#There are so many natives who have been on top of this since the beginning

[sastiel-is-my-serotonin]

There's a lot of stories I've been told by elders, teachers, cousins, all about what it was like to be taken away from their parents. Or at least attempted to be taken away.

Certain ones stand out the most in my mind. I used to be really involved with church, my entire family was. So we were close to our pastor.

Outside of church my mom was helping her with some things and I remember when she started to open up about her experience with boarding schools.

I sat there and listened as she talked about it. She was one of the ones who'd get in trouble for talking in her native tongue. She learned to stop because some punishments you simply didn't come back from.

She cried talking about when they cut her hair. She didn't understand why her parents were sending her away, she didn't know until she was older they had no choice.

She didn't get very far before she went inside, it all being too much and she didn't want us kids to hear the worst parts.

Even though she wasn't there anymore, she became a pastor who had incredibly short hair. She hardly spoke her language, and at that point she was one of the elders. It still affected her long after and it took me a really long time to see it. Because she was always wrapped up in native clothing, had beaded pieces. She clearly was still within her culture, there just were some parts she never returned back to.

Recently, although she talked about it when I was little too, my Mom talked to my little sister about the sweeps they'd do on reservations.

They all recognized the vans that meant every native child had to hide until nightfall, if you were caught, you weren't coming back.

You couldn't just run inside to your parents, they'd go from house to house, if you were there, they could take you and your parents couldn't do anything about it. It was legal.

All their parents could do was warn them about the vans and beg them to hide until it was safe.

Her and whoever she was with, friends, cousins, siblings, they'd stay out of sight until nightfall. The only thing protecting them was the fact that the vans couldn't be there at night.

It was a part of their normal, you see those vans, you hide and make sure they don't see you. It didn't matter if they showed up in the morning, you didn't exist until they were gone.

It's really no wonder why she still hates vans to this day, she won't buy one even though they're great to fit big families, like ours. And she's always aware of cars but vans especially.

I can't help but sit here and wonder if ICWA is overturned, are my sisters going to have their own stories to tell?

It's already bad how many Natives are taken away because of CPS, if it wasn't for my tribe helping us close the cases opened against us, I would've been. So many of my cousins were, it wasn't unusual for my Mom to open her home to them because they would run away. They knew she would help them. We all knew how bad they were treated, but we couldn't adopt them all. I think my Mom would have if she could've. But it was enough for a lot of them to just have a spot to stay, knowing someones looking out for them who won't judge them.

We need every little bit of protection even now to keep native families together. That fact that this is being attacked right now is so deliberate and Natives have been shouting for people to see that.

This is a pattern, not a coincidence. So many generations have their own stories about how native kids were taken away. Hell, my generation, we have ours! It's always a legal system that we have to fight that non natives ignore. It's a different font, but same story.

Boarding schools were legal, the reservation sweeps were legal, and CPS and foster care, again legal.

The genocide for natives never stopped, it just takes a new form. This is just the latest version. Don't stop talking about ICWA, be loud about it! Don't let them overturn it!

#Indigenous history month #ICWA #There are so many natives who have been on top of this since the beginning #Who've been trying to get people to care and be loud about why this shouldn't be happening #We need ICWA #So many people who are advocating are sharing their stories - listen to us #We know how bad it'll get - please listen before it's too late #We have the chance to stop it - please help us

[ac3may]

" the wag diaries "

How You Met

~ Georgia Stanway ~

~~~~~~~~~~

it was evident to everyone who knows you that you and Georgia were meant for each other

it all began on a rainy autumn day in Germany

as an up-and-coming American singer-songwriter, it was your first time in the country

with your latest single blowing up on TikTok you had somehow managed to wrangle yourself a European tour

having come from a close but not wealthy family unit back in Colorado travelling at all was new to you

but especially travelling SO far around the globe

that's the reason you made it a mission to get out and explore every place you go

even when the weather is miserable!

which brought you to the hole-in-the-wall café you’d found yourself in

bundled in several sweatshirts and a rain jacket on top

rushing out of the cold and wet into the first local-looking business you saw

you had underestimated quite how busy the small business would be

so in your stumbling, feeling like a wet cat dragged backwards through a hedge, you ended up tumbling into someone

and it wasn’t just any someone

after recovering from the hot coffee you had spilt on yourself in the fall

and the feeling of the stranger's hands electrifying you through your many layers as she steadied you

you finally took in the full glory of the women in front of you

cheeks rosy from the cold, an amused smirk resting on her face 

Georgia was just as stunned to see you 

despite the wind-whipped hair stuck to your forehead and the bewildered animal look you had going on

you were obviously not from here 

sucking a deep breath she managed a cheeky smile

flustered and embarrassed you began stuttering out badly strung-together phrases of German in hopes of not being shamed out of the shop entirely

Georgia’s grin only widened as she realised that you had  mistaken her for a native

finally putting you out of your misery she, in her very English accent, boldly stated her most commonly used German phrase 

“entschuldigung, ich spreche kein Deutsch”

the confused look that crossed your face only reminded Georgia more of a puppy than you had originally 

so with a chuckle she held out her hand and introduces herself

only laughing harder at the embarrassed but relieved expression that crossed your face as she did so

after much debate over who owed who coffee the two of you found yourselves settled snugly together in the corner of the shop, drinks steaming in front of you

with conversation flowing but mugs long since emptied the pair of you are only broken from the bubble you created when your phone begins buzzing incessantly 

ignoring it once you’d sent an apologetic smile to Georgia as it rang again

after encouragement to answer you are immediately met with the worried voice of your manager (and older brother) 

after confirming where you were, and that you were safe he was quick to remind you of how close you were cutting it to sound check for your show that night

eyes widened at how long you had spent talking with the English women you’re quick to exchange numbers and a ticket to your show

it’s months until you see each other again though

and even longer before you became official

but Georgia had never been more thankful for the awful weather than she was that day

~~~~~~~~~~

Idk if what I’ve written is great but G is one of my favourite concepts so far! Let me know what you guys think.

We're moving through the WAG diaries nicely!! Reader Origin's and dating blurbs coming next unless I get some requests so feel free to make suggestions ◡̈

#wag diaries #ace writes stuff #lionesses #woso x reader #georgia stanway x reader #georgia stanway blurb #Georgia stanway #woso blurb #woso

[timmie-p]

Ivan Interview translation

Ivan, the Next CF Star

Just two months after his debut, Ivan was selected as an ambassador for the famous luxury brand Q. Ivan is the first non-native 'pet human' to become an ambassador for Q. "Ivan's stoic yet playful visuals are perfect for capturing the diverse appeal of Q," said Q's chief designer.

Ivan, who recently topped the Alien Stage live voting, is being touted as the next big CF star after Luca. He's been inundated with requests from designers all over the world who want to put ads on his outfits. He has already collaborated with nine brands, all of them big brands. The public's attention is focused on how his growing popularity will affect the Alien stage.

Interview

Since the third round aired, it’s become very popular. Are you feeling the buzz?

Alien Stage is growing in popularity every day. Did the crew recognise me during the CF shoot? It's funny because at the beginning of the show, there weren't many people in the world who recognized me, and now there are so many people that I can't get through the streets by myself. (Laughs)

You’re currently ranked #78, at this rate top 20 is possible, isn’t it?

Thank you for your kind words. I'd love to keep the momentum going and make it to the top 20, but I'll leave the choice up to the masses.

You have a lot of titles that describe you, right? Do you have a favourite?

My favorite is "Blocell's #1 Brand Reputation" from a recent article. It makes me feel like all those days of photo shoots and commercials weren't in vain.

What do you think makes you unique?

I can think of more bad things than good (laughs), but, um… I think the thing that fans talk about a lot is my partial fang. I think I have a normal face, but there are many people who remember me for my fang.

What’s your secret to getting the best shots?

The day before my schedule, I study the brand I'm going to shoot for so that I can clearly understand the directions on set. Knowing the brand in detail is fundamental as a model. I also think it's important to make it a habit to take care of my body.

What is your ideal girlfriend? Lots of girls around the world want to know!

I don’t have a specific dream girl, I’ve never really thought about it. If I were to choose one…. No, I don’t have one. (Laughs)

Are you close with Till?

What’s your definition of “close”? (Laughs)

We’re just okay. Mediocre at best.

Let me ask you straight up. Do you think you can beat Till?

I don’t know… If you could perform as wildly as him, you might win too, right?

Say something to Till, your next opponent!

…..Keep it up?

read it for your own here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/ivan-interview-99972496

also i’m sure an official english version will be out soon i just like doing these lol

okay!!! i feel like vivinos is dropping red flags here but idk 🥺 ive already been theorising that ivan will be the one to lose and the audience here seems to support him too much..

i translated “힘내” previously as “Come on” in the snippet where till punched ivan but i think it makes more sense here to translate it as “Keep it up” (it’s just generally words of uplifting encouragement)

also for the part about his fang my translator translated that as “false teeth” and boy when i tell you i was confused 💀

also following up the question abt his dream girl immediately with a question about his relationship with till.. real subtle there… kinda makes me go uueeugguh tho

#alien stage #alnst ivan #official art #translations

[makingspiritualityreal]

"Passangers", freedom from Guilt and the Spiritual Purpose of Mrigashira Nakshatra

"Passengers" is a 2016 film, starring two Mrigashira Nakshatra natives. Suffice it to say, this post will contain major spoilers for the plot of the film, so you should watch it first. My writing is more about exploring the meaning behind the events than the plot itself, which is relatively simple and involves a basic romantic theme of falling in love in outer space.

The motive of Mrigashira Nakshatra has many angles to explore, but in this text I would like to look at how important this Nakshatra, and Mars Nakshatras in general are in the context of the order of the zodiac wheel, with Moon coming before, and Rahu coming after.

To sum up the background events, that become the stage for all the action to happen. A spaceship is planned to be travelling for centuries over a very long distance to reach another habitable planet in a different galaxy. Everyone is hibernated on the ship, supposed to awaken shortly before arrival, looking forward to enjoying a blissful life on a virgin land, full of opportunity. However, the prospect of the idyllic future is disturbed, when the ship malfunctions, waking up one of the passengers mid-journey, sentencing him to a lone death.

The film goes through various plot twists and turns, exploring the theme of loneliness, desire to return to sleep, initial unwillingness to face the harsh reality, forbidden romance, as the desperate protagonist forcibly wakes up a female passenger to comfort him, unable to hold back his attraction to her despite feelings of guilt. Their relationship goes through a major crisis as the female Mrigashira native finds out her male counterpart essentially sentenced her to death to cope with his own desperate situation. But all of these squabbles lose their meaning in face of a real disaster - it turns out the whole ship has been malfunctioning since the beginning of the journey, and the whole operation is headed for collapse, endangering lives of thousands of people.

That piece of information becomes a turning point, not just for the process of saving lives of the whole ship, but a turning point for the protagonists' relationship that leads to forgiveness and absolution from guilt and loneliness. Because they now know, that the whole ship was in danger to begin with, and anyone who woke up before the planned arrival of the trip was in fact saving everybody else's life. Because they now know, that if it weren't for their sacrifice, everybody would have been lost. They now know, that their life and suffering had a purpose.

This brings us to the point of really understanding Mrigashira. The purpose of this Nakshatra is Moksha, spiritual liberation. Such Nakshatras always bring with them a theme of sacrifice, doing something difficult selflessly for the bigger picture, not for recognition but to right wrongs, that we might not even see repaired in our lifetime, instead offering them to future generations. Mrigashira is the only Mars ruled Nakshatra with such a mission. Even though all Mars Nakshatras like to take a stand and prove a point, Chitra does it for the purpose of Kama, social status and to win social games, Dhanishta for the purpose of Dharma, power, accomplishment and order, again with the goal of coming out on top. Mrigashira has an element of selflessness acquired through pain of loss and unbearable circumstances.

Outside of the context of the film, it teaches us how essential Mrigashira natives are for the survival of the human soul. In the previous Rohini stage, we are blissfully unaware and happy about it, as the Moon is barely developing its sensorium enough to feel and appreciate its surroundings. But Mrigashira points out to us, that something was wrong with the whole situation to begin with, and is willing to take a stand at the cost of its own life to change that. It brings to light major spiritual dysfunction in pre-existing, established systems, that would have otherwise led towards annihilation coming from unconsciousness. Mars Nakshatras call out the Moon Nakshatra stage on the fact, that while enjoyment within reason is acceptable, unconsciousness never is, and coming from Rohini to Mrigashira, it has deadly consequences for the soul.

However, awakening into consciousness and breaking down one's own selfish, attention grabbing tactics from the Moon stage is painful, something the ego struggles to let go of, initially, and something your environment definitely doesn't support, as you're the awakening one amongst the sleeping. As a result, one might feel like there is something wrong with them for being forced to upset the status quo...but in time, life reveals a plan larger than one's own life, that leads to progress and freedom for humanity. Life reveals truth, the serpent in the garden of Eden, that was poisoning the events from behind the scenes all along.

Rahu Nakshatras only have the power to invent, create and move humanity forward because Mars Nakshatras stood up for something first. Ardra can only preach its truths, because Mrigashira stood up for that truth and opened the Pandora's box of these truths.

Mrigashira teaches us, that it's not ok, spiritually, to be unconscious. It teaches us that it's better to know the truth even if noone believes you, than to spend your life asleep, unaware of the evil lurking in the shadows. It teaches us that there is no such thing as perfection and life of value if it hasn't been earned, fought for and won. It teaches us that all things worth having need to be purified first, because now you know you can preserve these precious things even in face of opposition, so your enjoyment is well deserved. If you are a Mrigashira native, and you don't suffer from any afflictions to this Nakshatra, remember, most of the time if you feel something is wrong, you're right, and there is a larger purpose behind it. You're cleaning up a bigger mess than you know.

#astrology #vedic astrology #jyotish #mars #vedic astro observations #vedic astro notes

[mirrorsblogs]

𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞? 𝐥. 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩!! 𝙮𝙚𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜

“Be nice,” her agent whispered on the elevator ride up. Vera glanced half-heartedly at the woman standing next to her, they both knew she would be anything but. She had a more rigid exterior than most of her female contemporaries who preferred to play into the fantasy of female composers. 

She respected their choices to do so as it resulted in their own surmountable success but her path differed, her nature would never allow for a hollow choice. Sure it gained her a reputation for being harsh but all that mattered was creating music that mattered, that could be shared.

The elevator dinged to indicate they reached the top floor of the conservatory, right above the theater where the house orchestra was practicing. They played well enough though not to her standards, those in the third and fourth seats slacked far too much for her liking.

“Ms. Shcherbatskaya, it is lovely to meet you.” Vera looked startled that someone without a present Eastern European accent had been able to pronounce her last name. He had thin-rimmed glasses that most young male composers wore to appeal to the masses, the same could be said of his style. This man though verbally different looked to be another nameless composer destined to be lost to time.

“Likewise, Mr…” She replied. The man smirked at her clear jab to his ego but had no look of annoyance or hurt.

“Ackerman. Levi Ackerman.”

“German?”

“Yes, Berlin specifically.” He paused and inspected her face closely. “Russian?”

“Petersburg,” she muttered, more focused on the mosaic painted on the ceiling. It depicted a scene all too familiar in High-Renaissance pieces, biblical iconography splattered all over. What a sight to behold.

“Your English is amazing,” Ackerman said, interrupting her daydreaming.

“So is yours. Did you learn in school?”

“Yes, along with Russian.”

“How good were your lessons?” She asked in her native tongue, the syllables easily rolling off her tongue as they had done for her forefathers for centuries. 

“Good enough.”

She smiled, it had been a long while since she had conversed with someone in her own language. Forever subjected to being held back by speaking a language she was only beginning to learn. 

“Could we converse in Russian then?”

“Da.” Levi stood there with his hands in his pockets, he was amused but respectful nonetheless.

“Our agents want us to meet so we can collaborate on a piece.”

“Yes, we should hold on to this because I will be in the countryside to help my Mother for a few weeks.”

“And what shall I do in the meantime? Stay here in this god-awful city waiting for you?”

Vera’s agent placed a warning hand on her shoulder signaling for her to dial back on her tone even though she knew none of their conversation. Levi laughed a little at her antics and walked a little closer to her, he rubbed his hands together before dropping them by his side. 

It had felt like years since he was this amused, the days seemed so gray before. He wondered at that moment how he had lived in that muteness for so long now that he was confronted with something starkly different.

“London is not that bad, you’ll be fine.”

“Say that to my lungs! This city will give me cancer I swear!” 

Her noticeably dark humor that turned away many potential partners made him laugh even harder. Though she remained noticeably neutral she was shocked internally at someone who had a sense of humor. Her face cracked a smile that Levi took to heart, her reputation had preceded her of course.

The man had expected an old hag rather than a lively young woman, he almost wished it was the former as it would have been easier to leave a hag. Now he was almost considering staying in London for a few weeks and put off visiting his mother. The thought of his mother wondering where he was only to be disappointed once again put him off. He had a duty as a son to care for his mother, a duty he would fulfill.

“I do not want to abandon my mother. You’ll have to wait here. Get to know the orchestra better in the meantime.”

“I could join you?” Both were slightly startled at the impulsivity of the statement but neither expressed rejection over it. 

“Forward, are you?”

“No. Dedicated.”

The ride to the Schweinfurt consisted of approximately four train rides with a short walk intermittently after the second. Levi talked little in English and mostly in Russian which greatly comforted Vera. She enjoyed the journey, using it to review some works they could base their piece on and things to do in the area. 

“It’s mostly new tech shit there but my mother likes the area.”

“There is a Church to visit.”

“Every town in Germany has a church with a niche significance, it isn’t worthwhile.”

“Then why does this brochure mention it?”

“A tourism scam.”

Vera laughs and closes the brochure, finding more comfort in conversing with Levi than reading. The subject shifted but the attention remained the same as words effortlessly flowed between the two. This is how talking should be, he thought.

The train abruptly stopped near Rottendorf, she gasped at the jolt and lurched forward. He grasped her hand without realizing it and caressed it. The feeling of a calloused thumb over her knuckles felt foreign but nice. She blushed at his gesture and chalked it up to fear.

It took him a few more moments to realize his actions, his hand quickly withdrew.

“Sorry.”

“Why do you apologize when I never raised an issue?”

He opened his mouth a few times to retort but each answer was worse than the last. She grasped his hand again to alleviate her own worries about the train, neither complained. It was only for anxiety, to help her anxiety.

“Apologies, we are experiencing technical issues. At the next station please exit shortly with your items whilst we repair the train.”

He cursed at being so close to his mother but far enough that they could not walk. He glanced down at Vera who took to holding his hand even tighter, she was not faring better than him. 

“It won’t be too much for a taxi,” Levi muttered.

“We can split the cost.”

She moved to take some money from her purse only for him to stop her with the hand she caressed.

“What kind of person am I if I let you pay?”

“A cheap one.”

“But not a considerate one.”

“Fine then, be considerate.” Vera waved her hand off in the distance, mocking anger at that moment. He caught on quickly and smirked.

“You are a funny woman, Vera.”

“You would be the first to say that.”

They unloaded their backpacks that held all of their items for the trips and began walking to the area for taxis. Some drivers smoked outside their vehicles and leaned against their cars, a clear sign to avoid them. Vera and Levi settled on a Russian man who sat inside his car patiently reading a Turgenev novel.

“How much to Schweinfurt?” Levi asked the man in Russian. 

“I will discount for you, my friend.”

She let Levi handle the haggling for a good fare and hopped into the backseat when they reached a happy mid-point. The driver set aside his novel on the passenger seat and turned the engine on. It was an average day in Germany with fairly normal weather.

“Do you like Turgenev?” Vera asked the driver.

“He is too obscure for my liking but his writing is good.”

“Are you a Tolstoy fan then?”

“Who isn’t?” The driver gestured wildly with one of his hands but kept his eyes on the road. “To be an enthusiast of literature is to be an enthusiast of Tolstoy!”

Levi sat back silently and watched how animatedly Vera talked of Russian authors, almost like she knew them personally. Instead of referring to them as Tolstoy or Dostoevsky, it was Leo and Fyodor. He commented on it as they waited for his mother to answer the door.

“I think of all creative Russians as my brothers and sisters. You don’t do the same with Germans?”

“I’m far too critical to act as though I am on a personal level with them.” Levi knocked once more, checking his watch to see how long they were waiting in the heat. “Besides it would be weird to call Nietzche, Friedrich.”

He blushed in embarrassment as his own native accent slipped out when saying the last part. 

“Your accent is cute.”

The door opened with Kutchel standing there, curious as to who the delightful woman her son had brought with him. 

“Mother, this is Vera. I told you about her over the phone, remember?”

“You didn’t tell me she was so pretty.” Kutchel took Vera by the arm inside to the dining table where food was already set out. “Are you a composer as well, dear?”

“Yes, I work more in Vienna though.”

“Oh, do tell me about life there.”

“It’s rich with history and the people are good enough…”  Vera stumbled over her words slightly when speaking in English, she felt like a five-year-old telling her mother about her school day.  “The conservatory is far nicer than any London has.”

“I heard that!” Levi yelled from the kitchen, he came into the room balancing three glasses of water. Vera held herself back from gulping the entire glass and instead sipped politely while Kutchel asked her son a thousand questions on his travels.

“How are your new pieces coming along?” The mother knew well enough of her son’s struggle to compose as of late. His motivation dried up just as he got comfortable in finally living in something other than impoverished.

“That’s what Vera is here for, we are meant to compose together.”

“The room upstairs still has everything where you left it. I’m sure music stores in town should have anything you need too.”

“Thanks, mom.” 

Vera thought she might feel like an unwelcome outsider in that moment but it was more akin to the feeling of a silent spectator. Neither shunned nor encouraged to participate, choosing instead to delve into the food in front of her. It was a simple dish of rice and a strange gravy substance but it tasted divine.

“Do you like it?” Kutchel asked when Vera had her mouth full. The girl could only smile until she finally got the food down.

“Yes, it’s fantastic.” Her Russian accent slipped slightly out on the last word.

“Where in Russia are you from?”

“Saint Petersburg.”

“You know Levi’s father, god rest his soul, was from there.”

“Mom-” Kutchel shut him up with a wave of her hand.

“How did he find it?”

“Cold. Said that once he learned of German summers he never wanted to return.”

“Understandable though not forgivable.” They all laughed together, it was clear where Levi got his humor from.

They began the attempt to compose a singular piece the next day, each taking a seat next to one another on the piano bench situated on the far side of the room. The window in front of them shined the sun brightly onto them.

Vera’s pinky hit the ‘b’ key, it felt off to her, not the key itself but its place in this piece. She scratched the blank sheet music which up until this point only held that one note.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, only concert audiences are going to hear.”

“You don’t plan on distributing it?”

“Why would we?”

“Isn’t that what music is for?” Levi stopped his reply when he saw the pure vulnerability in Vera’s eyes, this was not a simple spew from her mouth but from the heart. “People learn how to play, then they improve and make it their own. Keeps it fresh and lively.”

“But it's more intimate when enjoyed by a few. A singular meaning holds far more value than thousands of different ones.”

“Why did you learn how to play music? Why did you learn how to compose?”

He sat there silent for a moment, trying to drudge the earliest memory of him behind the piano.

“I was good at it and it earned my mother enough money to focus on getting an education rather than sticking to life as a sex worker.”

“You did it out of necessity, yes?” The simplification, though accurate, felt ingenuine.

“It was more than that. Playing in front of crowds made me feel as though I was more than just a poor boy from the slums of Berlin. I kept composing for more people to understand the life I lived.”

Vera heard in passing stories of a young German prodigy coming from nowhere and was soon to be heard everywhere. His pieces were an experience, a mutual friend, Hange, shared. He never published his compositions and kept them close, collecting the sheet music from musicians after each performance. Forcing each to sign a non-disclosure agreement to never share his intellectual property. 

“I was similar in my reasoning then.” She splayed her fingers on the piano, playing the part to a familiar Spanish allegro. Levi pushed one of her hands aside and began to play the piece alongside her. “The only reason to learn music is…to share it with others.”

She stopped playing abruptly and walked away from the piano to fetch a glass of water. Levi continued where she had left off, the piece flawlessly transitioning into a somber part. Granados had always been a favorite of his, though the feelings of passion Granados tried to convey always fell short of him as a boy. Now, it was different.

His fingers strummed against the keys perfectly at poco andante, the thought of her forced his fingers to play at a faster pace. He moved to play at an allegro pace, the noise from the piano strengthened in volume. The man failed to see Vera leaning against the doorframe, taking big gulps of the water in her hand.

The last note played at fortississimo caused her to jump slightly, Levi panted in exhaustion from rushing the piece. He rested his fingers on the keys but not with enough pressure to push them, energy flowed out from him.

“We should end the piece in a fortississimo,” Vera said, walking up to sketch something in the last line of the sheet. 

fff

Levi glanced over her arms, he took the paper from her hands and sketched a couple more notes out for the end. He played it on the piano and she nodded.

“Work our way backwards, then?”

--

The next few days were spent either in the composing room or the dining table where Kutchel asked them profusely about their progress. She looked to be happier when hearing of their substantial progress in finishing. 

“When you do play the piece, could I come to listen?” Kutchel asked. “I know you don’t like to publish your pieces but I want to hear this one.”

“Of course, mom. I’ll save a seat for you in one of the boxes, and invite whoever you want.” Levi ate another piece of his food, Vera was somewhat shocked by how easy he made it all sound. Compared to the conservatories where she worked, trying to get a seat for family members was nearly impossible. Maybe it was different in London. 

“It’ll be nice to see you play Vera since I assume Levi will be playing next to you?”

“Yes, I look forward to it.” Her smile was stiff, he noticed the change in her posture as well. Levi asked about it right before she headed into her bedroom.

“You seemed uncomfortable at dinner. Everything alright?”

Vera contemplated for a moment, she jutted her head into her room, and he followed dutifully behind her. It seemed barely lived in despite them being here for more than three weeks. He saw her clothes in some drawers though no toiletries were even unpacked on the vanity or the sink.

“We still haven’t talked about distribution.” She sat on the windowsill, faintly illuminated by the moonlight.

“I prefer to keep it private.”

“Music is meant to be shared. It is meant for children to clamber over and for young adults to froth at. I think we have a masterpiece on our hands. I don't want it to rot somewhere on your shelves.”

“If we keep it private, it’ll be intimate, draw in more crowds.”

“You care too much about the money and not the people.”

“That’s all music has been about for me, appeal to the most and go from there.”

“But what do you want?”

Levi took the seat next to her on the window sill, his hand fell on top of hers. His mind felt clearer than it had in years.

“I want…” Vera perked up at his drawl. “I want to keep it private.”

“I don’t want to fight you right now.”

Her thumb caressed his knuckles in slow circles like it had on the train, it was more intimate now. They were alone, only the moon was a witness to their actions. 

“Then we don’t fight.” Levi tilted her chin away from the window and to his eyes, he neared closer to her face. She subconsciously leaned in closer.

“What should we do instead?”

The calloused fingers she had seen so often playing the piano pressed against her hips and effortlessly lifted her figure onto his lap. She let out a small moan when his lips kissed against her jaw and neck, sucking at her pulse point.

“Levi,” she muttered, angling her head down to finally kiss him. It was less consuming than her past lovers and intoxicating if anything. He knew her weak points and exploited them to the full extent, she almost wished he was bad at this. It would be easier to forget him once the night finished but with the way his lips pressed against her sternum, there would be no forgetting.

“You alright, liebling ?” The German accent strengthened the growing feeling between her legs, pelvis rutting against Levi.

“Da.” Forgetting nearly all of her prior knowledge of any other language she could only compute her one objective: Levi. “Take off my shift.”

“No bra?” If his fingers against her hands were enough then his fingers grazing along her bare body was to die for. He pressed kisses along her nude body that men prior had ignored. Sex was average, this was more.

“You complaining?”

Levi shook his head and bit lightly at the skin along her neck, making sure to leave as many marks as possible. She palmed at his shirt, he discarded it on the ground shortly thereafter. Levi brought her in for another kiss, not letting it go this time. The rutting from her hips stalled as his hands gripped her hips, forcing her to stay stationary. She whined against his lips, and he smirked.

“Something wrong?”

“Hurry up and fuck me already.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Vera kissed him again. She took some control, resuming her stimulation against his thigh. Her head fell against his shoulder when he lifted his leg slightly to match the pace of her hips dragging.

“Feels good, liebling? ” he cooed, biting lightly at her earlobe.

“Levi, please,” she rasped.

His hands traveled down to the bottom of her backside, he gripped the skin he could.

“Jump.”

She followed his command, deepening the kiss in the process. He easily supported her weight and laid her across the bed, using the time to admire her and shed the last of his clothing. She was left in her panties which he happily took and threw to the ground. 

“Are you good so far?”

“Very good.” Vera let her fingernails graze his shoulders, light scratch marks left behind. He groaned at the intense feeling, hand grasping at her chest. The stimulation between both of them causes them to moan.  

Levi moved his hand to her slit, inserting one of his fingers. He was the first composer she had slept with, she supposes that this is the reason his fingers reach places no man ever has. Vera cries out at the feeling. 

“You’re so tight,” he grunted, adding one more finger to her slit. He worked his way into her for the next few moments, utterly entranced by the sounds she made. When he curled his fingers she whined, and a feeling in his own body grew.

Caught off guard, he barely noticed Vera nearing the edge and eventually climaxing with a loud moan. He tried to commit all the features of her orgasmic face to his mind, to him it was the best picture in the world. Something only a select few had seen.

“Still good?” He purred.

“Hurry up!” She pleaded, wishing that he finished already and became another regrettable one nightstand. Levi did not do that, he focused on his pleasure just as much as hers. He made sure that she would never forget that night. 

“There,” he whispered, in pure bliss. Together they were connected.

He took his time to start a slow and punishing pace which inevitably pissed Vera off more who resorted to begging him. 

“Please, please, I need more, give me more!”

He relented as his own human instincts took over. The pace was faster now, he leaned down and began pressing kisses around her breasts. She pressed her nails further into his back and dragged them down, Levi groaned from the mix of pleasure and pain.

“You’ll be the death of me. Won’t you?”

“Yes!” Vera gasped, too lost in the throes of passion. When her second climax arrived it came with a newfound force that she had never experienced, it was addicting. 

“Vera, fuck!” He moaned, pushing into her one last time. She moaned at the sensation and met him there. They panted in the afterglow, struggling to find their own breath. Levi collapsed next to her and made his way into the bathroom. 

She watched as he wiped down the excess cum working its way down her legs and then himself before discarding the rag in the hamper. He sat back down on the bed, pulling her close.

“Have a thing for cleanliness, do you?”

“It’s healthy to clean.”

She missed the way he stared at her sleeping figure, in love with the sight.

--

They finished the piece shortly thereafter, choosing to take a unique approach to playing. In the beginning, it was a battle for whose notes would make it through but they each had trust in one another to play. The time is used instead to understand the weaknesses of each player and hide them expertly. 

Vera left the next week back to London to prepare the conservatory for their event. Tickets had already sold out so now it was the waiting game. She practiced the piece in the upper room she met Levi in, failing to see Hange walk in.

“How was composing with shortie?”

“He’s easy to work with.”

“First time I’ve ever heard someone say that.”

“You’d be surprised.” She put the cover over the keys and turned around to face Hange. “How’s your mother?”

“Still dead.” A beat. “So good.”

They laughed together, Hange took the seat next to Vera.

“That’s lovely to hear.”

“Can I play it?” They asked, glancing over the sheet music and putting the piano cover-up.

“I don’t see an issue, as long as you don’t share it.”

“You relented then? Let Levi’s secrecy dominate?”

“One day he’ll see my side and then we’ll publish it. For now, we can keep it private.” 

“But doesn’t that go against your own teachings?” Hange played the first few notes, already loving the tempo and key. “You always tell people that music is meant for sharing.”

“We are sharing but to a smaller audience.”

“To an elite audience. Vera, you love to play your pieces in the streets so even beggars could hear. What changed?”

To play for the rich and poor was a novel concept. Children from all classes had their pick of contemporary pieces like Mozart but access to modern pieces were limited. Composers guarded their pieces in the confines of overpriced sheet music. Vera differed somewhat, maintaining a moral high ground, by posting her pieces publically. Allowing anybody to find and play it.

“If I publish it, then I betray Levi. I don’t want to do that.”

“But to not betray him compromises your values.”

She was left silent as Hange played what was meant to be a happier part in a different manner, it sounded more depressing if anything. Vera leaned her head against Hange’s shoulder, the wool was soft against her head.

“I love him, Hange.” The piano stopped abruptly. “I don’t want to see him hurt by my actions.”

“Levi’s my friend but he is too stubborn to realize his actions are hurting others,” Hange sighed.

Vera left the conservatory and emailed her agent the music, the publishing date was set the day after opening night.

The crowd gathered at the opening night hailed from across Europe, predominantly Eastern and Central. It was comforting to be among crowds who spoke the same language as her. A hand on her shoulder signaled that it was time to head backstage. She caught sight of Kutchel in the box but was only able to wave before being ushered away.

“You ready?” Levi asked, attempting to tie his bowtie in the mirror.

“Of course.” Vera walked over and began focusing on tying his bowtie for him, failing to see the look of admiration he shot her way.  “We go out there and prove you’re not washed up and I’m nice.”

“Who would ever believe that last part?” He joked.

“You have. At least I hope.” Vera finished his bowtie and stepped away, not letting her touch linger for even a second. It would risk it all if she did. 

“You’re right and if I can believe it then so can they.”  

He grasped her hands, sensing the invisible worry in her system. She was good at hiding her anxieties but not to him, never to him. It was Levi who knew when she was mentally exhausted, who knew when she needed a break, who knew when to simply hold her. He knew it all, it frightened her slightly.

“You’re too good for me.”

“No, I’m what you need.”

A stagehand knocked on the door and they both silently followed him to the stage, reveling in the applause from the audience. She heard some hushed whispers but they quieted down when they took their seats at the piano bench.

The piece was simple enough to play with one person but they added so many intricacies when played with two that it required perfect harmony. Complete trust for the other to play their part beautifully, to know when to hit the keys, to know when to reach, and to be patient. You had to truly know the other person to play this.

“Let’s play,” he muttered, starting his hands on the keys.

“Let’s.”

Kutchel had known her son for not much of his adult life, she was a passing face in his grand mission to be the best composer out there. She learned of how he prioritized his own success over others, always focused on his own progress over any other person. She worried for him as any mother would, she worried her son was one of those egotistical musicians they wrote about in the papers.

She was terrified at the possibility of her son being a rich snob. 

The man playing on that stage, however, was a different man entirely. She saw even from her seat him waiting patiently for Vera to play at a slower speed while he stormed through his parts. They were opposites but somehow managed to blend. It might have looked chaotic, it was anything but.

Levi did not play like a rich snob, he played like a man in love. 

When it ended she anticipated Levi ending on a loud note but his last note was soft, barely audible to those in the higher seats. Vera picked up where he left off and played in the manner Levi had previously, each switching roles effortlessly. She ended harshly, as most loves do.

The crowd roared with applause, it faded into the background. Levi’s hand on the small of her back guided her to the front of the stage. Flowers were thrown, shouts of appreciation. This is what she dreamed of. 

Levi bowed first like he had in practice, then she followed. What they had not planned was bowing together which he promptly forced her into. He brought her near after they bowed as most piano partners would.

“I love you.”

Vera recoiled at the suddenness, glancing at the crowd who stared at both of them.

“Not here.”

She left the stage with Levi in tow to the backroom, he pushed the door closed.

“You don’t feel the same?”

“Levi, I do.”

“Then say it.” He took a step closer. “Say it back to me.”

“I-” Vera gulped down a nervous exhale. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Levi, I did something unforgivable.”

“What did you do?” The coldness of his tone sent shivers throughout her body.

“They’re distributing the piece tomorrow across Europe.” Vera took a step back to the door. “We share the profits equally-”

“You think I care about that? You honestly think I care about my side of the profits when you went behind my back and published it?”

“Levi, people deserve to hear this, the music it’s incredible. I don't want it to be only heard in these four walls!”

“And I told you that it was for a reason!”

“A reason that wasn’t good enough!” Levi was shocked at this. “You want it to feel more intimate? What is that? With publishing more kids that grew up like you can experience it. Have you thought about that?”

“Do not bring up my childhood right now when all you are doing is spitting on my legacy!”

“Fine, then I’ll just head back to Vienna. Call me if you want to apologize!”

“What about the rest of the shows?”

“They were doomed anyway. Better no show than a mediocre one.”

She opened the door after already having collected her belongings and rushed out. Some backstage workers tried to stop her for interviews but she turned them away. Her rental car was down the street, she easily made it without looking back.

Vera always failed to see many things about Levi, seeing him rushing out of the conservatory after her would be one of them.

--

A New Era for Pianist Vera Shcherbatskaya amidst the publishing of her new piece: Friends of Youth

Levi Ackerman publishes his first piece with Vera Shcherbatskaya here’s what we think!

The headlines from small newspaper outlets from across Europe became larger than she anticipated. The two lived in their bubble together when composing and even before but in the aftermath they were exposed to the world.

“The sales on your music books are amazing!” Her agent yelled over the phone. Vera was sweeping her apartment, trying to get rid of the dust that had accumulated in less than a day.

“That’s good. Anything else?” Vera’s voice was as dull as her heart. 

“Anything else? Vera, you are the most popular pianist in Europe! This is what we dreamed of!”

“Let me know if Levi or his agent calls.”

She hung up the phone and threw it on the couch. Outside in Vienna was no longer a safe haven as fans swarmed her every move. The only sanctuary was her apartment but even that was a landmine, signs of Levi’s presence were everywhere. The lack of dust in cabinets, organized bookshelves by author's last name, and so much more.

Her next few performances held a significantly darker tone, people theorized it was about a heartbroken lover. Nevertheless, she played with a multitude of partners but each was less satisfying than the last. Nothing matched when they had played in London, critics even noticed.

“You were lovely, Antoine. Just not what I need.” She tried to let the man down gently but he stormed off, writing in the papers that her time with Levi had made her more heartless. 

Hange visited when the news started dying down.

“You followed my advice?”

“It was shit advice.” 

They shared a bottle of wine while watching old reruns of sitcoms. None of the jokes were remotely funny but it was good background noise.

“You’re still heartbroken that Levi left you.” It was harsh but accurate.

“He hasn’t even tried to call!”

“He talked to me.” Hange chuckled when Vera crawled over to them.

“What did he say?”

“Settle down, I’ll tell you.” They put their glass down and moved closer to the woman. “He said he was sad that he never considered your side but equally mad that you went behind his back.”

“That’s it? I already knew that! Come on, Hange, he had to have told you more!”

“Talk to him to figure it out!”

She did not in fact talk to Levi and instead chose to continue playing their shared music across Europe. His parts were stark silence, leaving it incomplete.

Concert Pianist Vera Shcherbatskaya entering a mournful period

That was spot on. Crowds across the continent noted the far-off look in her eyes in those loud moments of silence. When the last note was played they all clapped the same as that night but with more reproach. 

“Ms. Vera!” She turned and found a little girl waving with a marker and paper. “Could you sign this?”

The woman obliged, kneeling to the girl’s level.

“What’s your name?”

“Vera! Like yours!” 

“Then you’ll grow up to be a fine piano player, yes?”

“I want to play violin!”

“Then we’ll have to play together one time.”

She finished the message on the sheet and handed it back to the girl, her mother had a tired smile on her face.

“Thank you,” the mother whispered. “I saved up to take her to this concert, thank you for making it special!”

“If you want her career to grow, take her to a conservatory in Budapest. Tell them I sent you and they will give you room and board for free if you work there.” Vera pressed a warm hand into the mother’s shoulders.

“I can’t thank you enough!”

“Thank me when she gets to play on the big stage.”

Playing to massive audiences grew meaningless after a while, people blended together. None resembling who she actually wanted to see in a crowd. Vera left her concert after playing one night in Vienna, choosing to head to a local dive bar. It was packed to the brim for the open-mic night.

They had a piano, it looked out of tune and needed some work but it would do.

“Can I play?”

“You go on in five minutes.”

She stretched her hands out and followed a drunk man who sang a Mariah Carey song, he hit the high notes which surprised the crowd. Performers were meant to introduce themselves but she chose instead to test the keys out.

Most were fine, just the higher ones were a tinge too headache-inducing.

The first part was Levi’s, she never knew how to play it even if she tried. Vera strummed her own slow part in the quiet bar, not nearly drunk enough to not feel the nerves from playing in front of such a judgemental crowd. She paused again.

“Why are you stopping?”

“Keep playing!”

The shouts hurt her slightly but she continued through to the middle, tears fell down her face as feelings of heartbreak came rushing back. A hush fell over the crowd when someone from the audience made their way to the stage. He took the seat next to her, stretching his hands out.

“Let’s start over.” Levi’s familiar voice hummed. She smiled through her tears and leaned closer.

“Let's.”

#aot x reader #aot x yn #attack on titan x you #attack on titan #aot #levi x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x original female character #levi x original female character #levi angst #levi ackerman angst #modern au #aot modern au #attack on titan modern au

[jordanianroyals]

Queen Rania of Jordan: Christmas is canceled in the land of Jesus’ birth

Washington Post Op-Ed, December 21, 2023 at 6:45 a.m. EST

[Read this piece in Arabic.]

Bethlehem usually comes alive at Christmas. Not this year. In the Holy Land, celebrations have been canceled: no parades, no bazaars, no public tree lightings. In my country, Jordan, where Jesus was baptized, our Christian community has chosen to do the same.

In the occupied West Bank, oneBethlehem church has adapted its nativity scene, placing the infant Jesus among the rubble of a bombed-out building. It is a reflection of the story playing out on screens everywhere: the horrific images of the destruction of Gaza, and especially, its bloodied and broken children.

I watch a video of a Gazan father stroking his daughter’s face, telling someone to look at how beautiful she is. She could almost be sleeping, if not for her white shroud.

I scroll on and see a young boy struggling through rain and flooded roads, carrying the body of an even smaller child he refused to leave behind. A mother holding her daughter’s limp body close: “Put your heart on my heart,” she tells her, crying out as others try to take her away. She was not ready to let her go.

We need to see in these children’s faces the faces of our own. Each of these videos is a desperate plea to the world to recognize their humanity and their hurt.

The people of Gaza have not lost hope in others’ humanity — even as so many fail to see theirs.

Since Oct.7, the vast majority of casualties in Israel, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip have been civilians. Whether killed, kidnapped or unjustly detained, each person leaves an unfillable void. There is no difference between the pain Palestinian and Israeli mothers feel over the loss of a child.

Every day that goes by without a cease-fire, so much more is being tragically lost.

In just over two months, Israel has turned Gaza into a hellscape. Almost 20,000 dead. At least 8,000 are children — more than the death tolls of Pearl Harbor, the Sept. 11 attacks and Hurricane Katrina combined.

About 2 million out of 2.2 million people in Gaza have been displaced — almost an entire population turned to refugees. More than 50,000 Gazans have been wounded, but only eight hospitals out of 36 are operational.

On top of all this, hunger. Nearly half of the people in Gaza are starving. In more than two months, less than a week’s worth of the aid they need has been allowed in. How could starving a population be considered a legitimate form of self-defense?

International organizations are now calling Gaza a graveyard for children. How perverse that the Holy Land should be described as something so profoundly unholy.

This has become an unequivocal humanitarian nightmare. With each passing day, the threshold of what is acceptable falls to new lows, setting a terrifying precedent for this and other wars to come.

No matter what side you support, you can still demand a cease-fire, the release of hostages and detainees, and unrestricted access to aid.

Some will brush this off as a bleeding-heart plea, arguing that an immediate cease-fire is neither strategic nor sustainable. It is an indictment of the times that a call for a return to sanity could be dismissed as sentimentality. We also hear many talking about peace the day after as though to absolve themselves of the responsibility to act now.

A cease-fire is just the beginning. We must also embark on the difficult process of rehumanization — recognizing the humanity of others and acting on that universal kinship.

I am a mother, and my heart breaks for parents in Gaza doing everything in their power to keep their children alive — and then losing them. All parents share the impulse to shield their children from the worst of the world. No matter who you are or where you come from, your instinct to care for and protect those you love is one you must honor in yourself but also in strangers — even adversaries. Honoring it selectively diminishes our own humanity.

There is another video I will never forget: a mother, saying her goodbyes to her children. After going to bed on empty stomachs, they had been killed in their sleep by an airstrike.

Their mother’s grief is unbearable; her guilt that they died hungry broke me. “It’s okay, my boy. You are with God now,” she says to one son. “I named him Ayoub [Job] for patience,” she explains, and then, through tears: “I will be patient, my child.”

In the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament and the Quran, the prophet Job loses his possessions, children and health. Yet, he remains steadfast in his faith. His patience is honored by Jews, Christians and Muslims, who, at different points in history, have shared the Holy Land in peace. His story is one of pain but also hope.

This war has to end. Today, it boils down to one question that each of us must answer: If you could prevent hundreds or thousands more children from dying, would you?

If so, demanding a cease-fire is the absolute minimum you can do. And we, all of us, must do so together.

#Queen Rania #article

[reveriera]

𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒

SUMMARY | after losing himself to his jealousy and making a scene at your high school reunion, schlatt gets himself back into your good graces the only way he knows how; through his actions.

PAIRING | jschlatt x reader

REQUESTED | yes

WARNINGS | nsfw, 18+

WORD COUNT | 7.7k

NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR | this is the first fic i've written since late last year so i might be a bit rusty since i also am not a native english speaker. this is also my first time ever writing schlatt and i will admit that i'm not as sure on his personality as i am other members of the mcyt, so i apologize if my portrayal of him is weird. not proofread, so apologies in advance for any possible mistakes. please let me know what you think.

🦋 MASTERLIST 🦋 NAVIGATION 🦋 RULES 🦋

Being in a relationship with Johnathan Schlatt had been a wild ride all the way from the very beginning; of that much you were, and always had been, certain. And yet, despite being fully aware of and used to his ways of behaviour, it seemingly never failed to surprise you when he actively went out of his way to go against you. 

It also never failed to frustrate you to absolutely no end, and as you stood before him in your shared living room on this late Friday afternoon, you had to use all the self-restraint that you possessed in order to not blow up on him. 

But while you were managing – although very barely – to keep it together enough to not start a screaming match, the glare you had set on your boyfriend of some time now was hard and unwavering, the fists you had clenched and hidden away underneath your snugly crossed arms tense and tight. 

Schlatt, on the other hand, was barely acknowledging your existence, sitting slouched down in the couch you’d had to buy only a week prior as a result of a certain someone having broken your old one during one of his chaotic streams, with his eyes plastered to the television and his feet carelessly thrown on top of the coffee table in front of him, with a half-full bottle of beer lazily hanging from his hand over the armrest. 

You waited another half minute for him to acknowledge you, gave him an honest chance to stop this episode of his all too frequent and familiar child-like behaviour before it got out of hand. But, as you had already expected, he only continued to ignore you, because going against your wishes whether they were verbal or silent, was what he seemed to do best.  

Realizing you weren’t going to get much out of him by simply glaring, you cleared your throat in an attempt to catch his attention. Still getting nothing, the glare on you face only hardened.  

“Please tell me you’re not wearing that tonight.” You finally spoke, and finally, he turned his head away from the television to meet your expectant stare.  

He wasn’t even trying to pretend that he hadn’t seen you there, making it painfully obvious that he had just been ignoring you.  

“What’s wrong with this?” He asked simply, with little to no emotion behind his voice, as he motioned with the beer bottle toward his torso. 

It took everything you had in you not to take the bottle and just, smash it over his head, right then and there, and to instead take a slow breath.  

“It’s offensive, and inappropriate.” You replied, and watched as Schlatt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. But the small, almost invisible, tug of his lips told you otherwise, and so did your common sense. 

You didn’t know anyone who would’ve considered his shirt appropriate to wear in a public setting, the shirt in question portraying a nun wearing nothing but her headpiece and adorning a suggestive stare, with her bare and very full chest on complete display to the viewer, a multitude of satanic symbols scribbled around the image in big, bold, red lines, and the letters “show me your tits” lining the upper edge of the print.  

It was one of the many shirts you had banned your boyfriend from wearing anywhere other than at home, and you were sure that was the sole reason he had decided to wear it on this night in particular, to begin with, on which he knew you were attending your high school reunion. 

To say that it was something he hadn’t been looking forward to would be a big understatement. 

He had met your high school acquaintances no more than once prior to this day, when you had been visiting your hometown for Christmas the year before, and that one time had been plenty enough for him.  

To put it shortly, they were all spoiled, entitled assholes who thought the entire world revolved around them and their minor, petty problems. His words, not yours.  

You didn’t necessarily disagree, but you still possessed enough maturity not to express your opinions aloud. Your boyfriend, however, was an entirely different story. 

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to stay home, then. Sucks to be me.” 

You automatically rolled your eyes at his sarcastic retort and uncrossed your arms from over your chest. 

“Is everything a joke to you?” You asked, continuing, “You know how important this is to me and you promised you’d go with me.” 

“I’m not getting dressed up for those plutocrats.” Schlatt only grumbled under his breath and lazily took a swig from his beer. 

“Okay, you don’t have to.” You said and lightly shrugged your shoulders. “Get dressed up for me instead.” You continued, meeting his eyes once they flickered back over to yours. 

You held each other’s gazes for a few seconds, stubborn and displeased battling fiercely against pleading and determined. Eventually, the latter ended up bringing home the win, much to your satisfaction and your boyfriend’s dismay. 

With another displeased mutter, Schlatt brought his legs down from the coffee table and leaned forward in his seat. He put the bottle that was now almost empty down on the wooden surface, shut off the television and stood up, wordlessly passing by you were you stood and heading straight into your shared bedroom. 

You could faintly make out the sound of his wardrobe opening and closing, and then the faucet of the sink being turned on in the bathroom. Silence followed for another two or so minutes, before your boyfriend remerged and joined you where you stood. 

“Is that asshole Dexter going to be there?” He asked you once he had come to a stop in front of you, looking straight ahead as you started working on straightening the collar of the patterned button-up he was now wearing. 

You raised an eyebrow at his question.  

“I would guess so, seeing as we went to school together.” You deadpanned.  

The glare you had previously been wearing was gone at this point, now having been replaced by a neutral expression.  

The same couldn’t be said for your boyfriend, who was still sulking away like a child where he stood. 

“Yeah, well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice then, do I?” He muttered, and you rolled your eyes, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers as you left the warmth of your apartment to head outside.  

🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋

An hour and a half later, you were passing by the big welcoming sign at the border of your hometown and yet another five minutes later, you were pulling up outside your old high school, outside which the parking lot was already crowded with cars of all shapes, colours and sizes.  

Due to already being late, much thanks to your boyfriend, you didn’t waste any time in getting out of the car and heading towards the building once you were parked.  

You could hear the music before you even got to the door, and the louder and closer it got, the more bitter the man at your side seemed to become. 

“Dexter.” He was muttering under his breath, the name sounding like an insult falling off of his tongue.  

“Who even name their kid that, anyway?” He continued, this time directing the question at you. “That name is reserved for dogs and serial killers, not people.” 

You rolled your eyes at the comment, but couldn’t hold back the small snort that slipped past your lips. 

“Play nice, please.” You replied with a nudge to his side and grabbed his hand once again. 

The last thing you heard before you opened the large doors, stepped inside and became overthrown by the overpowering sound of music and chatter, was him muttering under his breath that he wouldn’t make any promises. 

Come to turn out, if he had promised you that he would play nice, he would’ve ended up breaking that vow fairly quickly, either way. Half an hour into it, to be exact. 

The only other person he could tolerate at this god-forsaken party was your best friend, who seemed to have slipped off to an unknown location and, by doing so, left him to fend for himself with people he’d either met once and decided he didn’t like, or people he hadn’t met at all. 

Safe to say, neither of the two were very ideal.  

You had stuck by his side for the first twenty or so minutes, introducing him to everyone and catching up with those you had been friendly with during your high school years. Schlatt had done his part of playing the comedic and talkative boyfriend, admittedly not wanting to ruin the experience for you despite how he felt about it, himself. 

But a man could only take so much involuntary socializing, and while it had been manageable when you had still been glued to his side with your hand tightly woven together with his own, it was much less tolerable when you weren’t there and some chick who he had never met in his entire life was talking his ear off about something he couldn’t have cared less about.  

So, his eyes searched the room, looking first toward the snack table which had been your supposed destination back when you had first left him by his lonesome, and found no trace of you. 

He wasn’t very surprised about it, having learned very early into your relationship that you had a somewhat inconvenient tendency to stray as a result of getting distracted between point A and point B.  

That very tendency was the sole reason he had sworn never to visit Disneyland with you again.  

He had never slept for as long as he had after getting home from that trip, never been so exhausted, and now it would seem that you had done the exact same thing, seeing as you weren’t anywhere near where you’d told him you were heading off to. 

Instead, after a moment of searching the crowd for the one face he never got tired of seeing, he finally found you on the complete other side of the room, and the second his eyes registered who you had been so occupied talking to for the past ten minutes, the entirety of his focus was shifted onto you.  

Schlatt wasn’t normally the type to get jealous. Not because he wasn’t insecure or didn’t know that you deserved better - because he definitely was, and you definitely did – but because he knew that you were the most honest person in his life, and he knew where the two of you stood with each other.  

But when it came to this guy, he just couldn’t help it. It was the one person except for your best friend who he had met on more than one occasion - and let me tell you, he had hated every second of it. 

Dexter. The one name that could make him see red with the mere mention of it, the name that shouldn’t even exist beyond the infamous, fictional serial killer and maybe a dog or two.  

But it did exist, it was very real, and so was the person to whom it had been given, and the feelings said person brought Schlatt, who had instantly been overflooded by red hot jealousy in his chest, uncomfortable tingling in his hands and feet, and a tang so sour in his mouth that his lips turned down at the taste of it.  

He just couldn’t help it.  

You had been with this guy for most of your life in one way or another. Childhood best friends turned high school sweethearts, voted school’s cutest couple three years in a row, and most likely to get married. You had been each other's firsts, and you had planned to build a life together.  

The only reason you had broken off your relationship was because you ended up moving to a different state, and he wasn’t willing to leave your hometown to follow.  

There hadn’t been any relationship problems, no major disagreements or incompatibilities, no big drama or any ugly fights, and most importantly; no lack of attraction.  

You had still been attracted to him both physically and emotionally at the time of your breakup, and it was probably that part that bothered him the most; knowing that, had the circumstances been just slightly different, you could’ve still been with this guy instead of him. 

It made him feel threatened, and it didn’t help to watch you laugh at his jokes and stare at him with the amount of nostalgic admiration that you did as you took a trip down memory lane with each other, all while Schlatt sat and watched.  

He wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he stood up and made a beeline for where you were standing, or if he was thinking at all which, let’s be honest, he already knew that he wasn’t. S 

afe to say, his mind had already been relatively empty when he had first gotten out of his seat and started moving, but it wasn’t until he was halfway there and watched from afar as you turned your back to your ex-boyfriend and allowed him to touch your hair and back, that Schlatt’s mind really went blank.  

The speed in his step increased significantly and before he knew it, before he had even gotten to remove his hands from your body and as soon as he found himself within hearing range, he heard his own voice cut out through the music,  

“How about you get your hands off of my girlfriend?” 

He came to a stop right in front of the two of you, with a glare hard enough to kill etched onto his face as he reached his hand out and firmly grasped the wrist of his rival.  

Only then did the two of you realize your boyfriend had joined you, not having been given much time to register it by yourselves with the way he had immediately gone to attack. 

Dexter's eyes grew wide, at first out of shock, and then out of mildly annoyed bewilderment.  

“Excuse me?” He near-spat and janked his hand back to himself.  

He took a step back to put some distance between the two of them and Schlatt immediately responded by stepping closer to you, gluing himself to your side and sliding an arm snugly around your waist.  

“It’s fine. You remember Dexter, right?” You moved into your boyfriend’s side and attempted to soothe his very obvious anger, but to no avail.  

“Yeah, I remember him, alright.” Schlatt’s eyes didn’t waver from the other man for as much as a millisecond. 

It wasn’t hard for the other man to pick up on the hostile change of environment.  

“I was just helping her untangle her hair from the zipper of her dress, man.” He joined you in trying to salvage the situation, but he wasn’t as skilled in hiding his annoyance as you were – a skill you had picked up thanks to your boyfriend, to begin with – and the boyfriend in question only took that as a further threat.  

“Well, thank you for your service, but that’s what she has me for.” He sarcastically replied, his voice dripping with venom, before he turned to you and continued with a stern glare, “Grab your coat, we’re going home.” 

A crease formed between your brows as they furrowed. “What? We just got here.” Your annoyance was starting to seep through, and he immediately noticed judging by the way his gaze only hardened.  

“And now we’re leaving.” He repeated, drawing an unimpressed scoff from your lips.  

“You can’t be serious right now.” You crossed your arms over your chest.   

“As serious as I’ve ever been.” He didn’t miss a beat.  

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head. “I’m not going anywhere- hey, what’s wrong with you?!” You interrupted yourself mid-sentence when he suddenly took you by your shoulders and turned you around.  

He began to steer you in the direction of your coats while you verbally protested, but before you could get very far, a firm hand had placed itself on his own shoulder.  

“Hey, don’t touch her!” Dexter demanded and squeezed down on his shoulder. 

Displeased was no longer sufficient in describing how Schlatt was feeling as he stopped in his tracks and turned back around to get rid of the hand. 

Two pairs of equally as annoyed eyes met. 

“Excuse me? Do I need your permission to touch my girlfriend?”  

“No, but you do need hers, and I’m pretty sure we both heard her say no.” 

Schlatt raised his eyebrows, shooting out a deadpan stare.  

“Is this your relationship? Your girlfriend? No? Then butt out, asshole.” He turned back to you, once again portraying determination in everything he did as he ordered you once again to, “Stop arguing and get your fucking coat.” 

Your eyes didn’t falter from those of your boyfriend’s as they narrowed into angry slits. You started up to fight back, like you had so many times before, but before you could even get a word in edgewise to defend yourself, you were once again cut off, this time by Dexter.  

“Do you always speak for her like this?” He asked your boyfriend. “That’s kind of problematic, don’t you think?” 

Schlatt stood his ground, once again raising his eyebrows in a challenging manner as he retorted, “Oh, I’m sorry, are you not doing the exact same thing, right now?” 

Dexter opened his mouth to speak once more, and that’s when you’d had enough. 

“Okay, fine, you know what? I'm actually very tired, and we’re going to go home.” 

You took a firm grip of your boyfriend’s hand and pinched the flesh of his palm, knowing how much he hated it when you did it. As expected, he immediately attempted to silently fight you off with his own fingers and, much to your dismay, managed to do so.  

You didn’t bother trying again, proceeding to instead ignore him to turn back to your friend. 

“I’m so sorry, Dex. I’ll call you later, okay? We’ll have to continue that conversation over coffee someday.” You offered him an apologetic smile and he nodded, the glare on his face slowly but surely being replaced by a smile of his own.  

“Yeah, that’s probably best.” He nodded. His smile took a bit of a worried turn as he continued, “Just, give me a call if you need anything, okay? I’m always available for you if you need anything, and I mean anything-” 

He cut himself off and discretely looked between you and the man at your side, and you nodded before the man in question could use it to fire the argument back up.  

“Yeah, I know, and I appreciate it. But I’m good, thank you.” You assured him and, after another few seconds of hesitation, he seemed to relax as his eyes settled on you.  

“Okay, good. Well, I guess I’ll see you around. It was good seeing you again, it’s been far too long since last.” 

He leaned down and kissed your cheek as you said your final goodbyes, all while maintaining eye contact with Schlatt over your shoulder, who unbecknownst to you was about ready to pounce any second now. 

Luckily for everyone present in that room, many of whom had been pulled by their previous conversations by your argument, it didn’t get any further than that, as the two of you wordlessly went and got your things and left the building with rash, hurried steps. 

The second you got had gotten situated in the car and the key was turned in the ignition, you spoke sternly without taking your eyes off the road in front of you, “We’re talking about this the second we get home.” 

Schlatt kept his eyes straight ahead of him, as well, and snapped out an equally as hostile, “Can’t wait”, before pressing down on the gas, driving out of the school’s parking lot and turning down the road. 

🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋

The car ride home might have been wordless, with not a single sound uttered from either of you to the other, but the air in the car was everything but silent. The atmosphere had been so tense with emotions that it made both your ears ring, painfully and seemingly endlessly, with anger; yours directed at him and his fragile ego, and his directed at his you and your ex-boyfriend. 

As soon as you came to a stop and parked outside your apartment complex, it was like you entered an unspoken competition where both of you did everything you could to show the other how mad you were.  

Doors were slammed, stairs were stomped, and curses were thrown carelessly and harshly into the innocent air every time you messed something up as a result of your harsh, jagged and anger-shaken movements. 

The second you had shut the front door behind you and twisted the lock, the bubble of temporary peace that you had managed to maintain up until then ruptured in a matter of seconds, and so the arguing began.  

“I can’t fucking believe you.” You were the first to speak up with disgust and embarrassment dripping from every uttered word as you angrily yanked off your scarf and jacket and threw them on the coat hanger.  

“I can’t believe you!” He shot back with just as much distain while throwing off his shoes, hard enough for them to bounce across the floor and dunk into the wall in front of them.  

“What the hell did I do?!” You whipped around to face him and yelled. 

In response, his eyes narrowed. “You’re asking me that after you just let your ex feel you up right in front of me?” 

“I- feel me up?” If only looks had been able to kill, your boyfriend would have been sent six feet under on the spot, right then and there. “Are you serious right now? I was having a conversation with a friend! A con-ver-sation, with a friend! I wasn’t aware that went against the very laws of a relationship!” 

“It wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the embarrassingly obvious fact that the asshole is still head over heels in love with you, but it is what it is, so tough fucking shit!” 

“So, what if he is?! How he feels about me does absolutely nothing to change how I feel about you! Literally the only thing that is changing the light in which I see you right now is your own fucking behaviour. I mean, what the fuck has gotten into you?! You never get like this! You watch other guys flirt with me all the time and you mock and laugh at them because you know that they’re trying in vain, so why is this one guy so different?!” 

“Because he’s an asshole who doesn’t respect that you’re in a relationship!” 

“And you’re not an asshole?!” 

“Well, at least I’m not shamelessly throwing myself at my ex!” 

You stilled where you stood and hardened your face, having had more than enough of the crap he was unfairly putting you through.  

“Fine, if that’s how you want to be then you can sleep on the fucking couch. I don’t even want to look at you right now.” You shook your head in disgust and turned on your heel, heading in the direction of your bedroom.  

“Fine, I will!” He snapped behind you as he audibly followed.  

“Fine.” You repeated, this time lower than the last.  

Once again, he snapped out with a fierceness significantly more intense than your own, “Fine!” 

As you entered your bedroom and, while still standing in the doorway with your back turned to him, reached your hand out for the bed, you spoke one last time, “Fine. Take your fucking pillow, too.” 

The pillow in questioned hit him square in the face before he got the time to react, and before he got to utter another word to you, you had slammed the bedroom door in his face and shut yourself into the bedroom. 

You stood silently on the other side of the door and listened, being met with a few seconds of silence and then the sound of his retreating footsteps. 

You heard him turn on the television no more than a second later and the mere sound of it was enough to infuriate you even further. Your entire body felt hot, your blood felt as if it was boiling and about to erupt with the way that it was pumping in your veins.  

You wanted nothing more than to go back out there and just scream at him until he was so far pushed into the ground that you couldn’t see him anymore but before you could do that or anything else that you knew you’d later come to regret, you blocked out the sound of his stupid house renovation program and stomped your way into the bathroom, getting started on your night routine all while muttering profanities and angry ramblings under your breath to yourself. 

Acting out everything you wanted to say to the various toiletries stored in your bathroom wasn’t quiet as efficient as you imagined it would have been to act it out to the very source of your frustration and wasn’t even nearly enough to rid you of your anger completely. But it did do the trick well enough to stop you from throwing fuel to the fire once you had completed your bedtime rituals and gotten back into your bedroom, beyond which you could still hear the sound of the television. 

You noticed quickly that the volume had been increased significantly from when he had first put it on, no doubt in an attempt from his side to get you to react. You knew that, for him, a negative reaction was better than no reaction at all, and that was one of the very few things about him that you wished, just, wasn’t. All it did was make it your responsibility to be the bigger person in an argument, and sometimes you really wanted, needed, to be the smaller one. 

But you wouldn’t let yourself be this time around, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by reacting, so rather than acting on his attempt to provoke, you simply picked your phone up from where it laid on your bedside table and annoyedly typed in a text, locking it and putting it back down as soon as you heard the whooshing sound that confirmed that the text had been sent.

Not even a second later, you heard the familiar ding of your boyfriend’s phone, and you listened as he shuffled around in the couch in the other room, the leather creaking under his weight and the wooden structure squeaking ever so slightly. The downside of buying a second-hand couch, you supposed.

Not many seconds passed before your phone dinged to signal you had received a reply. You didn’t move a muscle, made no attempt to read what he had written you back. Instead you just laid there, turned to the side with your hands tucked under your head and your eyes staring into the wall in front of you.  

And you waited.  

And waited, and waited, and- 

The loud voices from the television suddenly grew silent, as did the entire apartment. The voices were soon enough replaced by the sound of incoming footsteps and, before you knew it, the door to the bedroom was pushed open. 

A second later, a gust of air hit your partly bare back where your blanket had slipped down, accompanied by a muffled thump as the pillow you had thrown out of the room only minutes before was thrown back to where it belonged.  

A weight was added behind you to the other side of the bed, followed shortly by the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.  

“I’m not sleeping on the couch, it’s fucking uncomfortable.” He complained bitterly, and began making himself comfortable behind you. 

You knew that he couldn’t see your face at the position you were laying in, but you still couldn’t stop yourself from raising your eyebrows as to say I told you so, and you were just too proud not to let him hear it, supporting your hidden expression by muttering back, “I told you so, but you still insisted on buying it.”  

“Yeah, well, maybe I ought to listen to my beautiful girlfriend more often. She’s clearly got more brains than I do.” He wasted no time in shooting back, just as proud as you judging by how desperately he was trying to hold on to the tough-guy act he had adapted during the course of your argument. 

But you could hear it in his voice that he was faltering, that he was aware of it, and very, very disgruntled about it, and that very fact was enough to bring a light scoff from your lips.  

“Is that your way of apologizing?” You deadpanned simply, not moving where you laid even as he crept up behind you.  

He could clearly tell that you weren’t impressed, judging by the way his arms slowly and hesitantly wrapped around your middle atop the blanket no more than a second later. 

You were still mad at him for taking his jealousy out on you and ruining your experience by doing so, and even more annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t own up to his bad behaviour instead of just buttering his way back into your good graces. 

And yet, even though he opted for the latter and less preferable option out of the two and annoyed you to absolute bits, you did nothing to stop him when he pressed a kiss to your exposed shoulder and started to rub slow, gentle circles on your arm. 

You never could stop him when it happened, because no matter how much you hated to admit it about yourself, both of you would fall at each other’s feet whenever you’d give the other any kind of physical affection. 

And so, when he began moving his lips along the length of your neck, his facial hair scratching the sensitive skin with every move, you wordlessly turned around to face him and made no complaints when he met you in the middle for a kiss.  

It started out slow, with him carefully testing the waters and attempting to urge you on with his actions while you remained the slightest bit grudging; not because you didn’t want to give in, but because you wanted to prove a point and for him to know that you were still pissed and that he wasn’t forgiven. 

You realized quickly, though, that he already knew all of those things. He must have, or else he wouldn’t have remained silent the way that he currently was, most likely too scared about the possibility of pissing you off even further and, as if the couch hadn’t been bad enough, landing himself a permanent sleeping spot out on the street.  

He knew you wouldn’t hesitate if it came to it, and as he’d rather not sleep in his car, he knew that he had to get back into your good graces as quickly as possible, and so far, you didn’t seem to be against his chosen way of doing so with the way you were moving closer and closer to him. 

Your blanket slipped off your form as you did so, your lightly clothed body instinctively shifting into a sitting position and your hands, that had now found their way to the sides of your boyfriend’s jaw, pulling him along with you. 

Without breaking away from each other, you shifted onto your knees. You gave him a moment to follow your move and pull his back up to the headboard of the bed, before slowly raising your leg over his and sitting down on his thighs. 

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” You were the first one to speak once you were properly situated on top of him, your voice coming out muffled against the rapidly increasing urgency of his lips. 

“Yeah, and you’re just such a delight.” He simply uttered back against your own.  

His big hands found their way to the sides of your thighs where they gripped at the flesh. Such a small touch, and yet it was enough to bring a tingle to your core and draw the smallest of moans from your lips.  

Schlatt swallowed the sweet sound with his kiss and reciprocated it with a groan of his own when your hand passed by the waistband of his shorts and grazed over the hardening tent in his boxers.  

“God, I love you.” He mumbled against your lips as a response to your touch.  

“You’re not going to sweet talk yourself out of this one. I’m still mad at you and will continue to be until you apologize to Dexter.” You fired back in return, but couldn’t deny to feeling the smallest bit amused about his contradicting statements.  

Schlatt, on the other hand, wasn’t the slightest bit amused.  

“Could you, maybe, not bring him up while you’ve got your hand down my pants?”  

You didn’t need to look at each other for you to know that he was glaring at you in his head, as was only further proven by the tone of his voice as he grumbled. 

All of the sudden, you found yourself no longer minding the jealousy that he was expressing. You would never admit aloud to knowing why you’d had the sudden change of heart, but it just might have had something to do with the constant surges of pleasure that were being sent to straight between your legs at the feeling of his hands roaming your body and squeezing at everything they could get ahold of. 

“Why? Does it bother you?”

As a response to the request he had given you only some seconds before, the teasing words rolled off your tongue before you’d even been able to register them in your head.  

You had to bite down on your lip to keep control of your mind, and instinctively brought your arms up to wrap around his neck, your fingers weaving themselves into his long hair in an attempt to bring him even closer, if such a thing was even possible. 

Your words made him react the way you would have expected them to, the energy radiating off of him and his movements getting slightly more frustrated.  

“What do you think?” He muttered back, his hands sliding past the curve of your hips and continuing up your sides.  

You hummed to yourself, the warmth and tenderness of his hands leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You responded to his advances accordingly, proceeding to press your hand down against his crotch before clenching your fist in a firm grasp around the very source of his arousal. 

The speed of his heart increased significantly, and he seemed to no longer find himself capable of concentrating on kissing as you continued to rub him through his underwear with torturously slow movements. 

The tips of your fingers became damp along with the fabric underneath them as his arousal leaked through and into your touch.  

It never failed to rile you up to see how quickly you could have him a mess with little to no effort, the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs beginning to throb as his head fell down into the crook of your neck and his entire body seemed to melt into putty.  

His hips raised ever so lightly into your hand, and you responded immediately by pressing down with more pressure. In return, he grew even hungrier, beginning to leave sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all along your neck. 

The mere feeling of his tongue running over your skin was enough to make you lose all train of thought, and when he moved his hands down to firmly grasp your ass, pressing you down hard and rough on his thigh in the process, you couldn’t suppress the moan that rose in your throat. 

You could feel your own wetness seeping through your underwear at that point, and you automatically squeezed your legs tighter together and ground down in a desperate attempt to create some friction. 

Schlatt immediately picked up on your eagerness and squeezed your ass even harder, pulling you further up on his lap in the process and causing your hand to slide out of his pants as a result. 

“Am I forgiven yet?” 

Another moan left your lips as he placed you right on top of his own arousal, where your hand had been teasing him to the point of a full erection. 

His breaths were ragged and uneven against the dampened skin of your neck, and the feeling of the cool air hitting your most sensitive spots together with his rock-hard member pressing up against where you needed him the most, was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything else. 

Still, by controlling your own breathing, you managed to reply through airy pants, “No. I think I’m gonna need some more convincing.”  

His persona which had previously been soft and sweet and reminding you of that of a scolded puppy, quickly got replaced by a fiercer, more heated demeanour, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

His feelings about the events of the night were coming back, you could tell by the tone of his voice as he gave you the order.  

“You know what I want.” You replied with an equal amount of annoyance, your emotions from the night’s events not having left, at all. 

“I want to hear you say it.” He grumbled into your neck.  

“Fuck you.” 

You jumped as a sharp pinch was suddenly delivered to the flesh of your behind and moaned in sync with the man beneath you when he pushed himself closer to you as a response to the pleasure your sudden movements had given him. 

“Watch your mouth, sweetheart.” He grumbled once again, and at that you couldn’t help but to snicker through heavy breaths.  

“Or what?” You challenged, and nevertheless raised your arms with no protests when he gripped the bottom hem of your nightgown and pulled it up your body, allowing him to discard you of the item and throw it to the floor. 

The teasing, the bickering, the challenging and the taunting all came naturally to the two of you. It had been how you had first met, and how you had kept behaving throughout the entirety of your relationship. 

Neither of you had ever taken offense by it, but this time around, after everything that had happened that evening and everything you were currently feeling, there was a limit even for the two of you, only so much you could take before you no longer could.  

No more time nor words were wasted from that moment forward, the two of you just needing to release your individual frustrations about the issue at hand and, to put it plainly, needing each other. 

Schlatt’s shirt joined your nightgown on the floor not even a second later and you were both in such a rush to get your releases that you didn’t bother removing the rest of your clothes. His manhood was released from the entrapment of his shorts by your hand, and your heat exposed from your panties by two of his fingers while the two of you joined in another series of heated kisses. 

They pushed past the soft fabric and continued on to part your folds. A moan immediately fell from your lips at the feeling of his fingers prodding your entrance, and your head followed suit by falling back against your neck. 

“Fuck, you’re wet.” 

Schlatt's voice came out as a mere gust of air. You felt him throb in your hand at the discovery, and yourself do the same as he gathered your wetness and spread it along your core and all the way up to the bundle of nerves that, at this point, was swollen with the need for release. 

With a snide and determined demeanour, he added pressure on that very part of you, knowing just how to move his fingers in order to tick you off and get a rise out of you. The sounds falling from your mouth and the sight of your bodily reactions only further proved that he knew exactly what he was doing. 

“You think that asshole could make you feel like his?” 

His question was unexpected, having thought that you were through with speaking for the time being, and you, admittedly, found yourself unable to determine whether or not he had actually asked it with how far up the clouds your head was currently feeling. 

Still, you pursed your lips and scoffed – a sound that came out sounding everything except for its intent as it was rudely interrupted by yet another moan. 

“I- don’t be stupid.”  

You leaned your head back down to look at him through hooded eyes and hardened your grip on him just the tiniest bit in retaliation. 

When you did this, you could see even through the lack of light in the room how his eyes grew impossibly dark, and struggled to maintain your confident demeanour when he quickened his circular movements around your clit.  

“I need you to answer me, sweetheart.” 

You squeezed your teeth together and fought the urge to do the same to your eyes.  

“No.” You muttered through tightened lips, and cursed yourself in your head for being so desperate. 

“No, what?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“He couldn’t.” You replied without missing a beat. 

You weren’t in the mood nor state of mind to keep fighting, or talking at all, for that matter, but he just couldn’t help himself. 

“That’s right. I’m the only one who can mess you up like this, and I should have shown him that right then and there on the fucking floor for the way that he was touching you.” 

As soon as he’d said that, his lips were back on your neck, latched onto your skin as he toyed with your arousal in an infuriatingly anti-climactic manner.  

Frustration grew in the pit of your stomach and before he could say anything else, you gave a sharp tug to his hair to get him back up from your neck. 

His eyes were already open and waiting to meet yours, like he had known you were going to do what you did. Of course, he did, you thought, with the way he was trying to get a rise out of you. 

The next few seconds went by in a flurry of fumbling, shifting and grabbing as you got yourselves situated for what was to come.  

Your hands grabbed the hem of his shorts and boxers and pulled them down further down his thighs, he then proceeded to flip the two of you over so that he was hovering above you, reached down to grab a hold of himself and lined himself up at your entrance. 

He didn’t get more than a second to adjust himself before you had wrapped your legs around his hips and pushed him inside of you.  

His head immediately fell into the crook of your neck at the feeling, but he didn’t waste a second before moving his hips and working to find a steady pace.  

Before you knew it, he was driving himself into you like a starved animal, grunting into your neck as he moved in long, hard strokes. 

The sound of your moans blended together with his as well as the sound of your bodies slapping together, and you had to bite your lip and concentrate to the point of your eyebrows creasing together in order to keep yourself as quiet as you possibly could, in an attempt not to wake up your neighbours. 

But soon enough, you’d reached the point where you couldn’t hold it in anymore, the point of your stomach knotting together familiarly as he picked up his pace and reached his hand down between your bodies to help you reach the edge of release. 

You pressed your head into the pillow and squeezed your eyes shut at the overwhelming feeling. 

“I- shit-” You moaned, clinging to his shoulders with all your might as you reached your climax. 

You dug your nails into the skin of his back and at the sudden addition of pain, Schlatt’s hips began stuttering and getting sloppier with every move.  

“Fuck.” He cussed into your neck, and before you’d gotten the chance to react, the familiar feeling of his seed spilling into you flooded your senses.  

You rode out your highs together and after doing so, both of your bodies fell limp where you laid while you struggled to catch your breaths. Schlatt’s head moved up from your neck to instead rest atop your bare chest, and his arms wrapped around you as the two of you eventually fell into a comfortable silence.  

It wasn’t long before he had snoozed off from a mixture of exhaustion and the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, light snores passing by his half-open mouth and fanning across your skin. 

Not feeling ready to sleep yet but being a bit too immobilized by the brute of a man now sleeping on top of you and trapping you to the mattress with majority of his body weight slumped down on you, you didn’t have many other options of entertainment other than to pick up your phone.  

As you did so, your lips immediately twitched at the sight of the message conversation with the man of the hour, where a new message had now made its way into the chat. 

The message was short and to anyone else, it probably wouldn’t have been much at all. But knowing your boyfriend, this was an as heartfelt of a message that you could ask for, and was enough for you to forgive him right then and there.  

He may have been too obstinate to apologize and admit to his flaws out loud, but for as long as you had been together, he had never left you to go to bed upset, and that’s what mattered. 

🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋

𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖆𝖓 𝖎𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗

TAGLIST: NONE YET

🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋

#🦋 #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt smut #jsclatt #schlatt x reader #schlatt imagine #schlatt smut #schlatt #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt #dsmp x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp smut #dsmp

[mamamittens]

Hi! May Kata and I please have Vanilla Milkshakes with Chocolate and Strawberry syrups and fruit with sprinkles on top! Can we get a Hot Damn, hold the Alice in Wonderland with Motor Oil and Black Jack for me. Oh and that strawberry-red bean mochi ice-cream. Call me "Liz" I'm a decently tall woman she/her. I'm a bit on the heavy side with blue eyes very pale skin and long wavy dark hair that goes past my hips. I'm a bit of a people pleaser and I take things calmly right up until I hit "NOPE!"

OKAY! A bit longer than intended but here it is! Finally! (Sorry for the wait!)

I decided to lowkey imply 'Liz' is roughly his height, maybe a few inches shorter but never addressed it directly, btw.

Warnings: Dubious consent, yandere behavior, possessiveness, protectiveness, unsafe sex, marking, oral sex (female receiving), arranged marriage, praise kink, and possible marriage kink.

Word Count: 2,426

Liz didn’t know why she was here.

Okay, so the wedding dress was a pretty clear indication. But Liz was and has been at a total loss as to why she was getting married since she’d been informed of it a month ago. Members of Big Mom’s crew going in and out of her town to ensure everything was in order. It was baffling and stressful.

Her family didn’t own anything of importance. A small grocery store—Liz doubted that’s what caught Big Mom’s eye—and a little townhouse. That was it. No one in her family had done anything noteworthy in the past few generations besides survive and be tall. But surely that wasn’t it? Just… being tall?

No, Liz shook her head, trying not to mess up her hair. Definitely not.

Her dark hair had been rolled up into a braided headband with gem-studded pins to hold it and the veil in place. White lace dress fitted around her body to her knees where it pooled around her feet and in a long train studded with pearls. Elegant and beautiful, Liz could barely recognize herself, although it only made sense considering who was paying for the wedding... She’d appreciate the dress more if she even understood why it was her walking down the aisle to begin with.

She wasn’t even sure who she was marrying, either. Literally nothing had been asked of her.

Liz had been told she was getting married.

Hell, the only reason she knew it had to be one of Big Mom’s—frankly many—children was because she’d come into town and announced it herself. No one argued against it. How could they?

Liz hadn’t had any opportunity to make a break for it. Not that she had anywhere to go, but still. Everywhere she looked for the month leading up to this moment, there was someone from Big Mom’s crew lurking. Even now she knew at least one person was stationed just outside the room until it was time to walk down the aisle.

There was a knock on the door and Liz jumped. Her startled gaze looking back through the reflection as the door opened a crack a ways behind her.

It was Brulee, one of Big Mom’s daughters. Dressed in a pale lavender dress not too far off from the color of her hair. Beaming with a mischievous look at her.

“It’s almost time~! Are you ready, dearie?” She asked. Liz grimaced, looking over the vanity. There wasn’t anything else she could think to do, so she shrugged.

“I guess?” Liz mumbled, looking at her bouquet of honeysuckle and lavender dotted between white roses. It was an odd choice and certainly not native to her town.

Brulee tutted and sauntered into the room.

“A little more blush, I should think! You’re frightfully pale, even for a bride.” She delicately picked up a brush and dabbed it in the powder before gently tilting Liz’s face towards her. “My brother has been quite excited about this, you know.”

“Brother?” Liz asked, closing her eyes in preparation before the soft bristles dusted her cheeks. Brulee cackled.

“Yes! I know, I know! We’ve been quite secretive about it~ It’s quite a momentous occasion, you’ll have to forgive us for the dramatics.” Brulee paused, putting down the brush. Liz opened her eyes and looked at her. She seemed pensive. “He’s a good man. You’ll give him a chance, won’t you?”

Liz was a bit thrown. On one hand, it was understandable that Brulee would ask for her brother. On the other…

“Was this his idea? The arranged marriage thing?” Brulee tutted.

“No, if it was up to him, he’d never have made a move. We just got tired of watching him pine!” Brulee huffed. Liz looked at her in alarm.

“Pine?!” Had they met?!

Brulee paused, lifting her hand to her ear with an innocent expression.

“Oh, do you hear that? The ceremony is starting, we best get going or we’ll be late~!” Liz barely had time to grab the bouquet before Brulee ushered her out of the room.

The whole town was waiting along with Big Mom’s crew. And at the end of the walkway was her future husband.

Charlotte Katakuri.

If she wasn’t so shocked, she’d have laughed. He seemed just as flustered to be there as she was. Blush prominent even over the brim of his ever-present scarf draped over a black suit.

A lot like that rainy day almost a year ago…

Liz rushed out after locking up the store, struggling with her umbrella under the pouring rain. It popped open suddenly, sending her back against someone else. Just a little taller than her—shockingly—and wet from the rain. His face obscured behind a scarf, she knew who he was anyway.

“Ah… are you closed for the day?” He had asked.

If she’d have known it would end like this, she probably would have agreed and left it at that.

“Oh! We-we kind of are but I can let you grab something real quick if you’re in a hurry?” She couldn’t see his face properly at the time, but his eyes suggested a soft smile.

And here they were.

For some reason, getting married. Seemingly—if Brulee was to be believed—without input from either one of them.

The only coherent thought she had the rest of the ceremony was that this was somehow the most awkward wedding she’d ever been a part of.

There wasn’t even a kiss—notthatshewashopingit’sjust-its-thisisawedding?!—because Katakuri glared at the priest when he mentioned it.

Brulee did boo at that but he seemed more flustered than angry, so Liz didn’t argue either way. For a moment, she thought that Katakuri was just as reluctant to be there as she was. But as he gently pushed up the veil from her face, she saw his eyes.

Narrowed and dark, her husband looked ready to devour her. Covetous and hungry. No trick of the light, either, as he gently pressed his forehead against hers. His voice clear but soft enough only she could hear him.

“Mine.”

That word settled in her chest like a rock. This was no accident. The wedding may not have originally been his idea, but it was undeniable that he wanted this.

Better than the loveless marriage she feared only an hour ago, but still…

Neither his gaze nor his hand left her side the entire celebration. Big Mom—oh seas her mother in law now—having an entire cake to herself as she was given gifts ‘for the household’.

Liz didn’t even realize she’d likely be moved from her home. Hadn’t been able to even consider that reality in all the confusion.

“…Where are we going?” She asked softly when Katakuri suddenly excused them from the head table to ‘retire’ for the night. He glanced at her and his gaze softened.

“My private quarters. No one will bother us there.”

Liz felt her heart race, face flush as she was dragged past the familiar faces of her home towards a large ship in the docks. There was a sort of desperate energy to him as he walked faster, hands twitching to pick her up to carry when he boarded the ship.

Mochi littered the deck in their wake, forming thick walls as he led the way deeper through a maze of halls and past rows of doors. The smell tickling her nose as he threw open a large door.

Liz was tossed unceremoniously into the dark as the doors slammed shut behind them. Bouncing off of a soft mattress, dress flaring around her knees. She could hear him panting. The sound of fabric falling to the floor as he moved around the room.

The crack of a match close by made her jump.

It was Katakuri, delicately holding up a flaming match to a candle before moving to light more candles around the room. About a dozen providing dim, intimate warmth to the room. His chest bare of any clothing and only dress slacks hanging loosely around his hips. Tattoos running down his left side almost gold in the soft light as he turned towards her.

The scarf that used to pile onto his broad shoulders slipped onto the floor, revealing sharp fangs poking out from his lips and scars running up from the corners to above his ears.

“You look breathtaking right now, laying on my bed, wife.” Katakuri breathed, almost panting as he crawled up the sheets. He stared down at her with rapt appreciation, eyes skimming over her bared shoulders and where her dress failed to contain her soft skin. “It’s only fitting that such a sweet dream found it’s way here. I apologize if I seem ravenous. I just can’t wait to eat you up~”

He leaned down and pressed the flat of his tongue in the crevasse between her breasts. Lapping up the exposed area to her neck where he pressed his lips hard against her skin. Nipping and sucking it between his lips. Without thinking, Liz pushed her palms to his shoulders with no effect. And for a moment, he ignored her flustered squirming, intent on bruising her pale neck with a soft growl.

His hands swept over the sheets and clasped her wrists together. Something soft and thick forming a tight band around it as he shoved her hands up towards the bedframe where it stuck. He grinned, kissing her chest as he tugged the cups down under her breasts, exposing them to his fangs.

Hands now free, he eagerly ran his hands down her wide hips, tugging the fabric to see how much give there was.

Katakuri nipped a soft mark under her breasts as he gently pulled the dress up her hips. Slowly exposing her stockings and garter belt as the fabric bunched in a thick band around her waist. The weight of the fabric making her breathless as his breath sank through the layers while he kissed his way to her thighs.

“K-Kata--!” Liz yelped when he opened his jaw wide and sank his teeth into her thigh and stockings. Just enough to leave a mark as he sucked a harsh mark, his tongue rolling over the thin fabric and soft skin. She could feel his laugh in her cunt he was so close, the air curling around her wet panties.

“Yes, my sweet? Are you as impatient as I am to be mine?” He cooed, releasing her thigh to press his tongue over her clothed pussy. “Finally mine. No have and to hold, you’ll want for nothing. What’s mine is yours.” Katakuri declared, pulling her panties to the side to sink his tongue into her folds with a moan.

Liz gasped, arching off the bed as his hot tongue slipped into her cunt easily between her arousal and the thick drool on his tongue.

“O-Ooooh~ K-Ka-aaahh~ta! Fuck!” Liz’s head snapped back as her heels dug into the bed to try and lift away from his encroaching tongue. But he gripped her thighs and lifted her up, burying his head eagerly as he seemed to fight to drench her cunt faster than she could on her own.

Her garter snapped against her thigh and she screamed, clenching down on his tongue as he fucked her open for his pleasure. His moans of appreciation echoing over the wet smacks of his lips against her cunt. Intertwining with her sobs as she rapidly approached the edge, pussy soaked and thoroughly tasted.

Suddenly, he yanked his head back with a lewd pop, her cries cut short only to rise sharply as something much less forgiving pressed into her cunt.

Katakuri braced himself above her with one hand, the other steadying her hips for his encroachment. Cock slipping easily into her as he panted for air harshly. Eyes burning into her as he grinned, lips and chin still soaked with her arousal.

“You’re taking me so well, my sweet. Like you were made for this—for me.” He whispered, leaning down to give her a chaste kiss as though he wasn’t hilting his cock in her walls and smearing her cum on her cheeks. “Go on. We’re married now, there’s no need to hide how bad you want this.” Katakuri slipped his tongue into her mouth as he started a slow rhythm. Fucking her into the bed in an unrelenting slide, grinding against her walls with every groan.

Liz moaned, the fire growing under the heavy weight of her dress and in her pussy.

“K-kaaaaaaahh~ oh fu-UCK—K-KATA—Ahhhh-ah~!” Liz wailed as he ground into her hips, pressing the full weight of his body against the mattress. He laughed victoriously.

“Just like that, sweet wife~ Take everything you want from me.” Katakuri hissed, rolling his hips against her trembling thighs harder. “I’ve got so much to give you!”

Liz jerked her hands against the thick band of mochi as she soaked her dress with cum.

“I knew you’d fit perfectly beneath me from the moment I saw you. Look at you~ So sweet on your husband’s cock~” Katakuri moaned, the bed rocking harder with noisy protests. “I’m all you need, aren’t I? This is all you need, isn’t it? Tell me who you need.” he hissed, the frame now slamming against the wall.

Wet smacks and groaning wood almost drowning out her mortified moans.

He looked possessed, mouth agape as he bared his teeth like he was about to take a bite.

“Y-YES! YES! OOoooh! K-Katakgh—Ah! Hhaahhh~!” Liz seized, clenching down on him so hard her hips followed as he pulled back to slam into her cunt. Her eyes watered as her orgasm burned through her thoughts. “I-I need you! I need you~! O-Ohhhh~! YES! K-Ka-ata, yes!”

“I knew it! I knew you needed me! Oh? Tsk, don’t cry sweet wife, we have our whole honeymoon to sate our desire~” Katakuri grunted, pressing her into the mattress as he finally came. Cum settling in hot around his cock and down her thighs as he laughed breathlessly, nuzzling her hair. “Not that I’ll ever stop hungering for your sweetness, just like your sweet body will hunger for mine. Isn’t that right, wife?”

Liz sobbed, trembling as he rocked against her, grinding his twitching cock in deep.

“Y-yes…” She gasped as he nipped her throat harshly. “H-Husband—oooh~” Liz moaned helplessly as his hand slipped down to her clit and rubbed it.

“My sweet, obedient wife~” Katakuri purred, thrusting into her again while teasing her clit.

It was going to be a very long night.

#shake date #one piece smut #charlotte katakuri #katakuri x oc #katakuri smut #yandere smut #it's implied that he lowkey ensured the wedding happened without getting directly involved #charlotte brulee #she's in the background more or less but just happy to see her bro so happy

[incorrect-jojolands-quotes]

Chapter 14 Yap Session: 48 AQUIFERS! You didn't want to leave him a half-measure, huh?

Other Yaps (To Be Updated as I Go): 14

Chapter 14 was very heavy in terms of historical and cultural context. Here are the things I've found so far:

The Lava Rock's Powers Are Based on Hawaiian Culture and Belief

Meryl Mei's words confirmed that the lava rock relies on human emotion and societal beliefs to become attracted to items.

While there are variations of how the Hawaiian Islands came to be, it all comes down to Pele. One retelling mentioned how Pele left volcanic craters on the islands, which would spew rock and ash that would land and create the mountains and fertile lands we know of today. However, volcanic eruptions and raining volcanic matter is nothing safe to be around, especially because it represents Pele herself being angry. So, Native Hawaiians would provide Ho'okupu to Pele as a means to appease her and therefore stop an eruption from escalating further. These are gifts considered to be of high value and given genuinely. Until the end of the 19th century, these gifts ranged from foods to literal diamonds.

A case in 1801 occurred where Kamehameha I was asked to provide offerings to Pele to stop Mt. Huālailai's eruptions. He gave various gifts but only when he gave up his hair did the lava stop flowing; note that hair cutting is only done during mourning or defeat.

Nowadays, there's some conflicting info on what is appropriate and not appropriate. Most say acceptable gifts can be prayers, acts of service to Pele (i.e. volunteering, donations), or generally practicing gratitude. There are those who will still give gifts like traditional food or hula. Regardless, they are given because they are believed to be valuable and therefore necessary to give to Pele.

Howler's Lands Being Mostly Water Is More Trouble Than You Think

The purpose of infrastructure is to ensure society's needs are met. This includes maintaining and sustaining society's source of water; after all, fresh water is a very valuable resource in all human societies since the beginning of time.

In Hawaii, fresh water come from permeable rocks called aquifers. There are many types of aquifers, but experts say the best are made from basaltic and volcanic rock; the only places that have such aquifers in the US are the Pacific Northwest and Hawaii. Despite being surrounded by water, Hawaii relies on aquifers for freshwater and the same aquifers rely on rain water to be replenished. Unfortunately, aquifers are not as accessible and there has historically been cases of aquifer water being mismanaged or contaminated. You might have recognized the controversy regarding the Wai Kai pool.

Not only that, climate change also affects this. Since 2008, Hawaii has been suffering through a drought, causing it dry season to last a lot longer than its rain season. Aquifers rely on rainwater to be replenished, so the lack of rain water means they are not being refilled to continue meeting demands. Rising sea levels also mean less land to live on as well as sea water contaminating the aquifers. There are efforts proposed to stop and prevent this, but it doesn't help that many aquifers sit on top of salt water. Most aren't contaminated because there is a good amount of things between the two to separate them, but that's only if that thing has not been tampered with or by, say, construction or natural disaster.

An infrastructure company holding power over the most valuable resource of Hawaii? Surely, that allows them to have power over lots of things in society as well.

The Number 48 Holds a Lot of Symbolism and Significance

In literature, there's a famous self-help book called The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene. This book follows the belief that life is a never-ending game of power and presents 48 pieces of advice on how to pursue one's goals. This book became popular among musicians, politicians, and other celebrities, especially when they are in controversy, and the book has been criticized for glorifying brutal and inhuman approaches as a means of success. Some might even say whoever tries to achieve their tasks without considering morals or the emotions of others as... psychopathic...

In history, the year 1848 marks the second most important event in Hawaiian history called "The Great Māhele". Prior to this, land ownership was a more feudal system, and laws were suddenly put in place to transition to the allodial system of land ownership. This event would go on to set more laws regarding land ownership and things like The Hawaii State Land Registry to maintain it. On paper, it made land ownership accessible, as one can simply buy land to call it their own, rather than jump through hops caused by things like status. In practice, however, it made it very easy for foreign powers and businesses to buy land in Hawaii and oftentimes prevent Native Hawaiians from doing so; keep in mind that this approach to land ownership is also very unknown to Native Hawaiians, so they themselves have no idea how to approach this. This led to more foreign influences into Hawaii that became a factor in its annexation (the most important event) later on and contributed to the socioeconomic struggles still faced today by Native Hawaiians.

In Chinese numerology, 48 is an auspicious number. Any 3-digit number ending in 48 (i.e. 748) is lucky because it sounds like you're saying "prosperity in X lifetimes" in Mandarin (so 748 is "prosperity in 7 lifetimes/ 七世發"). As a result, 48 became a number associated with businesses. The number 8 is particularly lucky in Asian cultures while also having ties with financial success in other cultures. 48 is also considered be auspicious because it combines the good qualities of 4s and 8s (diligence and ambition), so many consider it a manifestation number (working hard will bring achievements).

As an added bonus, 9 is considered lucky in various Asian cultures because it sounds like the word for "everlasting". It is also associated with dragons in China, so lots of government things and royalty are based on number 9.

See you in the next chapter to see what else I can yap about.

#the jojolands #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo part 9 #jjba part 9 #jojolands #jjba jojolands #jojolands yapping #i'm probs gonna start with 14 and go from there #unless y'all want me to yap about previous chapters #some of these chapters don't have much to yap about

[darerendevil]

For archive purposes: March, 2013

If he has one driving goal in his film career, it's to participate in a project that leaves a lasting impression. "Ultimately what I'd like to do is leave behind a movie that's a piece of art," he says. "One movie out of however many I make that influences or has an impact or someone holds up in the future as a piece of art. That's the ultimate goal."

Chaos. Blackness. Then a pair of inconceivably blue eyes burst open, filling the screen. This is how most audiences were first introduced to Cillian Murphy three and a half years ago, when the Irish actor erupted onto the scene in the post-apocalyptic sleeper hit 28 Days Later. As Jim, a bike courier who awakens from a coma after London has been wiped out by a deadly infection, the largely unknown 24-year-old found himself as the lead in Danny Boyle's poetically terrifying film. As the audience surrogate, Murphy's face telegraphed all the confusion, innocence, and wonder we would expect of a hero-in-the-making who is realizing he might very well be the last man on earth.

After the success of 28 Days Later, a career in Hollywood films was inevitable. It's not just that Murphy looks as though his face were sculpted from marble, topped off by those aforementioned stunning eyes. As he showed in 28 Days Later and subsequent films such as Girl With a Pearl Earring and Intermission, he was a chameleonic performer, a character actor trapped in a leading man's bone structure. In 2005 he found himself starring in two blockbuster hits in which he played characters that couldn't be further from the well-intentioned Jim. As Dr. Jonathan Crane, aka Scarecrow, Murphy's silky smooth calmness was put to villainous use in Batman Begins. He followed that with a turn as Jackson Rippner, a mysterious stranger who traps hotel manager Lisa (Rachel McAdams) into an assassination plot in Wes Craven's Red Eye. While both films were unabashedly popcorn entertainment, each transcended its genre with stellar casting and sharp direction.

After these back-to-back successes, it seemed there was only one logical step for the newly minted star. So Murphy shaved his legs, plucked his eyebrows, and gamely jumped into the role of Patrick "Kitten" Braden, the transvestite orphan whose adventures with cabaret singing, prostitution, and the Irish Republican Army don't even begin to sum up the strange and delightful world of Neil Jordan's Breakfast on Pluto (opening in limited release Nov. 18). Written by Jordan and Patrick McCabe, on whose 1998 novel the film is based, Pluto is a loopy journey featuring Murphy in a bravura performance as the needy heroine who spends her life looking since he first auditioned for it four years ago. Jordan couldn't get the film financed at the time, but he never forgot Murphy--largely because the actor wouldn't let him. "I did a test with Cillian and several young Irish actors to see: Was the role even playable?" says Jordan. "Cillian was not well-known at all but gave a blistering performance. Problem was, after that he would never let it go. Every time we met, he'd ask, 'When do we start shooting?'"

Murphy got his wish in 2004, when Jordan got the money and jumped right into a 10-week shoot. It was sudden, but Murphy took it in stride.

Early Stages

In person Murphy speaks softly, his voice heavy with his native accent--one that has rarely been captured on film, as he frequently adopts English or American accents for roles. He speaks in simple, sparse terms of how he came to acting.Born and raised in Cork, Ireland, Murphy grew up on a diet of American TV and was interested in movies and music. At age 20 he was playing in a band, and he saw a play at the Corcadorca Theatre Company in his hometown. "I went up and knocked on the door of the theatre and said, 'Listen, if you have any parts in any plays coming up, let me know,'" he recalls. "And the guy said, 'There's this play called Disco Pigs. Come in for an audition.' I went in and got the part, and that was it, really."He may make landing the job sound easy, but anyone who saw the 2001 film adaptation of Disco Pigs can attest it was more than luck that got Murphy cast. As the violent and unpredictable Pig, pathologically devoted to his lifelong friend Runt, Murphy is a force of nature we can't take our eyes off of. Still, he admits that at times he felt out of his league. "I was going to go back to playing in a band; I was just acting as a laugh," he says. "But it didn't transpire like that. I don't think I realized it was a career until recently. But I don't enjoy anything as much as I enjoy acting. I never got a kick out of anything as much as I get out of acting when it's going well. You build up a real hunger for it."

For the next three years he worked in theatre, learning on the job while performing in such classics as The Seagull and Much Ado About Nothing. "I think that's the best place to learn as actor," he observes. "I consider it my training ground. I was very lucky to work with a lot of great directors and great plays. I went from smaller parts onstage to bigger parts onstage, then smaller parts in movies to bigger parts in movies. It was a very organic way to do it."

He landed his first agent, Richard Cook at The Lisa Richards Agency, when Cook saw him onstage in Disco Pigs; he remains with the agent to this day. Murphy has a Los Angeles agent, Darren Statt at United Talent Agency, whom he says "saw an audition tape I did for a movie and took me on based on that--which is actually quite unusual." He also has a London representative, Lou Coulson with The Lou Coulson Agency. As Murphy began landing various film and television roles, he had to adjust to auditioning regularly. "It took me awhile to realize auditioning is a different skill than acting," he says. "They're entirely unrelated skills. Just because you're a good actor, it doesn't mean you'll be good in a room with a director. I had to learn to audition."

It was the film version of Disco Pigs that caught Boyle's eye when he was casting for 28 Days Later. Surprisingly, Murphy's newcomer status worked in his favor. "We thought that it was more appropriate for the film that it should not be a star vehicle," says Boyle. "Rather, it should be a community of people we cast as equals." Boyle also felt Murphy displayed an innocent quality that would endear Jim to the audience. "The feeling of a child who is forced to become a man and, by the end of the film, be almost primal, I thought Cillian had that," Boyle reasons. Murphy rewarded his director's trust with a searing performance, taking Jim from wide-eyed youth to fierce protector in the space of 108 minutes. "I've been lucky to have support from great people like Danny," Murphy raves. "He let me carry 28 Days Later. But, ultimately, if you don't produce in the work, you won't get hired. You're only as good as your last job."

Armed with this knowledge, Murphy was selective about his projects after the success of 28 Days Later. "I'm aware of the system and how certain doors open when a film does well," he says. "A lot more people started taking meetings with me. And people began to pronounce my name correctly, that's always been a good yardstick for me." Although most people probably know by now, the correct pronunciation is "kill-ee-un."

Being Bad

Murphy claims he would have been perfectly happy to continue doing theatre the rest of his life; indeed, when he speaks of performing onstage, it's with a low-key but palpable passion. But he is also practical. "If there's an opportunity to do a good film with a good director, you've got to take it," he muses. "You'd be foolish not to. And if a bit of momentum builds up, you have to stick with it."

He has collaborated with some of the most prestigious directors working today, from Anthony Minghella in Cold Mountain to Ken Loach in the upcoming The Wind That Shakes the Barley. Yet he insists there's no deliberate strategy to his career. "I want to do different things and keep myself interested and keep improving," he remarks. "Wherever that takes me, I don't know. There's no plan--it's all out of your control anyway. The only thing I've ever insisted upon is diversity. Every role you take, you have to be afraid that you can't do it. Otherwise, there's no point in doing it." The primary factors that draw him to projects are the script and the director. "It's got to be a good script to start with," he says. "If it's a bad director, they can make the script mediocre pretty fast. But the combination of a good director and good script--that's the ultimate. And I can't believe how lucky I've been to have both."

When it came to auditioning for Batman Begins, Murphy didn't look at it as a blockbuster franchise that would raise his salary quote--he saw it as an opportunity to play a well-crafted character and work with director Christopher Nolan. "I would do any movie with Chris Nolan," he says. "It was a good script and a great part. I had so much fun." Nolan originally brought Murphy in to read for the role of Bruce Wayne/Batman. "I saw Cillian in 28 Days Later and was struck by the extraordinary intensity of his performance," says Nolan. "We tested him for Batman, and his presence just leapt off the screen. Everyone who saw it got very excited about the idea of casting him as Scarecrow. He has a fantastic ability to project interior passions with a power that can be by turns either chilling or seductive."

As Scarecrow, Murphy proved a hero is only as interesting as his nemesis, and his cool confidence was enthralling--just listen to the way he draws out "Batman" as two words in a cruel taunt.He brought that same dangerous appeal to Red Eye, a film in which his Rippner is more or less played as the romantic leading man--until he reveals he's a stone-cold killer. "I was very careful not to come at that character as the bad guy," he explains.

"He's been chosen for his job because he has access to this charisma and approachability. For him to be revealed too quickly would be pointless." Murphy also enjoyed being the heavy, a nice respite from saving the world in 28 Days Later. "It's fun to be the bad guy," he notes. "I thought it was a great role. Just because he turned out to be bad, it didn't represent any more or less fun than playing [Jim]. It's still a great range there to convey."Murphy also wants to make it clear that playing back-to-back villains was a fluke of distribution. "I did get very frustrated with the question, 'Why are you playing the bad guys this summer?'" he says. "I guess it's an easy in. I've made 10 feature films and played two bad guys. I think anyone who's seen the rest of my work will realize that's not what I specialize in at all."

Men Are From Pluto

If Murphy had any concerns about being pigeonholed, he certainly confounded expectations as Kitten in Breakfast on Pluto. "That role was a gift," he insists. "To work with Neil, who's a living legend--he's amazing." To prepare for the role, Murphy reread the book and talked extensively with McCabe, who was frequently on-set. "The book is a masterpiece but not always conducive to the screen, and the film has to be cinematic," Murphy notes. "I used a lot of the episodes in the book that aren't in the movie as my own research." Aware that the role was "completely transformative," he also spent a lot of time getting down Kitten's gestures and movements. "It's a long process," he says. "The physical side wasn't too hard; that's just grooming, really. The clothes and hair and eyebrows--anybody can do that. It was getting the voice and the walk and the physicality." Murphy went so far as to hit London nightclubs in drag. "It's important to do that. How much of it you use or not in the end is irrelevant," he says. "It's just important to have a reference point."

While the sight of Murphy in skirts and wigs is frequently funny, his sensitive and sweet portrayal elevates the film and engages the audience in Kitten's struggles. He is boosted by a top-notch supporting cast that includes Stephen Rea as a sad-eyed suitor, his Batman co-star Liam Neeson as a priest, and his 28 Days Later co-star Brendan Gleeson as a drunken theme-park character. It's a giddy, charming work Murphy aptly describes as "an unexpected fairy-tale disco fantasy."Murphy says he can talk about Pluto "until the cows come home," a bold statement considering that he confesses to an aversion to interviews. "I don't particularly like interviews or having my picture taken," he says, somewhat apologetically. "I don't mind it as a character, just not as myself. I don't like the perceived celebrity of it. I'm not about to become a personality or go on talk shows to entertain people as me, as Cillian." He points out he has never done a talk show in his life--mention Regis and Kelly and he pauses for a moment before replying, "I don't know who those people are."Of course, with his profile on the rise, Murphy admits he has given serious thought to how to maintain a healthy career without having his private life exposed to the world. He even discussed the topic with Batman co-star Christian Bale, whom he praises as "the best Batman" and a dedicated actor. "I actually asked his advice because you don't see him in the papers," says Murphy. "He pretty much told me, 'Don't behave like a celebrity, and you won't get treated like one.' I guess if you don't go out to a lot of parties and fall down, people don't take photographs of you."

Accent on Talent

Murphy recently wrapped Sunshine, a sci-fi adventure that reunites him with director Boyle in which he is once again saving the world-this time from a dying sun. Surprisingly--considering that Boyle gave the actor his biggest break--he still had to audition for the role. "I kind of wanted to," he says with a shrug. "That's what we do; we're actors. I don't understand this thing about actors who won't read for parts. I wanted to show him I could do it. I'm playing an American, and the movies hadn't come out yet where I'm American, so I think he wanted to see me do it." Murphy notes that early in his career he encountered resistance when auditioning for American roles. "They would hear me speak and say, 'Jesus, there's no way,'" he recalls. "But once you do it well, people accept it. And after a while it becomes second nature. That's why I think actors should never be limited by their background. This is what we do: We dress up and put on voices. So people should never be afraid to cast someone because of their accent."

Murphy isn't sure what he'll do next. He mentions taking a break, having worked steadily for the last few years. He'd also love to get back to theatre and tackle some of the great roles. Point out that a website erroneously reported that he has played Hamlet and he seems wistful. "No, I wish. I'd love to," he says. "I hope they said I did a good job." He also

acknowledges the differences between film and the stage. "Obviously, it's different vocally. If you're playing to an auditorium of 1,100 people, you've got to magnify the performance," he says. "For me, film acting is when you can see what the actor's thinking. Theatre acting, you've got to get up to the gods and let them know what's going on." Murphy doesn't mind returning to small theatres-he might even prefer it. "Disco Pigs was always in tiny little sweatboxes," he notes. "As the play got more popular and moved to bigger houses, I think it lost some of its allure. I remember doing Disco Pigs in its first incarnation and turning and getting sweat all over the front row. It was so visceral and dirty and sweaty. Then, when you start playing to bigger auditoriums, it's not as sexy."

If he has one driving goal in his film career, it's to participate in a project that leaves a lasting impression. "Ultimately what I'd like to do is leave behind a movie that's a piece of art," he says. "One movie out of however many I make that influences or has an impact or someone holds up in the future as a piece of art. That's the ultimate goal."

#Cillian Murphy #Interview

[mariacallous]

Matt Gallagher’s new novel Daybreak, set amid the churning horror of Russia’s war against Ukraine, has been marketed as a love story. Yet it is ultimately a book less about romance than about the love of stories—and in particular, the stories we tell ourselves, and others, so that we can survive. Daybreak is a work of art, a gleaming, fanged nightmare of a book by a major American author who himself is an Army veteran.

Its hero, a U.S. veteran of the global war on terrorism named Luke “Pax” Paxton, ostensibly travels to Ukraine shortly after Russia’s full-scale invasion in 2022 to search for an ex-girlfriend named Svitlana. Pax appears to also be searching for absolution. His time as an Army infantryman has disassembled him, and he is unable to adjust to civilian life. His internal monologue is full of self-recrimination. He struggles to simply act normal in the company of civilians, let alone hold down a regular job. Clumsy in his speech and his emotions, fumbling, eager, and frequently angry, Pax has one North Star, which is his desire to be useful.

Many veterans have struggled to adjust to the civilian world in recent years, and a number of them have turned to Ukraine in order to feel useful once again. At least 50 Americans have so far been killed in Ukraine, and the overwhelming majority of them were veterans. Since the beginning of the full-scale invasion, U.S. veterans have volunteered to train Ukrainians, while others have organized donation drives and supply runs.

Some emerged as wasteful, scandalous figures—the inevitable consequence of the largest European conflict since World War II attracting its share of lowlifes—but the majority have put their lives on the line for a noble ideal, the chance to repel an obvious and perilous evil.

This evil is nothing new, of course. Ukraine has suffered from barbaric wars before, and those wars each created their own ghosts, leaving dark marks on the beautiful landscape. Even people who don’t believe in apparitions can recognize Ukraine as a profoundly haunted place, where the uncanny nature of armed conflict has seeped into the bones of the land, its history, and its society. Gallagher’s writing captures how rich and strange my native country is while layering the monstrousness of the new war on top.

“What … could be up there?” Pax wonders of the sky as an air raid siren blares, suddenly aware of the fact that while Americans controlled the sky in Afghanistan, the situation is vastly different in Ukraine. That sense of vulnerability, the sense of being skittering prey to missiles and killer drones and mortar shells, is unfamiliar to Americans, even many of those who served, but a reality for many people elsewhere.

In a macabre but satisfying way, I found Daybreak to closely match the night terrors I have suffered from since Russia invaded Ukraine, the result of long nights of staying on the phone with friends and relatives as the sky exploded above them. There is a loss of control there, the feeling of being trapped in a screaming vortex, even as you try, like Pax, to be useful.

A pivotal scene in Daybreak occurs at a gathering of Lviv society, comprising not the gangsters and oligarchs whom Americans too often associate with Ukraine but cultured people shocked by the arrival of full-scale war. Pax gets to tell an inspiring war story to the assembled, a story that is also a lie. But, as the narrator points out, “It was the kind of war story people wanted. Tenderness in devastation. It was the kind of war story people expected. Fellowship amidst ruin.”

The idea of merciful lies runs throughout the book. In light of how aid to Ukraine is hotly contested by slippery demagogues in the halls of U.S. power—not to mention how disastrously the U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan was executed—the political ramifications of these lies are almost unbearable to analyze.

Gallagher’s handling of Svitlana, the ex-girlfriend whom Pax seeks to protect, is particularly noteworthy. Far from the pliant sex kittens many American men hope to encounter in Ukraine, she is a strong-willed and prickly woman. Gallagher could’ve turned her strengths into another caricature—think a Ukrainian Valkyrie, a popular theme for memes and pageant costumes. But Svitlana’s inner world is also tumultuous and has to do with more than just the war. She has vulnerabilities and regrets. If she has a sword, it’s in her words, which can shatter or save a person.

Works by Western writers (including Russian Americans) on Ukraine are bound to come under heavy scrutiny at a time of upheaval, and Gallagher’s narrative is not going to be for everyone. Yet it is not a tourist’s narrative, nor is it exploitative. If you’ve ever tried to care for someone who has lost part of themselves to war, you might recognize those feelings, even if that war wasn’t Ukraine’s. That sense that someone has been scooped out by conflict, that they’re searching for something to replace a loss, is familiar to veterans and people who care about them across the world.

Russia’s war is senseless and genocidal, but in the shadow of horned death, people continue to tell stories—as Pax does, as Svitlana does. A lot of what is written in the ashes is lost, and Ukrainians’ stories should always come first. There is a privilege Americans have when it comes to narrating a foreign conflict, a privilege that isn’t always earned. Gallagher, however, has approached the topic of Americans in the context of Ukraine with humility and humanity. I can only hope Western politicians will be willing to do the same.

[wrestlezaynia]

"Forgiveness."

So close, yet so far. Inches away but world's apart. "Kev, you awake?" Sami asks in a hushed whisper, breaking the silence between them.

Kevin lay with his back facing Sami, peering out the window. The "no vacancy" sign a grim reminder of how he got stuck in this predicament, replying to Sami's inquiry with a grunt, feigning sleep.

Sami rolls on his side, boring a hole through the back of Kevin's skull. "I know you're hurting, Kev." His voice soft as he scoots closer. "I can't take back what I've done, but I might have a solution to our problem."

Kevin could feel the mattress shift as Sami draws near, his heartbeat starting to quicken. He squeezes his eyes shut, regretting ever agreeing to share a room after everything they've been through.

Sami proceeds with caution, his budding erection poking Kevin's backside. "You have a lot of pent-up frustration begging to be released." He leans in to whisper, his breath hot against Kevin's ear.

Kevin bites his lower lip to prevent a moan from escaping, his own arousal beginning to stir as a result. "Sami, I can barely bring myself to look at you let alone fuck you." He remarks snidely.

Growing impatient with Kevin's stubbornness, Sami backs away. "I'm trying to make things right between us, Kev." The redhead replies somberly, his heart heavy at the thought of losing him again.

Contrary to popular belief, Kevin did have a heart and right now it's twinging at the defeat in Sami's tone. The typically verbose redhead remains silent, staring down at his hands. "I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive you." Kevin answers truthfully, his voice wavering.

Sami's lip quivers as tears threaten to spill from his eyes. "How many times have you betrayed me and I always remained by your side?" He asks, reminiscing back on their turbulent past.

Kevin pinches the bridge of his nose and, moving to a seated position, turns in Sami's direction. The devastation etched across his face making Kevin's stomach churn. "I betrayed you for a title, not a person." He explains, averting Sami's gaze.

Sami could detect the envy in Kevin's tone, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Oh my God." He gasps, glancing at Kevin who is now avoiding eye contact. "I can't believe I never noticed...you're jealous."

A warm blush rises to Kevin's cheeks. He never lied to Sami and even if he did, it would be in vain. He can read Kevin like a book.

"Kev, look at me." Sami coaxes, tilting his chin to meet his gaze. "You have nothing to be jealous about." He assures him, moving his hand to cup his cheek. "I don't love Roman, or Jimmy, or Jey...I love you, Kevin." His name escaping as a whisper. "I've always loved you."

Consumed by emotion, Kevin leans forward, brushing his lips tenderly against Sami's. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he cradles Sami's face in his hands to deepen the kiss, murmuring sweet nothings in his native tongue.

Sami emits a soft whimper as soon as their lips connect, it felt like an eternity since their last kiss. Eager to taste more, Sami traces Kevin's bottom lip with the tip of his tongue in hopes of gaining entry.

A guttural moan emerges from Kevin's throat as he willingly parts his lips, granting Sami further access. Their tongues swirling sensually around each other's mouths. The kiss becoming even more heated when Kevin climbs on top of Sami, straddling his lap.

Their lips eventually part, leaving both men gasping for air. Kevin rests his forehead against Sami's and their eyes lock, hunger burning in his piercing gray orbs. "Sami, make love to me." He murmurs breathlessly, the desperation in his tone palpable.

Sami swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He gives a slight nod to indicate his approval, the thin material of their boxers the only thing separating them as shaky hands reach down to peel off the garment. Intentionally skimming his fingertips over Kevin's thighs, watching his reaction intently as he fulfills his desire.

A/N: I apologize for this ending so abruptly, but I have something better in the works...stay tuned! 😏😉

Tagging: @normallyweirdfreak, @himbos-hotline, @coloursflyaway, @low-x-battery, @riveliciousx, @racerchix21, @kevinsteen, @naturalxselection, @pikapuff-316, @stardust181, @elsteenerico, @kristalovesjian1-blog and @anothersabah. The list is growing! 🙌

#Zowens #Sami Zayn #Kevin Owens #Angst #My edit

[nocturnus-ghuleh]

okay, so this is an nsfw request if that is okay

can we have something where Secondo is getting his ass ate? 👁️👁️ 🍑

Of course 😉.

THANK YOU SATAN (Secondo x Reader)

I wrote a fanfic and since I didn't know which pronoun you prefer, I kept it neutral. Please keep in mind that English is not my native language.

⚠️SMUT. +18 MDNI⚠️ Dry Humping, Ass Eating, Oral Sex⚠️

Description: You are sibling of the sin with whom Secondo has casual sex with and this time, you decide to take control of the situation.

-It's so funny that they think you're the one in charge.- You spoke teasingly to Secondo as you sat on his lap. You were one of his favorites, so the rest of the people knew that there was something between the two of you.

- They don't believe it, it's like that.- He stated seriously, placing his gloved hand on your waist in a possessive manner, affirming his position.

That afternoon you didn't feel obedient. Until that point you had always been his perfect little toy who followed his orders and with whom he could do whatever he wanted.

- Secondo, look me in the eyes - you gave him an order which he obeyed. - Good boy. - You knew he wasn't going to take it well. Before you could do anything you had his hand around your neck. You returned the gesture. On his face you saw his surprise which then turned into a small smile that you identified as the face he made when an idea occured to him.

- Do you want to be in charge? - He let go of your neck and kissed your cheek. - Go ahead.

The kiss made you blush. It took you a moment to understand his words.

- Get in the bed.- You wanted to sound demanding and you failed in the attempt, although he did what you asked once you got off of him. - Are you sure you agree with this?

- Yes ma'am.

You walked over to the bed, knelt next to him and contemplated him thinking. With the idea in mind you removed his belt from his pants. It was weird that he didn't object to you using it to tie his wrists.

You felt a little shy, almost as shy as the first time you did it with him. You pretended it wasn't like that anyway. You climbed on top of him, sitting with both legs on either side of his hips. You opened the shirt he was wearing to lean forward and kiss his skin.

- Adoro le tue labbra.- His Italian was something you loved so he used it because he knew it was effective. - Potrei abituarmi a questo.- He said as you kissed his neck with his breathing beginning to alter.

You sat a little further back while you left kisses. You moved your hips slowly making perfect friction on his member. He responded by moving his own upwards following your rhythm.

The scent of his cologne was strong and made you want to please him even more as did his tied hands trying to lift your shirt to reveal a bit of your body.

-Ask for it nicely- enjoying knowing that for once those words were going to come out of him.

- Per favore.

You did what he asked you, feeling satisfaction from the reversal of roles.

The next few minutes continued dry humping in which both rubbed each other in your underwears. You let him get close to cum, let him free his low moans, and then moved to his thigh. So many times he had left you on the edge, it was time for him to know how it felt.

Having reached your climax and enjoyed it, you lay face down between his legs. He was beginning to show an obvious bad mood which you laughed at, you were going to take it away in a moment.

-Don't worry, I'll take care of you now- you assured before removing his boxers. You started off with something soft, small kisses on the tip. Then you licked before sucking. He took the wrists behind his head, giving himself to you.

All the noises and words that came out of his mouth made you gain confidence in yourself and then you dared, you tickled his hole with just the tip of your tongue, taking advantage of the fact that you had access. That made him moan even more. One of your hands went to his penis to stroke it the way he likes. Your thumb playing with the tip of it and the rest of your hand playing with the rest. Your mouth stayed down there as your tongue licked slowly and flatly from the bottom of his ass to his balls. Back and forth.

- Grazie Satana.- You heard him repeat under his breath several times, agitated with control completely lost. - Oh... You are mine... Don't stop... or... or I'll...

You escalated everything and he couldn't continue talking. His body seemed to move involuntarily with pleasure while the sounds that came out of him were uncontrollable.

- I can't... I can't hold it.

And with that, while you were practically making out with his ass he came almost screaming.

Slowly you stopped everything. When you came out from between his legs you blushed finding how sweaty he was. Without saying anything, you released his wrists.

When you looked into his eyes your cheeks reddened and even more so when he winked at you.

- Tomorrow I will light a candle on the altar to thank Satan for putting you in my life... And don't let this go to your head or next time I'll have to remind you of your place.

#papa emeritus ii x reader

[naminethewriter]

I was tagged by @prince-rowan-of-the-forest! Thank you very much! 🥰 You can find their post here!

1: How many works do you have on Ao3?

92 as of yesterday 😎

2: What's your total Ao3 word count?

223,014 words

3: What fandoms do you write for?

Right now just Sanders Sides, though I have unfinished stories for both Kingdom Hearts and South Park and I am thinking of participating in a Professor Layton Big Bang.

4: What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Clyde can't handle that his best friend keeps secrets from him (South Park) - 496 kudos

After months of silence (South Park) - 254 kudos

Lookout (South Park) - 242 kudos

Always (Sanders Sides) - 184 kudos

Logan Tries Something New (Sanders Sides) - 179 kudos

I'm actually surprised that there are two Tss fics here, I was sure that they hadn't caught up to my South Park stories 😅 Apparently they have a lot more hits but aren't that far ahead in terms of kudos 🤔

5: Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I actually feel kind of weird when I don't do it... And I always like getting answers to my own comments 🥰

6: What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oof, that's a hard question... I mean, it depends from which perspective, right? One of my South Park fics, I'll Give Up Everything For You, ended with Hell invading earth but the main characters are the instigators and happy together, while they doomed their town.

Then I have a few Hurt No Comfort stories like Who's the Liar Now? or Rare Lies Hurt The Most, though they're both quite short.

I guess the one with the most ambiguous and hurtful endings are appropriately closely named: Cursed (Dukeceit Werewolf story) and Cursed Woods (Roceit with forceful separation at the end).

7: What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Again, that's hard because that's most of them 😅 But without thinking about it too much, You're Not Alone an Intruloceit story with lots of hugs and comfort and a christmas party at the end 💙💛💚

8: Do you get hate on fics?

One time I got a comment telling me to kill myself under a South Park fic but apparently they went around commenting on a bunch of fics with that particular ship, so it wasn't really targeted at me. That was the only thing that I've got over the years.

9: Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't, but maybe someday 🤷‍♀️

10: Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I don't and I don't really like reading them either with very few exceptions.

11: Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If so, I'm not aware of it.

Question 12 has been lost to the ether...

13: Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't, but I'd like to try someday ^^

14: What's your all-time favorite ship?

Considering that I just wrapped up the 4th ship week in a row for these dorks, Intrulogical all the way 💙💚

15: What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

How to manipulate a rebellion, a South Park story that I still very much like but I'm not active in the fandom anymore and have so many other stories I want to work on, so I doubt I'll ever get back to it... 😞

16: What are your writing strengths?

Heartfelt moments and dialogue, I think. Sincerity and simplicity as well, maybe.

17: What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not good with poetic writing styles. I also often struggle with descriptions since I'm not much of a visual thinker.

18: Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think it can be a fun addition, depending on how much you include. Since I myself am not a native English speaker, I am often tempted to bring in some German. But it needs to be inserted in a way that even non-speakers of the language can understand.

19: First fandom you wrote for?

Kingdom Hearts! They were my first online obsession 🤭 If I had discovered fandoms earlier, I might have written for Wizards of Waverly Place.

20: Favorite fic you've written?

How could I ever choose? I actually really like most of my fics still and do reread them sometimes but I guess in terms of begin proud of how much work I put into it, Hurt No One Knew About might be my favorite of them so far.

Thanks again for the tag! This was fun but a lot of work 🤭

No pressure tags: @lost-in-thought-20, @lily-janus, @candied-peach, @mimssides, @starshard17

#tag game #about me #wips

[treedoctorusasworld]

Winterizing Your Trees: Top Tips for a Flourishing Garden

The onset of winter weather is imminent, and you won’t be the only one who needs to wear warm clothing. It is imperative that you get your trees ready. If you do not, you run the chance of them breaking, falling, or simply being an eyesore in your yard. Therefore, you should contact Tree Health Care San Diego if you need tree care. In light of this, you will need to adhere to the specific guidelines for winter trees to shield them from frost and maintain their viability. An excellent place to begin is by performing light pruning and applying mulch. It would be best if you continued to water them and keep the snow off the branches. In addition, you should take precautions to keep animals away. These are just a few elementary steps to follow.

The Advantages of Strong Trees

Trees have a tremendous impact on how our environment is shaped and confer many benefits on individuals and communities worldwide. Trees in Minnesota offer much more than only giving much-needed oxygen; in addition, they provide much-needed shade for homes and businesses and homes for a broad range of native species. In other words, trees in Minnesota serve several purposes.

During the warmer months of the year, trees act like enormous parasols, shielding a neighborhood from the sun’s direct rays and lowering the air’s temperature. In addition to their usage in natural landscaping, trees are frequently used in architectural design as ornamental features. In either scenario, trees’ continuing vitality and healthy development are essential for them to carry out their responsibilities.

On the financial side of things, it has been suggested that the worth of a house is higher when it has been adequately planted with trees and that this contributes to an increase in the value of the home. Are you familiar with the facts regarding trees and the imperative that it is to look after their health throughout the winter? Even though winter may appear to be an odd time to care for trees and may even be an uncomfortable season, there are several benefits to performing this activity at this time of year. We have compiled five tried-and-true approaches to tree healthcare to ensure your trees continue to thrive and remain healthy throughout the season.

Advice for Caring for Trees in the Wintertime

One thing that property and company owners should remember to do throughout the winter is to take care of their trees by managing any necessary pruning that needs to take place. It is recommended that you prune your tree during the winter months because this is when deciduous trees are dormant, and it is not the growing season for these trees. Because all the leaves have fallen off during the winter, you can easily access different regions of the tree and see precisely where you need to prune. It makes winter an ideal time for tree pruning.

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Pruning trees in the winter reduces the risk of inflicting fatal wounds on the trees, which may occur if the pruning were performed in the spring. When trees are pruned during the growing season, also known as the warm weather seasons, the resulting wounds and the sap that flows from them can become breeding grounds for a wide variety of pests and diseases that are harmful to the tree’s health.

Take Good Care of Young Trees

During the winter, young and newly planted trees are typically more susceptible to damage. Considering that these young trees have yet to develop their root systems, it may not be easy to care for them in the future.

It would help if you tended to your young trees and bushes now that the weather has turned chilly since they will have to survive a winter that is likely to be bitterly cold, snowy, and even icy. You may help safeguard the safety of young trees over the winter by cabling them, so they remain upright. It will reduce the risk of damage to the trees. The snow and ice may bring down your young tree because they are such powerful forces.

In addition to that, make sure that you put a plastic guard around the trunk of the tree or a wire fence around it so that rabbits and deer won’t eat it. Because of this damage, the tree may eventually perish. It is also helpful to prevent winter burn on the growth of your shrubs by wrapping them in burlap or cotton before winter arrives.

Stay Away From Using Salt Near Any Trees

It would help if you didn’t use salt anywhere near your trees, as the snow and ice accumulate over the winter months. Even while salt is an effective tool for melting ice on sidewalks and driveways, using it in the immediate area could hurt the trees.

Salt will end up causing damage to your tree’s roots and trunks since it will inhibit the tree from obtaining the critical nutrients for life and nutrition that it needs from the soil. Use sand or a natural de-icer that does not contain salt as an alternative to salt.

Conduct Frequent Inspections of Your Trees

Residents in Minnesota are well aware of how rapidly the weather may shift. It is crucial to check on your trees and bushes whenever there is a snowstorm or other type of winter storm. If there is a significant accumulation of snow on either of these, you may damage your tree or your house considerably. Ensure that you keep a close eye on your trees and the structure of their trunks and branches throughout the winter season.

Retain the Services of a Qualified Arborist

Last but not least, one of the most valuable pieces of advice we can provide regarding the care of trees during the winter is to contract the services of an expert to carry out the activities of winter tree removal and pruning. Although there are circumstances in which it may be OK for you to do some duties related to winter tree care on your own, it is prudent to delegate the more significant projects to professionals.

Professional arborists have access to specialized equipment and a wealth of knowledge, making them the best choice for many aspects of tree maintenance, including but not limited to the removal of trees and trimming branches located at greater heights on trees. Get in touch with a tree care provider to ensure your property’s trees receive the attention they need this winter.

Superior Tree Maintenance During the Winter

Do you plan to take care of your trees and ensure they remain healthy this winter? Dial the Professional Tree Care Services number right away. Professional arborists at Tree Doctor USA have extensive experience and training in applying vital tree care services to residential properties.

Original Source: How to Care for Happy and Healthy Tree in The Winter

#tree doctor #tree disease specialist #tree doctor usa #tree healthcare #tree health specialist #family tree healthcare #tree treatment #sick tree treatment

[four-loose-screws]

Comeback, Take 2!

Let's try returning to my normal posting schedule again!

First, the context.

So early on in 2022, I realized that I was going to have to significantly slow my translations pace, as I was getting married, and I like to be way over-the-top handmade in everything I do. The time I had to put into every detail was immense.

I thought that I would be able return to a more consistent posting pace once the wedding was over, but then I made the very much hasty decision to sign up for the December Japanese proficiency exam, and finally tackle the highest level. I was almost immediately filled with complex feelings when I learned that preparations were going to take a whole lot more time in the day than just a quick review of vocab and grammar I've studied before.

THEN Christmas is a thing! So I had about 2 weeks to panic and rush and get gifts out to the side of the family that gives gifts to EVERYONE - I even gift exchange with great aunts and uncles I haven't seen since I was but a wee kiddo playing Pokemon, Sonic, and Harvest Moon 8 hours a day, who had no idea how ambitious I would become (FE didn't come into my radar until I was a teen).

So in the end, my return was put off almost exactly 1 year, but I'm ready to try again!

Now it's 2023 and I'm ready for a well-deserved reset! 2022 was not a miserable year for me by any means, I was busy with good things. But I was way over-worked, and I'm ready to shove that life in the garbage bin for way more translating, naps, and mindless exploring of Pokemon Violet's Paldea! At least for a couple more weeks until Engage, and the Story of Seasons remake drop. :) (I'll be importing the JP version of A Wonderful Life at the end of the month, normally I wouldn't mind waiting for the NA release, but SoS games are one of the few on the Switch that are region locked.)

I apologize dearly to everyone who sent an ask/message/etc. to me over the past many months, that has gone entirely ignored. Everyone who sends comments my way is always *super* fantastic and supportive of me having to take breaks (Hugs to you all!), but I'm always so bummed when I can't keep up. It's what I want to do, and when I can't do it, it's just super poopy.

My blog goals for the beginning of the year are about what someone who has been following my translations for a long time might expect: 1) stay on pace with the FE7 novel translation, 2) get caught back up and finished with the FE4 manga translation, and 3) get all my asks/messages/etc. caught up on before making any new commitments!

Best of luck to everyone and their goals for the new year! Be real and kind with yourself, and you can accomplish them in time. :) Everything just takes time, and it takes forever to figure out your personal style for achieving accomplishments.

I have many things I'd like to learn this year, but the only one I'm committing to is getting better at reading Japanese. I realized that translating novels does NOT help one bit at improving my skills in reading for enjoyment or everyday life! ...You might think that's strange at first glance, but translating is... slow. Methodical. Aiming for careful interpretation of every sentence and word. That does not help with gaining reading speed and comprehension on par with native speakers AT ALL. So I really need to improve, especially in case I didn't pass the Japanese exam and need to go for a round 2 this December!

Cheers to a new year of much more relaxation! 🥳🎉

#fire emblem #translation #translations #blog update #here's to 2023!