itsagrimm

[itsagrimm]

nibble (photo ref here!!)

[itsagrimm]

IS IT RAINING, OR I'M DROWNING AGAIN?

TW: dissociation symptoms, mention of torture, swearing, angst, hurt/comfort.

PAIRING: Nikto x F! Reader

A/N: I love angst. That's it.

Nikto hated the rain.

And no one would believe if he said that, because surely a ‘person like him’ would prefer when it rains, the peaceful sound of the raindrops against a window that would give a calming effect.

For Nikto, every raindrop was a bomb setting off inside his brain. It was like an explosion, making him dizzy and unable to move. Like all those days tied to that creaking chair, his head covered by the hood while it rained outside that cold cell he was confined. He remember vividly how it was raining, between the screams of that motherf—

“Nikto?”

Then, he felt a cold shower inside him, holding his breath as he turned around. A hand was open towards him, your figure under the rain, your shirt sticking to your skin.

Fuck. He dissociated again. It wasn’t happening anymore, and now that he was back with the only person who treated him like a human being, he was having those episodes again.

“You’ll catch a cold if you stay outside too much. Let’s go back inside, yeah?” How he loved your voice, the way you offered your hand, giving him a choice.

He could see how the rain was soaking your hand, the raindrops falling on both of you, the cold seeping through his bones. His eyes wandered around, assessing the reality. He was outside in the middle of the backyard. He was listening to the sound of raining, then…

He blinked rapidly. He hated the rain, so why he was outside and letting the rain fall on him? He started to count in his mind, one, two, three… and you were still there, still standing in front of him, your hair sticking to your face. You were shivering, but why were you smiling as if you were saying that everything was going to be okay?

He finally takes your hand, the skin clammy and cold, letting you lead him back into the house. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t need to anyway. He lets you change his clothes. He doesn’t complain for the water that’s soaking the floor, or the towel that you’re using on him to dry off his skin.

But he can still hear the rain outside, bombs setting off on his mind, making him dizzy and unable to run for cover.

Why he was outside, and why he was letting the rain fall on him?

He was drowning, and he wasn’t fighting it.

He observes you as you stand in front of him between his legs, holding his head and placing it against your chest. He lets you move him, not that he wants to fight your touch. But what he hears drowns all the sounds overloading his mind, making him rise to the surface again. He can hear your heartbeat: the rhythm isn’t steady, it beats fast. But it’s there. And it’s real.

It’s calming, enough that when he tentatively grip the soft skin of your thigh, he can feel it, sensing the skin on skin sending to his brain signals of home, of safety.

He doesn’t speak, and neither you do.

But that’s all he needs.

[itsagrimm]

If you see him

It's already too late

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#the reason why i am a slow writer

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Saw this license plate today and I'm still ugly laughing about it

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Burbiškis manor tulips in a bed of snow.

Photos: Laura Prascevičiūtė

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got into a discussion about my lack of national Russian pride bc i buy my smetana from the polish supermarket around the corner.

#i mean not wrong what national pride brother ew what is that #but also that's the funniest way to start a fight #grimmwriting

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‘Keeping Warm’ by Sydney Mortimer Laurence, c. 1921.

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the more i think about this the more infuriating it gets.

Like, do you really think people from other countries are stupid?

Do you really think smaller communities cannot see who is new in town?

the amount of over confidence one needs to just mentally place a NATO-member-officer-character in situations as if no one could clock that supposed elite undercover soldier the second he walks of the tarmac is the same line of thinking that keeps people from learning some essential vocabulary when travelling abroad or researching social faux pas before interacting with a foreign culture.

Honestly, confused about CoD fics set in Eastern Europe whose authors seem to think that an armed foreigner who doesn't speak the lingo would not be insta noticed by a semi curious neighbour.

Eastern Europe aside - have you never been in a small town? or a suburban neighborhood? a village? never dealt with nosy neighbours? never met that grandma or bored child or whoever always knows what is happening in front of their house?

cultures might be different. but human curiosity about something new and unusual is very universal.

people pick up on strangers so fast.

#yes i live in a city over run by tourists how do you know

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Chernobyl accident: Today is the 38th anniversary of the largest man-made disaster of the last century.

A cloud of radioactive dust hit Ukraine, Belarus, the Russian Federation and parts of Europe. After the accident, 8.5 million people were exposed to radiation.

Painting “CHAES, April 25, 1986”, V. Mykhalchuk

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newbie fic authors, shooting themselves in the foot: This fic is bad haha I suck at writing lol I am being mean to myself in the hopes that you will be nice to me but actually am dissuading anyone from even clicking on my fic because all I have done to advertise it is tell you why you shouldn't read it

me: I am King Big Dick of Fanfic Mountain and I have arrived in your fandom with the Express Intention of writing my Very Favorite Fics, which I will generously allow you to read. You're welcome.

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Wegbier

Translation: a beer for the road. It’s the drink (often a beer but other drinks like Clubmate or Almdudler for those that don’t drink alcohol are also common) one takes with them when wandering from one space to another while out with friends. And I literally mean wandering. It’s not a drinking while driving thing but a drinking while walking or using the public transport thing.

CN mentions of alcohol and drinking, theft, reader gets lifted up (hold on tight, spidermonkey!), drunk König

Summary: You are walking home with your boyfriend after a night out and cause havoc.

For legal reasons this is a joke.

König X gn reader

1,2 k words

Song that fits this: The Cure – The Lovecats

It was night. Or morning. Somewhere in between when it was hard to tell. You had missed the train to get back into town and instead of waiting for the replacing night bus, you had allowed König to talk you into walking.

“Come on!”, he called back over his shoulder. His long strides made him leave you behind ever 5 minutes and he had to turn around and wait for you to catch up.

“I don’t want to walk anymore!”, you lamented, tired from spending the last hours out with friends and enjoying the summer night at the lake.

“Leave me here, just let me sleep in the woods.”, you gasped dramatically, “That fallen tree with the moss over there looks so cosy.”

He starred into the woods, “That tree looks rotten.”

You suppressed a yawn and took a sip from your Wegbier before dragging yourself on. “Alright, nevermind. Off wandering home, we go. Through the dark hours of the night.”

König chuckled, “Since when are you so dramatic?”

“Since when are you so keen on walking everywhere?”

Another chuckle. “It’s not even 2 kilometres. You are just too used to cars. Less whining, more walking.”

“Easy for you to say, König. You take a step and you already have made about half of that distance.”

“That’s an…”, he paused and took a sip from his Wegbier before continuing while searching for the word, “…exaggeration. That’s the English word. Exaggeration. You exaggerate. For the dramatic effect.”

It was your turn to chuckle.

The evening and the alcohol had turned you into an overdramatic tipsy mess.

But it had turned König into the unfiltered version of himself, laying every thought bare with delightful simplicity.

Your visit in König’s hometown had been fun. It showed you a playful side in him when he joked around with his family, showed you places he loved, or taught you new german words until your head spun from the confusing grammar and unfamiliar pronunciations.

A more surprising thing to you, however, was the amount of walking.

To the store.

To friends.

The odd habit of having to leave the house at least once a day for a little walk like an animal stalking their territory.

And now you walked home with your boyfriend.

At least he walked. You needed a break.

“Come on! We nearly made it”, he called once again before stopping in his tracks and started laughing.

It was a gremlin laugh. One of those laughs followed up by either something very funny or very concerning.

You stared, slightly confused, and finished your beer before putting it next to a trash can for easier access to whoever collected the trash. Another habit König had taught you.

“What is it?”, you called and caught up with your boyfriend, following his stare onto the other side of the street.

“I need this.”, he growled.

“What?”

He nodded into the direction of one of the signs at the side of the road.

You squinted your eyes to see better despite the twilight and the distance to the sign.

K-Ö-N-I-G-S-S-T-R-A-S-S-E.

Your slow, tired and intoxicated brain needed a moment before finally gluing together the letters and translating the word.

Königsstrasse.

Kingstreet.

The street sign displayed your boyfriends callsign.

He laughed again and finished his beer.

“You in?”

You turned to him. “You mean, stealing it?”

He shrugged.

“Yeah. It’s fairly dirty. It will be replaced soon anyway.”

“Awww,”, you teased, “Are you, an active mercenary, trying to justify your crimes? No need, I’m in.”

He nodded as if only half listening and already planning the heist while finishing his own beer and leaving it next to yours at the trash can.

You looked around. A bit off from you there were a couple of houses, dark and silent as its inhabitants likely were deep asleep at this time. The street was empty. And above you a sole nightingale had started to sing.

Determined to get that sign, you crossed the street.

It was up high. Very high.

You jumped, trying to touch it only to miss it by a couple of centimetres.

“There is an easier way.”, König rasped, appearing out of thin air right behind you like a lynx before grabbing you and putting you onto his shoulders.

“Woah!”, you cried out in surprise, “A warning, next time please?”

“Next time? Do you think we are making this a habit, Mausi?”

You giggled at the sound of the pet name and started to feel the street sign for any way to remove the board from the pole.

“Shit!”, you cursed, “We need a screwdriver. Or a socket wrench.”

“A what?”

“A socket wrench.” You made a few cracking sounds to imitate a socket wrench while circling your hands like using… well, a wrench.

“Ah”, was all your boyfriend did while fumbling at his belt underneath you.

You grabbed the sign to steady yourself and grimaced. It really was dirty.

“Try this.”, König passed you his multi tool, “Try the screwdriver on the left side.

You mumbled a few curses while trying to see and get out the right piece of the multi tool in the twilight.

“Got it.”, you finally whispered after having cut yourself nearly twice while fumbling with the tool, “Why do you even have that with you, König?”

“To steal shit and cause havoc of course”, he replied without hesitation.

“Ah-a”, you replied while working on dislodging the sign. It took you a few tries but König hardly swayed underneath you or complained about your weight while you worked on securing the trophy.

“I have it.”, you finally declared and pulled the sign free.

“Is it heavy?”

“No, König, I can hold it. Just let me get down.”

Another of those gremlin snickers escaped your boyfriend as he stepped away from the pole and started walking into the direction of the town.

“What are you doing!”, you cried, trying to hold onto him with the multitool in one hand and the in spiderwebs and dirt covered huge sign in your other.

“I’m carrying you home. You didn’t want to walk anyway, and I’m tired of waiting for you, Mausi.”

“Fucking hell.”, you cursed while grabbing onto his head for balance.

XXX

Epilogue

It was past midday as you woke up. König was snoring peacefully next to you with the pillow over his head to keep out the light.

Still feeling sleepy but not tired enough to get up yet, you turned – and stilled.

Next to the bed was a sign.

A huge streetsign.

You elbowed König and he groaned in protest.

“What is it?”, he grumbled.

“Exactly. What is this?”

With a sheepish look he looked over you.

“Huh, Mausi. That looks like a night's out yield.”

[itsagrimm]

Honestly, confused about CoD fics set in Eastern Europe whose authors seem to think that an armed foreigner who doesn't speak the lingo would not be insta noticed by a semi curious neighbour.

Eastern Europe aside - have you never been in a small town? or a suburban neighborhood? a village? never dealt with nosy neighbours? never met that grandma or bored child or whoever always knows what is happening in front of their house?

cultures might be different. but human curiosity about something new and unusual is very universal.

people pick up on strangers so fast.

#uNdeRcoVeR #call of duty modern warfare 3 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #cod mw2

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i think it is important to recognize the ways in which your favorite thing sucks. i think it keeps u normal

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