#who was intentionally kind to strangers

[vvitchy-succubus]

.

[weebsinstash]

Sitting here watching that clip of Valentino with that demon girl going "you're gorgeous! Do you need a job? 🥰" and started thinking of Val either intentionally or unintentionally making Reader feel massively insecure and ugly and Val using that to manipulate them

I've mentioned "oh what if your job is serving him drinks at his club" but what if he also starts dragging you along when he goes out like some kind of weird PA. Like he's just throwing random bills at you that he clearly isn't counting like it's pocket change in a very "yeah sure whatever just do it bitch" kind of way so you put up with it, it's good income, but it's still... WEIRD. He's going to get his antenna done at the salon, and you're like. Having to STAND THERE beside his chair, you're not even in the lobby waiting room, you've gotta be WITH HIM, and you just get all these windows into his cunty personality where he's spoiled and mean to service workers and is a total fucking diva and it's extremely off-putting I'm sure

He's in a night club hitting on people whose bodies are absolutely insane like I'm talking GYATT city, ass and titties, you've got twunks and you've got hunks, and you're like, in sneakers, off to the side, head down playing games on your phone since you can't even put earbuds in because you unfortunately have to keep an ear open since he'll order YOU to bring drinks, not just for him, but for these complete strangers who don't even work for him too, AND he'll let them be fucking mean to you. You bring some bubble butt twink who's on Val's arm the daiquiri he asked for and he gives you a very clear look up and down before laughing, cuddling up to Val, "yeah I can SEE you need new employees 😋" and they all laugh Including Fucking Valentino

I dunno, I'm on the fence. It really changes with the story. You get the yandere who are obsessive but more abusive-adjacent and then you have the more true-blooded kind that won't accept any slander of you at all. Like can you imagine Valentino's smile just dropping off his face because some chick like, tells you you have cellulite or even something MILD like your mascara is bad or idk what are, male insults.... you have a flat ass??? And Valentino just instantly shoves them away "okay you're done bye, let the door hit you on the way out 🤭"

But today we're talking about angst and feeling fucking miserable so. Over time it just, makes you feel so horrible about yourself to go to these nightclubs. It isn't even about fucking Valentino, it's about how you're sitting here watching everyone EXCEPT YOU receive all this fawning and compliments and attention, even if Val is faking some of it just to lure in more workers. You see a girl who has the perfect skin and you run fingers over an ice pick scar on your cheek, male reader sees a guy who's tall but muscular with nice facial hair and you feel your own baby face and smaller build, there are people thinner than you, curvier than you, stronger than you, smarter than you, and you watch all of them get called gorgeous and beautiful and handsome and sexy and you're just the fucking dweeb who gets teased, mocked, BULLIED

One night Valentino is sitting there talking to another girl, "oh my gosh, honey, I would TOTALLY do body shots off of you. Hey, can we get some shots over here? .... helllooooo, I SAID can we get some shots? ...bitch if you make me repeat myself again--" and he looks over and you're not even there. It's like ice. Suddenly without warning you're not there and he doesn't know what to do because you're ALWAYS there and whenever you're not it's because he LETS YOU leave??? Like??? He's immediately standing up even if it knocks away the people hanging off of him and he's looking around, "you BETTER be in the fucking bathroom--"

And over the crowd of people he sees you on the opposite end of the club, as if you were actively trying to put as much distance between you two as possible, and you're with a guy, some big furry monster boy, and you laugh with a big smile and Valentino GRINDS his teeth as he realizes it's been ages since you laughed around him, let alone at anything HE'S said, and you're actually drinking with this guy where you would always be way too stiff and cautious around Val (although he also really wouldn't let you drink anyways, being more of a waiter when you're 'on the clock')

Obsessed with the idea of Val making Reader carry around combs and brushes to comb his antenna/fur and Val sees you using them on another guy. like I think he'd go absolutely violently fucking crazy honestly because 1. Those are HIS and he is a bougie Gucci material man like those are high quality things being used on some RANDO 2. Those are for HIM, you're using them on someone ELSE 3. The person using them on someone else is YOU, YOU'RE brushing another man, YOU'RE cuddling another man like some kind of UNGRATEFUL WHORE--

When I say you suddenly look up and you're being GRABBED, HAULED UP to your feet by your arm, grip on you so tight it's ready to fucking bruise, and Val just shoots this guy in the head, like cartoonishly powerful gun just splatters the dudes head from what should have been just a single bullet hole I'm sure. You're like vaguely traumatized and trying to tell yourself the man will regenerate and be fine but now Valentino's got a gun in his hand and he's furious and you just start CRYING. He doesn't even CARE about the people he was flirting with anymore, if he has any employees in the club with him he doesn't even call out that it's time to go, he just starts DRAGGING YOU to the limo and will just LEAVE EVERYONE there because he's in such a rage, also, have you guys seen the posts where people point out there are moth squeaking effects when he speaks sometimes. So he's just fucking mad, voice cracking, shouting, squeaking, and i think it'd be funny if he spends like 15 minutes screaming about THE GUY while he has you like all but glued to his lap on the ride home and doesn't say a single thing about what you did. Just manic ranting on his phone as he HAS to call Vox, "oh my god you wouldn't FUCKING BELIEVE what this piece of shit did in front of me, the ugliest fucking guy I've ever seen was--" and you're like trembling wondering when he's going to pivot and realize like, you were also. Intentionally willingly sitting with that guy.

But he doesn't even like. Acknowledge it that way. He just keeps ranting about the guy touching something that doesn't belong to him, he's gotta replace all his fucking combs now, oh my GOD Vox like SERIOUSLY-- and then it's probably Vox that's like, with a disinterested voice, "sooooo.... WHICH whore did this happen to again???" And Valentino without hesitating just straight up says your name, "the nerdy one, you KNOW which one I'm talking about"

And that's when you just start to blubber cause you're tired and you're tipsy and you're mentally worn down, "oh OF COURSE I'm 'the nerdy one'!! You drag me all over the fucking place and I never get any time to myself and I have to WATCH everyone ELSE have fun, and when I finally find someone who calls ME cute, calls ME pretty, you fucking SHOOT HIM!" and you're just, face in your hands crying and you can't see it as Valentino GRINS like some fucking MONSTER because, "Aw, pobrecita, is that what this is about? You're lonely? ❤️w❤️"

And you're just mad and crying and pouting and you're telling him to go fuck himself and actually starting to get a little mouthy and have an attitude with him and he doesn't even care because how upset you're getting is going right to his head. even if you don't want to, you're jealous of him giving other people attention instead of you, and now he's watching you get all upset and sniffly over it and he's so full of himself, this makes him feel so powerful that he's reduced you to this insecure bawling state, and he's rubbing your shoulders, "awwww, don't cry mami, you should've told me you were wanting some 'attention'"

At this point you could be literally slapping his hands away but he's gonna keep pulling you close to him on purpose and NOW, now he's laying on all the fucking compliments, stroking the tops of your thighs. He knows exactly what scent you're using in your hair. Oh, you're wearing the nail polish you bought during one of your first months here; he's always liked this color on you. He's commenting and bringing up things you didn't expect him to notice let alone remember about you and... you're just so weak to it.... you're lonely... and he's here... and maybe it's the smoke or his cologne or what but he smells so good, he's so close, your head feels a little funny--

The rest of your night blurs together after that, but when you wake up, you're not at your place, or the studio, or anywhere you mildly recognize. You're in a bed way too big for someone your size, and you're especially not used to SOMEONE ELSE BEING IN IT WITH YOU. Val just has you caged in all of his arms and is passed out drooling in a post alcohol, post drug, post fuckathon coma, and you can FEEL in your muscles and in your body that you two were up to some wiiiiiild shit together.

IF you may manage to sneak out of V Tower without being stopped or caught, it won't make hin suddenly forget all the things you told him, or him now knowing how it feels to have your hands on his body, or how it looks to have your big sad wet eyes looking up at him and then sparkling with one of his compliments. Usually he WANTS bitches to be gone when he wakes up but, this time? When those eyes open and you're not there? Instantly feeling rejected, mad, irritated, he can't exactly identify why, he's just MAD you ran off without telling him and he's instantly blowing up your line to figure out where you are, and now you have become a recipient of The Voice-mails

"Heeeeeeey, baby, so, it's so funny but I just woke up and I can't find you in the tower? Did you run off to get breakfast somewhere? You KNOW you shouldn't run off without telling me first; I need you to come on back here ❤️"

"-- so answer your phone you fucking SLUT!! You better not be with another fucking guy, or I swear to fucking GOD--"

"--It just stresses me out that there are so many different kinds of people down here, I worry someone might hurt you, amorcito. I can't help protect you if I'm not there, soooooo, why don't you just, tell me where you are--"

"Is this fucking funny for you, you cunt?! You get all worked up about how PATHETIC AND SAD you are and then leave me? Leave ME? ME?! You're LUCKY i even TOUCHED YOU AT ALL--"

"Heeeeeeey, oh my gosh so this is so funny ummmm, Vox just let me know that Velvette borrowed you for something, soooooooooo, please don't listen to any of those other voicemails, ok? You know how CRAZY you make me, right? Don't forget you have a shift tonight, and if you even think about not showing up, I have some hellhounds that know your scent already and they'll drag you back here by your hair, sooooo, see you later love you byeeeeee ❤️"

[pix-writes]

for the nsfw request for Stan and Ford (which tbh is more like a question lol also be completely free to not answer in case you don't want to); what kind of noises do they make? or they don't make a noise at all? Thank you!!

No problem, thanks for asking!

Under cut as is 18+

STANLEY:

He seems like the kind of guy who would grunt and moan a little, he's not quiet but he's not loud either, as he wants to hear his partner's sounds most of all, but sometimes he can't be quiet either cause it just feels too good. (Also likes to hear the squeak or rattle of whatever furniture he's got you placed on/bent over when you get into it, has broken a worn out, shoddy table or two in his time!)

Knows from experience that a lot of partners like him to make some noise 😉 (say thank you to the ladies who taught him this). Though the very point where he does come, he's practically silent. Will pant and groan afterwards though.

Stan in everyday life is sorta what you get in bed too, just more unfiltered, he opens his mouth to say all sorts of dirty things and feedback about how good you're doing/feel and things he wants to do to you and praises you when you respond in the way he wants. Depends on the circumstances though, as if he's totally in the moment he doesn't run his mouth so much. Can also be more playful too, so at times he'll try to make his partner laugh or be totally cheesy (cue awfully obvious rp where he pretends you're some beautiful/handsome stranger), you might get a chuckle out of him as well. On the other hand, if you manage to rile him up enough, Stan will practically growl in your ear 🥴

If it's just him by himself though, he doesn't make too much sound at all, just moans a little, definitely has that depressing post nut clarity and feels a bit guilty for taking himself in hand.

STANFORD:

Tries to control his volume. Is not successful!

This guy is painfully touch starved and is making up for lost time once he's with a partner, so ends up being unable to censor all the sounds that come out of him from feeling someone else's touch. I'd say his volume is about medium, though, as he does have some self-control. However, once he starts to feel remotely close to orgasm, he will get increasingly more whiny. Increasingly desperate towards climax and starts begging you or saying things, it's so garbled though you don't even know if it's proper sentences or just nonsensical babble. Cannot contain his cries of pleasure when he finally does climax! 🤭 (Edge this man if you want but get soundproofing if you do, otherwise even the neighbours will be able to hear what you're getting up to!)

Doesn't talk too much during, mostly lost in it, will keep giving you necessary instruction or feedback, though. Mostly moans, groans and whines, praises you for how good you are/feel. Though, I think once he starts to get into a relationship and gain confidence/experience, will be more able to control his volume and will run his mouth more, if that's something you're into. Will pleasure you and not let you touch him so he can focus on talking you through it 🫠 gets a little cocky once he finds out that you like the sound of his deep voice (what have you unleashed upon yourself??!!!!)

Thinks that his self pleasure is about average but is probably below average, sees it more as relieving stress than for indulgence in fantasies, feels alienated by the way most men would talk about it as it doesn't fit his experiences at all (e.g. thinks most men exaggerate their drive and promiscuity... Probably not wrong, but I hc that Ford is on the ace spectrum somewhere, probably demi sexual, but doesn't know until the twins tell him about lgbt+ identities). Helps him to sleep, though didn't feel safe enough to do it much at all during his portal days, as he was often on the run. Is often intentionally quiet when doing it because he often is in places where the walls are thin or he needs to hear if he might be walked in on (because it's likely to happen; is happy that so far he's never been caught) still moans a lot when he comes though.

[bataranqs]

.

[simmerandwrite]

electric touch (part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x medical team! reader

Summary: Getting a spot on the field medical team was your dream. And your closest work friend Bucky Barnes finally asking you out? That was the cherry on top of your good news. Now all you had to do was pass your training week. Seems easy enough until you’re faced with someone who doesn’t want to see you win.

Warnings: abuse of power, verbal abuse, physical assault, some PTSD (but none of these are because of Bucky!!!!)

Wordcount: 7k

Part 2

Notes: hello! Are you hungry for a lil slice of ‘who did this to you’ pie with a big dollop of protective Bucky Barnes on top? Dig in!! I aim to be as nondescript as possible for the reader but I will note reader is shorter than Bucky and wears glasses. Thank you for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts! please consider reblogging, it helps my work reach more lovely people here on Tumblr. <3 merci!

---

Your regular lunch dates with Bucky started unintentionally. In fact, your friendship with Bucky had started that way – very unintentionally.

In retrospect, you couldn’t believe you had been late on your first day. You had intentionally set extra alarms to make sure you got to Stark Industries early.But you couldn’t control the inconsistencies of the New York subway system. When you skirted into the training room, only one seat was left – beside Bucky Barnes himself.

It was funny to think that the mandatory onboarding applied to new Avengers, too.

Of course, you knew who he was – the former Winter Soldier – but you didn’t realize he had to sit through the boring health and safety discussions and HR seminars like everyone else. When the first lunch break arrived, you turned to him and asked if he wanted to join you for lunch at the burger place down the street.

Initially, it looked like he was fighting off the urge to decline, but then he said: “Sure.”

Your conversations were very stilted in the beginning, which you didn’t mind. But as the week carried on, you felt the foundations of a friendship.

(He told you, later, that he appreciated your kindness that first day. That he had been really fucking scared to sit in that room with strangers judging him. He liked that you treated him like a normal person.)

It had grown organically since then – but you were simply just work friends. Your roles at Stark Industries slash The Avengers Initiative didn’t always overlap, but you did occasionally see him in the halls or if he happened to be by medical when you were working. Then, one day, you saw him eating alone in the cafeteria and you dropped down across from him to catch up.

Then lunch turned into a routine for you both. Typically on Wednesdays you’d sit together, if Bucky wasn’t on a mission or you weren’t on the night rotation. Sometimes Sam or Steve or some of the other nurses joined you, but secretly, you liked when it was just you and Bucky. Sometimes it felt like he preferred it that way too.

“So, guess what?” You sat down on the chair across from him, your tray knocking against his. He slowly moved his eyes from the pages of his book – he almost always had his nose in a book at lunch, regardless of the company – and matched your smile.

“I take it you got good news?”

You searched his face then frowned. “Wait, do you already know? That’s not fair.”

“Sam showed me the roster.”

A groan rumbled from your chest. “Boo.” You tipped your head to look at him as you paused. “Can you just pretend you’re about to hear this for the first time?”

Bucky smirked, putting down his book and politely stacking his hands to give you his full attention. “Sure. Start again?”

“Guess what?” You repeated, rolling your eyes.

“I’ve got no clue, doll. What?”

“You are looking at the newest member of the field medical team!” The chair legs squeaked as you danced in celebration.

“Congratulations,” Bucky replied, a wide smile crossing his face. He reached out and offered his fist, which you met with your own. You knocked your knuckles into his twice then wiggled your fingers at one another - a silly secret handshake you had invented together over a Taco Tuesday lunch one day, mostly out of annoyance to Sam.

You deflated afterwards, though, as reality set in. “Hopefully I can make it through training next week. It’s going to be hard but.. I can do hard things.”

Bucky reached over and grabbed your hand, holding it for a moment though he quickly pulled back. “You’re going to do great. You wouldn’t have been picked if you weren’t capable. You’re more than ready and, well, uh, I’m proud of you.”

You smiled, glancing down to where his hand had briefly made contact with yours. It felt.. hot, for some reason. You resisted touching the skin there. This had been happening more than you wanted to admit recently – a new spark when you saw him, when you touched. You thought you had easily avoided the possibilities of a developing crush on Bucky but.. something had been brewing for you. And maybe the same was happening with him, too - when you thought about how he looked at you, how considerate he was…

You wouldn’t know with any certainty unless you asked and you were way, way too scared to ask. Ruining your friendship may not be worth it. Especially if you were joining the medical team that would accompany the Avengers on some of their missions. What if you made it weird? What if you went on one date and it was terrible and your friendship never recovered? What if you asked Bucky out and then he laughed in your face and –

“We should go out and celebrate,” he cut you off. 

Wait. Was his voice shaking?

You met his eyes. Was he nervous? “I still.. I have to pass the training.”

“I know,” he nodded. “And tomorrow I leave for.. an undisclosed location for the week. So. When I get back and you’ve crushed the training and have the new job title, let’s go out.”

“Just you and me?” You asked, swallowing hard.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Yeah. If you..”

“Like a date?”

He closed his eyes, face scrunched up. It was cute. “Yeah, like a date, sweetheart. Just you and me.”

Okay, well, okay. Yes. Okay, that answered your question. You supposed the risk was being taken either way. There. He did the thing before you could even talk yourself out of it.

You smiled, nervously adjusting your glasses. Oh my god. You hadn’t even answered. With eyes wide, you reached for him. “Yes, that sounds.. that sounds wonderful. I’d love that.”

He grinned, squeezing your hand. “For a second there, I really thought I screwed all this up.”

---

Bucky couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to finally just do it. Asking you out had been at the top of his list for a long time and although it scared the shit out of him, this follow-up feeling of anticipation had been totally worth it. Now he just needed to get through a grueling mission with a sweet reward at the end – a date with you.

You- the first stranger who treated him like a regular person. You - who cared so deeply about your job. You - who seemed to always hear his snarky comments and always laughed, giggled, snorted, at them. With a smile that could make his entire body warm up. 

You. He couldn’t wait for that damn date. 

A date was the scary next step. But he was tired of waiting and tired of denying his feelings. And thank god you had reacted just as positively. The foundation of your friendship was so important to him but he had a feeling things could be even better. He prayed he wouldn’t fuck it all up.

When he showed up at the compound early in the morning to get on the jet, Bucky was surprised to see Sam prepping in the pilot’s seat.

Sam jumped in with an answer before the question even left Bucky’s lips. “Natasha had to join Clint on the Belize mission, last minute. So it’s you and me, pal.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Though he wasn’t mentally prepared for a week with Sam, he could handle it. Bucky was certain he could handle anything that he faced this week, knowing it was your face on his mind keeping him going.

As you crossed his mind again, another thought surfaced.

“If you’re here, who’s taking over the training for the med field team?” Bucky reached for his phone then cursed. They were going dark for this mission so he’d left his phone in his locker. Although he had sent you a message after he got up that morning, he wanted to reach out one last time and send some extra reassurance your way. 

“Don’t worry,” Sam knocked his shoulder, standing up to do a final check of the gear. “Your girl is in good hands.” Sam added in a wiggle of his fingers in Bucky's direction.

You weren’t Bucky’s girl.. yet. He didn’t feel bothered by the term. In fact, he loved it and so badly wanted you to be okay with him saying it some day too. Though it was still worth correcting Sam. It didn’t seem fair to put a label on something without consulting you first. Not to mention Sam’s teasing about you and Bucky had been going on for months and Bucky did not want to indulge him.

“She’s not mine,” Bucky replied, scrubbing a hand down his jaw.

Sam carried on. “Boone is doing the training protocol instead, but I’ll manage the final evaluations next week.” 

A quiet groan escaped Bucky’s lips. “Boone is a jackass.”

“I don’t disagree that he can be a bit too self assured - but he has proved himself in the field and will be a great mentor to this cohort.”

“Wasn’t he one of the agents Steve benched a few months ago - after his annual physical? What’s the term they used - he was doping?”

Sam sighed. “He was clean but a couple of his buddies were thrown out. But Boone is good, Buck. She’s gonna be fine.” With a final glance at the screen between them, Sam clapped his hands. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

---

When you applied for the job at Stark Industries for their medical team, you weren’t entirely sure what the role was going to entail. Your years of working as a nurse at the busiest emergency room in Chicago had given you plenty of experience with, well, everything and anything imaginable. You were always prepared for the unexpected.

What you hadn’t expected though was the pace - it was significantly slower than you imagined. Most of your days revolved around small visits from agents for anything from minor injuries and lacerations to annual physicals. On occasion you’d support when the Avengers came in, but usually they worked directly with Dr. Cho or the other on site doctors.

You figured the cure for your unrelenting desire for more was to get on the field medical team - a group of agents and trained nurses who accompanied the Avengers or other strike teams on missions, acting as a resource for any injuries to civilians and team members alike. Not every mission needed a team and sometimes it would involve last minute travel, but you didn’t mind.

When your application for transfer was finally accepted, you couldn’t get over how excited you were. You had been working hard for months getting into better shape, especially your stamina. Sure, maybe you could do a bit more when it came to targeted strength training but you had qualified on the initial testing to even get into the training level, so you’d be fine.

You could do this.

Truthfully, you were really excited about it. And Bucky had sent you the most encouraging message before he left that morning and you just.. You knew you could do this.

Bucky's words echoed: “...you wouldn’t have been picked if you weren’t capable. You’re more than ready and, well, uh, I’m proud of you.”

You were going to do this well and you were going to make yourself proud, too.

Most of your excitement depleted when you walked into the gym though. You joined the rest of the agents in the training group and braced yourself when you saw Agent Nathan Boone standing with his tablet, calling out names for attendance. 

“Wilson had to suit up as Falcon and jump on a critical mission this morning so I’ll be running the training program this week,” he explained as he sized up his group, which included you plus another half a dozen training agents. 

Without a doubt, Boone was the worst replacement for Sam you could think of. Boone exuded a confidence you couldn’t quite wrap your mind around, given his frat guy personality. Hiding behind his smarmy grin, linebacker build and perfectly coiffed hair - he was a real jackass. 

You tried not to let your mind race as Boone walked you all through the upcoming week of training. You’d be going over everything from basic self defense skills to hand to hand combat strategies to overall endurance drills. Then he explained that next week it was Sam Wilson who’d be doing the final evaluations.

“So let’s prove to him you’re all a good batch, okay?” Boone’s demeanor shifted as he got into his coaching mode. “Let’s start with a warm up run. Onto the treadmills.”

This wasn’t your first interaction with Boone, though you weren’t sure he would remember you. 

During your first few weeks you’d been responsible for doing the annual physicals for most of the agents. It had been a very repetitive (and boring) assignment, until some anomalies came up in the test results. A few agents, including Boone, had weird things flagged on their blood and urine tests - mostly markers that indicated steroid use. Which was completely against standards for agents and employees at Stark Industries. 

One of them, some bulky aggressive asshole, tried to convince you to look the other way but you had ultimately reported it. The fallout caused a huge uproar between the medical team and the agents, with the consequence coming down on a handful of agents who were fired due to drug use. Boone had escaped that fate somehow, passing his re-test with perfect results. And even though HR promised you it was a sealed case, you were always worried it had left a bit of a target on your back.

Nothing had come from it. The next round of physicals you assisted with didn’t involve any of those field agents and no other concerns had been flagged. Everything seemed back to normal.

In fact, you had seen Boone once since that whole controversy. A few months ago you passed him flirting with one of the admins in your department but you kept your head down and ignored him. That was it.

Hopefully the week of training wouldn’t be soured by your history with him but you figured it was safest to go in with an open mind. 

Thankfully, by the end of your run, as you were moving onto some basic tactical drills, he continued treating you just like everyone else. Generally firm and distant overall, but nothing strangely out of the ordinary. His barked orders were delivered to everyone evenly. If he had any recollection of your connected history, he didn’t bring it up.

The first day of training had been tough, especially since you still had a few extra hours of work to log afterwards. When you returned to your reporting station in the medical wing, you had to really settle your mind down and talk your way through the unkind thoughts racing around your brain.

You could do this. 

The second day focused exclusively on muscular endurance, which wasn’t really your strong suit but you managed to keep up with the group all the same.

Boone had the entire cohort going hard - with a lot of tough but constructive encouragement coming from him along the way. When one of the other trainees dropped their barbells, it seemed to irritate Boone immensely too. He let out a few curses as he helped them pick the weights back up then apologized for his reaction but the flare of anger was evident. 

When you were all heading back to the locker rooms, it was one of the other agents muttering about ‘roid rage’ that raised a red flag for you. 

It was during the third day of training that you felt the first tug of resistance with Boone. It was small things that you couldn’t help but file away. The way he delivered supportive commentary to everyone else in the group but only gave you critical feedback. During one of the practical scenarios, he undermined all your answers.

“I see why you’d think that way if you’ve never done this before but I can tell you by experience, it wouldn’t work. Bit of an amateur way of looking at things, actually. You need to do better if you’re going to be in the field with experts. Are you sure you passed the interview for this role?”

He said things in a way that didn’t always seem personal to you, but he certainly delivered them in a condescending tone. 

But, maybe, well, maybe you were just reading into things. You were feeling tired already and not really sleeping, so your focus was a bit off. 

Yeah, you could do better, strategize better, think things through in a better way.

On the fourth day, after a morning of weapons training and spending time at the range, the session moved onto sparring drills. It was quite basic - Boone walked the group through easy to follow hand to hand techniques, spending time here and there with each person to adjust their form. 

Everyone who qualified for the med team had to pass certain physical testing standards already. You had been working hard in the gym for months to get your mind ready, though you knew you weren’t very experienced in anything related to defensive techniques.

When he got to you following one of the scenarios, there was a firm frown on his face. “You need to be less in your head.”

You nodded, flexing and stretching your hands out. “Okay. Uhm okay, well, do you have any tips on how to–”

He was quick to cut you off. “Figure it out. I don’t have time to teach you critical thinking skills.” Following a sharp finger snap, he pointed directly at you. “And what’s with the glasses?”

“Ran out of contacts this morning, but I can do without them if I need to. Its–”

“They’re a safety risk.”

He didn’t care for your explanation or offer you any other advice, instead just muttering something as he moved on and tapping something into the tablet. None of his feedback had been helpful. Christ, you figured maybe it was worth starting a list to consult with Sam about following your evaluation instead. 

You just had to get through one more day with Boone. You were tired - down to your bones, from the physical and mental work during this week.

But it was nearly the weekend and that meant next week was approaching. Most importantly, the training would be done and you would have a real date with Bucky on the books, too. You couldn’t wait.

---

The last training day was mostly a culmination of everything you had gone over from the week. There was more endurance testing, some strength and performance work and the day ended with more sparring and situationals. 

You knew this was the light at the end of the tunnel. And when everything was wrapping up, you were relieved to finally be done with taking instructions from Boone, too.

Until his final speech. “You’ve been a great group and I would say most of you are ready for next week. Wilson will be impressed.” After a few more notes and instructions for the following week, he dismissed everyone. As you headed back towards the locker room, he called your name.

That made your stomach drop. He waved you back over towards the mats.

“I just wanted to give you a heads up,” Boone started slowly, eyes glancing around the empty room before he looked down at his tablet screen. “Here is the report on your training this week.” He turned the device so you could read over it.

After the first line, you took it from his hands. “Wait - what?”

“I just don’t think you’re ready.” Boone crossed his arms. “You’ve got the medical knowledge, sure. But the rest of it, even if you had another two months to train, I’m doubtful.” He took the tablet back and continued scrolling, as if he hadn’t just delivered such a disappointing blow to you. “It’s up to you whether you still want to do your test with Sam next week, but if I was in your shoes, I’d tap out.”

You swallowed hard, head tipped slightly to the side as you took in what he was saying. “That doesn’t make any sense. I kept up with everyone here this week.”

“This is a controlled environment; I don’t think you can hack it in the field.” Boone shrugged. “Like I said, you’re more than welcome to do your evaluation but I don’t think this will impress The Falcon enough to solidify your spot on the field team.”

“Good thing you’re not in charge of this decision then,” you bit in return, taking a step back. It felt like he was egging you on and you didn’t like it. Even worse that you were alone with him in the gym. “I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“You don’t have to, or you simply can’t?” He countered, tossing the tablet to the side as he crossed his arms. He sized you up, eyes drawing up the shape of your body. “Let’s try something.” He motioned to the mats. “I’ll give you another chance to change my mind about that report. Maybe I misread your abilities and intentions.”

You knew the right thing to do would be to walk away and ignore how he was antagonizing you. But a tiny voice in the back of your head kept reminding you that you were good, that you had earned your place here. That you needed to show him that. 

No, you didn’t.

Yes, you did.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward, placing yourself in the middle of the mat. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Boone laughed, standing in front of you. He scanned you over again. “Scenario. You’re in the field, there’s a civilian who needs medical attention. You’re alone with them as everyone else explores the area for threats. But, it's night time, it was a busy bit of action and –” Boone reached over and pulled your glasses off. “And you lost your glasses in the chaos.”

Before you could protest about the logistics of this stupid scenario, he threw them to the side.

You shook your head and immediately stepped back. “What the fuck?”

“Maybe you should have worn your contacts today.” He replied and this time, there was something more at the edge of his words. Something unsettling.

This was a bad idea. But he was waiting for you to reply, to call his bluff and tap out. You growled to yourself and stayed.

“The civilian has a broken limb so you’re on the ground beside them.” Without even hesitating he placed both his hands on your shoulders and shoved you down to your knees.

None of this made any lick of sense. This wasn’t a scenario you’d end up in. You wouldn’t be alone or you’d call for backup.

He continued without a second thought, moving to stand behind you, placing his hand on the crown of your head. “And someone comes at you from behind – now you’re compromised and so is your civilian.”

You sat there on your knees, chock still. A red flashing light was going off in your mind but for some reason, you stayed.

A low, grumbly laugh escaped him. “See? Not only are you a terrible nurse but you have no fucking instinct—”

You immediately swung your leg up to hook behind him, not sending him down to the ground but gaining enough of your own momentum to plot out your next move. Planting a foot, you lunged forward and grabbed his waist, pulling him towards the mat.

That really set off whatever anger had been simmering in him. The next thing you saw was the training mat as your face and torso were being shoved against it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your shouting felt useless as your body writhed under his weight. Your cheek dragged across the plastic mat as you moved, burning against your skin. “Get off of me, you—”

“Defend. Yourself.” Boone barked back, adjusting to grab your arm. He gripped your elbow, then twisted your wrist behind your back. A jolt of pain rushed down your shoulder. “Took me a few days but then I remembered your face.”

You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please just stop. What is—why are you—”

“Three of my friends, my brothers – you ruined their lives, you know that? They lost all their job prospects, they have fuck all left because of what you did. You know, we need that stuff - to keep up with supersoldiers. There is nothing fucking wrong with some pharmaceutical help. If I’m backing up Captain America, I deserve the boost.” With his knee pressing against your back, he leveraged himself to sit up a bit straighter. But his grip on your wrist remained, growing tighter and tighter. “If you had just turned the other way and ignored those tests—”

“I was doing my job,” you mumbled back at him. “They were the ones who broke the rules and—”

His voice hadn’t quite grown to shouting but the intensity grew. “And you are the one who suffers now, alright? And you sure as hell aren’t joining the field team. I’m going to make sure of it.”

---

All Bucky wanted to do when they got back to the compound was text you. It was late Sunday night but he didn’t care.

After the grueling week he and Sam had, Bucky took comfort in knowing soon enough he’d get to see you. He wanted to know about everything from last week - from training to everyday life, he just wanted to talk to you. Crossing the threshold from friends to something more was scary but during his long, sleepless nights, you provided a strange sense of comfort to him.

Without doing a dang thing. Just knowing you made him better, inspired him to be better and to be present. 

“Hey,” Sam tugged on Bucky’s arm before he headed to the locker room. “Medical check first. Then you’re free to send your little smiley face emojis to her.”

Bucky grumbled but didn’t have the energy to argue with Sam. The mission had gone well but hadn’t been the smoothest for either of them. While they both returned unharmed, Bucky knew coming down from these sorts of weeks properly was important.

Finally, after a clearance from the nurse and a quick shower - Bucky was turning his phone back on.

He dismissed all the messages from Steve and an Avengers group chat he liked to ignore then finally found his way to his conversation with you. Seeing a slew of your thoughts over the course of the week made him smile.

You: good luck this week - come back in one piece, please <3 

You: made it through day one and two, turns out my five-story walkup apartment is good for my cardio skills after all lol You: remind me of that next time I complain about the stairs

You: day three has proved that I do need to work on my upper body strength You: wanna be my personal trainer? ;)

You: miss you, hope everything is going safely You: this week has really kicked my ass

Your messages did peter off by Friday and although Bucky longed for more, he assumed you were probably just tired after the long week. Plus, the training wasn’t for the light of heart. Sam had shown him the schedule and although it was standard, its intensity was intentional. Not that Bucky doubted you - he knew you’d been preparing as best as you could since you had shown an interest in joining the field team months ago. But that could really exhaust someone by the end of it.

And tomorrow you had to power through a final evaluation with Sam too, so Bucky hoped you got to spend the rest of the weekend resting.

He dropped down onto one of the benches and planned his response.

Bucky: hey doll, made it back safe and sound Bucky: in one piece, I promise :) Bucky: can’t wait to hear about last week, I’m sure you did great Bucky: good luck tomorrow, I’ll come find you after the eval Bucky: sweet dreams 

---

Bucky felt a little bit silly, lingering outside the training gym. At least he wasn’t pacing, that would have been an even worse look. He leaned against the opposite wall to the doors, arms crossed.

Something just felt a bit off for him and, well, finally seeing you would help ease his mind. It was just strange – the lack of communication. Sure, he had sent his message quite late the night before but he assumed he might hear something back from you during the day.

But no, it had been radio silence. He could attribute it to your needing to prepare for your evaluation but that didn’t seem like enough of a justification. In all the times you and he had been friends, you always managed to send a reply.

He would just have to settle for an in person update, following your testing with Sam. Five other agents exited the gym by mid afternoon, but you never showed up at the door. 

Sam did eventually emerge, tapping quickly against his tablet. He came to a halt when he spotted Bucky waiting, arms now tightly locked behind his back.

Bucky looked over Sam’s shoulder, trying to glimpse into the gym before he met his eyes. “How’d she do?”

Sam let out an awkward laugh. “Well, she didn’t show. She sent me an email earlier saying that she was sick.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly. “Oh.” 

“I know, weird. What’s even more weird though is that when I said we could reschedule her for another date, she tapped out.” Sam raised his shoulder to shrug then showed Bucky the screen.

Bucky scanned over the message and frowned. It was true. Your reply to Sam was short, explaining you didn’t want to reschedule and declined any further interest in the field team. That was it. You were out.

“Given how she sent me a five-paragraph essay explaining how excited she was to join the team, this seems out of character.” Sam tucked the screen under his arm and patted Bucky on the shoulder. “Give me an update after you talk to her.”

“What makes you think—”

“Oh, I already see your wheels turning. You’re doing the math on how quickly you can get to her place.” Sam called after him as Bucky turned to leave. “Let her know I can reschedule her anytime!”

---

You knew you couldn’t ignore Bucky forever. It was just.. it felt like too much, thinking of a way to reply. After what happened with Boone on Friday, every single thing in your life felt like climbing the steepest mountain.

It was absurd how quickly things had escalated. You should have just walked away the instant Boone brought up your evaluation. Getting on that mat with him was really fucking stupid and.. here you were.

You could barely remember how you got home Friday – dazed and confused and numb. After Boone finished screaming and you had stopped trying to fight back, you curled up on yourself. You fought back tears over the humiliation and pain, hands shaking as you grabbed your things from the locker room. One ridiculously overpriced cab ride later and you made it home to your studio in Astoria.

Then you cried in the shower and all the way to your bed - where you stayed as long as you possibly could on Saturday, dousing yourself in painkillers just to try and stay asleep.

You knew you needed to go to urgent care, or even just an emergency room - somewhere you could afford the x-ray. You had never broken a bone before but you had seen plenty of hand fractures during your time working in triage. You couldn’t make a fist, your hand was bruising up towards your wrist and the pain was excruciating. The image of Boone stomping on your hand and wrist as you tried to crawl away was imprinted in your mind…

You were stuck on the climb though. The mental battle of trying to figure out the best lie to tell the admitting nurses anywhere was daunting. Christ, how would you explain this?

You had to - you had to tell someone. The way Boone had flown off the handle, how he attacked you verbally and physically, he couldn’t get away with it. You knew the right thing to do but… fuck if you weren’t scared. He had made it pretty clear he’d be keeping an eye on you. And there was no way you’d be able to do your test with Sam now.

If you reported him, you’d probably have to get HR and the police involved and what if he denied everything and—

You ended up in a helpless loop every single time.

Saturday came and went. You only left your apartment to visit the nearest drugstore for a new compression bandage and more pain medication. Sunday passed by just the same. You skipped your normal spin class and barely spent time outside of your bed. 

The pain in your hand was growing worse and worse. You had to use your left hand to send Sam and your manager messages - because even just moving your right hand made your stomach swirl. And the guilt about not responding to Bucky was growing bigger and bigger too. 

How could you explain it? Boone had pressed your buttons and you pushed back and look what happened. How could Bucky be proud of you now?

Your phone had buzzed mid afternoon, just after you were supposed to be doing your session with Sam.

It was Bucky - worried and asking if you needed anything for whatever illness was plaguing you. 

You ignored it.

When he called, you ignored that too.

You were balled up on the end of your couch, eyes glazed over as another episode of your favourite show loaded up on Netflix. You knew you needed to eat something, that the pain medication on an empty stomach was a recipe for disaster. But… you couldn’t get up. Laying perfectly still with a bag of frozen vegetables on your hand was the closest thing to relief you had.

Then, someone was knocking at your door. The noise made you gasp, though you couldn’t move. You could ignore the noise along with everything else. It was probably just your downstairs neighbour back to complain about your TV again and –

Whoever was at the door knocked again, this time calling out your name. 

You recognized the voice.

Bucky.

He called your name out again. “Listen, I don’t care if you’re sick. I just want to make sure you’re alright. I grabbed some soup from that place I was telling you about.”

You sucked in a deep breath and pulled yourself up off the couch. You really, really wanted to see him - just the idea of his smile made everything feel a bit better. But then you couldn’t hide anymore and… hiding felt safe.

“I’m okay,” you finally replied as you got approached. “Feeling better but I might be contagious, Buck.”

You sensed some relief from him as his feet shuffled on the other side of the door. “Sweetheart, I.. I can’t even get sick, okay? I just need to see you.”

“My apartment is a mess.”

“I don’t care.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Bucky, I’m.. I’m not at my best right now.”

“I don’t care.” He said your name once more. “Please.”

You pulled up the hood of your sweatshirt then reluctantly reached for the door knob.

---

When you finally opened the door, Bucky was relieved. But when you immediately turned away to return to your couch without a word, his relief felt misplaced. Something was wrong. Your sudden weekend illness and dropping out of the new job training weren’t adding up to anything that felt good.

He was worried.

Bucky had never been inside your apartment before. There were a handful of occasions after work or some happy hour thing when he dropped you off but this was new. He liked the idea of seeing your home but he wished it had been different circumstances. 

Home was a little studio, with a compact kitchen ahead of him across from the door. Beside it was a cozy living room area separated from the bed and windows, divided by a short bookcase. It was so very you and Bucky wanted nothing more than to just be there with you, scan over the books you like and curl up together on the couch.

But it wasn’t the time to daydream. Instead, he stepped into the kitchen to deposit the takeout bag, retrieving the soup before moving to where you were curling back up in your blankets. 

“How are you feeling?” He took another step closer but stopped when you leaned away from his approach. He took a seat opposite you and extended the container in your direction. 

“Yeah, I’m.. okay,” you replied with a shrug. “Thanks for the soup.” You took it from him, reaching across yourself awkwardly with a shaking hand, and rested it on your lap. 

He took the moment of silence to get a better look at you. Behind your glasses, your eyes were swollen, as if you had been crying. Bucky watched you carefully maneuver the spoon and it wasn’t lost on him you were favouring your left hand. In fact, your right arm was barely moving. 

“Do you need anything else? I could run to the pharmacy..” He trailed off as his eyes shifted to your coffee table, which was littered with an array of pill bottles. Mostly painkillers and what looked like a melting bag of frozen peas. And tucked under the table was… a half empty bottle of wine. Not exactly the type of self medication for a stomach bug or the common cold.

You closed your eyes, taking another taste of the soup before gently moving it to the table. “I think the worst of it has passed. Just.. tired now, I guess. I’ll be back at work tomorrow.” You smiled, just barely, then it disappeared as your eyes shut.

Bucky considered that the perfect opportunity to change the subject. Your name left his lips. It was quiet. You peaked one eye open to look at him.

“What happened last week?” he asked.

You laughed, though it came out quite empty. “Just five very intense, rigorous training days. I wasn’t great but.. I managed, I guess.” 

Bucky cut to the chase, though he couldn’t predict your reaction. “So how come you’re not doing the final evaluation?” 

A long sigh escaped you, rolling your eyes before leaning back again. You stared at the ceiling. “Should I just start adding you to all my correspondence with Sam?”

“Don’t be mad at Sam,” Bucky replied. “I asked him and he only told me because he was worried.”

You laughed again, with more of your body. The same emptiness remained and this time it seemed to cause you pain. You winced, swallowing an uncomfortable look on your face as you turned to peer at him. “I’m not mad at Sam. I’m mad at..” You shook your head. “At myself, I guess.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter, alright? It’s over and I missed today and–”

“Sam offered to resch–”

“Bucky, it doesn’t matter!” You snapped this time, cutting him off. 

Bucky shook his head. Something else was going on. He had never seen you like this before - despondent and… broken. Sure, your friendship had rarely escaped the walls of work but the foundation between you both was solid. He had seen your ups and downs, and you had seen his too - recalling bad dates and ranting about missions and laughing over lunch and all of it. 

He knew you. The person sitting across from him, it wasn’t you. 

“Sweetheart, please tell me what’s going on.” 

Your eyes were closed again, head shaking. “Nothing is..” Your lip trembled. “Maybe you should just go..”

Bucky stood from the couch, but he didn’t move to the door. Instead, he crouched right in front of you. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll go, okay? I’d never stay if you didn’t want me here. But you opened that door for me. You could have already sent me away, soup in hand. I’m here right now because I care about you.” He said your name again, like a plea for you to look at him. “I can help, okay? Whatever is going on, I can help. Let me help, please.”

Your breath picked up, intertwined with winces of pain as you adjusted on the couch. You crossed your legs then moved your arms carefully, using your left hand to tear away your sweatshirt. Finally, you opened your eyes and extended your right arm to Bucky.

Despite being wrapped in a compression bandage, the swelling was evident on your fingers. Bruises littered your hand too and continued upwards to your t-shirt line. 

Bucky dropped to his knees, looking from your face down towards your arm. He whispered out your name, desperately trying not to fill in the blanks without getting more information from you. “What happened?”

You simply shook your head, swallowing whatever response was trying to escape. 

“Can I–” He motioned to your hand, cautiously reaching for it. You didn’t move, allowing him to unwrap the bandaging. You winced at the touch and change in pressure, eyes clamping shut again as you breathed deeply. 

Bucky skated his fingers along the side of your forearm, down towards your wrist and hand. Light shades of purple and blue decorated your skin but the swelling was what concerned Bucky the most. 

“I’m worried something is broken.” You finally said quietly, letting out another groan of pain as Bucky flipped your hand over to assess the underside. 

He wanted to reply with ‘yeah, no shit’ but figured that wouldn’t be helpful. If you hadn’t sought out medical attention by now, there was probably a good reason. You were smart, a nurse who could easily figure out her own symptoms. But something was stopping you. Embarrassment, guilt.. Maybe fear? 

Bucky was gentle as he held your hand. Christ, his mind was racing. “What happened? Did you fall? Did something go wrong last week?”

You shook your head.

Although there was one giant fucking obvious glaring answer to his next question, Bucky wanted to hear your response. Maybe you had fallen or dropped something on it this weekend. Maybe you had crushed it between a door or something, anything else than someone hurting you. Because the thought of anyone doing that, inflicting any intentional harm –

Bucky sucked in a breath and looked back at you. Your lower lip was already trembling again. He had to ask. He didn’t want to, but he fucking had to.

“Sweetheart, who did this to you?”

“I should have walked away, Bucky. I..” You immediately trailed off, head shaking again as you tried to collect yourself. 

With you, Bucky would be patient. He would always be patient. A few moments ticked by as he waited, still holding your injured hand in his. 

“It was supposed to just be a routine scenario, a test sort of thing I guess. But he was… he was volcanic. The anger erupted and he - he.. Bucky, I was just doing my job, it’s not my fault his friends lost theirs an-and he got so mad. I tried to get away but he just kept going.”

He said your name quietly. “Take a deep breath for me, okay?” You did, breathing in tandem with him a few times as you steadied yourself. “You’ve gotta tell me a name, please.”

After another deep breath, you nodded. “It was Boone.” You closed your eyes. “I think he’s taking drugs, steroids–again and he just.. I shouldn’t have engaged him at all. And I tried to get away once I realized he was freaking out..”

Bucky stilled, lips pulled into a straight line. “Hey, look at me.” He waited for you to meet his gaze. “This isn’t your fault.” God, he wanted to say so much more but the simmering anger below the surface was bubbling up. And that wasn’t important. You needed an x-ray and real medical attention. Then, maybe he could face the rage coursing through his bones. “Sweetheart, we’ve gotta get this looked at, okay?”

Reluctantly, your head shook. “I know. I just.. I don’t want to have to go to urgent care and explain what happened. I should have already gone and I feel so stupid about the whole thing and-and–”

He placed his free hand on your knee to stop you. “Okay. It's okay. I think I know where we can go. Let me make a few phone calls.”

---

PART 2

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

Places with "just a few steps" aren't accessible to ambulatory wheelchair users, either. This isn't an angry post because I don't know if full time wheelchair users really understand that, but a lot of ambulatory users are just as fucked when encountering a step as full time users. The problem is not that ambulatory users are the only people being accommodated. The problem is that business don't think or care about any wheelchair user and ambulatory users are only sometimes accommodated by accident and only if they're a very specific kind of ambulatory. The "well we're accessible if you can walk a little" excuse is just that, an excuse to try to pin the problem on the wheelchair user rather than the business. It's not even a valid excuse because it fundamentally and perhaps intentionally misunderstands how a lot of ambulatory wheelchair users live.

I'm ambulatory but sitting up uses a large amount of my energy, almost as much as standing does. I use a Permobil M3 Corpus that has power tilt, recline, and footrest adjustment so I can adjust into an energy preserving position. My chair weighs 400lbs and I'm not leaving it outside or in a lobby so I can do a "couple of steps". I don't think the usually minimum wage employees get paid enough to babysit a $13000 piece of equipment that is virtually irreplaceable and vital to my freedom. I'm not the only person who can't get my chair over stairs and can't afford to leave it behind. There are plenty of ambulatory powerchair users. There are plenty of ambulatory users who can't lift their own chairs and don't want strangers touching their mobility aid. There are plenty of ambulatory users who can't do stairs at all. Most ambulatory wheelchair users don't want to leave their chair behind out of fear that it will be stolen or misplaced.

This isn't a time for pointing fingers and "who does society like better"ing each other. It's a time for demanding that the law be followed and new laws be put in place together so that no one has to sacrifice their safety and comfort to access necessities or entertainment or be barred from those things entirely.

[marypsue]

Was talking with @seiya234 about Sam Vimes and the idea that seems to come up in some fan circles with some regularity that after his death, Vimes will become the 'God of Coppering' or in some other way some part of him will continue to protect the city/the Watch after his death. She mentioned that she thought the idea was kind of king-ish - the whole idea "that someone will keep swooping in and saving the day" - and that Vimes would haaaaaate that, and I agree.

However. It's true. Part of Sam Vimes will keep protecting Ankh-Morpork long after he dies.

It's the part of him he gave to Carrot, the part that Carrot uses to check himself every time he starts to get frustrated with the limitations of what he can do as a Watchman and wishes he could just - make people be better.

It's the part of him he gave to Angua, the quiet faith that of course the beast within can be brought to heel, of course it's never easy but it's always worth it.

It's the part of him he gave to A. E. Pessimal, a small dull man living a small dull life whose eyes were opened wide one terrifying night to how much of a difference one small dull man's small dull life can make to the great churning wheels of the world.

It's the part of him he gave to the grags and to Mr. Shine, the proof that the truth is worth digging for and worth hauling up into the light, that it's possible to look beyond hatred and mistrust.

It's the part of him he gave to William de Worde, the knowledge that nothing is really worth doing unless someone, somewhere, would really much rather you weren't doing it.

It's the part of him he gave to Reg Shoe, that keeps Reg believing in the necessity of fighting for a better world even when it seems absurd and impossible and foolish to try.

It's the part of him he gave to Sham Harga, who knows every now and then, a man just needs some burnt crispy bits.

It's the part of him he gave to any number of strangers in the street, a sense of what fairness and justice can look like, even in something as small as a night patrol.

It's the part of him he gave to Sybil, the very best part of himself.

And it's everything of himself that he gave to Young Sam, who has a chance now to make his own impressions on a thousand thousand lives.

It's not just A part of Sam Vimes that will linger after his death, protecting the city he loved and hated in equal parts, the city that was his. It's a thousand thousand parts, that he left behind sometimes aware, sometimes intentionally, sometimes without even realising. And it's not something inherent within Sam Vimes and Sam Vimes alone, not something special about him or that only he could do. It's what everyone does, leaves parts and pieces of themselves behind. A thousand thousand parts of Sam Vimes are still out there, still saving the city, little by little, in quiet unglamourous ways, day after day after day.

If anything can be saved by a part of someone who's gone, it's like this.

And I think Sam Vimes would be proud of that.

(And also swear about it quite a lot when he realises this also implies that technically he's a factor in the lives of crime that some of the many, many people he's arrested over his long career have gone on to lead, but alas. We don't get to choose ALL the ripples we make in the world.)

[ddarker-dreams]

thinking about chrollo in a Normal relationship (he's still a possessive weirdo at times but not so much as his yandere counterpart)

affection is a strange concept to chrollo.

as your relationship progresses and your bond deepens, how he expresses it changes. what started out as grand, romantic gestures meant to dazzle you steadily softens. he isn't familiar with authenticity — it's a stranger he thought he'd long cut ties with. your presence in his life has him wondering if he should rekindle the acquaintanceship.

you don't need a fancy dinner with a breathtaking view of the city skyline. you just need him. his intentionality. texts throughout the day of his various musings, the genuine kind, untainted by constant attempts to woo you.

This first date to my side is developing nicely. The guy's complaining that his philosophy professor 'refuses to challenge her own innate subjective worldview.' Direct quote Who do you think his paper was about? My money's on Hegel. Turns out it's Nietzsche who foiled his future in academics He corrected her pronunciation (they're both wrong) 'Global warming is a red herring, religion will be the unraveling of society, not some carbon monoxide' She's checked her watch five times in the past minute Do you think this misunderstood intellect will get a second date? Or will fourth-wave feminism get in the way of true love?

you don't know how to describe the shift. he's never come off as anything but confident, but now it's like he's actually comfortable with you. relaxed. it's odd — nothing's changed, yet everything has. 'your place,' becomes 'our place.' he has a preferred seat at your dining table. he's familiar with your workplace drama and requests updates, setting your freshly prepared drink next to his wine glass as he does so.

commercials advertising wedding rings make him feel strangely warm. he's somehow breathless after kissing you, despite supposedly having complete control over his body. he traces his finger over your signature, wondering how it'll look when your surname matches his. he doesn't just chuckle at your antics anymore, he laughs freely, his face sore from how wide you make him smile. your lexicon bleeds into his.

he says that you taught him how to love. it's a claim you mistake for one of those clichés he spouts just to make you groan and roll your eyes. maybe it would've been an empty platitude at first, but now, it couldn't be more true.

[vechter]

ao3 for dick grayson fics is such a trying experience, truly bc what do you mean there's not one, not two but an overwhelming abundance of fics where dick is a bad sibling and jason todd is the ideal, supportive, drops-everything-for-your-crisis sibling?

like i can understand the appeal of exploring the lesser of dick's choices and character traits and how those impact his relationships with the rest of the bats but you mean to tell me that any of them- damian, tim, cass- tim, especially- would willingly go to jason for help when they have the option of asking dick?

as much as red robin is a deeply rich, complex story about grief and morality, i'm afraid it did irreparable damage to dick's character, not to mention tim's (that boy does not have an egregiously high body count, comics would never gloss over that kind of mass death or be implicit about it in any way if that had actually happened)

dick's primary character thesis is being a safety net for people who fall- the way bruce and batman were for him after his parents died. it's one of his chief driving forces. there is no world where he doesn't help out a stranger, let alone his siblings if they come to him for help. and despite all of the bats being notoriously bad at asking for help and support, the number of instances where dick is an empathetic listener, doling out advice and emotional support and compassion (even when people are tight-lipped about needing any of those things) far outweighs the times he has been short-sighted or intentionally harsh. no character is perfect but to see how often jason is written favourably whilst simultaneously dragging dick is maddening fr

like, fine you like jason a lot. it can be fun and cathartic to write about him choosing to develop relationships outside of his grief/trauma/revenge with bruce (although i think that the most compelling thing about jason is how much of his character post-resurrection is driven by existing as a dead boy walking so to see him actually care about living and making healthy choices would probably require something beyond therapy with harley quinn lmao) but is it really necessary to do that while putting dick down? both tim and damian have seen dick while he is decidedly not at his best (reeling from the circus burning down in nw '96, grieving bruce, finding his footing as batman) and have come out the other side firm in their belief in him. cass, unfortunately is more removed from dick's immediate circle but that's a whole other tangent about how peripheral dick is to both of the batgirls that come after babs. steph, by virtue of having a parent who is alive, is lucky enough to be removed from more of the complicated dynamics all of them have with each other. and while dick is an ass in her initial batgirl days, he does warm up to her (but that again is a whole other post considering the legitimacy and nuances of characterizations in batgirl- tim never gets the same flak for his treatment of steph despite being much, much closer to her and actually knowing her beyond the second robin to die- and even then, when dick finds out about steph's death, the gist of initial reaction is to blame bruce, perhaps, rightfully so)

like you're falling for his act!!! as readers of a form of media like comics, we are lucky enough to get a glimpse into dick's inner neuroses and thought-processes while simultaneously seeing how he acts on them. ofc we see him make mistakes but a lot of the other characters don't!! and if/when they do, they don't see beyond the performance he delivers. even barring the fucked-up-ness of a high stakes job like vigilantism where trauma and death and adrenaline are linked together messily, no relationship between two people is perfect. people hurt each other, people lash out!! but the most compelling thing about dick is how often he reaches out, how often he swings back even after he has swung away!! that's what makes him such a source of light, hope and positivity for everybody he encounters

and this is not even touching n52 which seems like the most hasty kind of decision making and writing from editorial with no consideration for a lot of the characters' histories, lore and their core characterizations

[lucystark12]

milevens are insane

warning now - i get extremely heated in this so if you're going to tell me to calm down leave. before any of you weird bitches tell me to go do something more productive or to touch grass- no. i'm fifteen, it's summer, and i'm a highly involved high school student. i'm not here because i have nothing better to do, i'm here because i understand good writing and am able to have hobbies ❤️

anyways

was on the mileven endgame hashtag just now and because i don't choose violence i wont be addressing any of them directly, but i will be addressing some of the ridiculous bullshit on there. term bullshit used intentionally

the love confession came as a result of mike "gaining the confidence" to tell el how much he loves her because he was afraid that he loved her more than she loved him.

are you listening to the words that are coming out of your mouth right now? i want to sit down and get a coffee with you and dissect what the fuck you meant by that. sure, right, yeah, he gained so much PRODUCTIVE confidence from his conversation he had with will where will was using eleven to mask his own feelings for mike. it makes so much sense narratively that this end all be all mileven event is sparked from will's feelings and not mikes! sure! right! this is such an idiotic piece of reasoning. you are literally saying that you are okay with your endgame ship only being endgame based on faulty communication and lies. are you joking? "you just gotta improve your motivation" ass piece of evidence

also, mike being insecure about loving her more than she loves him is complete, total, utter bullshit. el frequently expresses her love to mike via letters and youre here to say that mike would have any problem with doing the same thing if he were insecure about her love for him? that literally makes no sense. i wouldn't be afraid of loving somebody more than they love me if they are actively putting more effort into insuring me that they love me than i am to them. like, what does that even mean?

“Will Byers is a pathetic loser annoying character and contributed little to the plot of ST. "

yes that is a direct quote. no i'm not kidding.

what kind of fucking neanderthal watches stranger fucking things- a show about a kid who disappears- and thinks the kid who disappears isn't a central part of the narrative? the first episode of the goddamn show is called "the vanishing of will byers"! maybe this is hard for you and your confused brain to get your head around, but el and mike met when mike was out looking FOR WILL. mike and el are still together because mike gained courage from WILL'S LOVE FOR HIM. what a fucking idiot you must be. i would try to explain to you the myriad of other reasons why will is absolutely central to the plot of the show, but since the show itself has clearly gone in one ear and out the other, i probably wont be able to get through to you either.

“what if we learned to cope with world that doesn’t accept us as individuals by embracing each other completely?” said about mileven

um.. what. that's literally byler. closeted gay guys in the 80s. but sure, the ones that aren't being accepted are the two white and allegedly heterosexual individuals. the "world that doesn't accept us" in question is a few high school bullies in comparison with the stigmatization, violence, and ostracization that has longstanding been a part of what it means to be queer. be so serious right now. mileven is not important for being non conformist, the GAY SHIP IN THE 80S IS!!

“The only people who queerbaited, was byler fans themselves lmao.”

even if we're ignoring the horrible grammar there are still SO many things wrong with everything that was just said. what they're saying above for anybody who can't decipher the weird medieval english code this person is using is that bylers actively queerbaited themselves which inherently makes no sense at all.

below i have included the oxford dictionary definition of queerbaiting: "the incorporation of apparently gay characters or same-sex relationships into a film, television show, etc. as a means of appealing to gay and bisexual audiences while maintaining ambiguity about the characters' sexuality."

how is it possible that byler shippers themselves are the ones doing the queerbaiting? are we running the show? nope! before you come on and post something as offensive as this- which i will get into- at least make sure you know what you're saying. xoxo

to insinuate for even a second that mike wheeler not being gay would be anything other than deliberate queerbaiting is insane. there is something wrong with you. aside from the parts of the show where his queerness is deliberately alluded to like music, costuming, analogies, allegories, and set design, netflix has been, weather you like it or not, actively marketing in favor of byler and mike not being straight. all below come from official netflix accounts-

how is this not queerbaiting? genuinely what are you on about. this is literally textbook.

“will is fruity but mike didn't like the fruit on his pizza”

you seriously are basing your argument about mike not being gay on him not liking fruit on pizza? you seriously think that some of the most commended and celebrated writers of the last decade would use symbolism involving a word that can literally be interpreted as a slur when their show has two characters who are canonically a part of the group affected said slur? are you fucking stupid? that was harmless banter used to communicate the differences in habitual action across the country. it wasn't the duffers trying to do for you what they do for us in deliberate, straightforward NON-OFFENSIVE symbolism.

i saw somebody claim that mike's character arc in season four was inherently about not believing in his self worth nor in his competency to be in a relationship with el

while i do for the most part agree with you, i'm going to ask you a question- mike was never anxious about his identity and self worth involving el before season four. why do you think that just came up now if not for the fact that he's been having insecurities involving his sexuality and romantic attraction to women as a whole? in my opinion, mike realized that he might not like girls in that way circa the end of season three- a realization that only festered and grew through the absence of not only the boy he loves that is causing this insecurity but the girl whom he is using as a way to say hey, i can't be gay, i have a girlfriend! mike was clearly going through some serious emotional struggles as we can immediately see in this scene with how suddenly awkward he is with will and the immediate emphasis that's put on the "from mike" on the flowers.

i agree that his season four and part of his season five arc are about his feelings of insecurity about being in a relationship with el, however, i don't think he's insecure because he thinks she's better than him in the sense that she's some superhero, i think he thinks she's better than him because he knows that he'll never be able to love her the way she deserves to be loved. he's not going to outright come and say to will that he doesn't think that he can love her in the way she deserves to be loved. he's closeted. what he says in the van scene is the only way he knows to express his feelings. it's very similar to what will does in the same scene. it makes no sense for this insecurity to randomly manifest in him if it wasn't for an external factor that doesn't involve el, because nothing has really changed with the dynamic of their relationship other than the move. one could argue that mike is feeling insecure over el's supposed popularity she claims to have in her letters, but mike's arc has never been about caring about popularity in school. that's not something on his mind so much as the grand scheme of the world is. lets not forget that he joins hellfire in season four.

“When Mike didn’t say “I love you”, By*ers twisted it to their narrative. When Mike did say “I love you”, By*ers twisted it to their narrative.”

you literally sound like trump going on about the democrats. listen to what your saying right now. also, it's a ship name. there's no need to censor it you fucking weirdo.

wasted time building up mileven

i'm sorry, what build up? i'm confused. there's no "build up". THIS is build up:

above is will, possessed by a monster who feeds off of those lacking love in their lives, only being able to be broken out of possession by a heartfelt monologue by the PERSON HE LOVES detailing how the best decision he ever made was to befriend him.

above is will claiming he will never fall in love, then his love for one of the other main characters becomes a central plot point of the two seasons to come. joyce and i see through will and all of you weird milevens

mike telling will how it's not his fault will doesn't like girls only after he loses the person he's been using to cover up his own insecurity about the same thing- not liking girls. suspicious.

will's LOVE FOR MIKE being the thing to give him the confidence to help el SAVE THE WORLD, only episodes after we establish that mike is bound to be pissed that he was lied to. and theres no buildup? THERE'S REALLY NO BUILDUP?

if you don't see buildup i fear you are literally just a lost cause because it is so painfully obvious to anybody who made it past seventh grade english class that there is something deeper and more intimate than friendship going on between will byers and mike wheeler.

“Women can be independent while being in a relationship guys😭!!”

OBVIOUSLY! i am literally the biggest feminist on the entire western seaboard. i couldn't agree more with this, which is why we have arcs like nancy's where she actively becomes more independent while still maintaining a relationship with jonathan. the difference is that mike and el have been together since they were like thirteen. when el was immersed into the real world for the first time in season two she immediately leaned on mike for support in that. it's not that she can only be independent on her own, it's that mike is directly symbolic to her of a time when she was stumbling around the world with naivete and not quite knowing how to navigate that. by spreading her wings away from that relationship, it will not only give her independence, but also a way to see beyond the barriers of hawkins and a life where she was valued mostly for the qualities she brings to the supernatural equation. el's arc is one of my favorites. i would never claim such a thing and discredit the essence of what makes the emotions behind her character so interesting. she's somebody who was literally raised in a lab. she shouldn't be held back by somebody she is quite literally dependent on.

last but not least, i saw a post that said milevens always win.

"are you sure about that?" i ask, noah schnapp's most recent instagram post open on my phone, finn wolfhard's spotify playlist in my headphones, my mike holding will's painting funko on the desk in front of me, wearing a yellow shirt with a blue sweater over it.

thank u for listening to my ted talk 💙💛

[leosxrealm]

ᴍᴀɴ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴅ

pairing(s): Charles Leclerc x male! Norris! reader

request: Charles Leclerc x m!reader but his older brother is Lando and he always goes to his races and gradually learns about Charles and grows a hatred for him bc he thinks he's just a rich French (Which Charles constantly corrects) guy but he eventually gets to know him so its like an enemies to lovers kind of thing?

warning(s): fluff!! kind of slow burn, long chapter (3k words), mentions of manipulative ex, alcohol, reader is Charles' gay awakening, also reader and Charles didn't have the best first impression of each other

(a/n): reader's age isn't specified so it can be read as whatever age you want reader to be (21+ cause there's alcohol involved). this was requested so long ago oml. hope you enjoy it anon <3

!not proofread!

Bahrain, 2023

"Can't you fucking watch where you're going?"

"Yo. Chill out, mate," You say, a little taken back by the stranger's outburst and even your own response. You throw up your hands in surrender, leaning your body slightly backward as if to tell the guy in the red t-shirt that you didn't mean any harm. 

You didn't intentionally bump into him. Who even does that? Too busy talking to your sister on the phone, you didn't see where you were going. And it looks like he didn't either. It was a mistake made by both of you. Why was he making such a big deal out of it?

"Don't tell me what to do," he lets out through gritted teeth. Turning on his heels, he walks away. 

"What's that dude's problem anyway?" you scoff, your mood turning sour at the strange dude's behavior. "What dude?" your sister asks. 

That took you by surprise, you forgot you were on a phone call with her. "Some French dude I ran into. He was being a bitch for no reason," you grimace, thinking back to the encounter.

"You know who he was?" your sister asks, curiosity getting the best of her. 

"Nah. Couldn't see his face."

You continued talking to your sister for a while, just until your brother was free from some team meeting that he had to attend after the free practice session.

"You have any other plans for the night?" your brother asks, looking up from his phone. He was definitely planning on hitting some bar with his friends. You could take a break, let yourself unwind for a night, you think.

"Not really," you say with a shrug. 

"Good."

---

"Who's that?" you practically shout, trying to be louder than the music playing. "Who?" Daniel shouts back. You point at the man across the room. He was standing next to your brother, talking to him. 

"Oh! That's Charles," Danny answers with a grin. "Lando and him are good friends. I think," he adds as an afterthought. You hum in response, not like he would have heard that over all the noise. You recognize the man now, he is your friend's teammate. "Oh, they're coming here," Danny says, tapping your shoulder. 

"I don't think I've introduced you two yet," is the first thing Lando says when he reaches you. "Y/n this is Charles," you stick out your hand, giving the new guy a 'hey' as well. 

"Charles this is, Y/n." Charles just gives you a nod and a loose handshake, before disappearing somewhere else. You raise your eyebrow at his odd behavior. 

"Don't mind him. He's a sweet guy, he just had a bad practice today," Daniel says from next to you. You simply shrug, it's not like he mattered to you. 

"Anyway," he grins, summoning two shot glasses from god knows where "Who's ready for some good time?" Lando cheers, ready to have some fun. You shake your head at your younger brother, of course, he's ready to party.

"Not you. You're still practically a child," Danny says while side-eyeing Lando. Your brother opens his mouth, ready to give his friend a piece of his mind before being interrupted by you. "He's right, bro," you nod, "You're what? Like 13?" 

Lando was no longer cheering.

---

"Y/n! It's so good to see you mate!" Carlos says, bringing you in for a side hug. "Carlos!" you laugh, reciprocating the hug, "it's been a while." 

"Yeah, mate. You kinda disappeared on us," he laughs, trying to remember when was the last time he saw you in person. "We were going to get lunch. You wanna join?" 

"We?"

"Uhh...There he is," he says after spotting his teammate. "Charles!" he waves his teammate over, "Do you mind if my friend here joins us for lunch?" You look at him puzzled, you hadn't even agreed to it yet. You shake your head, typical Carlos.

"Uh.. yeah no. It's fine."

You just blink at him, not that he would notice cause he was busy typing away on his phone; he didn't even look your way. A little rude, you'd say. 

---

It's a nice Middle Eastern restaurant that Carlos had picked. You and Carlos were busy talking away, reminiscing about the past, and catching up to date on each other's lives as well. Sure, you had seen his Instagram posts, and known what he had been doing, but hearing it from him was still different. Same for him.

A sudden ring disturbs your conversation with Carlos. "Sorry I have to take this," Charles says as he gets up, and exits the restaurant. You raise your brow, a little confused by his behavior. Not just today, but ever since you've met him. You have seen interviews and fan interactions with him, he certainly did not seem like the grumpy type.

"He certainly isn't like the guy they show on television," you comment, sipping on your wine. Carlos sighs, making you look at him. "What?" you raise an eyebrow. 

"He's a good guy... It's just... I don't know..." he pauses, taking a moment to think, "There's something going on with him." He chews the inside of his cheeks, squinting his eyes to look at Charles who was leaning against his car outside the restaurant, still on a call with someone you didn't know. "I heard, he's having some problems with his girlfriend."

"Trouble with his girlfriend?" you ask, taking another sip of your drink. With nothing to do here, you had been getting bored either way. And a little gossip never hurt anyone.

"Yeah. I don't know the details. It's just what I've heard," he sips his drink, "They looked tense around each other too." 

"Mmm..."

Miami, 2023

"Didn't expect to see you here." 

You turn around, your scotch glass still in your hand. "Charles," you were surprised as well. You didn't expect to see the Ferrari driver at some random charity event. "Care for a drink?" you wave to the bartender, not even waiting for his answer.

"Scotch. Neat," he orders. 

He takes a seat beside you, gulping down his drink in one go. "You good, mate?" you ask, a little concerned about the man. "Hm? Yeah. Don't worry." If he wasn't going to tell you himself, you wouldn't push him. After all, you two weren't exactly friends.

You two stuck to each other for the rest of the evening. It was better than walking around alone. During this time, you had gotten to know a bit about each other as well. He wasn't as bad of a guy as you had originally thought. 

"Yeah, she clearly knew he was flirting with her, and instead of telling the guy she had a boyfriend, she was flirting back. Even letting him cling to her."

"Oh..." you take a sip of your water, deciding on no more drinks for the night.

"And when I asked her about this, she called me a "jealous, possessive boyfriend who's taking away her freedom." Her words, not mine." he continues to rant, using air quotes to emphasize his point. He sighs, she had betrayed his trust; even if people wouldn't exactly call this cheating, in Charles' book, it was. 

"It's all good now. I'm over her," he smiles.

"No wonder you were such a piss baby in Bahrain. No offense," you chuckle slightly.

He looks down a little embarrassed, he knows how he acted like an asshole during that time. And not just to you. He would've understood if you would've given him the cold shoulder tonight. But you didn't.

"Yeah... About that-"

"It's all good, mate. No hard feelings," you cut him off. You knew he was sorry about his rude behavior, it was written all over his face.

"You wanna ditch this event?" you ask, a smile growing on your face. He laughs, not expecting such a question after the (one-sided) heart-to-heart conversation that you two just had. He appreciated it nonetheless. If you were trying to lift his mood, it was certainly starting to work.

"And go where?" he asks after a good laugh.

"I know someone who's hosting a party," you shrug. 

"Ditching an event to go to a party?"

"Ditching a boring event to go to a fun party," you correct, grinning at him.

---

"You never said it was gonna be a houseboat party," he shouts over the loud music. "Welcome to Miami!" you laugh.

You grab his elbow, dragging him towards the tiki bar. Ordering two drinks, you push one in his direction. "What's that?" he eyes the drink.

"This," you emphasize, raising your own glass, "is the perfect way to forget about your gaslighting ex-girlfriend." He laughs, appreciating the humor. The both of you chug down your drinks. 

You drag him over to the dance floor, quite practically forcing him to dance. "Come on, mate," you urge him, "If you wanted to be boring you could've stayed at the event." He laughs, finally loosing up. You two continue to dance, having some more drinks in between. 

---

"Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump!..." The chanting continues, daring, challenging you to jump in the water. Charles sneaks up behind you, pushing you into the water. You turn around just before he could, holding onto him, and dragging him in as well.

You submerge, laughing as you do. Charles gasps, still a little surprised, before he laughs as well. He holds on to your shoulder, still heaving. Your shirt that you had worn to the charity event, sticking to your body.

 He eyes you, for longer than he should have. This was new. He doesn't think he had ever been interested in another man's body before. He tears his eyes away, trying to cool down the warmth that suddenly spread throughout his body. 

Your friend, the host, pulls you up, slapping you on the back in the process. You help Charles after, "accidently" pulling him by a little more force than needed. He bumps into you. He doesn't pull away like you half expected him to. He pulls away just slightly enough to see your face. Your hands go to his hips, swaying his body, along with yours, to the beat of the music.

---

The sound of laughter rings out in the surprisingly empty street of Miami. It's a small road, probably that's why. It's well into the early hours of the morning. 

It's media day and Charles knows his manager's gonna hate him when he shows up looking dead, still hungover. He couldn't care less about that now. He hasn't felt this good, this free, in forever. 

He looks to his side, you're walking beside him, one of your hands in your trouser's pocket, the other holding your blazer, a few of your shirt buttons open, slightly exposing your well-built chest and shoulder. 

"I'm so fucking tired oh my god," you laugh, looking up at the sky. Even though you couldn't see the stars because of all the lights, the sky still looked pretty. "Me too," he says, his eyes fixed on you.

"Hm?" you look at him from the corner of your eyes, "something on my face?" 

"Huh? No. Why would you think that?" he clears his throat, averting his eyes. 

"You're staring." The tip of his ears turns red. He can't believe he got caught staring. "Not that I mind." His eyes widened, but he didn't reply. You look at him from the corner of your eyes. Did I make him uncomfortable? you wondered. 

You don't say anything after that as the both of you walk back to your hotel. Charles' room came first. You stood behind him as he unlocks the door. "Wanna come inside?" he asks, turning around, and standing in the doorway. 

You smile, "Can't." He frowns slightly at your vague reply. "I have a flight in a few hours. And I still have to pack and take a shower. I should probably get something to eat as well," you scratch the back of your head, sometimes you get sick of traveling so much. 

His mouth forms an 'O' in understanding. "You're not staying for the Grand Prix?"

"I have yet another event I have to attend," you sigh, "and this one... I can't skip."

You start walking backward, not ready to turn your back on him yet. With both of your busy schedules, you don't know when you will be able to see him next. 

"I'll see you around, Charlie," you give a short wave, turning your back on him, and going to the elevator. Charles watches you leave, till he can't see you any longer. He looks down, a smile gracing his face. You had started calling him that at the party, he had thought it was because you were drunk, but apparently not.

It was truly a night he wouldn't be able to forget.

Silverstone, 2023

Charles has been on the lookout for you ever since he arrived here. It was Lando's home race, and he was hoping you would be there as well. It's Friday when he hears from Carlos that you're in the paddock. Supporting Mclaren, obviously. 

Carlos and you are good friends, right? Would that be enough for you to drop by the Ferrari garage? And you do. You stop by the Ferrari garage to say hi to Carlos, or at least that's what Charles thinks. 

You've been talking to Carlos since you arrived. A different thought inhabits his mind. Do you remember him? Was he even worth remembering?

He doesn't want to find the answers to his own thoughts that are going wild. He doesn't think he can handle you saying that you don't remember him. That night, as simple as it was, meant a lot to him. He doesn't think he can handle the person he's been searching for, ever since that day two months ago, to say that they don't remember him.

"Y/n, I hope you remember my teammate, Charles."

Carlos' voice rings through his ears. He looks up to see Carlos and you walking over to him. You nod, glancing in his direction. Carlos looks behind you to see his engineer motioning him over. "I'll see you later, mate. It seems they need me."

"Charlie," you grin. A sudden warmth spreads throughout his face and body. It's been so long, far too long since he had heard your voice. "Y/n."

"Walk with me," you say to him, quiet enough that even he was barely able to hear it. He walks beside you wordlessly. "How you been, Charlie?" there it was, that nickname again. "Uhh... I've been good. Barely gotten any time to myself after having races back to back."

You nod in understanding. Athletes really do have a tough schedule, don't they? You walk around the paddock, running into a couple of people on the way, who were very surprised, to say the least, at your unexpected friendship with the Monégasque. 

You talk about things, completely unrelated to either of your lives, just enjoying each other's presence. In a people full of paddock, there were only you two. 

As much as Charles loves racing, he wishes he had a little more time before he had to go for the free practice. "Charlies," you call out, making the Ferrari driver stop in his tracks. He turns around, a confused look on his face. "Dinner tonight? On me."

It felt like his face was on fire. Were you asking him out on a date? No, he shouldn't get his hopes up. You're friends with half the grid, maybe they're invited as well. He nods, his face the same color as his car. 

"Great," a grin spreads on your face, "I'll see you tonight." 

---

Charles was trying to tie a tie when he heard knocks on his room's door. He rushes around the hotel room to get to the door. "Y/n..." he trails off taking in your outfit. You looked... expensive. All his previous worries of over-dressing were gone. Now, he was worried that he was under-dressed. 

"Charlie," you greet him. Your eyes land on his messily done tie. "Having troubles?" Charles looks down, following your eyes. "Uhmm..." he clears his throat, a little embarrassed that he couldn't even tie a tie. 

You laugh, following him into his room. "Lemme see," you gesture for him to come closer. He does. He steps a little closer, not too close; he tries to respect your boundaries. You pull him closer by his tie, careful enough to not hurt him.

"How am I supposed to help you with it if you're gonna stand so far away?" you murmur, your hands working on his tie. "There," you smile, "all done." You don't step back. Neither does he.

He looks down, the tips of your shoes are almost touching his. That's how close you're standing. "Should I wear something else?" he questions, "I feel under-dressed."

"You're not. You look perfect," you grin at him, "Trust me, Charlie."

---

You open the passenger side for him to get out. It feels a little weird, Charles thinks, he has always been the one to hold open the gates for people, his dates specifically. He was raised to be a gentleman. It felt different for someone to open the hold the gate for him. 

He thanks you as he gets out of your car. You had insisted to pick him up. The both of you walk towards the restaurant. Charles heaves out a sigh of relief, there's no paparazzi around, at least he could enjoy the night peacefully with you.

"Reservation for two. Under Norris." 

Reservation for two? he gulps. He's happy to be able to spend time with you alone, without other people butting in, but he's also nervous at the same time because you two are alone. 

The both of you are led to a table. He walks behind you silently. The butterflies filled his stomach. Since when did he get so nervous on first dates? Was this even a date? He frowns ever so slightly, he hopes it is.

The conversation flows freely between you two. No cameras flashing in your faces, no people there to recognize you two. It was more peaceful compared to your night spent in Miami. 

Like all good things, the night had to come to an end as well. You find yourself standing in front of his hotel room once again. "Want to come inside?" He hopes this time, your answer would be yes. 

It was.

(a/n): was this close to adding surprise angst once again 🤏🏼 uh and i won’t be making a part two for this. i felt like the ending was perfect so i left it as it was. if you have any drabble ideas with this pairing don’t hesitate to send that in!! hope you guys enjoy this :)

HC: Carlos asked for all the details later when he found out about your veryyyyyy unexpected friendship with Charles

[bayofalgecirascranes]

Aaron Fox'sTongue by @muffinlance character of all time. He's an ex-ish assassin thief and a master of scheming who just sorta accidentally fell into pretending to be a spy-in-training for people who would have killed him on-sight. His bright idea to get himself some leeway for this ruse was to pretend to be someone who is pretending to be him. He kills both animals and humans with the same sort of value. He is so against cannibalism that he won't eat any meat of any kind. He is a strict vegeterian who won't even eat meat to keep his cover from being blown. He was so food insecure before that he stows food away in his pockets Just In Case. When he was trapped as a wolf for several weeks, he practiced barking in a way that sounded exactly like the word "woof" just to mess with people. One of his favorite pastimes is antagonizing a specific member of the Royal Guard and sometimes he doesn't even do it intentionally. He doesn't listen to dead men but that just means he'll kill anyone he wants to stop listening to. He was late to his own death so now he has an ability that lets him know if someone is scheduled to die within the next one-to-one-hundred business days. He wanted to kill a woman so bad that it got in the way of someone else's assassination attempt. He has killed so many people but he can't just let a stranger die for no reason. He catches feelings of friendship towards anyone who doesn't try to kill him after a handful of conversations, with very few exceptions. He doesn't trust anyone completely, and won't even let the 3rd person limited narrator tell the readers parts of his plans until they become relevant. He is so Ace that he overlooked a major development that kinda led to the downfall of a kingdom. The reason he was in a position to accidentally kind of topple a kingdom in the first place was because he kind of accidentally toppled the kingdom he was raised in by on-purpose killing its king. He willingly and knowingly wears cloaks that he considers to be equivalent to human skin. He spent half the Spring stealing specific "human skin" cloaks so that the people whose culture those skinned people belonged to could give them a proper funeral and so that their leader would trust him. Some of his best friends are animals. Some of his worst enemies too. He isn't keen on horses and he doesn't trust whales. He is extremely intelligent. He just learned how to write his own name two weeks ago and he still can't read calligraphy. His dead brother was supposed to be the Saviour of Humanity.

[dofushiza]

Doflamingo and the Donquixote Pirates: Does he love them?

Doflamingo and the Donquixote Pirates are one of the most complex dynamics in One Piece, and fans are often split on whether Doflamingo truly loves his family. My take? He does, but it’s incredibly complicated.

From a young age, Doflamingo was raised by people who drilled into him the idea that their lives were expendable for his ambitions.

All the Donquixote Pirates grew up starving on the streets, seeing Doflamingo as their savior. Their journey began as street urchins, struggling to survive in a harsh world. To get by, they turned to a life of crime, driven by desperation and hunger. This life was all they knew until they encountered Doflamingo, a boy with incredible power.

To these people, Doflamingo was a ticket out of their miserable existence. They saw in him a potential leader who could offer them protection, purpose, and a chance to rise above their circumstances. In their eyes, he was a savior who could change their fate.

In turn, they fed Doflamingo toxic ideologies, reinforcing his already warped sense of self-worth and destiny. They told him he was destined for greatness and that their lives were a small price to pay for his ascent to power. This constant reinforcement shaped Doflamingo's mindset, making him believe that true loyalty meant being willing to die for one's leader.

As they followed him, the bond between Doflamingo and his crew grew more complex and entangled. His followers' unwavering loyalty and willingness to sacrifice themselves bolstered his belief in his own superiority and right to rule. He saw their sacrifices as proof of their devotion, not realizing that he was perpetuating a cycle of manipulation and exploitation.

This twisted form of loyalty is evident in many ways, such as Monet willingly sacrificing herself for him to save Caesar. It’s clear that his crew’s dedication feeds into his toxic mindset.

Take Baby 5, for instance. Doflamingo killed her predatory fiancés, but he never had a heartfelt conversation about stranger danger with her . He’s too damaged to provide that kind of emotional guidance.

When Law held Giolla captive and Doflamingo hesitated in his attack on the Sunny, Giolla later expressed she’d happily die for him. This reinforced his skewed perception of loyalty.

He has moments that show genuine care, like getting angry when Law used his powers on Buffalo and Baby 5 or insisting that no one laugh at Pica’s voice. He compliments Diamante, likely to get him off his ass and do his job.

Doflamingo’s care for Caesar Clown is another intriguing aspect. Ensuring Caesar’s safety would keep him safe from Kaido’s wrath, but he also calls Caesar his “cute subordinate” in the original Japanese, indicating some level of affection.

The complexity deepens with Corazon. Doflamingo only hinted at wanting Corazon to use the Op-Op Fruit to grant him immortality after Corazon left and the Navy was conveniently off their tails. He suspected his brother of being a spy and may have wanted to hurt him out of betrayal. Though I might be grasping at straws with this one.

In his own twisted way, Doflamingo tries to “help” by taking kids off the street and giving them powers to fight against the oppressive society they were born into . However, this is a mirror of his own upbringing, where Trebol groomed him to be a criminal and surrounded him with people who would die for him. Intentionally or not, Doflamingo perpetuates this cycle with his subordinates.

Ultimately, Doflamingo’s love for his family is there, but it’s marred by a lifetime of manipulation, violence, and a deeply ingrained toxic mindset.

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: Suguru Geto x F!Reader

word count: 9.7k

contents: Canon compliant up to the events of JJK0, cult leader!Suguru, naive reader, slight age difference between reader and Geto (5 years), reader can see curses/has cursed energy but it is kept intentionally vague

cw: dark content | emotional manipulation, dubious consent, voyeurism, oral sex (m!receiving), spit, violence, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of religion and religious imagery, mind fuck-y

notes: so this is a remaster/full repost of unkindness that was on my old blog! i only got up to like the third segment in that post so i figured why not do it all at once. thank you for reading if you do and i hope that you enjoy my little story! ♡ | crossposted to ao3

When you were eight years old, sitting in your mother’s lap as she combed through your wet hair, you remember telling her about a recurring dream you had been having for weeks. You were nervous to tell her, your little hands balled into fists as they rested against your nightgown clad thighs. 

“A raven,” you recount to her as she nods and gently uses the bristles of the comb to detangle a knot. “Bigger than any bird I’ve ever seen is in this dream every night, flying around over my head.” Your mother sighs and reassuringly pats your head. You hear the spritz of a spray bottle from behind you, a synthetic green apple scent filling your nostrils. 

Telling her filled your stomach with anxiety, an issue you didn’t know you had at the time. You figured the world was just scary back then. You wish you could go back and tell yourself how right you were. About how scary the world is, anyway. To tell yourself about how everything will eventually end up likely wouldn’t change the outcome but at least you could say a few things.

“The raven comes to the ground eventually. He doesn’t fly over your head forever, instead he glides by your side.”

“The visions you’ve seen are real, you aren’t crazy.”

The most unbelievable thing of all?

“You end up in love and you end up losing yourself along the way.”

Back then though, you only had your mom and her words to illuminate the darkness you felt lurked around every corner.

“Have you ever heard of omens?”

Shaking your head, you turn to look at your mom who is tapping the edge of the comb against the heel of her hand. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek and you can tell she’s deciding what to say next to comfort you. Your mom has never been good at this kind of thing, a woman who never envisioned she would have a child with so much angst and fear. 

“Sometimes we receive signs that something is going to happen in our lives even if we don’t understand them,” she starts. You hear her mouth open, as if she wants to add something additional, but you hear it snap shut as if she thought better of it. You nod once, signaling your understanding and she gets back to work at the stubborn tangle at the base of your skull without another word shared between the two of you.

You hate that this is the most vivid memory from your childhood.

You hate that you still have the dream.

You wake with a gasp, looking around and blinking as warm morning light filters through the window. Feeling around the bed, you wonder if Suguru is already up and moving for the day as your hands touch the duvet where he should be. It’s cold, as if nobody was there in the first place. Knowing that may have been the case anyway, you sigh and rub your hands over your face. 

“Suguru?”

His name leaves your lips in a tentative manner and you look around the room to make sure he isn’t looking at the early morning sun or standing there watching you sleep. No matter how much of your life you spend with him, you’ll never get used to the feeling of those black diamond eyes following you everywhere you go. But finally, you are seen. 

Four years spent with him and no one sees you like he does.

You were 18 years old, a few months from graduating high school, when Suguru approached you. The sight of a stranger raised your hackles, scared of the world at large at that point in your life, and you were concerned trouble was coming for you. All of the omens in your dreams would finally come true at the hands of this beautiful man, rising to his full height which is nearly towering over you. His hair was shorter then than it is now, just past his shoulders and tied in a neat half bun off of his face.

He looked like less of a god now than he did then but you knew it. The omnipresent feeling of him sticks in your bones. It’s the confidence that makes you stand with your back straight, that guides you through the worst of the days where he’s nowhere to be found. 

Unable to find him, you shuffle back to the futon and lay down amongst blankets that smell like him. You’ve never been able to place the scent but you know it’s his. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you let your mind wander back to all of those years ago.

“I know this seems sudden but I wanted to ask you about your gift.”

Mention of your gift, not that you’d ever call it that, makes you freeze. He notices your expression, wide eyed and haunted, and he fights the urge to smile at you. Just as he and everyone else suspected, you have no idea what you’re capable of. It would be a failing worthy of death to let Gojo find you first. Suguru couldn’t risk the bird dog finding his canary and dropping her off, bloodied and broken, on the doorstep of the Sorcerer community. 

He wouldn’t allow it.

“M..my gift?” You repeat with uncertainty and he nods, bun bobbing against the back of his head as he does so. The situation is withering, a handsome stranger asking you about a secret you’ve kept hidden for your whole life while the sun beats down and makes you sweat. You wonder if you’re about to be killed.  

“You are an exceptional young woman, do you know that?”

The background noise of the world fades out, the sound of the spring birds chirping disappearing as you blink once, twice, and you notice those dark eyes fixated on you. You blanch and avert your eyes. Were you even allowed to look at him? Dressed in such nice clothing with such a regal demeanor? Shaking your head, you play off the awkwardness with a humorless chuckle.

“You must be looking for someone else, sir.” Bowing your head as a sign of respect, you turn to walk away. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Before you can turn on your heel to walk away, you feel a large palm rest on your shoulder. You take note of the weight of it, the feel against your bones, and you wonder why this is happening to you? You are so afraid but you can’t run, you don’t have the guts for it. What do you do now?

Nothing. You do nothing, just as you’ve done your entire life. You let this strange man grab you, hold you, speak to you. Humiliation rises like bile in your throat and you turn to face him, astounded again by his beauty. The sunlight catches his dark eyelashes, warmth emanating from him. How can you walk away? You won’t walk away.

“I don’t want this to be more strange than it already is,” he starts, voice deep and dreamy. You could get lost in the baritone and the way it wraps around you but you choose instead to focus on his words to try and understand what he wants from you. “But I know you have something nobody else has. Abilities.”

He’s correct but you wonder how he could possibly know about your struggles. You have kept them to yourself for years even to the detriment of your own well being. Your mother and father both assume you’re deranged and there are times where you’ve wholeheartedly agreed with them since you began seeing the things that haunt you at every turn when you were 5. 

“How do you know about that?”

The man shakes his head and holds his free hand ahead of him. “Why don’t you walk with me and we can talk some more?”

How can you say no with his hand on your shoulder? Turning on your heel to face him, you keep quiet and wait for further instructions. Your naturally submissive tendencies are serving you well in this situation and Geto doesn't hide his smug smile. You are perfect and he knew it.

As the two of you begin to pick up pace walking side by side, you anxiously keep your eyes glued to the ground. Being able to visualize each of your steps is keeping you calm and if you look down, there's less of a chance you'll see whatever is out there to scare you.

"Look at me."

He doesn't ask, he commands, and you listen. For the first time, you notice something perching on his shoulder. It's formless for the most part and less terrifying than what you usually see attached to others as they pass by you but you're intrigued nonetheless.

"Do you know about that....thing?" Pointing to his shoulder, he nods at you and you breathe a sigh of relief. "You see them also?"

A chuckle is his response and you ponder what it means while you wait for him to clear up your confusion. "I don't just see them, I control them."

The figure disappears quickly and you gasp, searching around your own feet and your shoulders to make sure he didn't order it in your direction to harm you.

"How?"

Despite your trepidation, Suguru can see the way that your eyes sparkle at the thought of someone being like you. He knows how it felt for him, too.

"I can show you and so can my friends." He watches your nose scrunch in confusion at his words and he laughs, amused. The sound is musical and uplifting and you feel yourself lightening up for the first time maybe in your entire life. Knowing you aren't alone has shifted your perspective more than you realized it would.

"There are more of you?"

"A couple dozen, yeah."

Nodding, you think for a moment. What if he can actually help you? What if these people are actually like you? What if you can find a place that suits you for the first time in 18 whole years?

"How can you help me?" 

The man turns to you, knowing smirk in place across his mouth. “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

You hate her.

Never in your life has such a bitter feeling gathered in the pit of your stomach. Your face flames every time Manami walks by, you can feel it and you know she can see it. Tonight, you are more glad than ever to be on kitchen duty even if it means having to listen to her cackle from the other side of the wall.

“Geto-sama!”

She sing-songs across the tatami with a giggle as Suguru traipses by en-route to have dinner with the group, seating himself at the head of the table as everyone else files in around it. You fight the urge to roll your eyes from where you’re standing next to Mimiko and Nanako, pouring hojicha into tea cups. 

“Geto-sama,” you mock under your breath and Nanako giggles, dishing rice into bowls at your side. The two of you giggle together, a secret shared, as she begins to bring the dishes to the table for service. Sorting your tea cups, you count how many more servings you need as you look around the doorframe to see who is waiting.

Your relationship with Geto’s most trusted inner circle has expanded greatly since you first arrived months ago. 

They knew better than to be outwardly distrustful of you. Aside from the twins, every one of them had set out to find Suguru and his group on their own. He found you. He brought you. He touted your abilities long before you arrived.

“She’s the perfect blank slate,” he gushed over dinner one night as the other members of the group listened enraptured. “We got to her just in time, too. My source says that Gojo was planning on paying her a visit.”

Your arrival was underwhelming. Greeted at the end of the footpath that leads to the front door by Miguel, Larue, Mimiko, and Nanako while Manami glowered from the porch with folded arms, you weren’t immediately made to feel welcome by anyone except for Suguru who continued to guide you along the property with your arm looped in his. She was scoping you out, taking an assessment. She believed you to be no threat. She believed wrong.

Tinkering with the last cup on the counter, you take one look into the dining room again and the realization that your usual spot is full makes you chuckle humorlessly. Not that you’re surprised, Manami has done all but piss all over Geto to mark her territory but the sight makes a bitter, sour feeling turn in your guts just the same. Your nose scrunches as if you’ve smelled something bad and you don’t immediately hear when someone else enters the kitchen to pick up the tea cups you are still filling.

“About ready?” 

The voice you recognize as belonging to Mimiko calms you and you respond with a nod, wrapping your hand around the warmest cup as you take a breath and plaster a smile on. This one goes to the man himself and you feel eyes upon you as you offer it to him with a bow. His hand lingers on top of yours for a moment and you’re glad your face is pointed toward the ground, your flustered look hidden as long as you don’t make eye contact.

“We’re just waiting on you,” he chides lightly, always a stickler for timeliness. You lift your head to his view enough to offer an apologetic half smile. He pats the side of your face with his tea-warmed hand and your smile grows. Your eyes meet his rich, umber colored pair and you feel at peace. “Manami will be out of your spot by the time you get back.”

A small “oooooooh” breaks out around the table but the tension is quickly killed with a sharp look from Suguru. Everyone quietly begins shuffling their utensils and you don’t stick around to watch Manami’s rejection, scurrying back to the kitchen to gather your own rice and tea. 

“I want to share a few moments after dinner, if you’d all like to stick around.”

Suguru’s words inspire nods and happy, affirmative hums and you catch the tail end of them as you settle next to him at the table. Your opposition glares icily from the other end of the table, the same look she kept plastered on her face the day you arrived, and you meet her eyes long enough to offer a sweet smile before bowing your head in thanks for the meal you were about to share.

“I’d especially like for you to stay,” he looks across the table at Manami who nods once before turning back to her plate. Her lips are pursed and her eyebrows are knit together in irritation but smugness glimmers in her eyes. “You too,” he says and you turn your head to see him glancing down at you. Fondness crinkles the corners of his eyes slightly and you shrink into yourself with a nod and a shy smile. “Of course.”

The rest of dinner goes as you’ve come to expect. The twins giggle and joke with every other member of the group and you all sit beneath the watchful eyes of your leader who sips at his own tea with a barely visible over the edge of his cup smirk but you can see it from where you sit. You can see the corners of his mouth upturned just enough it makes your heart flutter in your chest. 

He looks down at you and thinks about how vulnerable you look. How little you hide, your emotions and yourself alike. Were you like this before he met you or is this his influence? He takes credit. He knows the way you flash fake nice shit eating grins in Manami’s direction is for his sake. His sweet little bird isn’t afraid to fight and he hoped that would be the case.

“Since we’re all here, I wanted to discuss a few things,” Geto clears his throat and sets his cup on the table in front of him. He basks as he feels every eye in the room turn toward him but none make him feel more intoxicated than yours. When he casts you a glance, you smile shyly. He wonders if you’ll do that forever, look at him as if he’s a savior on a big white horse. He hopes so.

“I want to make some changes in what we’ll all be doing around here,” his voice rings proud and clearly and you fight the urge to prop your head up with your hand girlishly to get a better look at him. A few people shift in their seated positions but you don’t glance around to find out who, gaze fixed upon the person you want to witness the most. 

“Manami, your duties are changing.” Replacing the sound of shifting clothing is small gasping and murmuring. Manami has been Geto’s assistant for close to two years, a coveted spot amongst anyone in the group. “You will still be my personal assistant but only for off compound events and daytime hours.”

Grateful for your own refusal to look at the rest of the table, you can tune out the uncomfortable chatting. “I know this may be surprising but we have many things ahead of us we need to prepare for,” he starts and the noise quiets. “Manami is one of the brightest among us and she will excel no matter what she’s doing.”

Hearing him praise someone else makes your back stiffen, the urge to pick at the seam of your t-shirt making your fingers twist in the fabric idly. You’re grateful your grip is beneath the table, hidden from view. No one will suspect how you feel as long as you’re careful but you gasp as you feel two large, soft hands untangle your fingers from your shirt and squeeze them between their palms. Looking up you’re greeted by the handsome, vulpine smile of Geto and you feel another gentle squeeze of your hands. 

You take a deep breath and ground yourself, focusing on his words as he opens his mouth.

“You will be my new on-premises and evenings assistant.” Despite your shock and the look on your face that shows it clear as day, you nod. “I would love to,” you clarify and he squeezes your hands once more as he rises and drops your clammy fingers back into your lap. 

Standing at his full height, Geto smiles as he looks over the faces of everyone sitting around him. Even Manami is working to hide her pout, looking toward the ground but keeping a smile plastered on her face. You sit with your legs tucked beneath you, a shred of hope illuminating parts of you that you once saw as dark and empty. 

You get to spend most of your day with Geto, most of your evenings too. Perhaps in that time he will finally have the opportunity to tell you about your gift. In 6 months you’ve learned as much as you knew the day you arrived but that may be soon to change. Giddiness makes you smile slightly, your face beaming as you keep it looking up. 

Suguru extends his hand in your direction and your smile grows wider. Gingerly placing your palm in his, he helps you rise as he places his hands on either side of your face. You strain your neck glancing up at him, you’re only chest level or so to his massive form and you can feel him using his grip on your cheeks to lower your head. Once you’re gazing at the floor his lips graze your forehead and you gasp, fire erupting through your limbs. 

“I’m going to teach you so much,” he coos as he uses his grip to turn your face back toward him. His eyes drink in the sight of you - the tip of your nose, the shape of your lips, and he smirks so quickly you swear you only imagined it. His thumbs graze your cheeks before he drops his grip and looks over your head at everyone else. That tall, dark shadow rests directly over you, though.

“You’re all dismissed, thank you for a lovely evening.”

Everyone stands and you stay facing Geto until all of the footsteps have filed out, waiting for his permission to leave next. You flinch slightly when his hands grip your face again, a natural reflex to the surprise of his touch, and he gazes at you silently for so long you stop keeping time. It could have been seconds, it could have been days - you will never know but you will accept it nevertheless. 

“Come see me tomorrow morning,” he whispers and you nod. You can see his eyes flit from your eyes to your mouth and you wonder what he’s thinking. He dips his head slightly and you can feel his lips brush gently against yours, a kiss almost too small to be qualified as one. You shiver, his thumbs digging into the plump flesh of your cheeks. 

“Yes sir.”

“Say that again,” he mutters against your lips. The vibrations of his words are directly on your skin and the heat that erupted in your limbs before has become a full blown fire, your face hot and your palms sticking together. “Yes sir.” 

He presses another kiss to your forehead and releases his grip, straightening his back out as he walks toward the door and offers you a bow of his head. “Get some rest.”

You make certain he’s gone before you touch your fingers to your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as you commit the feel of his soft mouth on yours to memory. You won’t be sleeping tonight.

“Geto-sama?”

The sound of your meek voice alerts Suguru to your presence and he looks up from his usual place by the open sliding door between his room and the porch attached to it, a light breeze blowing his hair off of his shoulder. He looks ethereal and resembles a hero from a book you obsessively read as a child. Rescuing a sweet young woman from a life marred by sadness, the hero hauls her off to a place where she can be happy.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” you start, clasping your hands together in front of you and he rises to standing, elegance exuding from him even in the most mundane of situations. He approaches you and gently rubs the back of your head and you fight the urge to lean into the touch. No amount of him feels like enough.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” he responds with a serene smile, one you’ve noticed is just for you. He doesn’t smile at anyone else like that, not even Manami, and smugness rises in you for a split second before he speaks again. “What can I do for you?”

Clearing your throat, you look toward the ground and keep your hands linked. Geto recognizes the posture, something you do frequently when you want to speak, and he waits with his own hands joined inside of the sleeves of his yukata robes. He loves how naturally you submit to him, how you won’t even meet his eyes.

“Why am I here?”

If he’s surprised by your question, he doesn’t show it, but he does take a few strides to your side to place a comforting arm around your shoulder. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. Sides pressed together, you’re surprised when you feel the most minuscule squeeze of reassurance. Your heart threatens to burst as he leads you to where he was sitting and invites you to sit across from him, the two of you looking out at the sun setting on the horizon. 

“Before I answer,” he adjusts his sitting position and turns to face you. The golden hour warmth hits his face and you swear, not for the first time, you are glancing at a deity. Something, someone, greater than yourself. You shouldn’t be this close to him and you start to spiral but his voice brings you out of your own mind and into reality, your gaze shifting from the ground to him. “Will you tell me why you’re asking?”

Twisting your fingers together and sitting your hands in your lap, you sigh. 

You’re uncertain of how much time has passed since you left your old life behind to join him and while you do finally feel at peace with yourself, the natural pull you feel toward the man who brought you here in the first place hasn’t dissipated in the way you expected it to. It feels like an unfulfilled hunger, a need more than a simple want at this point, but how can you begin to tell him that?

“I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll see me differently.”

Your words finally get a rise from Suguru and he quirks one of his dark brows. The crack in his cool headed exterior makes you giddy - is that because of you? You’re dumbfounded when his posture changes and he scoots closer to you, your knees nearly touching his. Should you pick yours up and press them against your chest? To quell your own anxiety, you decide to follow his lead. You will only move if he does.

“Nothing you say will change my opinion of you.” He reaches out and touches your knuckles with the tips of his fingers and you feel heat rise through every inch of your body. The touch makes you feel emotional and you break the intense eye contact between the two of you to stare at the ground, hoping it will hide the tears that are threatening to spill down your lash line. “I brought you here.”

Nodding, you lift your still joined fists together and wipe your eyes and down your cheek with the back of one of your hands. Although you are still looking down, you can see Geto moving from your periphery and you wonder what he’s going to do next. 

Concerned your display is upsetting him, you sit still and try to regulate your breathing to keep from sobbing but errant tears still flow. You feel Suguru’s finger before you realize what’s happening and you flinch slightly beneath his touch as he wipes the wet tracks off of your skin. He wipes his finger along the fabric of your yukata robe before wrapping both of your fists in one of his much larger hands.

“Please be honest with me.”

Thinking back to what prompted this need for confirmation of what you mean to him, you dig your nails into your palm until you’re certain marks will be left. Manami, someone who spends almost as much time around Geto as you do, comes into your mind and you gnaw on your lower lip as you think about the jealousy churning in your gut. Why does she get to be there to help him make decisions? Why does she get to watch while he’s in meetings? Why did you see her leaving his room last week, hours before dawn?

Knowing it should be you is the emboldening thought you need to open your mouth.

“Do I mean anything to you?”

Feeling him squeeze your fists, the palm of his hand warm and comforting, you release the breath you’ve been holding. For better or worse, you’re about to find out and although your mind is racing, willing yourself to be calm comes easy in his presence. As if you needed further confirmation of everything he has done for you at a moment when you’re demanding something you feel unreasonable for wanting.

“You mean everything to me, you’re our future.”

His confirmation makes you weep. Tears flow freely, dripping down your cheeks and they hit the knuckle of Suguru’s thumb. You should feel guilty, you think, for putting him in a position to have to answer to you but cannot bring yourself to do it. You shouldn’t have had to wait more than a year to know but forgiveness is easy when it comes to him. If anyone should be sorry it’s you for questioning him in the first place and so you begin to ask for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry for asking, Geto-sama.”

You feel him pulling you into his lap, his strong hands wrapping around your hips and the blood rushes into your face. Perching with uncertainty, your bottom rests against his thigh and it feels natural. All of the yearning couldn’t have prepared you for this feeling and you sigh as he brings one of his large hands to cup the back of your neck, his voice so close to your ear it makes goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Call me Suguru from now on,” he whispers, a secret for your ears only. You feel his lips press against the space where your jaw and neck meet, another secret for the two of you to keep. Everyone on the compound would view you differently if they knew this was happening but you don’t care. You can’t care, not when he’s running his palms up your waist and unfastening your robe.

The opened door with a view of the outside doesn’t concern you as Suguru’s deft fingers work at the knot keeping you decent, the same breeze that rustles his hair that has always reminded you of feathers blowing across your bare chest as the robe is worked down around your waist. Your nipple stiffens and Geto reaches to pinch it between his thumb and index finger, making you yelp.

“How long have you wanted this, my little bird?” He wonders aloud and you almost feel as if he isn’t speaking to you at all, he merely wants you to listen and to witness. “Since you met me?”

He knows the truth just as he knows the way you’re looking at him. Eyes lidded, cheeks puffed out, lips wet with your own spit. You’re never going to leave his side.

“Tell me the truth,” he pinches your nipple once more and you arch your back, lip jutting out at the roughness of the feeling. Nobody has ever touched you like this before and the feeling is electric. Despite the fuzziness in your brain, the heady arousal clouding your every thought, you wet your lips with your tongue and speak. 

“So long, Suguru.”

He smirks knowingly and lowers his head to suck your breast into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping at your skin. It’s nothing short of heaven, you think. This is how it always should have been. His hands travel from the dip of your waist to your hips, pulling the fabric of your robe further down to expose more of you to his hungry eyes. You reach out toward his face, your fingers tentatively brushing against his lower lip and he releases your nipple from his mouth.

“Can I touch you too?”

Another whisper, another secret. A predatory gleam shines in Suguru’s eyes and you wiggle against his lap, keeping your fingertips pressed against his mouth. He puckers and kisses them gently, reaching to grab your wrist. He places your hand against the bulge beneath his robes, covering your delicate fingers with his own.

“You can,” he uses his grip on your hand to press the heel against his hard cock and he hisses through his teeth. You admire the way his throat looks when his head is tipped back in pleasure, his Adam's apple bobbing. How is everything he does so effortlessly beautiful, you wonder. Your attention is recaptured by his voice. “But first, how long?”

Your wide eyed, parted lip expression only serves as further fuel for the blood pumping between his legs. You look so innocent, the same as you did when he felt the first of your defenses crumble, the day he approached you to come with him. It strikes him as funny that both times, your vulnerability is because he has put his hands on you. Nervously, you shift in his lap and he presses you closer to his body to keep you from going any further. 

“Since the first day,” you admit, to him and yourself for the first time. He smirks, molding your hand around his bulge and you squeeze. Another hiss from him is all you want, the noise motivating you to offer yourself further. Using your free hand, you slip out of your robe the rest of the way and for the first time, you're bare to his eyes.

"Look at you." Your face heats and you feel your posture collapse in on itself, shoulders slumping after being so seen. "Show me how well you listen."

His command drips with condescension but you’re too awed to notice. When you nod, he gently nudges you off of his lap and you tuck your legs beneath you. Watching as he rises, you stay seated and admire the way those same lithe fingers that were just caressing your overheated skin work at the knot in his own robes.

Those dark eyes glance down at where you kneel on the ground and he gently smooths his hand over the top of your head and slides it into place along your cheek to cup your face. Using his grip to force you to look at him, you do and appear dazed. Transfixed, perhaps, would be better. 

“I’ve always known,” Geto unfastens the knot in his robe fully and you gasp at the sight of his nude form backlit by dusk right outside the door. He’s tall and broad and you can’t look away. “That you would realize.”

Pumping his hand along his impressive length, you bite your tongue to keep from eagerly interrupting him. You want to touch him so badly, you have to sit on your hands like a child to keep from approaching sooner than you should. Before you can think any further about his words, he walks a few steps and the sticky head of his cock nearly brushes your soft, swollen mouth. 

“I knew it was you from the moment we met.” 

He hangs his head just low enough that you feel the words are truly meant just for you and you shiver. As you wait for further instruction, he squeezes your cheek and jaw in the palm of his hand. Your eyes don’t leave him once.

Suguru has always prided himself on his ability to break people down - to their core, their most base selves in every sense of the word. Usually there’s a moment where he can see in their eyes that they have been broken, cloudy and glossy. Yours have looked like that since he met you.

“This is what devotion gets you.” His words make you shiver as he uses his free hand to point the head of his cock at your lips, rubbing the sticky tip along your pouty mouth. Sitting still as stone and waiting for his directions, he gently pulls your face toward his pelvis and his tip pops into your mouth. A long, low moan leaves him and you squirm at the sound. “Just relax for me, okay?”

Suguru releases his grip on your cheek and moves to palm the back of your head, fingers finding an easy and natural grasp on your skull. You take a deep breath and look up at him with watery eyes and he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re perfect,” he breathes toward the ceiling and you tense slightly as he uses his grip to move more of his cock between your lips. “Stay relaxed, baby. It’s okay.”

Your head bobs slightly and he groans again and you wonder what it will take to get him to make that noise again, the deep guttural moan sending shockwaves to your clit. You want to rut against something, to feel the pressure release in your stomach and between your legs, but Geto is your first priority. 

Experimentally, you dip your face toward the dark hair at the base of his thick cock and you gag a bit as more of his length slips down your throat. The grip on the back of your head tightens and he gasps. Lifting your eyes in his direction for just a moment, you whine at the sight of him with his head thrown back in pleasure. Open mouthed, eyes shut tightly, every muscle in his neck bulging - you love it. If you were a more artistic person, you’d find a way to capture this forever but for now you commit the vision to memory and allow him to thrust his hips so that the remaining length of him dips fully between your lips. The tip of your nose brushes his pubic hair and you moan and gag around his length, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. Using the thumb of his free hand, Suguru brushes your tears away and it makes you sob and gag. 

“Oh, don’t give up on me now,” he comforts from above, brows furrowed as his hips jerk and your nose continually bumps against his pelvis. Finding a rhythm, he listens to the noises coming from between your lips with every stroke and he feels himself getting closer. His balls tense and his cock twitches and he isn’t willing to prolong the wait any longer than it has already been.

“Open up, keep your tongue out, just like that,” he instructs as he releases his cock from between your lips with a sticky and wet pop, jerking his hand along his spit covered shaft right above your lips and chin and nose. “Stay just like ahhh-,” his words are cut short with a pleasured shout as he shoots translucent ropes of cum across your spit soaked face. A splash lands across your tongue and you note the salty taste - something you’ll associate with just Suguru for as long as you live. 

Wrist pumping until he feels fully emptied, he takes a deep breath and covers himself halfway. His lean torso is visible and you feel your cunt throb at the sight and part of you wonders if he’s going to do the same for you - if he’ll kneel between your legs and worship your pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in days.

“Miguel, Manami, you can come in now.”

The deep voice filling your ears makes you scramble to cover yourself with your arms, your breasts and back bare to the open sliding door. The pair make their entrance and you keep your face pointed toward the ground, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. Suguru pats the back of your head as he walks back toward the tatami and sits, patting the spot next to him for you.

“Had some other business to take care of, please forgive my rudeness.”

You stay frozen in place but you can feel the eyes of your compatriots on your sticky face, remnants of Geto clinging to your cheeks.

Days spent on the compound are simultaneously mind-numbingly boring and some of the busiest you’ve ever had.

Each morning, you rise with the sun and watch her from the window that is on the wall opposite where you lie. Most of the time you are on your side, arms wrapped around yourself, in your bed or Suguru’s depending on the events of the evening prior. He most often has you visit him in his quarters and you appreciate the near luxurious gift of privacy on those evenings. It’s far less private in your own room, thin walls separating yourself and whoever is in the room next to yours, although everyone seems to know exactly what Geto uses you for and has since your arrival.

He honors you by allowing you to love him, you remind yourself while the dark thoughts swirling in you churn. They’ll be chased away by the sun and by his presence when he returns to his room where you lay. His side of the futon is empty, already made up as if he were never there, so you allow your mind to wander. If he’s feeling generous, maybe today he will have lunch with you or even better, he’ll finally allow you to begin training your cursed energy into something more than a never-ending sinking feeling in your guts.

He promised you a very long time ago he would help you learn about your own abilities. It seems ungrateful to still long for usefulness considering you know exactly what your role is, yet you can’t help but wish to find this key to understand yourself that seems to always be out of reach.

Tracking the time fell away from you long ago, not long after the first time you were intimate with the man you so dutifully serve. Autumn gave way to winter which faded into a difficult to remember spring followed by the once again balmy days of summer. Again and again and again. Cicadas ring out across the secluded surroundings of the compound morning to night. You blink as they instruct you to rise, singing a tune even more rehearsed than the mechanical beeps of the alarms you used to set on your phone. How long has it been since you’ve had a phone? 

Does it matter?

Months or years may have passed but you find that you don’t care all that much. Time passes the same without being able to watch it, a voice that sounds a lot like Geto’s reminds you in the back of your head. You are here forever as part of your purpose to serve his goals and time is just a construct.

When’s the last time you felt like yourself?

Last night, when his satisfaction was the only thing you had to be concerned about, you chide yourself silently. You sound ungrateful to your own ears even if you don’t speak, these endlessly appearing questions becoming more aggravating with each second that passes, and you are annoyed and angry when you rise from Suguru’s bed, re-knotting the tie of your yukata. The shoji is open and he stands just outside of it wearing a cotton robe of his own, sunlight silhouetting him. 

He’s a God, you remind yourself, though it doesn’t kill the bitter taste in your mouth the way it usually does. Shuffling toward the door, you take a deep breath and call out his name from inside, his face turning toward you. This makes the bitter taste turn into something sweet you wish to taste again, a soft smile replacing your uncertain frown. 

“Good morning,” he calls toward you, sweeping his hand out in front of you to indicate where he’d like you to be. You dutifully follow the wordless instructions and arrive at his side with a smile, squinting in the early morning light.

“Good morning, Suguru. How did you sleep?” Smiling down at you, he gently takes your hand. “As well as I always do when you’re in my bed.”

The compliment and his touch make you feel girlish, heat rising in your face. To be a God’s beloved concubine is an honor, one you rarely take for granted even in your weakest moments. He has given you purpose, motivation, and an understanding you would not have found in a world with people who are unlike you.

Yet that same pit in your stomach lingers. He can tell, narrowing his eyes when he glances at you again though you avert your gaze.

“What’s on your mind?”

A tight smile slips across your face, measured and careful; similar to the one you always give Manami when she’s swearing her devotion to him at dinner or after the congregation. You want to tell him the truth, to open up and make him understand your need to be useful, but the words stick inside of you.

“Nothing, I just didn’t sleep very well.”

It isn’t exactly a lie but he knows that it isn’t the entire truth and his blood runs cold wondering what you’re hiding. You are usually so placid around him, glassy eyes and subdued smiles with averted eyes, but he can feel the anxiety flaring from your body. Are you unhappy? Is the spell he has held over you weakening? Does he need to scare you into reminding you of where your place is, the way he has with so many others?

Tutting gently, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you to his side.

“Speak freely, I value everything you have to say.”

Lulled into a false sense of security, you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“May I train with you today?”

Suguru laughs, lifting his hand and gently brushing his thumb against your chin. He’s always touching you when it’s just the two of you, hands rubbing your forearms or fingers pressed against your face. He’s a sculptor and what are you if not simply the clay he’s molding beneath his touch, smoothing out edges and reshaping you from the bottom up into something you aren’t sure you recognize anymore which is how he has always intended things to be. His perfect blank slate, he said so many years ago. There isn’t a time where you haven’t proven it to be true even if you need a reminder. 

“Why?”

The tone of his voice makes you feel foolish for asking and your sidelong glance turns to the ground beneath you. Subservience is a practice and one you tend to be good at, evidence provided in the form of your refusal to make eye contact even when he begins speaking again.

“I’ll protect you from anything that could hurt you. You know that, right?” He furrows his brow, one of his hands wrapped around your forearm while the other remains on your chin. “You are safe here. Nothing here can or would hurt you, not while you’re in my care. Isn’t that enough for you? You demand training so you can, what? Fight?” Chuckling and finishing with a haughty sigh, he shakes his head. “You don’t have a fight in you, little girl. You never have.”

Defenses faltering, you laugh to yourself and up at him, sensitive eyes once again squinting when faced with the grace of the higher being in front of you. Of course he’s keeping you from having to enter battles you aren’t equipped for, isn’t that what he has been doing this entire time? Protecting you from those shadows that have lurked over your shoulder and kept you from sleeping since you were a child, comforting you, blessing you. 

Your rudderlessness isn’t Suguru’s fault, it’s simply your own for assuming you know more than he does.

Nobody knows you like he does. They never will.

“Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

You call him Suguru in pleasure and Geto-sama in exaltation, raising it to the heavens that put him on the earth. Moving to fall to your knees before him in apology for making him believe his protection isn’t enough, he stops you with a firm hand on your shoulder. His thumb digs into your collarbone, somewhere between painfully and pleasurably, and you remain standing on wobbly feet with a dumbfounded expression. 

“I already have. For everything.”

There is so much you’ve done since you’ve arrived, so much to be forgiven for. Questioning him, doubting your place with him, doubting others, speaking with a jealous tongue and thinking poisonous thoughts. You accept his grace with a smile, tears rimming your eyes. You have always been told that forgiveness grants freedom, the wind at your back and the sun on your face. You feel it on this day, gazing up at a man who has saved you time and time again despite your own folly. 

Nodding and sniffling, you shut your eyes to stop yourself from open mouthed sobbing in thanks. You don’t deserve this and never have.

“I’m going to tell you something I’ve told nobody else, okay?” 

The assertion that he still trusts you despite your disrespect makes you emotional again, eyes opening and tears falling while you nod. 

“I love you.”

I love your devotion to me, he means, though you’ll never read between the lines to consider that the truth is that you are just a pawn to a man you’ve dedicated your existence to pleasing. Your body, your words, even the way you enter a room have all been carefully trained to suit him. You’ve been broken by his hands and he is always in a hurry to remake you, fashioning you into something once again useful.

“That’s why you’re here, little bird. To be safe and loved, not to fight or grow jealous or be angry with me. Are you angry with me?” You shake your head quickly, leaning into his touch with furrowed brows. He drops his hand from your chin and wraps his arm around your waist. “Never, Suguru.”

“Then don’t ask about training again, understood? Trust me to take care of you.”

And trust you do, nodding and finally letting that open mouth sob escape. He does a bit more tutting and his large hands paw at your body, yanking at the knot keeping your robe closed, roughly cupping your breast when the fabric falls open. Tears drip down your cheeks and onto the back of his hand, just how he likes it, and his tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he glances down at you.

“Do you trust me?”

This isn’t even close to the first time that he has asked but he needs to know just how many pieces he has smashed you into. He flexes his hand, squeezing your breast, further punctuating the point he’s trying to make - every little bit of you is his to have, to control, to make, to break, to feel.

“More than anything, Suguru, I swear.” Your legs ache to once again fold and bring you to your knees, the way you best know how to prove your regret, but you remain standing, lower lip quivering. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Your apology is a mantra you repeat as his hand dips lower beneath your robe, grazing the soft skin of your stomach and hip. Roughly wrapping a hand around said hip, he pulls you against his body, cold glance locked on your puffy, wet eyes. Despite himself, he smirks down at you, head tilted to the side. His hair is a black curtain that falls over both of you, soft strands resting against your bare torso and arm. 

“Do you love me?”

You do not have to think about your answer though it shakes when it leaves your mouth, your lungs begging you to gulp down enough air to replace what you’ve let escape through sobs. 

“I love you so much.” You shake your head and sob again. “Please, please believe me”

You feel like a half-formed thing, ready to be made over however he sees fit. 

“I believe you, no need to cry,” he assures you, grip on your hip tightening. You breathe through your open mouth and he takes the opportunity to bring his thumb to your face once again, pulling your jaw down and widening your mouth. You know what’s coming next, heat stirring from deep within you despite your sorrow, before he even commands it.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and he spits down onto the muscle.You roll it back into your mouth in an instant, grateful for the opportunity to have even the tiniest piece of him in you, his eyes following your throat as you swallow. Communion, consumption of him to purify yourself from the inside out. The ultimate apology until he can use your cunt to fulfill himself later, although he wants to take you now, right here, inviting everyone out to see the work of a master craftsman.

Sobs gradually give way to less powerful sniffles, you squint up at him with your skin exposed and his touch and his hair and his scent and wonder what you were even wishing would happen in the first place. That he’d train you to do what, exactly? This is what you were meant to do.

“Do you feel better?”

You nod and he smiles down at you, the same measured smirk he always wears. He leans down and kisses your forehead, pulling up the sleeve of your robe to give you some semblance of modesty but leaving it open as he ushers you back inside, sliding the shoji shut behind him. Suguru crowds you into the room, leading his nearly lost lamb toward the futon while untying his own robe.

“Now, apologize like you mean it.”

Now, you fall to your knees, grateful he’s allowed you to show how sorry you are in the shadows of his room instead of by the light of the sun.

“War is on the horizon.”

Sitting with your legs tucked beneath you at Suguru’s side on the elevated platform at the front of the room, you keep your eyes downcast while he addresses his congregation. This is your role, it has been for a very long time now, and you’ve learned to ignore curious onlookers or newcomers who will never be able to fathom such fanatical love. 

You love him so much you silence yourself. You sit by his side, so quiet you may as well be nothing but air. You have never learned how to defend yourself or even delved into the curses that used to weigh you down; freedom from these responsibilities came in the form of surrendering yourself fully to him. Body, mind, soul, all tied to his whims. You are a puppet on a string and he is free to move you in whichever way he chooses.

Just the way you like it.

“I’ve officially made the declaration to Satoru Gojo himself.”

For the first time in years, you look up when you are meant to look down, the anxious murmuring of the crowd making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You know what happens when the congregation disagrees or questions their leader and he rises with a flourish, petting the back of your head gently before stepping off of the platform.

“Do I sense disagreement?”

Looking every bit the apex predator that he is, you dare keep your gaze trained on his back rather than the floor. His head swivels from one prostrate form to another, seeking out anyone who dares disagree with his plans. Foreheads touch the ground below them, the ultimate show of devotion, yet one head remains raised and Suguru chuckles as he approaches the newcomer.

You don’t know their name, you realize. You stopped bothering to learn the newcomer’s names given how little interaction you have with them. They’re nothing but faces to be forgotten about after they have spoken out of turn and met their end at the hands of the man standing with his chin held high.

“Is there something you’d like to say?”

Whatever boldness was previously etched into the face of the man kneeling before Suguru has very clearly disappeared but tension flares through the room regardless. You know that whatever choice he makes, however he chooses to deal with this foolish man, is exactly what he deserves. To spit in the face of God is bold and everyone has to learn their place eventually.

You certainly have.

“N-no, no. Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

Suguru clicks his tongue, turning to face the rest of his family with his arms spread wide, face turned toward the ceiling. Your eyes are to be trained on the ground but you drink in the sight of him standing amongst the mortals who have always believed they know better than he does. 

“What do you think I should do to the non-believer today?”

The question is rhetorical. At least, the silent room treats it that way, no one rushing to answer. Everyone knows to only speak when spoken to, even the inner circle who welcomed you years ago keep their foreheads pressed to the ground. He quietly pads through the crowd again, headed back toward you, and your eyes meet the ground swiftly to avoid being punished for looking at him out of turn.

“Look at me.”

Yours are the only pair of eyes he ever truly cares to have on him. Following the command, you glance up at him, remaining with your knees tucked beneath you and your hands folded in your lap. The way he looks down at you is as tender as he will ever get, even his softness is cold and harsh, but he speaks loudly enough that even the room behind him can hear that he values your opinion above the rest of them.

“What do you think I should do with him?”

Smiling back at him, your glassy eyes meet his and you say exactly what you know he wants to hear.

“Kill him, Suguru.” 

Smirking, he reaches down to pinch your chin between his index finger and thumb like he always does when you are performing as expected. It isn’t a performance anymore, if it ever was, it’s simply the way you feel when it comes to those who oppose him. He wags your head back and forth before dropping the touch completely, turning around and leaving you facing his back. 

Your eyes dart toward the ground once more. You were not instructed to look at him.

Geto walks through the rows of people once more, reaching to touch the backs of each of their heads while he passes, finally stopping in front of his target. His hands rest in the opposite sleeve of each of them and he bends at the waist, offering the same smile he gives to all of his victims.

“Well, unfortunately, your fate has been chosen. You may as well speak now while you still have the chance.”

A curse materializes, brought to this realm by the man in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the ground while screams and the sound of the rending of flesh fill the congregation room.

You’ll only look up once you’re instructed, as always.

[natailiatulls07]

You're gonna leave me, aren't you?

Max Verstappen x female!reader

Summary - They were bestfriends then lovers but in end they were strangers left with the memories of what was

Warnings - mention of his father, mention of Jules Bianchi’s death, bad google translate, breaking up, sad ending kind of??

-

2015

Max met her in secondary school, his life was crazy. Between juggling school, his fathers harsh parenting and formula three, he met Y/n. They became bestfriends almost immediately.

Y/n was like a breath of fresh air in his chaotic lifestyle. Always patient and understood if he couldn't hang out. It did help that she knew what Max was getting himself into, her father would watch formula one and he was a big fan of the sport.

When Max got signed to Toro Rosso in 2015, Y/n was the first one he told. He remembers the phone call oh so well.

-

After a couple of rings, Max heard her through his phone. She sounded tired but would always have a cheery aura to her even through the phone.

"Max are you alright?" It was then when Max realised that Australia, where he was for the grand prix, was six hours ahead of the Netherlands. This meant that it was currently four am for Y/n.

"Yeah sorry, I just realised what time it is for you..." He tooking a sharp breath, debating whether he should let Y/n sleep and tell her later. "I have news, it's very exciting!"

Max heard her shuffle in bed. "Oh yeah, go on"

"You better be clearing you schedule because I'm going to be in formula one!!" Y/n's audible gasp was heard through the phone. "Formula one zonneschijn!"

Of course since it was the middle of the night, Y/n kept her celebration quiet. So in hushed whispers she replied. “No way! Max that’s amazing”

Max could of sworn he heard her voice break. Was she crying? “I’m so proud of you Maxy!”

-

Max swears that day was the day he fell in love with her. They were only 17 and 16, mere teenagers. But his whole perspective of her changed.

Sadly Y/n couldn’t make his formula debut but he knew that she was watching on from home. She was studying, trying to get through college and through to university.

Of course the two kept close, face times and messages became important to them as Max was travelling his way around the planet.

Soon enough Max caught up the courage to ask her out over summer break. He took her to their favourite restaurant. And whilst on the date, he then asked her to be his girlfriend to which she nodded excitedly with a big smile on her face.

Everyone was happy for the new couple, admittedly upset they didn’t see much of the two together because of their privacy and schedules.

-

2016

It was in 2016 when Max started driving for Redbull racing that he also started to drift from Y/n. He didn’t want to and it wasn’t a choice he made easily.

Of course growing up, Max saw what happens in motorsport. He knew it was dangerous and always life threatening.

Max was in the paddock when he watched Jules Bianchi crash in 2014. He knew how it effected Jules’ close family and friends, Max was friends with Charles who struggled.

He remembers being told that Jules died after Jules was in a coma for nine months.

And Max didn’t want that weight on Y/n if something were to happen. He didn’t want the press to crowd her and he didn’t want to give her that much grief.

So he drifted, as much as he hated it, he drifted away from. This of course drew red flags for Y/n.

Before they would text non stop every day but now Max barely replied. Before they would spend almost all his free time together, binge watching their favourite shows or eating at their favourite restaurant or even just napping together.

But now Max would intentionally fill his time with work, much like his father once did. He remembers looking in the mirror and just seeing his father, that scared him but it didn’t stop him.

-

Y/n had managed to get ahold of Max, she called him asking if he could meet her at their favourite restaurant. Unlike her usual cheery tone, she sounded deflated.

Pulling up to the restaurant, he saw her through the window sat at their table. And as he walked in, he didn’t receive his usual warm hug from her so he just sat down opposite. Looking at her as if he didn’t know what was going on.

“Hey what’s up?” Max asked the girl opposite him. He was scared of her, she wasn’t Y/n.

“Um…how do I say this?” Her soft voice came out still as deflated as before. What Y/n said next hit, the new formula one driver hard. “You’re gonna leave me…aren’t you?”

It was as if everything around Max had stopped. Only then did he realise what he did to her. Max thought that this was the best option, drifting away, but instead what he had done was make her feel unloved and feel like the relationship was one sided. “No. No of course not zonneschijn!”

He was quick to protest but was quick shushed when Y/n started to shake her head. “Max…please don’t, don’t try to tell me different because you are…you’re gonna leave, it’s okay”

Collecting her stuff, Y/n started to leave. Max couldn’t do anything, he knew what he’d done and he knew he could come back from that. “I love you Max…always have and always will” Y/n whispered before turning her back to him and leaving.

Max watched her walk out of the restaurant and walk home, he felt ashamed and regretful that he lost the best thing he’ll ever have. But he promised to keep her in his heart until the day that he would die.

-

2023

It was over seven years since Max last saw her but he never let her out of his heart and mind. He had just won his third world championship and Sky Sports had pulled him over to have a quick interview.

“Hi Max! Well done on your third world championship, how are you feeling?” The sky sport journalist asks whilst Max is handed his mic.

“Yeah I feel so grateful that I am able to achieve this for the third time” Max smiles politely, not the biggest fan of post race/sprint interviews but pr insist.

“Is there anyone who you feel like you owe this to? Any family? I know that your father is very supportive of your career”

“Um yeah…” He takes a pause, and then his mind goes back to his sunshine, Y/n. “I think I’ll have to thank an old friend…she knows who she is, I hope she knows that I appreciate and love her more and more everyday” Looking into the camera, Maxs heart tells him that she is there watching from home supporting him.

He also knew that everyone knew who he was talking about, they always did.

-

[carriesthewind]

Still on my bullshit:

One thing I want to emphasize is that topics related to the scaremongering conspiracy video are very real, very serious concerns, but those concerns are around price-gouging (not even mentioned in the video) and privacy (but in a realistic way, not in a "digital ads are secretly being installed to track your eye movements to determine optimum pleasure-inducing packaging kind of way). This article is a good summary:

And the letter from Warren and Casey* is actually focused on these concerns.

*The links actually work in this version, hurray!

In this way, I think the video is a really good example of one of the dangerous of scaremongering conspiracy misinformation. Not only does it help promote and ingrain conspiracist ways of thinking, it distracts from real problems. It promotes the idea that we are already living in a dystopian reality concocted by powerful intentional actors who do not make mistakes. Unstated is the assumption that these actors have either entirely captured the institutions of goverment or the goverment is working with them (the goverment granted them a patent to do this nefarious thing!), and so the only way to resist is to take individual actions that don't actually solve - or even really address - the problem. And even if you try to take action based on the video, you're going to be focused on the wrong problem. Compare the kind of things the video is focused on - the existence of cameras in stores (lol good luck trying to get those out), facial expression analysis, sales of personal data to third parties - and compare them to the specific grounded questions in Warren and Casey's letter.

Because think about the call to action at the end of the video - you should destroy individual cameras in the stores with nail polish remover or nail polish. The doesn't actually do anything to address either the conspiracy problem in the video or the real problem (great, you destroyed a couple cameras, that sure showed them). Incidentally, it also potentially puts you at great personal risk for criminal prosecution for destruction of property. Which can be an intentional and powerful strategy of resistance, especially when instituted with intentionality - but that's not really what the video is promoting, is it? There's no next step, no pathway for change. It's effectively the same as a video about stranger-danger kidnappings telling you at the end that ladies, this is always why you have bear mace/pepper spray/a gun in your back pocket, ready to shoot. You don't leave either informed or empowered - just scared and reactive.