They don't give a shit about why you're saying this. What they give a shit about is if it works and if calling people queer will get them to shut up and curl up in a little ball and admit defeat and hand them slurs on a silver platter. And I'm not about to live that sort of life, so either get with the program or fuck off.

[aspenispoplar]

Ok so here's my thoughts on dungeon meshi as a D&D party finally.

Okay so Laios and Falin's players (P!Laios & P!Falin) are actually brother and sister in real life. P!Laios got his sister to join him in the D&D game he was in. She was pretty shy and so wanted to make a healer character.

So their party plays the campaign for a while. Maybe a couple years or so. Mostly it doesn't have all that intense of a plot, but everyone's enjoying it.

Then in the dragon fight, Falin's player asks the DM if she can save Laios from the dragon's critical hit bite. The DM says sure but she only rolls like a 13, so the DM lets her save him by sacrificing her character, and she agrees.

Everyone's quite shaken up about it all, and to up the stakes the DM has the couple DMPCs/hirelings they had leave the party.

And now we get to the main focus of this headcanon. After P!Falin died, she wanted to make a new character, with a really different vibe from her old one, especially since she had gotten a lot more comfortable playing D&D now. In real life, she and P!Laios enjoy cooking together a lot, so she talked to the DM and P!Laios about it, and out came Senshi- P!Falin's new character!

P!Laios decides to try to help support P!Senshi's desire to focus more on cooking by taking out a book on monster cooking which he put in his inventory as a bit during character creation.

Basically it went like this

DM, (thinking to DMself: they're pretty overleveled now for the earlier layers of the dungeon, I should try and make it harder on them): so, you're running low on money. Even without the hirelings to pay, you need to sacrifice some of your expenses or sell some of your equipment to afford everything you lost.

P!Laios: Hey DM, how much do our rations cost? Because remember that meme book that I gave myself during character creation on cooking monsters?

DM: *very large sigh*

P!Senshi: *barely-restrained giddiness*

That's the main headcanon, but I also have other minor little headcanons about the other two player's characters.

Chilchuck's player has had some antagonistic DMs who loved torturing their players with traps in the past, so when they were told by the DM that the campaign was going to be "a pretty realistic dungeon crawl", P!Chilchuck decided to make the most roguey rogue of all rogues to ever rogue. They maxed out the trap-finding score to the point where the DM had to actually start including more traps for Chilchuck to feel a bit more useful, since the DM never actually planned on using very many traps in the campaign.

Marcille's player is a huge anime fan, and has made on-and-off jokes this whole time about the dungeon being some sort of bad isekai plot.

DM: Marcille, you feel a wet splash on the top of your head, only seconds before a slime drops on top of you.

P!Marcille: Oh? It's on my head? Is it suffocating me? Choking me perhaps...? Restraining me?

DM: Fuck you. Also you take 2 acid damage.

*everyone laughs at the DM's pain*

DM: There is a large plant monster in front of all of you

P!Marcille: Oh? Does it have vines? Like, tentacle-ish vines?

DM: You know what? It does now. It's rolls a 17 on grappling you. Have a good time with that.

P!Marcille: *waggles eyebrows* okay then

DM: I am going to hit you with my car covered in hammers rigged to explode multiple times and hammers go flying everywhere

While all of this is going on the DM is actually secretly very pleased to make a bunch of worldbuilding around the dungeon ecosystem and monsters and everything.

[trans-axolotl]

one thing that has been frustrating lately is that outside of the disability specific organizing spaces i'm in, i've noticed that so many people assume that because i'm a wheelchair user, i don't have relevant experience/skills for high risk and escalated protests. what's particularly frustrating lately is that some of these organizing spaces i'm in, i actually have more relevant experience than a lot of my comrades--i started going to antifascist protests when i was 13 and have been involved in a lot of protest movements over the past 9 years. and have learned a lot of shit from a lot of mentors. some of my comrades just got involved this year, which is great and i have a lot of respect for them. and at the same time i genuinely do have a lot of relevant knowledge about tactics, practical experience, etc etc. i'm always learning + continue to grow my skills and don't want to get complacent ever but like. some people were talking about how they wanted to learn how to do eye flushes for tear gas and i was like "okay yeah we can practice that, i can teach everyone if we stay a little later tonight" and someone said "thanks for offering but we should probably learn from someone who's had experience doing this on the ground." which was so fucking patronizing because i literally do have that skill set...i have been tear gassed many many times, have done eye flushes for people many many times, literally have a LOT OF practice doing that in a high stress and chaotic environment when the cops are brutalizing you. and no one else in this group had this experience! ignoring my experience made no sense and actively endangered the group! it made me want to scream like. how fucking ableist to assume that and also to insist that disabled people aren't involved in high risk protests even though we have already been out here involved for years and years! i'm going to scream

[moonbaby26]

Title: Past Wounds

(Chapter 12 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, violence, toxic relationship, binge drinking, mommy issues, brief references to past trauma and survival from past sexual assault including when characters were previously underage, talk of virginity loss, intentions to sabotage birth control, breeding kink, murder (not main characters)

Chapter Synopsis: As you and Doflamingo open up to one another, you find even more in common in the traumas of your pasts. While he still plans for the future, intending to never have you truly leave him or your new kingdom of Dressrosa again.

Author’s notes: As evidenced by chapter warnings above, there are a lot of potential triggers in this chapter. Nothing is overly gratuitous in my opinion. But still, fair warning. I always let the characters run the show for what they’ll say/do next and this was the result. More notes are at the end of the chapter as well including some insight into future plans for this story. 😄

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13

——————————

—————————— 

As Doflamingo had recounted to you those bits and pieces of his time spent with Tsuru as a boy, of course you’d sat in silence, listening intently. But even with the seemingly unflattering details he did allow, you felt like that curtain between you and his past was only being pulled back just enough to tease towards the bigger mystery. 

Like a single flash of lightning across a dark and unfamiliar room. The parts he did tell would only let you make out some hints of shapes, pieces of him you’d never known. Before everything was plunged into darkness once more. 

But telling you even this much did stir deeper things within that darkness for him at least. That was obvious in his many pauses as he spoke, and by just how quickly the wine disappeared the further his story went on. 

He’d finished the first bottle in his hand before his strings had brought the second bottle to him and into the bed as well.

But regardless of his height, and the additional body mass that offered him, you started to realize even warlords had a limit. It was still too much, too fast for his body to put it away safely.

And he was self medicating. Wasn’t he?

“Doffy,” you did say in test after he’d quieted for a few more minutes.

He wasn’t smiling any longer, and his eyes didn’t move from you. “She left me there.”

And something warned you then. It was in the way his shoulders sank, but his muscles didn’t relax. 

He didn’t want logic or reasoning right now. He didn’t want you to say that Tsuru had had no real choice but to desert him. 

And desertion was absolutely how he saw it. That sentiment made further clear in the dangerous irritation which rose in his next words.

“But Rosi was good enough. You white coats took him from me as soon as you fucking could…and wasn’t he too young? He was younger than me! So why? Why was he better…no, he wasn’t.”

It did take you a moment to even realize who Doflamingo meant, even as you began growing more nervous as he seemingly argued with himself as much as anything.

Was he talking about Rosinante?

Codename Corazon was what you’d actually known him as. Tsuru had sometimes called him Rosinante though. Which that bit of familiarity finally made more sense if only tonight.

Because she’d met both brothers before they’d ever become criminals.

But you still weren’t following this new turn. How had the marines taken Doflamingo’s brother? Corazon had been killed a few years ago. All over a stupid devil fruit sale gone bad as far as you knew. The Donquixote family versus the Barrels pirates at Minion Island.

You’d been there that night as well, on Tsuru’s crew to pick up the pieces afterward. You’d seen the bird cage just before it came down…and the bodies that’d been left in the aftermath.

But this new confusion in your eyes only had Doflamingo leaning forward aggressively. You could see the added flush in his cheeks from all that wine as he closed in on you.

And for the briefest moment you’d envisioned one of those now empty wine bottles being smashed open against your face. 

Because you somehow knew that he had considered it.

But then those same bottles only rolled aside with his movement within the bed. His words were slightly slurred the faster he tried to force them out.

The more he tried to make you understand that pain that no alcohol could ever quench.

“They turned my own baby brother against me….he hated me.” 

The warlord’s lips were the only thing that met your face this time though. Not a fist, or the bottles, even as that kiss still held so much anger from within.

Doflamingo’s hand was tight on the back of your neck so quickly too, forcing you to him as his tongue and that secondhand taste of alcohol filled your mouth.

He was actually drunk tonight. And it was your job once more to prevent yourself from being further hurt.

“Doffy,” You said more insistently again, briefly breaking your mouths apart.

Yet you weren’t bleeding like before. So this allowed you at least a chance to try softness first. Even if it wasn’t organic at all. Even if every move you made was now purposeful as you brought your hands up to stroke his face before your mouths could reconnect.

His left eye did close at that sudden touch, his lips still parted as the bright red iris of the right eye focused on you cautiously.

“You’re okay.” You found yourself saying regardless as you petted this dangerous creature.

His muscles were still so tight, his breath a bit uneven as you stroked along those high cheekbones and up into that short blond hair.

But there was the slightest hope for you in the way he’d started to press his face into that touch after a few more moments. He didn’t want you to stop.

It wasn’t over yet though. It’d never be, when suddenly he’d next pushed his full weight against you. You were forced onto your back on the mattress. This behavior already seeming to follow the pattern of so many times before as your core couldn’t help but immediately tense, fearing penetration.

Yet he didn’t straddle you this time. His legs curled up instead, allowing him the room to lay down. Your head now by the foot of the bed, and both your and his feet nearer the headboard as he laid his face across your naked breasts.

In your surprise, his hand also caught your wrist, pulling your own palm back to the side of his cheek as he bid you to keep petting him again in this new position.

And so of course you did. Having to breathe a little more forcefully with his weight on you then. But it wasn’t that painful. You weren’t being fucked this time at least as you watched the ceiling while stroking his jaw before your fingers moved back into his hairline as you massaged his scalp lightly.

You weren’t stupid. The parallels were all far more obvious now. His biological mother had died early on in his life. And in his own mind at least, he’d reclaimed some semblance of that motherly bond when he’d met Tsuru. But then she’d left him too, and his father had died, and his brother eventually too. Those full details still unclear in his odd behavior surrounding their two names.

But no matter the hows or whys, he had lost one family member after another. It was hit after hit on an already troubled psyche to further grow that void inside of him wasn’t it?

And needy boys soon became needy men. 

So he was burying all that desperation in you now, no question there. And before you, whoever else he could get his claws into you were sure. But for your own sanity, you would have to believe that everything he felt for Tsuru was still more from the boy within and not the hedonistic man that’d now torn through your body multiple times.

She’d have washed him into pieces if he’d ever tried anything inappropriate with her you were sure.

But with you? Those lines were already long gone. Clearly they were as he kept his face warm against your chest. Like it truly were an innocent refuge for him in this moment, but at the very same time you felt his already half hard cock rubbing against your legs.

He didn’t do anything more with that arousal right now at least. But his confused body didn’t seem to know the difference between affection and sex either.

Sex was affection to him. It was comfort. And evidently he sometimes wanted to be mothered by you as well, just as much as he wanted to always keep fucking you.

But the most immediate danger was again passing as you continued to give him what he wanted. You felt his muscles finally relaxing. All while you petted him more like something pitiful that had to be taken care of, rather than a true lover or equal partner in this instance at least.

Psychologists could fill entire books on a case study like Doflamingo you were sure.

And he wasn’t even done yet.

“Don’t leave me too.”

You heard those new drunken words break the silence. But you feared truly acknowledging them and possibly setting him off again as you just kept holding him. You stroked his face and down his neck to keep him calm.

Your heart rate was increasing regardless though as his arms tightened around your waist in return. His possessive body language was beginning all over again. But he said only one more heavy thing before closing both of his eyes.

“….don’t make me do it again. Don’t make me erase another light like you.”

——————————

That night felt endless. He had fallen asleep against your chest. So you’d been spared whatever sexual play he’d threatened from earlier, before he’d first started that story and gotten far too much into the wine.

But in exchange, you were left with a restless, fitful animal. Even though he was deeply asleep, you still felt him tensing and moving so many times during the night.

Sweat would form on his brow as his hands would clench. Sometimes with those fingers against your hips, or your arms, stomach, or elsewhere as he shifted around.

He was having nightmares.

And you couldn’t hope to sleep, your own body on high alert, waiting for strings to come out of his fingertips, waiting for pain if he forgot even for a moment where he really was.

Yet when he’d start moving again like that, you’d whisper his name and start stroking his head and neck once more. 

His grimace would fade, and he’d start to still again.

It was exhausting. Like fighting a fire all alone the entire night. Fighting it, and protecting him when your own body and mind wanted so badly to give up as well.

And at some point you did. You didn’t have any endurance left when consciousness finally slipped away. But you’d already seen the sunlight through those portholes again when it did.

——————————

His head was aching. But warm fingers were caught in his hair. The sound of your heartbeat was against his ear as he tried to focus his good eye into that too bright daylight.

It was fucking morning again already. But he didn’t want to move. Your chest was soft, and your grip was still so welcoming somehow.

How much had he told you last night?

Those dreams had melted into the real words he knew he’d said. But it was hard to remember the difference, where one ended and the other began. 

He’d tried to save himself all those years ago. He’d tried to do the right thing for what was left of his family. 

Because Mariejois would never suffer a traitor. Blood traitors especially. The most grievous crime that could ever be committed against the gods was when one Celestial Dragon turned against another.

Death was the only possible result in such a rare tragedy. But Homing and Rosinante both had still chosen that fate in the end. His own blood had given him no choice but to carry out the only answer they knew would come for their crimes.

They’d chosen your licentious world instead of their heavenly birthright and had to be culled for it. Like diseased branches being cut away to save the larger tree.

And then he’d been fully orphaned, broken wings and all, stuck living alone in that same world in the end. But he was still carving out the best life he could in the circumstances. 

He’d already retaken the Donquixote ancestral lands in Dressrosa. Retaken his heritage in the same castle his ancestors used to rule without mercy from. 

And now he’d secured you, the elusive temptation that had evaded him for far too long beforehand. Of course you were no equal to him. The innate filth of your own blood was still something that could never be overwritten. But the gods were able to claim anything lesser than themselves that they desired. 

So there was nothing improper in his need for you. Nothing he wouldn’t have still been allowed if he’d lived atop the world once more. He could have had as many human wives as he’d wanted. Bred all of them or none of them as he’d seen fit.

There were many half breed children in Mariejois. Most going straight into slavery of course, but not always. Pets were allowed too. They’d never hold the social status of a pureblood, but they could live a fully pampered life if their Celestial parent chose such for them. They could stay in the same home, be lavished and given affection like any other treasured possession.

And all this stress only reminded him of these possibilities time and time again.

He still wanted a replacement family for his that had been destroyed. He wanted you, his human mistress, and his half breed he could soon raise from you. He never wanted to feel as alone as he had in those nightmares ever again.

Doflamingo smirked, your heart beating so steadily beneath him still. That organ beat for only him, it belonged to him already.

But would you ever love him in return? Would you be grateful in the life he could provide for you? Would you understand how lucky you were to find this rare mercy within him at all?

It didn’t matter.

As long as he had what he wanted. As long as he always won and everyone else lost.

That was the natural way of things. And anyone who acted to truly interrupt these eventual outcomes could join Homing and Rosinante in his forgiveness of death. 

He’d actually let you sleep though, as he’d finally untethered himself from your body. His bladder full from all the drinking of last night and his body needing relief as he’d taken the longest piss in the bathroom.

This vacation was finally over. All the meetings and business dealings he’d put off for the last few days to spend that time with you instead was now going to bite back at him in full force.

He knew this as he’d flushed the toilet and looked at himself in the mirror, knowing he needed to get ready to head to his office on board and start making overdue calls. But his mind still lingered in the past, even then.

Because his one intact eye that often reminded him of his mother’s perpetually sad ones reflected back at him tiredly in that mirror. 

But the other eye was somehow sharp as always, even behind that milky white of scar tissue. As if it was watching him instead. The mismatched eye he’d been born with even before that arrow had first pierced it in this world.

The left eye and its larger red iris that used to frighten his peers and reject the sunlight enough that he’d been taught to cover it as far back as he could remember.

His one eye that matched the two of the one true god. The immortal who sat upon the empty throne. A being that he’d seen only once, when he’d brought Homing’s head to them in that last chance offering which was ultimately rejected. A past recipient of the Ope-Ope fruit’s greatest power he had no doubt.

Another ancestor of his perhaps, one whose eye and madness he had inherited. The nineteen original families of Mariejois had interbred for centuries after all.

But Doflamingo just laughed softly to himself, gripping the sink before he turned the water on to wet his hands and begin washing his face.

There was still so much that none of you knew. Information which those who sat on high would do anything to keep from spreading. 

It was yet another reason you’d never be allowed to leave him once they realized how serious he was about you. Because those five old men and the monster they served would assume he’d shared all their secrets. And they’d surely kill you rather than give you any chance to talk if you ever fled from him and lost his protection.

Divorce would never be an option for you. It truly would be until death do you part.

——————————

You rolled over, and something about even being able to do that much was enough to finally wake you again. Because you weren’t trapped under him anymore.

Raising your head, you looked around, groggy and concern quickly growing on your face. Because you didn’t see him anywhere.

And as you’d experienced before, not seeing him was always worse to you. Because then you didn’t know his current mood, or his intentions. You had no sense of the current danger.

Slowly you sat up, bedsheets falling away from your nude form.

The sun was fully in the room. It was obviously later in the day.

There was a tray beside the bed. The same one that dinner had been served on last night. But all that was now gone. 

A new plate was there. It looked like toasted bread. But with crushed tomatoes over it. Some had already been eaten, but there was plenty left.

You rose up carefully, peering into the drink pitcher beside it. Some kind of brightly colored juice was in the pitcher.

It should have been laughable of how cautious you really still were.

How afraid you were to do something as simple as eat when behind enemy lines like this. Pirates had prepared this food. They had readied this drink you had to remind yourself.

But only then did you notice a piece of paper, laid flat with its corner hanging out from under the pitcher on that silver food tray.

And when you slid that paper out, your very first reaction was to immediately be taken aback by the immaculate penmanship.

The only time you’d seen something like this was on decrees direct from Mariejois. It made the hurried writing you were more accustomed to in documented naval transmissions look like something you all had written with your feet by comparison.

Like this was a page fallen out of a book. But it wasn’t as you finally started to read it.

“I must have kept you up last night. That’s what happens when you let me drink too much, Captain. I considered leaving a string man to keep you company, but it would have been too boring just to watch you sleep.

We’ll be in Dressrosa by this afternoon. Clean yourself up and be presentable. Use my snail on the end table to summon anything you may need from the servants. I have work obligations. I wouldn’t recommend wandering the ship alone however. I wouldn’t want you to get your hands dirty again. My travel crew doesn’t have the best manners after all. I’ll come back to you when we’re nearer port.

-D.D.”

And you held that paper for a while afterward, just entranced in the sheer novelty of it. He had truly beautiful handwriting, and he’d taken the time to write it for you.

It was the stupidest thing you’d likely ever felt. But you realized no man had ever written you a personal note for any reason.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” You said to no one but the sleeping snails. And then you did grab one of those pieces of bread off the food tray and took a bite of it in test. 

And it was delicious. Because of course it was. With olive oil and garlic mixed in with some other seasonings you were too uncultured to identify in those crushed tomatoes smeared across it.

With the bread in one hand, you folded that note from Doflamingo gently with your other. 

For some reason you didn’t want to get any food on it. And you didn’t want to throw it away either.

Just like him, it was insidious in how you kept thinking about it now. How you wanted to keep it.

How much you liked it.

——————————

The hours ran by so quickly. Just like he knew they would. He’d been on the phone with nobility from other kingdoms, with Cipher Pol agents, with pirate captains, and warmongers of all kinds. All his customers itching for their next arms, drugs, or random pick of any other contraband shipments that they’d been requesting which his networks were currently brokering for them.

It’d been interesting which clients dared to mention anything about the newspaper articles as well. Not all would, with his Joker identity and his public status as a warlord and king existing as two wholly separate things.

But of course there was one particular call that had everything to do with you. 

Doflamingo had had his feet up on his desk by then, one ankle crossed over the other as he waited while it rang.

That cackling scientist knew better than to ignore a call from him. No matter what he may be working on with Vegapunk currently.

The transponder snail did connect at last. But the voice on the other end sounded far quieter than normal.

“J-Joker?” Came the question.

“Of course.” Doflamingo answered, but asking immediately. “Are you alone?”

“Alone enough. In a supply closet actually…” was the ridiculous answer. 

A response the warlord knew was likely not at all a joke. What an idiot this was. But an extremely useful one. “Well, Caesar, I need to commission you for what should be something far more simple this time. Something I need immediately.”

Tight timelines were nothing new. The majority of the current drugs and war worthy poisons that Doflamingo sold all linked back to this growing business relationship with Caesar Clown. 

Caesar and his constant need to prove himself superior to his official government boss, Dr. Vegapunk by any means necessary. Caesar also with his perfect combination of immorality, greed, and spinelessness to be used so well by a man like Doflamingo. 

“Yes, of course, Joker.” The near salivation of what kind of new payday this would mean for him was all too evident.

The gas logia user loved his new patron’s very deep pockets. And Doflamingo was certainly willing to provide, given that the results remained what he fully wanted of course.

“I need a new drug. This won’t be a mass product though. This is going to be for personal use alone.”

There was a noise of interest at that of course. They all knew Doflamingo didn’t normally use his own supply of anything. Normally being the key word however. There were always exceptions.

And he just outright said it now. Because once the Heavenly Demon had made up his mind on something, it’s not like he’d have any further hesitation. “I’m in the market for a family actually. I assume you saw the papers.”

Silence hung for a moment. The cogs spinning no doubt. “Shurororo...” Came the odd, and bit nervous laugh. “I did, and that was a surprise. So bold of you, going after an enlisted woman…the marines must be scrambling.”

“They can waste their time all they want. It’s real.” Doflamingo said decisively. “I’m keeping her. But she may not be fully on the same page with all of that yet. But you know me…results are king. And I want to get down to business. I want a child with her. But I need a way around that standard marine issue contraceptive. I want to override it.”

“Oh my.” Caesar was truly caught off guard, but not for the underhandedness of course. The snail had an outright wicked smile then from the scientist. One that could have rivaled one of Doflamingo’s own. “Has baby fever struck in that oppressively hot country of yours? Though, all dynasties must start somewhere I suppose. So you’ll be wanting at least an heir and a spare then?”

“Just one to start.” Doflamingo corrected, though beginning to grin a bit himself. “Quality over quantity.”

“Of course.” Caesar quickly agreed in that overly subservient way of his, but clearly still so interested. His own sadistic nature was likely highly delighted in it all. “How much modification though? I’m sure you’re aware of the kind of things I’m capable of improving on. Vinsmoke was hardly the only one at the pinnacle of that foray into eugenics. I could design circles around that fool.”

And here was the thing Doflamingo knew he had to be firm on. “Vinsmoke’s wife also ended up dead and his children little more than machines. My blood won’t be wasted in such a bland result. Nor does it need such improvement.” His voice did darken too, letting his seriousness on this point be most known. “No permanent damage to the woman either. If there was, your own death would be something I’d make you pray for, Caesar.”

It was a bit more complicated than just being able to do a clean execution of this scientist if it came down to it of course. Because they had other projects in the works that absolutely needed Caesar. The one still pending with Kaidou chief among them. But there were some things worse than death, and everyone knew Doflamingo could absolutely deliver on a threat like that if pressed.

And Caesar did stutter a little at that. The message was clearly understood. “Y-Yes, Joker. A low risk pregnancy then, of course. But might I recommend at least a little added insurance against common toxins, and a bit of extra hardiness at least?” Poisons being one of Caesar’s specialties of course. “Assuming she will be the last to know of her, ah…condition. Smoking, drinking, all those fun things you know would probably not be well advised, could have countermeasures put in place. And marines do brawl a bit at times, don’t they?”

“Fair point.” He did want you to be the last to possibly know. Because as strong willed as you  were, he had the real concern that you’d try to sabotage things yourself once aware. He couldn’t say for sure, but it was possible. “Is that doable? Just enough to make sure it thrives even if the host decides to disagree?” Doflamingo asked genuinely.

“Oh, very much.” And at that Caesar recounted the specifications as if they were talking about nothing more questionable than a grocery list. “So you aren’t interested in twins or any multiples, just the facilitation of a single ovum being released. And the only modification being what would be required for healthy development in a possible unideal environment…if the mother is still out bar hopping and roughhousing or whatever I imagine marines must all do.”

“She roughhouses enough with me, yes.” Doflamingo conceded with another smile. “But she’s no delicate flower. We both get rather hands on, and into the drink together.”

And Caesar chuckled again. “Shurororo…I can make that work. It’s just canceling out the hormones of the contraceptive and then adding in a few other factors for those modifications…and different hormones to force ovulation too as it sounds like you’re in quite a hurry. Otherwise it’d be a small window each month naturally. I can make a fixed window instead so you know exactly when the timing is right.”

“And no permanent side effects.” Doflamingo reminded. “Or you know what will happen to you.”

“Yes, Joker.” He could hear Caesar swallow even over the snail. “I’m so much better than Vinsmoke though. No need for concern, really. It would likely be nothing more than fatigue and cramping. No worse than their monthly cycles.”

“Then do it. Put it in something clear and tasteless. I’ll have your normal development and rush fees wired over to you by tonight. I want it delivered directly to me.”

——————————

There was no knock on the door. No warning at all as it just swung open. Which of course, it was his cabin. 

But that didn’t mean you didn’t startle all the same. For someone so large not to be heard coming down the hallway, that was bothersome.

That pink mass of feathers moved into the room as the door shut behind him.

Doflamingo stared at you for a moment, or you assumed that he was. It was hard to tell with the sunglasses back over his eyes before he smirked.

“Not a bad sight to have waiting on my bed after a long day.” He murmured, approaching you where you now sat fully dressed on the edge of his mattress.

And he crouched before you could reply to him. Squatted in front of you suddenly when he leaned in for a kiss.

It was a bit rough as his lips met yours, but nothing extreme this time as he smiled afterward, faces still almost touching as his tongue dipped out briefly.

He looked more than satisfied.

“You probably felt us turning, Dressrosa’s on the horizon already. We’re heading for the south port in Acacia.” 

“Alright.” You said plainly. It wasn’t as if there was anything else you could do. You’d cleaned up, dressed, even put makeup on to cover the bruising.

“Let’s change the bandage again.” He said though. “How long are you going to be able to walk for?”

And at least this process you’d done more than once now as you offered him your thigh. “Won’t really know until I try. But you are not carrying me in front of any cameras.”

He actually feigned a bit of a scowl there. Far less intense than his real ones as he started undoing the string wrap again from around your leg. The cords obeyed him so completely, white and soft as it unravelled to the floor. “Oh, but you’re forgetting where you are now, dear. I’m the king of the literal country of love and passion. It’d look very chivalrous on tomorrow’s front page wouldn’t it?”

“It’d make me look weak.” You gave him a real look of distaste in return.

“Then at least damn take something for the pain you stubborn brat.” But he was smirking then. Too happy in this moment finally being here you were sure. He’d brought you home with him at last.

All the advantage was now his as well. You were about to be in his country, with his crew, among his everything. You would have no power here save for whatever his extremely limited mercy allowed and you both knew it.

“I’m not drugging myself up on painkillers when I’m about to be in the same room as Trebol and Diamante.” You said with added certainty there.

Doflamingo’s hands did pause at that in the midst of rewrapping your wounded thigh as he asked, “Why?”

“Why?” And you did look at him there like he had two heads. “You know why!”

Somehow it had always been them. The only Donquixote officers that could ever get close enough to you. Trebol and his stupid snot that you’d gotten your legs caught in before. And Diamante with weapons that rained down like confetti, cutting you through even your haki as he’d grabbed you with his bare hands more than once.

Diamante had been the one that had scared you the most though. Because by all rights he’d really had you that one time. Before your coat had torn at the last moment. Somehow you had slipped right out of it and run for all you were worth, bleeding and with a badly dislocated arm all the way back to Tsuru.

You couldn’t have been more than sixteen then and it had thoroughly shaken you. Even for all the abuse you’d known as a child. All the aggression and beatings you’d had before when you hadn’t submitted like your mother’s bosses had wanted you to. None of that was the same as Diamante had been with you then.

Because you’d seen it in his eyes and felt it in the horrible things he’d said to you as his hands had gone places they should not have. 

Your first real brush with that level of opponent, both in physical strength and his ability to truly get within your head.

Maybe it was idiotic to still be holding onto that, considering the far worse things the man right here in front of you had done since.

But it was still different. Somehow it was. Bleeding, being grabbed and touched by Diamante with your arm almost twisted out of its socket at only sixteen. Versus being jaded and angry, several years older and stronger with a sexual appetite of your own by the time Doflamingo had first pushed himself between your legs in Mariejois.

It wasn’t the same in your mind, right or wrong as Doflamingo still watched you, as he did finish the new bandage.

“You’re still afraid of them?” He asked simply. And you really couldn’t read him well at all then, in his body language or tone.

You looked away from those red sunglasses before you could help it though. Dammit, this was not the right time for this, not minutes before your supposed public debut in Dressrosa.

“You wouldn’t understand.” You replied.

“Try me.” He said as his hands went onto your knees. 

He was still squatted in front of you.

And he must have seen some look on your face, something different there that he wouldn’t let go of.

But you still couldn’t say it. Just like you’d never told anyone the full extent of what Doflamingo had done to you in Mariejois or on Sabaody.

And at last you saw real irritation cut across his expression when he got tired of waiting. “I’m not asking you twice.” His grip on your knees tightened as he spread them a little. Just enough to move his torso between them.

You took a breath, fear edging you back to the present and to him. Fine, you’d just goddamn say it then.

And those words did come running out, just everything at once. It was either all or nothing it seemed when it came to admissions like this. 

“I don’t even remember what town it was. But Trebol got a hold of my feet with that mucus to slow me down. I should never have tried to take them both on by myself. I knew better, but you know how fast things can go sideways in the field. They had me alone and then my boots were in that snot, and I was trying to get out and Diamante was fucking right on top of me. He was hitting me with so much I couldn’t keep my haki up. So I was bleeding and they were trying to get into my head. Saying I was just a whore and laughing to each other about if I was a virgin or not…and then Diamante said he’d check.”

You heard a sound in Doflamingo’s throat. And you quieted as his face abruptly touched against yours. But he didn’t kiss you. His hands which had been squeezing your knees now relaxed as he began to stroke your thighs.

And you didn’t know what reaction you’d expected from him. But this was not it as you’d let Doflamingo lean further into you.

“How much did Diamante touch you?” Came the next quiet, but equally firm question.

Which you did make yourself answer once more. Because you didn’t want him to turn on you again. And even as humiliating as this all was, you tried to stay only with the facts, not the dark emotions they inspired.

“It was one hand under my skirt, a finger between my legs. And one hand in my shirt, under my bra. But I twisted away from him. Then he grabbed and dislocated my arm at the shoulder and my coat tore. Somehow I came right out of that coat. I broke out of the mucus with the last haki I could make, and I ran away from the both of them. I escaped.”

“Did he push that finger inside of you?” Doflamingo asked so specifically then. Almost as if this was what was truly important in it all to him. 

And you felt your stomach turn, disgusting as it was. You did not like acknowledging any of it, but you still answered with the warlord’s face nuzzled oddly into yours all the while.

“No. His finger was just feeling me on the outside. He was about to I guess. Before I pulled away.”

And maybe there was the slightest hint of relief in the way Doflamingo’s back muscles relaxed at that revelation. But even that still wasn’t enough. As he did have another very personal question for you.

“How old were you really when you lost your virginity then?”

And fuck, why did it even matter at this point? But maybe this was his way of striking when the iron was already hot so to speak. He had you vulnerable enough right now to tell him the truth, and he never missed an opportunity did he?

“Eighteen.” You said simply.

“Consensual?” 

“Yes.”

He pulled back slightly, and you felt that stare on you again. There was no smile at all. “It was Kuzan…wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” And you felt your face muscles tighten once more. You knew how insanely jealous Doflamingo could be. So that nervousness peaked within you all over again. You didn’t want to fight.

But his anger didn’t come. At least not in the way you would have expected. You saw his own face shift strangely as a smile formed instead. But it wasn’t like his normal ones at all.

“Well, I was only fifteen when I lost mine.” He said from nowhere as your eyes widened. “And it absolutely was not consensual.” 

But at least a little like you then, it was like those words couldn’t stop once he’d let them out. Even as his smile began to grow. That expression contrasted the brief strain in his voice.

“It was a fucking powerhouse of a man. He could have just snapped my neck then and there with one hand. But I’d killed his whole crew to take his territory from him. So he was going to make me pay in spades of course. I’d never had sea prism cuffs on before or since. I didn’t know how to fight very well then. And certainly not with my devil fruit taken away once he got those cuffs on me. Even my haki was nothing to him then, he was just that angry. I’ll never forget…the smell of that. The sweat and the hate, getting fucked, bent over a crate in some sweltering warehouse. And you know who pulled him off of me and beat him to goddamn death right then and there for all of his trouble?”

And Doflamingo actually laughed, loud and long then, as if that was the far better part of that violent memory.

But the horror in your own face couldn’t be matched, not at all as you already knew what he was going to say next before the names came out of his mouth.

“Trebol and Diamante.” He grinned, his sunglasses still blocking his eyes from you. Not showing his true self in any of this. “They heard it and they found us before anyone else.” 

And you were blinking back tears by then, something he surely saw in your own eyes as he did kiss you suddenly again to stop it.

But had he told you this as his own way of showing you weren’t alone in the things you’d experienced against your will? Or was it just to prove the complicated nature of the monsters he surrounded himself with? Your attackers were his rescuers.

Or…could even something as devastating as that be a memory he would willfully use to garner your sympathy? As another manipulation to make you pity him? Surely not…

And yet he was grinning fully once he broke that kiss with you again, watching you like your reaction was so much more important than his in all of this.

And your heart was torn, finding these stories all still the seeds of nightmares, no matter the motivation. And you didn’t want to let go of him either. Not at all as you again remembered that cowering response he’d shown you if only for that moment the other day as well.

You knew he couldn’t have faked that, not the reflex from when you’d hit him. And all the movements last night as those nightmares had torn through him when he was drunk.

That wasn’t fake either.

That was wholly real.

And yet Doflamingo did so easily unto others what had once been done to him, didn’t he? It didn’t change what he was at all. He’d held you down and forced his cock into you more than once now. Even when you cried, even if you screamed.

He was still so unpredictable. Even as he was starting to show you all the roots from which this evil had grown from.

He stole another long kiss from you though, as if he knew. As if he knew you were overthinking what he didn’t want you to and his hand moved up to stroke the side of your face before he finally pulled back away.

“My crew won’t hurt you again. That’s all you need to know. And I’m ordering you to report it to me if they do. Because nothing happens in Dressrosa without my permission. Understood?”

“Yes.” You said so simply. Yet inhaling though, fighting to draw those emotions back in regardless.

He didn’t seem rattled at all either now in comparison to you, as he finally stood and offered you his hand. “But let’s go. Everyone’s going to want to meet you. This is a big day for the future of our monarchy after all.”

—————————

And you had shaken that pain away as much as you could. You both falling back into your public personas. Everything was a careful production in times like this, that was certain as the two of you had released the grip on each other’s hands just before exiting up the stairs and onto the deck.

He let you walk yourself then. At least seeming to be in agreement there that neither of you wanted to portray you as overly weak or too injured in the public eye. 

And of course his crew had already been lined up and ready, all staring at you as if you were still some mysterious creature who clearly did not belong amongst them.

You could only imagine the rumors rolling through the ship. Being that you’d never left their captain’s cabin a single time while at sea. And all the bloody sheets the servants had had to find and launder.

But you ignored their looks now. Your attention fully going to your first views of what would be your new home for an indefinite future.

The island nation of Dressrosa.

Mooring ropes were being cast out to the dock workers below as the large ship began the process of lining up against it.

You couldn’t see much yet though. Just as you’d heard, Dressrosa was difficult to appreciate from a distance.

A circular island fully surrounded by a massive cliff face of light brown, almost yellowish rock which now towered above the ship. Only the smallest slit had been cut into this natural fortress to accommodate the port entrance. Such a narrow view as you tried to look at the multicolored rooftops you could see just a hint of in that distance beyond.

Of course, the other thing that could not be ignored was the crowd which had gathered, fully awaiting the unloading of Doflamingo’s ship.

And he was back behind you then, just as you’d noticed the flashes of cameras in the distance. 

“Welcome home, love.” That dark voice whispered near your ear once more as he’d bent briefly down. “Just follow my lead once we’re on the ground. They’re very excited today…so keep your head up and stay moving. We’re heading straight for the palace.”

——————————

There was that briefest bit of nostalgia for Doflamingo as his foot soldiers kept the walkway open, parting the crowd for the two of you when you’d first set foot onto these public docks.

It wasn’t so long ago after all when these very same peasants had been shouting his name alone in adulation for their new king. 

But now they wanted to know firsthand if all the reports and speculation of his new interest were true.

In this, the kingdom of love and passion, its citizens were falling over themselves to get their first real looks at you. The woman who their most eligible bachelor and king had now expressed a public fondness for.

But as the king’s plateau and his palace atop it would soon be coming into view, he shifted on his feet, just enough to bump you with his hip as you both still walked. 

The abrupt touch did have you looking up at him reflexively. Just like he wanted you to of course as he smiled down at you and another camera flashed.

That was going to be a good picture.

But over the shouts of those reporters and the crowd, they weren’t going to hear what he said to you either. 

“You only get to see your new kingdom for the first time, one time, darling. Are you paying attention?”

——————————

And of course you were. But there were so many other stimuli to consider too. You knew even now you were the marines’ sole representation on this island. So you tried to stay professional, walking without a limp in your uniform despite the pain. And not too entranced in any new sight or bothered by all the attention.

The thing you were finding most distracting though were these little things jumping around near everyone’s legs.

You knew what they were, but you’d never seen them in person. Especially when some small metal dog ran out nearly underfoot. Barking artificially with its metallic shine of purple polka dots before a girl grabbed it up to reclaim it, giggling bashfully at you all the while.

The living toys of Dressrosa is what they were, seemingly ubiquitous in their dispersal throughout the crowd. Each and every toy that you’d noticed was unique as well. Oddly cute in their own ways, but still strange as they begged for recognition from their human masters.

You didn’t know if they were fully mechanical, or perhaps it was something more akin to the homies of Totto Land in Big Mom’s territory? If they contained even a piece of someone’s soul that would be far more disconcerting to you. As far as whose piece it was and if there had been full consent to make them. 

Either way, it was certainly strange and something you’d be wanting to learn more about in the future. But everything would be similar in that regard right now. All new and your mind not really knowing where to start before that massive landmass and Doflamingo’s main residence itself were then above you. 

—————————

“My officers are waiting for us in the Hall of Suits. I called them earlier to know when to expect us.” He’d spoken to you again as the lift doors had closed to bring you both up through the king’s plateau via the elevator. To him, it was a novelty to have to enter his own palace through the street level like this.

Normally he’d be coming either from the hidden underground port late at night, or just through one of the windows straight into his office or bedroom at the top levels if he really had been out in the city or beyond alone for some reason.

Which he’d absolutely be bringing you out there for a private tour of the island at some point. At least the public portions of it anyway. Secrets would have to come later. He knew you were too intelligent to be kept in the dark for very long. But he needed far more safeguards in place before you could learn too much.

Those real reasons he and Dressrosa both had become so much wealthier just in the two years he’d now run things here. The revelations would come in time. But when they did, he’d already promised himself that you’d have a ring on your finger and a baby in your arms. Because then you’d have no way to leave him without losing your life or the child’s. He’d make any other options of true escape impossible for you.

That was the primary reason for his urgency on that call with Caesar today. Because he did hear that clock ticking in his head. Tsuru would be coming soon. So every potential weapon he had, had to be used and it had to be now. He wasn’t going to come this far just to lose you so soon.

And it truly should be unholy, how easily he was still able to offer you a warmer smile even as these thoughts rattled in his head.

You had looked up at him then, and the need for closeness overcame him as he took your hand again. The reporters had been left outside. It was only his foot soldiers in the lift with you to witness that sudden affection.

Them staring in result of it too as the doors opened again and he walked you into the main palace entryway for the very first time, his hand tight around yours.

He liked the feel of it so much. Just like in Scylla as the two of you had walked those streets together. Your hand absolutely disappeared within his, but that warmth did not.

The sense of ownership so comforting to him along with it as he pulled you lightly, leaving the foot soldiers to their duties elsewhere.

And at the last moment, he was feeling content enough to add a bit more fun to this too.

“We’ll take a shortcut through the courtyard.” He spoke to alert you, but without explaining why of course.

Because he knew exactly which type of his royal subjects would now be lazing about out there in the evening sun hoping for even a crumb of his attentions.

Unless he instructed otherwise, every morning the palace gates would be opened for them. Of course there were rules, attire that was required for admission for instance.

Always, it was the smaller those bits of bikini fabric, the better as he’d then led you out under the archway and their giggling voices erupted immediately at first sight of him.

“Your highness! Welcome home!” 

And oh they were in full form today. More lithe bodies splashing about and sprawled in all the reclined chairs by his pool than was even customary. But he knew they would be. They had wanted to see you, their new competition after all. They wanted to judge for themselves how serious he was in all of this.

Even he wasn’t narcissistic enough to hope for much response from you however. Not immediately anyway. You just weren’t that easy to fluster in public when in uniform, with some exceptions of course.

But he would absolutely enjoy waiting to see if you carved out your own territory and put these girls in their place in the long run. They meant nothing to him of course, just time wasters to warm his cock in. And surely they all knew that too. But money talked, and he’d compensate them nicely when they performed well enough. They also heavily enjoyed whatever brief clout came from being his flavor of the week of course.

“Good evening, ladies. It’s good to be back.” Doflamingo did finally respond, letting those women hang on his every word as he tried to watch your reaction out of the corner of his eye regardless.

And you were watching them at least, not looking too impressed as he squeezed your hand a little harder.

“Perhaps we’ll be back outside tomorrow. I need to show the captain around the palace of course, but it’s been a long day already.”

Rarely would he have initiated conversation with them to this degree either, especially when just passing through.

But it was all for fun right now as he did see those pouty faces of theirs in response.

“Oh well, maybe tomorrow then! If she doesn’t have a bathing suit, she can borrow one of ours!” And they were giggling again. That mix of false politeness and challenge all at once.

You rolled your eyes, and that show at last of even the briefest negative emotion from you did make him laugh.

“We’ll see. I may have her too busy for all that.” And that was said in his deeper register. Enough so that that look on your face became more of a glare directed up at him as he grinned in return.

You didn’t like being hinted at as just his newest conquest either did you? But of course you were more than that. He just couldn’t help but be a bit catty too when there was so much of it going around at the moment.

He was tempted to grab your ass on the way out of the courtyard too. Enough that they would see it. But it wasn’t worth a full fight with you in this moment. Not when he knew you were about to be stressed enough as he brought you back inside and down that next corridor to the Hall of Suits.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

End Notes: As always, thank you so very much for reading! My Doflamingo fixation compelled me to write Chapter 1 of this fic initially as a smutty one shot after almost three years of my not writing anything. I just had to get it out of my system. And to my shock, a few people actually enjoyed it! So, loving the One Piece fandom as I have been, I kept going wanting to contribute the little bit that I could to the larger OP fan-fiction sphere in the name of this pink bastard.

Now that this has become a multi chapter story (rare for me even when I did use to write more back in the day), there’s concepts I want to touch on that I feel I couldn’t do otherwise in a one shot. And for those that have read this from the very first chapter until now, I wanted to give you that preview. So that you can decide if this is still where you want to follow.

The main thing I have been waffling on is whether or not Doflamingo gets his way on baby trapping reader. It’s like pandora’s box for me as I keep going back to it, picking it up, and then putting it back down. But in the end, I’ve decided to open the box. Because I, personally, have to know. I want to see which Doflamingo we get when he’s actually a biological father since he’s so weird about his bloodline anyway. And I feel it would have to be by choice like this. Because he’s too smart to let that happen by accident. So I can’t do it without all the setup that we now have. 

Also, I want to see how this will affect Law. Because it absolutely will. When a truly innocent child is now thrown into the works (Law grew up with Buffalo, Baby 5, and Dellinger and knows they’re already as screwed up as he used to be). But also since this kid will be the next Corazon in title. So to carry that name, that innocence, and likely a strong family resemblance to their late uncle…it would be a mind trip for Law. Would he be determined to save them from their father’s influence in the same way that Cora saved him? Or would he still only be worried about his own revenge?

That being said, Doflamingo will definitely suffer for this underhanded bullshit he’s about to pull on reader. Karma is coming. I promise. He’s going to be put through it emotionally. Charybdis that started it all in Chapter 1 is going to be an island that will return to hurt them both. I’m also not done with Aokiji or Crocodile in this. They are diehard DoflamingoxReader antis. Aokiji because he truly cares about reader, and Crocodile because he’s watching a repeat of his own past trauma at Doflamingo’s hands and just does not want that shitbird to win yet again.

So we’ll see what happens. Nothing is set in stone as I do write in a very improv heavy style of letting the characters take it where it will go. But that’s what I can say for now. Thank you, thank you, thank you again! 😭

-Moonbaby26

[batsplat]

there is that adorable pic of a 13 year old pecco and marc, hugging him by the shoulders. pecco hadn’t become a rossi protege yet, marc recently won his title in 125, they are both so so young. like, of course pecco is going to think a senior (albeit as famous as marc was at the time) is cool and worthy of “celebrity” picture! of course marc is going to take photos with kids that ask him to!

and then they meet at the rossi ranch years later, pecco after an abysmal rookie moto3 season, but part of vr46 academy, marc as a multiple world champion in different categories. like, i’m sure they’ve crossed paths in the paddock, but it looks like the ranch was their first outside of work get-together?

i do wonder at what point did pecco stop seeing marc as this admirable motogp giant? they are co-workers/competitors now, supposedly equals. does the childish wonderment and idealization ever go away, when you are put head-to-head? yes, pecco has said that he doesn’t consider himself on marc’s level, but it does really answer the question, when marc achieves something awesome, like a fucking pole on a honda, does it fill pecco only with the sense of falling short, jealousy, frustration, or is there that tiny 13 year old pecco somewhere inside going “wow, this guy is awesome”

anon... first of all this ask is right up my street. second of all, yeah no the thirteen year old never entirely went away

to some extent obviously all riders kinda do this when they end up competing with the guys they grew up admiring. (or well in modern motogp, that's how it worked out - the competitive windows do have to be big enough, yeah? I'm not sure about the nineties premier class riders, but starting from valentino who had the biaggi poster, was a capirossi fan, an norick fan... but then also didn't get to compete directly with doohan for instance and was instead just mentored by him. valentino sticking around for so long basically Breaks this.) like I was talking in this ask about the dani/marc relationship and how when we talk about dani being marc's 'reference', it does mean something slightly different than the valentino hero idealisation. basically, it's the question of whether you think you're gonna fight that guy one day, if all goes well... because if you're little pecco, right, you're looking up to marc and want to be him, but you also want to beat him (if little pecco is feeling very brave). so marc fills the role of 'reference', the bloke who is basically always a few steps ahead of pecco - exaggerated by how precocious marc was. the role of 'hero' is of course again filled by valentino, though in this case pecco didn't actually have to meaningfully compete against his idol. the separation is a bit cleaner

and look, I doubt this ever really went as far as marc's admiration for dani. but yeah as you say: at the end of the day it's this cool superstar who is tearing up the lower categories and then is tearing up the premier class... like that's this prodigy... and then you get to be part of your actual hero's academy AND you're there when the prodigy gets invited to your hero's home!! not only is marc cool, not only is he winning everything, but also valentino clearly thinks he's fantastic... you kinda want valentino to think you are fantastic in the same way he talks about marc and looks at him... and pecco is like. seventeen at this point. great age. super impressionable. he's having a marginally better season than his absolute flop moto3 campaign but it's still!! rough! you know, so far away from this world that valentino and marc inhabit. obviously young athletes dream, obviously they have to be a bit delusional, obviously they have to believe they'll make it, but those are the kinds of harrowing years that really dent your actual belief. like god, the world of valentino and marc must have felt kinda unattainable back then...

anyway, obviously a year later marc became public enemy number one. personally, if I had to guess, I don't really think valentino has ever spoken much to his proteges about the details of the marc feud. it's the kind of thing where you maybe occasionally badmouth a guy you all hate when the kids are in the room, some dismissive comment or some slightly ugly sideswipe... but valentino did probably prefer to keep his mentees out of the whole thing and isn't giving them particularly detailed hot takes on sepang 2015. I mean, look at what luca said last year

hey, he could be lying, but is he really the type? "I'm sure he's still angry" - even that doesn't sound like he knows anything particularly specific about where his brother's at these days. if valentino hasn't spoken much about sepang 2015 with his own flesh and blood, then is he really giving long debriefs to marco bezzecchi? are you sure? of course, unlike luca, pecco does have the dubious distinction of actually being at sepang 2015, so there's always the chance he was in the room when some nasty things were being said about marc... but my sense is that all the academy riders have kind of been left to their own devices when making up their minds about the marc/valentino relationship. just probably a bit of a no-go topic on most days. and while pecco may have initially been completely on board with the marc hate, over the years his stance has mellowed to the brave and bold position of 'actually, I have other stuff to worry about'. like, this is why you don't get this weird bez-style all-over-the-place behaviour from pecco - fundamentally, he is far too sensible and far too interested in his own career to be going around seeking revenge on the behalf of his mentor. it's not like valentino really seems to expect him to either. sometimes the best thing you can do is simply try not to care that much

soooooo fundamentally you get to this place where for quite a few years, pecco really isn't thinking about marc too often I reckon... it's very much background noise - even when he's gotten to motogp, he's obviously not exactly fighting with marc from the word go. he has other stuff to worry about! then marc is gone for a bit! 2021 is kinda weird because pecco never really felt in that championship fight (I mean, maybe he thought he was idk) because he only really got going late in the season, and marc definitely wasn't in that title fight... BUT pecco got his first ever motogp win as a result of a proper great defensive ride against marc at aragon! seven overtakes and re-overtakes in the last few laps! truly some proper smart riding, anticipating where marc was going to attack and figuring out how to get him back every time. and of course, that's like... got to be one of the coolest ways possible you can get your first win? beating one of the all time greats (even if a physically impaired one) in a direct extensive duel? genuinely looking at the current grid, I'd struggle to come up with a cooler maiden win... oh I suppose zarco last year would actually be a decent shout. one of those two imo! anyway what an ego boost that must be

typed out the response to this ask on wednesday and let it *vaguely gestures* simmer a bit, but actually thursday they had pecco on that motogp podcast thingy and talked him through basically his whole career. which is one of those cases of 'not necessarily anything new, but always interesting to hear how the bloke himself puts it', and anyway it does also cover a lot of the stuff referenced in this post, would recommend. I did want to quickly bring it up because pecco does talk about aragon 2021 in that (at around 23 mins in):

Q: And the amount of pressure, for everyone who doesn't remember - it was Aragon '21, vs Marc Marquez, anti-clockwise track, everyone's expecting a certain person to win. [...] Seven times, he passes you in the last three laps, and every time you have to find something, for your first win - A: Not bad, yeah? Q: How was that feeling crossing the line, because it's your first win but it's also the last three laps of craziness that you've come through? A: Yeah, I remember that... we were prepared to fight for this victory because we work at it a lot and we were finally prepared and as soon as started the weekend I was feeling great. Marc was very strong, Fabio was very strong also... We started to race and I did the pole position and then we started to race and Marc was like always super super fast in Aragon because it's a left hander track, he's very strong in Aragon, it's his home grand prix, so... I was trying the maximum and I was there fighting with him and for me was fantastic because I was very strong in a very complicated track for me. The first - was not the first possibility to win but was one of the first and we were fighting with the maximum with the top [player?] so defeating him in Aragon was fantastic and I never could have asked more for my first victory for sure. Because some win their first victory with gap or with some luck, we fight. [...] Yeah, was fantastic.

like I said. it's a really cool win! pecco knows it's a cool win! he knows it's a cool win because it's marc! even two premier class title pecco still feels deeply aware of how special that was

*reaches up to scratch at ear in slightly self-conscious manner when saying "not bad" about beating the eight times world champion*

because it does mean something extra to beat marc, right? and that's also what this represents to pecco, as an opportunity... obviously on balance he'd very much want marc to not be in his team, because he's not an idiot and he's aware it's going to be a bit of a nightmare. that being said! of course, would there be anything cooler than for him than actually beating marc in the same team... I don't want to sound like a broken record on this topic but just to reiterate, none of the titles won post-2019 are in any way diminished by marc's absence - and fundamentally pecco must know he's a deserving champion, even if he still considers himself on a different level from valentino and marc. but of course it would mean something special to beat him! it's already meant something special to beat him in individual races! it'd mean something special if he beats him this year, older bike be damned! and it'd mean something special next year. pecco is deeply wary of marc, and rightly so, but don't take that to mean he isn't up for the fight. he always has been

weirdly enough, I do actually think being valentino's protege might help him be sensible about marc. because the thing is pecco has clearly put some thought into all of this at some point and had to decide for himself... or well, to make peace with the fact that he is not going to be the next valentino rossi - and that he doesn't really want to be. it's kinda the casey versus jorge distinction: you can be a valentino fan and admire everything he's done on-track but still very much know that valentino the persona isn't something you really want to attempt to emulate because it just isn't you, or you can hunger after attaining that kind of 'character' and popularity for yourself and find yourself disillusioned when things turn out differently. pecco's in the casey camp, minus the desire to shove valentino off the nearest cliff edge. like he says:

man wants a quiet life when he's not doing the death sport. and, y'know, marc might not have quite those stratospheric levels of popularity as valentino does... but it's fairly obvious pecco links them in his mind, which is not just about talent. they're both Characters, they're both figureheads in the sport, they're both larger than life. and maybe sometimes, deep down, someone like pecco might wish that kind of thing did come naturally to him... but if he has felt that way, then he's already kinda had to work through all that. he's valentino's successor! he's the next big italian motogp star! but he's never going to be valentino. and he wouldn't want that life, it wouldn't make him happy - and probably he looks at marc with all his drama and controversy and thinks he wouldn't really want all that either. pecco's given all of this a lot of thought, and he's still probably a bit too self-conscious and a bit too aware of all of this stuff for his own good, but that does also mean he knows his own head and where he's at when it comes to his own status in the sport. both when it comes to the character and when it comes to the talent. sure, having marc's fuck you talent would be nice, everyone would want that... but also if you're a two time premier champion, at a certain point you need a certain cockiness about your own abilities. he's spoken about how he needs a more well-settled bike than casey or marc, how he can't out-perform the bike like they can - there clearly is a lot of admiration there, still the sense of respect and awe you probably can't ever quite shake. pecco won't ever be one of those aliens. but he's had enough time to establish himself in the sport before he's had to deal with the marc threat in a more active way, has had the chance to find his place without worrying too much about marc - has been able to build up his own confidence. at the same time, pecco is still very obviously aware of just who marc is and the weight of that legacy and it shapes how he approaches fighting marc. it's pecco's admiration vying with his arrogance - and he has to hope the latter wins out. you can't be fearful of the legacy of those you're trying to beat. you have to kill your heroes, even if it's a strange flavour of hero

anyhow - one big way in which valentino does loom large here is that everyone else is aware of his rivalry with marc and how it is crucial Historical Context for the pecco/marc stuff. because pecco does have that dog in him, he's fundamentally disinterested in fighting his idol's battles and is mainly just looking out for himself. a big part of the general wariness towards marc isn't even valentino-related antipathy or just respect for his abilities, but also this kind of sense of... god, this marc thing is always going to have extra implications, will there be discourse, can there please not be discourse... he doesn't want to get into this stuff, he doesn't want to be part of the sepang 2015 reenactment society. he's pretty determined to stay clear of marc-related controversy at every turn, and generally does do a good job of not letting the undoubtedly extremely annoying marc annoy him... the only time pecco had proper marc-induced head loss was mugello last year - y'know, that whole thing when he felt impeded by marc and then slowed down long enough to give marc the chance to warm up his tyres and catch a pecco tow to the front row. like that was just head gone, the kind of thing that happens when you already find someone deeply annoying and then you kinda choose the wrong moment to get mad at them. with a bit of distance pecco may well have regretted reacting that way, like you don't really want to give marc that kind of opening. he's been way more disciplined since then, but it still opened the door

fundamentally, the less time pecco spends obsessing over marc, the better for him. pecco obviously has to be very aware of marc and wary of him, but he also can't spent too much energy on admiring him or being irritated by him or anything else. (given that valentino's descriptions of the marc/pecco rivalry do seem to frame marc as a competitor who sounds an awful lot like valentino himself, ironically valentino is quite well-placed to offer the 'try to avoid letting the guy who gets off on annoying his rivals annoy you' advice.) it's always going to be tough, isn't it, competing against your heroes, figuring out how to disentangle those past emotions from how you actually approach fighting them, how to feel comfortable enough in your own skin to not be cowed by that status... you can't get to a place where you're so admiring or respectful or intimidated that you're already beaten before the competition even starts - and to his credit pecco has shown he is both willing to stand up to the famous marc marquez as well as capable of doing so. my guess is that for him, the childhood idolisation isn't primarily expressed in a 'wow he dragged the honda to pole!!' (not least when he was using pecco's teammate to directly deny pecco). sure, perhaps you do get those knee jerk reactions of admiring the sheer craft of your rival's riding, just have to do your best not to let it affect you. but for the most part it's... really wanting to beat marc. and sometimes feeling a teensy bit insecure about just how good marc is. and really wanting to beat him. he kinda has to be sensible and talk down in his brain how special this one guy is so he doesn't do anything silly, tell himself it's just any other guy... but it's still always going to be there, hovering in the background. and god does pecco really want to beat him