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bangficsx · 3 months

Text

PLANNERS

pairing : jungkook x reader insert

word count : 7777 [coincidence ;)]

synopsis : wedding planner hooks up with the bride's cousin

warning : slight dry humping, teasing, blowjob, fingering, cum swallowing, squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it's just a fic), a dick pic i don't think there's anything else..

"I already got the number given for how many tables and chairs are to be set up" the man tells you, leaving you in disbelief.

"I think you have a misunderstanding. I'm the event manager. I was supposed to have a meeting with you about it." You try to put forward your argument which gets dismissed again immediately.

"A certain gentleman came two hours before and told me everything in detail" the man answers getting irritated by your insistence about his mistake.

"Now please do not waste my time miss. I've got a lot of other clients." You turn around and roll your eyes, stomping forward murmuring "again".

It wasn't the first time your job got done by your customer. You have never met one like this before in the hundreds of weddings and events you've arranged. Why pay a hefty sum to you if they want to do everything on their own?

You make up your mind and set out on a quest to find the mysterious man who keeps completing the tasks he hired you to perform. And you've already assumed he must be the typical arrogant asshole from your nightmares.

The next morning, you leave for the photographer's studio three hours early. You were supposed to meet them to decide the lighting and type of camera that is to be used. What kind of shots the couple wants.

In your two year long career, you've never had an upset client. You try your best to deliver the exact kind of wedding they must've dreamt of for their whole lives.

The wedding ceremony is one of the most important events of a human's life. The most joyous celebration that unites two individuals and families together.

And you make those dreams come true. It's in your hand to control all that is controllable on that most special day of someone's life.

This wedding is by far the most expensive one you've ever handled. Usually you would manage two or three in a month. But they put a condition asking you only focus on theirs for the month the wedding's scheduled in.

The groom started his own tech company at just 20 and earned a name for himself. While the bride is the ceo of a pharmaceutical company her dad left to her.

You ask your photographer if they got any emails about your event and when they checked they actually had one. You asked them for the address ensuring them there would be no consequences.

When you search the email address, you find it mentioned on a linked in account. You assume it must be the bride Si-young's cousin as you clearly remember her telling you she doesn't have any siblings of her own.

You find the man has attended a business school abroad and has professional posts about the company. Again you assume, he must work in the company too. Probably hold some influential position and hence, acts like such an asshole.

You also come from a well to do family yet you never understood why rich people spend money on services they don't even use.

You look at the picture of the man carefully. A pretty good looking man for sure. And you smirk when you find him in the car that's driving up the street just like you expected.

You feel stupid that you'd shared the schedule with them to assure everything would be done in time. There was a fair amount of time left yet you were working everyday as it was a big scale event, a grand affair. Two business tycoons coming together along with their souls and hearts.

You walk upto the spot where he parks his car. Resolute to give him an earful about what has been happening for the last week.

You stand with your hands folded waiting for him to ask what you want and to gladly tell him to let you do your job. He walks past you and enters the studio leaving you gasping.

You stomp your feet and follow him. Fuming in anger, you call behind him "excuse me mister what do you think are you doing huh?"

He keeps talking with the photographer showing her samples that you were supposed to show and tells them they want better ones than those.

"Mr Jeon!" You call him again. He finally turns around.

"Can I help you?" He asks as if he's clueless.

"Yes. I think you're aware that Ms Si-young and her fiancé have appointed me as their wedding planner. I'm the one whose supposed to perform the tasks you've been performing. It's my job" You finally release all your pent up frustration.

"It's complicated" he says and turns around to continue his conversation.

"Excuse me sir do you not understand how much inconvenience you've been causing me. I have been wasting my precious time and money to travel miles only to find you've already done the job" you shout unable to believe something like this could ever happen.

"Look it's not my problem. I told Si-young that I would look after every little detail about her wedding. It's not my fault if she paid someone to do it. Just keep the money." He says with an expression that says he wants you to fuck off but you aren't going to give up so easily.

Going away with free money is easy. But you're not gonna do that. It's a large sum of money that you received. And you need to manage this event to enhance your portfolio. Grabbing this opportunity is so far your biggest achievement. If you do this you'd be able to kick all the asses that laughed on your face when you told them your career choice was becoming an event manager.

And your stubbornness resulted into the gentleman bringing you to a café to explain to you why he wants to arrange everything by himself. How much it means to him. What Si-young denies to accept.

"Her dad died when she was nineteen. She was abroad studying when he was on his deathbed. I was by his side through out his sickness. And his dream was to have a perfect wedding for his only daughter. Look she's the only thing he ever had. Her mother died before he could marry her. He meant a lot to me because you see my dad all our fortune drinking and gambling. Uncle took me in and provided me with the best of opportunities and education and in turn it helped me send money to my family. He saved us and now I want to fulfill his last wish and dream. That's why I want to arrange the whole wedding. Ensure everything is absolutely perfect. Si-young likes to flex her money, she thinks just spending lots of money will get her the perfect wedding day. She doesn't understands only someone who deeply cares and loves her would ensure perfection." You feel attacked and he surely knows he's being rude to make you run but you're not going to, not so easily.

You've had enough experience dealing with people who won't trust you. Parents of brides and grooms, brides and grooms themselves, even your own parents.

You quickly pull your tablet put and open your browser which already has a tab open with your website on it.

"Well Sir I'd like to tell you I've been an event manager with an expertise in wedding planning for two years now. I've successfully managed a hundred weddings now and this is my profile. As you can probably see with your own eyes I'm able to put up the best possible events." You tell him proudly because nobody else ever takes pride in you.

"Look I've told you I want to do it and I'm going to do it no matter how much you try to" he says again and you can't bear it anymore.

You lash out "You don't understand how hard I've worked to get here alright. I've worked my ass off the past four years. Two years as an intern where I worked like a dog and then at my own company. I have been able to get here based on sheer hard work and nothing else. I'm not gonna let you snatch it away from me." He watches your nostrils flare, and your skin turn red.

"Alright calm down. Take a deep breath" he says before he sighs.

"Please" You can't believe yourself and takes everything in you to stoop like this but you speak the word out.

It's the way you ask him that he relates to you in some sense. He knows what working hard is like and can tell from your eyes you're speaking the truth.

"Can we do it together then?" He offers.

You roll your eyes at him, contemplate then answer "fine"

"So easy.. you had to make it so hard" he chuckles and you look away trying to hide your smile.

"At least get a black coffee for self respect. You're embarrassing me along with yourself" You point out that you two have been sitting for too long without ordering something.

"Sorry" he mumbles before ordering.

"It's okay" you respond.

"You just wanna... keep... sitting on the same table" he asks fearing another outburst from you.

"People might misinterpret if I suddenly leave and sit somewhere else." You answer. Think it might benefit both of you.

"How so?" He asks. You don't understand if he lacks experience assuming he might have drowned himself in studies first and now work or he's just messing with you and having his own fun in it.

"We looked like we were fighting. They might think we were a couple... and we broke up" you answer clearing all his doubts.

"You're kinda clever you know" he says.

"No doubt" you answer.

Your coffees arrive and you both silently sip from your cups. He keeps glancing at you then at the table. Covers his mouth not known to you, he's covering a foolish grin, a blush because he can't stop looking at you and get reminded of how cute he found you in control of anger. How he adores a smart woman who can take a stand for themselves and don't give up.

"You know complete silence can be misinterpreted in a way too" he leans over the table folding his arms.

"Certainly" you agree. Also you are finding it impossible to resist the urge to talk to him.

A part of you is unable to believe you are having coffee even that you're sitting at the same table with a person who studied from one of the top business schools of the world.

"You want a sandwich or something... lemme compensate you for all the money you spent at least obviously I can't return you the time" he speaks looking around for the waitress. Before you can refuse he has already ordered two. You didn't say anything because you could hear your stomach grumbling in hunger. You hadn't eaten a proper dinner last night too.

"You know I kinda understand her dad and you too" your words grab his attention. He looks at you, fluttering his eyes, without any shame not moving them away.

"Hmm" he finds himself at a lack of words.

"It's pretty important to my dad too... That someday my wedding goes well if it happens. But we aren't really on good terms anymore so I don't really know what's gonna happen when the time comes" you tell him. Mustering the courage to finally open up. You've been in your shell for way too long now. It's been five months since you and your girlfriend broke up.

"What happened" he asks trying to not offend. "If you're comfortable to share" he quickly adds.

Your sandwiches arrive right before you start answering, "He wanted me to be an engineer but I had no interest in that area. So he didn't help me tuition for undergrad or anything at all. Mom is a homemaker so she couldn't help me as such. Then when I started my business even then he didn't give any seed money or anything. So far I've been able to manage on my own so I guess I'll arrange my own wedding by myself too. I've got one life, I'm gonna live it out on my own terms. I don't give a fuck anymore" you bite a huge piece off your sandwich not caring what he thinks.

"I'm proud of you" he mutters.

You are surprised to hear that and make no efforts to hide that, "What... what did you just say?" You ask.

"Oh you heard it. You're strong and self made so..." he scratches his nape nervously.

"Thanks" you tell him.

You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Also my parents don't know that I'm bi" You blurt out, kinda on purpose to see if he's gonna back off because of that but it doesn't budges him. He seems to be absolutely fine with it. And there have been many who have left after you state that fact about yourself.

When you both finish eating you walk outside the café together.

"Sorry for wasting your time like that" you apologise. "You seem like you have a serious job"

"No it's not like that... it's all for Si-young and she means a lot to me, even more than my own siblings." He quickly explains.

"Wine tasting tomorrow 5pm" You remind him although he must already have it pinned on his schedule.

"See ya" he leaves after getting in his car. He wanted to ask you to get in the car and drop you wherever it was you needed to go but he had a meeting in an hour and had to prepare for it.

The next day, you meet again. You feel guilty of the excitement of sorts that you hold in your heart to meet him again.

You thought about him all day long the day before, all night and all morning. He was beautiful and kind. Inspiring and caring. You'd never met a guy like that before.

You skip your usual pants and shirt work outfit and instead wear a dress. With a denim jacket on top and boots to walk in.

The wine seller was not a long distance away from your place. You had a home office setup and were saving for an actual office.

You find that Jungkook has already reached the location and was waiting for you. You feel embarrassed not knowing for how long he's been there.

He walks upto you and greets you and you do the same. You walk inside together.

"We have a booking for a wine tasting" you ask the receptionist who points at an old man sitting in a corner. She asks him to take over.

You and Jungkook sit at a table with glasses placed in front of you. The old man uninterested to work asks you to just tell whichever tastes best after showing you samples from what they offer at weddings. You know that the place has the best wines so you don't object towards the behaviour.

"Should we try this one first?" He asks.

You both try the same wines and wait for a few seconds for the taste to settle in.

"No way" You answer. He chuckles and nods.

"OK, trust me this isn't their best" you tell him quickly not letting him doubt your choice of wine seller.

"You've had the best one before?" He asks.

"Yeah someone gifted me once" you get reminded of your ex who brought it for your anniversary. It brings back all the bitter memories from your breakup. It was the longest, strongest relationship of your life yet it ended in such a bad way. You still haven't completely forgotten her.

"Jungkook" you take his name as if he's a friend of yours.

"Yeah everything alright?" He senses the change in your tone and expressions because he hasn't looked anywhere else.

"Can you... can you please taste these and tell me which one you like best? I'm sure you have a great taste in alcohol." You request him. He looks at you and nods.

He picks up a glass and drinks from it. You're sure he must have a hundred questions rushing through his mind but he's not asking them out of politeness.

"Don't wanna kill you with curiosity it's just because my last ex and to be honest one of the best ones brought the best wine from here for our anniversary so I don't wanna taste it and remember it all again. It was pretty terrible... the break up" you purse your lips.

"I'm not curious about those things" he sips another wine and makes a face furrowing his eyebrows. You don't know what to make of it, it looks like he's gonna get angry at you for bringing you to a place which has not a single good one.

"How are these their bestsellers... like what the fuck is even happening here" you look around to call someone and ask them if they actually arranged you the best samples.

"No wait... fuck.." he takes another sip. "Heaven" a moan escapes his mouth before he presses his lips together.

"You like it? I was worried, thought you were gonna get angry at me" you sigh in relief and he laughs, giggles looking at your face.

"Why would I ever get angry at you?" He shrugs his shoulders.

"I boasted about this particular place so I'm bound to be questioned if it doesn't turns out as per the expectations I have planted in someone else's mind. Part of my job is to have a varied taste because different people like different things and I have to cater to their needs accordingly." You speak and he was mesmerized with you.

"You speak so well... damn. You really are passionate about what you do" hee says.

"Yes I am" you confirm.

"I like people with passion for their jobs" he says. You feel butterflies in your tummy. You know how he's indirectly pointing at you.

"So... should I go sort it out with them?" You ask.

"You know... you could drink some other wine. I don't like getting drunk alone" he says.

"Well if you feel like that" you buy a mid range bottle for yourself and ask for a glass. It's not necessarily a place to sit and drink in, yet you two are the only ones there. And you don't like making people feel lonely so you'd better get a little drunk too. And wine makes you feel kinda cosy, drunk but still like yourself.

You can see that he is tipsy. He buys the wine he liked for himself. Once you're both finished you step outside the store.

"How did you get here?" You ask.

"Took a cab" he answers. "Driving wouldn't have been a smart thing to do if I knew I was gonna drink" he adds.

"Don't you have like drivers" you ask curiously. The alcohol starts to have it's effects with the passage of time.

"Not me" he answers your query.

"Hope you aren't getting late for any plans" he says checking if you haven't forgotten about something.

"Why are you curious now?" You smirk.

"Don't want you to blame me later that I got you drunk"

"I drank out of my own will. Just say you're curious to know if I have a partner. I can sense your intentions very well Jeon" you walk away from him but he giggles and steps closer again. You move away again and he pulls you, gently holding your arm.

"Hey I have no such intentions" he denies.

"I'm not so naive to not notice" you keep walking forward with a straight face.

You are certain of what's going on inside his mind. You were sure of your attraction when you first saw him. You've had enough of crying over your ex and remembering the things she did to you. All you need is someone else to do even better things to you.

"By the way... how old are you?" He asks hesitantly.

"Not a minor for sure" you try to annoy him.

"Real age please ma'am" he rolls his eyes.

"Turning 24 in a couple months" you tell him wondering if he's older than you or if he would be uncomfortable that you're younger than him.

"I'm 26, means I can talk informally with you" he states without you asking.

You don't know why you keep walking further. Even though you know you should just take a cab and go back home yet it's like you're waiting for something. You want to just get even the glimpse of an opportunity. Even though a part of you knows it's not completely right but that adds to the thrill of it all.

"Are you sure you don't have someone waiting for you?" You ask him indirectly.

You are begging inside your heart to know that he's single.

You can't stop the trail of dirty thoughts that follows as you see his skin shining with the layer of sweat that's covering his face. He flicks his lip ring with his tongue, you see him bite his lip before he looks at you with a hint of lust in his eyes.

"Umm no. I have been single for like two years now. My ex left behind a lot of damage too. Took me a lot of therapy and strength to get through it all. We dated four years, I thought she was the one and only and well..." he pauses. You understand what he means and nod.

"I'm sure your little heart will heal" you pat his chest lightly and he smiles. His hand brushes yours as he shifts to walk closer to you even though you barely had an inch between you two.

The image of him biting his lip replays in your mind. You glance at his lips again which he parts making you avert your gaze before he notices.

He's in a leather jacket, white t-shirt, black skinny jeans. Your eyes travel south and get a quick look at the fabric hugging his toned thighs. You wonder if how many abs he's got under the shirt. Fuck, you can't believe your brain is fantasizing about a man you've only met twice when the sun has just started to set.

"You're curious about so many things right now but you aren't asking isn't it?" You smile looking at him. Try to ease the tension because you can sense it building in him too.

"Oh come what do you think I'm even curious about?" He scoffs.

"We're all curious about things Jungkook" you say. You almost trip over a rock but he holds your hand. He keeps holding it just in case you lose balance again. You both are equally tipsy.

"Well what are you curious about?" He asks after a moment.

"Well you know like what happens after death? What will happen to me if the number of people getting married keeps decreasing? What cock tastes like?" The last one makes him cough and stare you.

"You're so drunk" he says.

"Not so much" you tell him.

"Then repeat what you just said" he says

"Why?" You fold your arms over your chest narrowing your eyes at him.

"Why is that a thing you're the most curious about?" He blurts out.

"You're asking like you have some position open for a blow job giver" you joke.

"Like you'd apply for the job" he adds.

You look around people don't give a fuck they're busy minding their own business. You regret saying what you said but yet you let go.

"Have you been to the wedding venue yet?" You ask changing the topic.

"Just checked it out on the internet" he says.

"Wanna go check it out?" You ask.

"I'm kinda tired what about tomorrow?" He offers.

"We've only walked like 500 metres" you chuckle.

"I'm sure it's more than a thousand" he says.

You reach the bus stand from where you can get a bus to your place. He stands beside you.

"You should get a cab. I'll just get on the bus." You tell him. You sense the disappointment in his eyes, but for some reason he doesn't express his desire.

"Okay. If that's what you want" he takes his phone out from his pocket.

You feel foolish waiting for him to turn around and say something. He keeps tapping his foot on the ground, looking at his phone.

The next day arrives after much anticipation. You get late, losing time in doing makeup.

The blood rushes to your cheeks everytime you think about him. You slept last night dreaming about his face, his lips, his delicate features.

You wait on the road for the cab to arrive. Jungkook texts you that he's on his way.

The banquet's in a hotel where the ceremony will take place.

Last night you both had no other options. You don't think each other's homes would've been a great option and there were no motels in sight either. He didn't even bring his car which could've been a compromise you would've made.

Now being in a hotel means you have the opportunity on hand you just have to catch it.

You give him a tour of the place. You have permission to enter the hotel at any time since they all know you are a wedding planner and you're managing an event there in a month.

As soon as he finds you both in a secluded corner he's quick to make the offer.

"You do know what I'm expecting?"

"What? For me to pay for lunch?" You tease him.

"For your curiosity to die" he answers.

"I don't wanna die so young" you tell him.

"Sure can't before you taste cock" you cringe hearing him phrase your words. You know it's just skin and flesh, it can't have it's own taste. It's not like pussy which you've tasted many times but only your ex's. You were drunk, wanted to be suggestive towards him and hence made that up.

"Well I don't have anyone right now whom I'd like to suck off" you tease him more. Kinda like to watch him get desperate.

"Think again" he says. You almost laugh but like how direct he's acting. He has hope evident in his eyes.

"Thought so hard my head hurts" you answer to play a level further than him.

"You're killing me" he says making you walk backwards and hit your back against the wall. Although he keeps his hand behind you so that you don't get hurt.

"No I'm not" you say.

"I'll buy you pretty things" he says. Keeps his hands beside your head.

"I'm weird I don't like pretty things" you joke, enjoy the way he hisses with frustration.

"Then I'll buy you ugly things. Or whatever you like..."

"Excuse me.. I'm not looking for a sugar daddy" you clarify. He sighs. Gets closer.

"I know you want me and you're fighting it. And I want you so bad... you can't even imagine" you hold to him for support as he stands dangerously close to you, staring into your eyes. You pull him a little closer and with the tip of your tongue lick his lower lip. The metal of his lip ring feels cold as your tongue glides over it.

Before he ends up losing all control, he takes your hand and barges into an open room. You raise your eyebrows finding it very questionable what he just did.

"I already booked it" he smirks before he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you above his lap.

You sit on him a bit hesitantly knowing he has a growing erection underneath his pants, causing him to act like this.

"Don't act so innocent" he whispers before pulling you closer with his hands on your hips. His hardness presses to your crotch.

You wrap your legs tighter around him.

He tangles his fingers with your hair. You lean closer to him but he doesn't kisses you. You try to get your lips on his but he keeps moving his face, touching his lips and his nose on your cheeks and neck and behind your ears.

"Don't" you whisper.

"Like you didn't" he puts a peck on your lips then pulls back again before you can fully kiss him. You let out a complaining groan and give up on trying to kiss him. He'll do it on his own because you know he wants it too.

"So desperate aren't you..." he presses his lips near yours. "Yet you were giving me such a hard time"

"You were the one denying your very obvious interest in me... and I was kinda nervous because I've never before hooked up with my clients or anyone related" you tell him. He chuckles.

"That's because you help people plan their weddings silly... it would be really problematic if you hook up with someone who's about to get married" you laugh at his words. The vibrations of your laugh travel to him, as both of your chests remain pressed together.

"And if it's not them it's their parents, that's way worse" you both giggle before he tucks your hair behind your ear and finally kisses you.

You hold his head to not let him go and slowly move your tongue into his mouth. He reciprocates your actions with the same passion you show. He gently grazes his teeth over your lip. You squeeze his nape lightly.

His hands travel down your neck and you look down as he unbuttons your shirt. It's brown to go with your black trousers. Your bra is just a cotton one. You washed your only lace one and it didn't dry in time to wear in the morning.

Jungkook cups your breast as he kisses down your cleavage. You fiddle with his buttons too. You really want to see what's underneath. He's insanely beautiful for a man and you feel jealous of his soft, silky hair. You have to carry out a whole ten step haircare routine through out the week to keep your hair frizz free and prevent dryness.

When he kisses you again, you grind yourself against him a little. He moans into your mouth. It's evident how close to the edge he is.

"You know if you want I can help you with that" you say as you feel wetness seep from your own folds as you stay pressed against his hard cock.

"Oh please... please..." he pulls himself away a little. Palms himself before you move his hand away.

You keep your hand on his chest and make him lie down. You have always liked how bouncy hotel mattresses tend to be. He giggles but quiets down as your hand reaches the button of his jeans.

You grip him from above his clothes and he pushes himself up against your hand. You unbutton his jeans after rubbing him for a few seconds.

Slowly you pull down his boxers too. And adore how pretty and thick he is. Your first man in four years and you're glad to grab a nice one. You feel evil to think of him like this but who cares, you both are just here to fool around, have fun.

You had a boyfriend when you were around nineteen to twenty and since then you only dated women. You did go on a couple dates with guys but none of them worked out.

You pull his jeans down his hips around his thighs. His cock is fully hard, the tip shines with precum. You make him lose his shirt too revealing the tattoo sleeve. You had gotten a glimpse of tattoos sneaking up his sleeve but had no idea that he had a whole hand full of them.

"Pretty tattoos" you remark and he smiles grazing his fingers on his arm.

"Tell me about them after you cum" you say making him chuckle.

"For that you have to start somewhere... I'm dying please" he whines.

You're quick to oblige. Your hands wrap around his dick. You give him a few pumps before licking his length.

You keep moving your hands around the base as you suck the top. He let's out muffled moans as you continue.

Somehow you get lost in the way he moans, knowing it's because of you, that you still can make people feel good. You were skeptical of yourself for a while after your ex labelled sex with you at the end of your relationship as average. You had always had a thrilling sex life with your partners, trying new things, new locations, new positions and techniques yet somehow you grew boring to her.

And here a man lay in front of you, groaning and moaning, definitely not faking it, with the way he was twitching and throbbing inside your mouth.

You keep going without thinking much. You find him responding well and if you keep doing it he'll reach climax and that is what you want for him, to get some release. He's been stressed about his cousin's approaching wedding and you assume his work life must be hectic too.

He grabs your hair in his fist trying his best to not hurt you. His grip loosens as you feel a warm liquid fill your mouth. The taste is a mix of things you can't describe with just one word. Before you swallow the first spurt another gets released out from his tip. Your clit throbs so bad, your heart beats so fast, you feel so wet, you just want to pull your pants down and make yourself cum if nobody's gonna do it for you. You feel an ache in your pussy and an urgent need to relieve yourself from it.

Jungkook lies with his head buried in the pillows. When he looks at you there's a shine to his face, his eyes. He has no care for how he came so much that too in your mouth.

"Either you make me cum right now or I'm making myself" you say pushing your trousers down as you lie beside him. You throw your shirt away too.

"Alright do it then..." he says. "Let's see how hard you can make yourself cum" his words sends another chill down your spine.

"Well then" you sit comfortably on the bed. Then part your legs. He watches carefully. You slowly push your panties to the side. Touch your clit and moan as the touch feels heavenly.

But the way that your pussy is all wet and messy and pretty Jungkook can't resist the temptation.

He sits beside you and slowly trails his hand up your thigh. You continue to rub your clit not caring what he thinks. Why would you do it's not like he means anything to you.

He doesn't removes your finger instead pushes his into your hole. "Fuck" you moan as he tries to find the sweet spot.

You increase your pace of stroking your clit.

With his free hand, he pushes the fabric of your bra down to expose your breasts just enough to get access to your nipples. He circles his thumb around the hardened buds.

As his finger continues to circle on your g-spot, he wraps his mouth around your nipple. His tongue circles around. He sucks trying to take in more of your boob into his mouth. You find it hard to maintain your rhythm of clit rubbing.

Yet as you find yourself too close to the climax, you're motivated to keep going. You just know it's going to be very hard. And with your moans and expressions, he finds his motivation too. He presses the tip of his finger against your walls.

You feel an unbearable pressure build inside you. Desperately trying to get relief. He's amazed how fast your hand starts moving. His eyes don't move away from your cunt neither does his finger pressing on your g-spot.

He takes your tit inside his mouth again. Your moans intensify as it finally snaps. Your thighs shake, you see the stars, think you've died for a second. It travels from your head to toe. You remove your hand but he doesn't.

Through the overstimulation he brings to you another unbearable pressure which turns into a wave of pleasure as you lose all control and squirt, shaking uncontrollably. Jungkook pulls his hand away and watches as you rub yourself again and spray more of the liquid soaking the sheets. You keep rubbing yourself and an orgasm combines with it. The control of your body has gone from you to your orgasm.

Jungkook moans watching you as his hand reaches his own cock thats hard again. He starts to pump himself as you catch your breath, your body still shakes.

"You surely enjoyed that" he says.

"Very much" you answer.

"Can we fuck now?" He asks. It's inevitable. You didn't think you'd come this hard in front of him. You look at his cock hard and ready to fuck you senseless.

Your lingering gaze tells him enough. He takes position above you. And before you know his tip is massaging your insides as he thrusts himself again and again.

Your phone starts suddenly ringing and with the surprise he sits up still holding his shaft. You fumble with the objects inside your handbag and take your phone out.

It was the hotel manager telling you they've arranged a special meal for you and your guest. Jungkook rubs himself against your clit and you almost moan yet he doesn't stops instead smirks.

As soon as you cut the call, he starts to fuck you again this time relentlessly. You both struggle to hold for long and come within minutes. He pulls out at the right moment, makes a mess all over your tummy and you clench around nothing as a short quick orgasm washes over you.

It's hard to speak after what you two did. You decided to take turns to shower. Thankfully you had an emergency pair of panties in your handbag which remains there all the time in case you unexpectedly start your period.

It's a rooftop setting where your food was. You had developed an appetite after the things you did that had tired you out immensely. You hadn't expected this at all, you were firm before entering the room that you'll just make out with him but so is life and it's happenings, one thing leads to another.

You sit across the table from Jungkook.

"It got a little crazy I'm sorry. I just lost..." he interrupts you and you wait for him to speak, "It was so fucking good... don't you dare try and deny that" he gives you a serious look and you chuckle.

"It'd been a while since I had fun like that. Sometimes one needs that right?" He nods, mouth stuffed with food. Would've bought you food regardless the hotel offered it or not.

"Bet you can say Si-young did a good job hiring me?" You joke.

He bites his lip before he laughs lowly.

"We're done with bookings now. I talked over a few things with the hotel. Guess I'm gonna see you for the final checks now" you speak in a low tone.

When you think about it you're gonna miss him even though it isn't a long time that you two spent together. There's just something about him that does something to your heart which you don't understand.

"Actually I have to go on a trip abroad and I don't know how long it's gonna take to wrap up the work although I'll be here for the wedding anyhow" he tells you. His voice is low. You know how much he wants to look after preparations firsthand.

"Hey don't worry. I hope you have some sort of trust on me now. I'll work my ass off to make sure your sister has the perfect wedding. And I'll give you updates every fifteen minutes." You say reach his hand that rests on the table.

"I'm counting on you" he says tightly holding your hand.

"You can" you answer.

Over the next few weeks you try to make contact with him but the time difference makes it impossible for you to have a conversation with him in real time. Mostly you send him updates regarding the wedding which is just work for you.

On a lucky day, you catch him online at an ungodly hour. You find out he's drunk. He keeps mentioning the sex you both had. Explains in detail, the things he liked which is almost everything about it. You're surprised he remembers it in such detail.

He sends you a pic of his erect penis says he's thinking about how you came and he hopes you look at it and make yourself come even harder. Everytime you are playing with yourself, you do remember the way his fingers worked and try to replicate it. The orgasms are strong that way and with his image in your mind even more.

You have no idea how you're gonna get him out of your mind. Although it brings you some peace that you're in his mind too.

He was in another country, he could be fucking anyone. It's not like he has to try too hard to get some. Yet he was thinking about you while jerking off. He liked the parts which others found a mess and a pain in the ass.

It was the nicest feeling to have someone accept you, appreciate you, like the way your body is and the way you are.

Much to your disappointment, he could only arrive on the day of the wedding. Hours before the ceremony starts. You had completely forgotten about his arrival, drowned in work as you were.

You were checking the lighting and flowers all around the place when two hands touched your shoulders. You turn around freaked out. Although it could be a friend from the staff trying to tell you to relax.

When you look at him you can't belive that he made it. He hugs you and presses a kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you so much for looking after everything so well" he thanks you but you shake your head.

"I'm getting paid" you say, then whisper "a big sum" you add. Although money hadn't been the only motivation for you to work hard on this project.

"Look at you" he fixes your hair, "What has become of you? You work hard more than you need to" he lightly pats your cheek before he guides you to a room at the back.

"Now show me the dress you're wearing. Will wank in advance so I don't get too horny if you're gonna look too hot" he says.

"What... there's no dress I'll just be wearing what I'm already wearing" you glance at yourself in the mirror, you put on a shirt with embellishments to look not too plain. You don't get ready for every wedding that you plan.

"Good I bought you one. I just saw this while walking on the street and thought how good this'll look on you" he opens his bag and takes a packet out. He rips it open and gives you the dress.

"And you're still interested in me? The time was enough to fall in love with someone new" you say as if he had ever been in love with you.

"I'm not so easy" he says.

"Tell someone else" you respond with a smug look on your face. He chuckles.

"Now are you gonna change or..." he begins to undo the buttons of your shirt.

You think of taking over for a moment but then let him do it.

You help him pull the shirt down your arms leaving you in your bra. His hand reaches your back and he unhooks your bra.

"Hey..." you hold his hand to stop him.

"What? The dress is padded" you hadn't really noticed even when he was showing you the dress you were just busy looking at him.

Your bra slips off and his hand wraps around your tits. He squeezes them then sucks your nipples one by one, covers your whole chest with small kisses. You feel the wetness growing, you can't get too distracted. You have to go out or everything will fall apart.

His hand goes down your navel and rests between your thighs. Your breath hitches as he presses his fingers against your pussy.

"Oops made you wet. Don't worry will gladly help you with it..." he smirks and you remain numb as he slips his hand inside your panties.

The tip of his middle finger presses against your clit. You whimper.

"I don't have time" you complain.

"Alright" he starts to rub you. Circles his finger around your clit.

You were so wet, so aroused. You started to grind yourself on his hand and suddenly came, your juices gushing, clit throbbing against his finger, thighs shaking, you hold him for support.

"Told ya" he chuckles then pulls his hand away and hands you the dress to wear.

You like the dress, it was complimenting his outfit when you two stand together.

He stands behind you and holds your hand bringing it to his throbbing hardness. You rub your fingers on him a little bit then turn towards him.

"I need to be out there to make sure you can ensure the perfect wedding for your cousin." You touch his cheeks.

"Wait for me here after the reception is over. I'll get here and then I'll make you make up for it" you nod giggling before you leave.

When you left the room, you had no idea this was the last time you were ever going to talk to him.

This was the last time you were ever going to see him.

You did come to the room and wait like he asked but instead of him a girl came.

Said she was just made his fiancé and was supposed to wait for him there like the bride had told her to.

You knew who the girl was. You knew where she sat. She was from a business family too.

In the end, like always you got proved wrong. Money emerged victorious over human emotions or feelings.

You might plan a thousand weddings after that but he will always remain a distinct memory. A mysterious man who won your heart in a way you could never describe.

#jungkook fanfic #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook oneshot #bts fanfic #jeongguk #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook #jungkook angst

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aemxnd · 1 year

Text

the thrill of the chase | aemond targaryen x niece!reader

Aemond has a plan, whether you like it or not.

Inspired by a wonderful anonymous request — I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, but I hope this is what you were looking for!

WARNINGS: consensual non-consent/dub-con, physical assault, chase play, primal play, knife use, v fingering, p in v sex, praise, degrading, profanity, breeding, aftercare, reader has silver hair for plot point, reader is Rhaenyra’s child with undisclosed father, Aemond being sinister af, sickening fluff at the end

WORDS: 5.2k

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

As fire forged steel, the gods forged your soulmate from your own blood.

Betrothed to each other by and large since birth, your bond with Aemond Targaryen was as invincible as Valyrian steel itself. Born mere weeks apart, two dragonriders watching each other grow and mature knowing you would be spending the rest of your natural lives together under the eyes of the Seven, your pledge to marry your beloved uncle was a match made in the heavens.

Filling your parents’ hearts with the first sign of contentment they had felt in years, your union intended to solidify the bonds between your two Targaryen branches at last. After all, your brother Lucerys had not ingratiated your unit with glory having permanently disfigured your husband-to-be as children. Your marriage to your kepus would salve the wounds between Viserys’ offspring once and for all, leaving behind only scars.

Having sworn yourselves to each other so young and placing an unrivalled trust in each other’s hands long before adulthood, your childlike antics sprawled long into your years of maturity. You still challenged each other to races on dragonback knowing full well Aemond had the upper hand with Vhagar, pulled childish pranks on the other and giggled your hearts out whenever King Viserys mucked up an important speech.

Your bedchamber activities were no exception — remarkably unconventional and downright blasphemous. Still children at heart, you played games among the sheets, adopted unrealistic roles and experimented with your own pleasures more than a wed couple twice your tenure. In placing such trust in each other, you decided upon a number of safety nets to reassure each other should your adventurous nature exceed each other’s boundaries. Aemond’s signal bore the form of pressing two fingers to the inside of your left wrist, to which you would respond with either two taps of your fingers to signal your comfort, or three to mark your discomfort. Failing that, you decided upon a word to utter if either of you felt uncomfortable, unsafe or unwell in the situation you created within your carnal adventures — Malvales. If those three syllables were spoken at any point, you each made a solemn vow to cease at once. The safety net this term provided had sprung open the doors of possibility between you, each night (and often day) setting a challenge to explore new heights with the reassurance that you could each call a truce at any moment.

Court’s proprietary standards bypassed you to the point your family no longer expected you both to conform. Where wed couples would typically keep a respectable distance at public engagements in the presence of others, you and Aemond were so often found stealing chaste kisses and boldly wrapping your arms around each other that more traditional members of your family became all too accustomed to rolling their eyes at your unseemly behaviour. Not that their clear visual disapproval irked you in the slightest, they only sought to encourage you in amplifying your public displays of affection with your husband to make their skin crawl even more.

At the close of a particularly monotonous family dinner and dance, Aemond’s arm snaked dutifully around your waist constricted slightly, startling you back to earth from your daydreaming. You turned to find your husband staring idly into the crowd, his violet eye desperately willing to gaze at you instead of maintaining a noble indifference for the sake of present company.

“My darling wife,” Aemond addressed you without breaking his stare into the swirling commotion at court. “Are you quite aware of how beautiful you look tonight?”

“What, this old thing?” You chuckled to yourself before mirroring his hard glare into the crowd, flicking a dismissive palm over the heavily beaded emerald dress flowing over your form. “It’s just something I threw on.”

“It is quite unbecoming of you to appear so indecently delectable when I cannot take you until we return to our chambers,” Aemond gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing eagerly. “I wish to inform you that I consider this a personal indignation against your long-suffering husband.”

Your ability to withhold a typically jesting slap to his chest was waning with every insufferably formal syllable tumbling from his irresistible lips.

“I am most apologetic, dear husband,” you declared through a sarcastic half-pout. “Pray tell, how could I possibly make a reparation for such an erroneous act?”

Aemond’s fingers idly stroked into the deep green velvet so rudely obstructing his access to your body beneath.

“I fear there is only one way to compensate for this,” he sighed softly, jaw tightening as he calculated his punishment so deeply he may as well have exuded steam from his ears.

“For you, Prince Aemond, I would do anything,” you gulped in anticipation.

“Considering the evening’s festivities are drawing to a close, I must insist on a hunt,” he leaned to hum into the shell of your ear. “A hunt where my irresistible wife shall become the prey.”

You fired a hand to your chest in a vain attempt to disguise your faltering breaths, eyelids fluttering at his implication before he embellished his ingenious plan.

“You wish to hunt me, dear husband? So what happens if you catch me?”

“If I catch you before you reach our shared chambers,” he lowered his voice to a faint murmur to avoid prying ears. “I will fuck you in any way I see fit, and I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

You swallowed thickly at the prospect. Even if you put up a resistance, Aemond would take you by force. Especially if you put up a resistance.

This unconventional demand was not without precedent. One time you feigned weak protests against Aemond’s needy advances, dribbling out half-hearted “stop”s and “please don’t”s so temptingly that you portrayed more of an encouragement than an obstacle. Immediately upon hearing your false resistance, Aemond’s violet eye darkened to a sinister pitch black and sparked an inhuman drive to fuck you harder than ever before. The mere memory of that night’s ecstasy, losing track of the times he forced you to your peak and the way he gazed at you as if you were his prey, helpless and captive in his grasp, was enough to make your knees buckle beneath you.

“Easy, princess,” Aemond hummed, tightening his grip on your waist to keep you upright. “Something tells me you approve of this notion.”

“And…,” you swallowed thickly in a terrible attempt to retain your conversation at a publicly respectable level. “What is the prize if I evade capture before I reach our bed?”

“Unfortunately I have not yet considered that outcome on account of its sheer impossibility.”

“You may maintain this delusion, your Grace,” you choked down a giggle, shaking your head dismissively and finding a new spot in the crowd to focus on. “Perhaps I shall decide the outcome myself if I am crowned victorious.”

“Considering its improbability, you may do so, Princess. Meanwhile, I see the Lannisters and Starks are bidding the King their leave,” Aemond husked, his gaze finally snapping back to you, finding his violet eye already descended into a deep lust-filled black. “So the hunt is nearly upon us. Are you satisfied with the plan, dear wife?”

“You shall hear no protest from me, Prince Aemond,” you nodded dutifully.

He quirked a brow. “Oh I hope I will.”

You gulped so loudly, you swore the entire court heard as you prepared to seek a lesser-known path through the castle to a safe hiding place. Eyes darting around the great hall for a plan of action, Aemond watched your deliberations intently, firing his tongue out to trace along his bottom lip.

“You have a head start, my love, but use it wisely,” he confirmed with a flick of his eyebrows, gently growling beneath his breath as he watched you like a panicked deer searching for a way out. Just as you started to pull away, his hand grasped yours and dragged you back to face him. “Remind me, what is our word again?”

“Malvales,” you confirmed, nodding frantically. “Y… your Grace.”

“Good girl,” he half-growled in the base of his throat, his sinister grin drawling out his final syllable. “Now I believe it is time for you to run for your life. May the Seven bless you, issa jorrāelagon.” My love.

In the moment Aemond released his grip on your hand, you demonstrably smoothed your gown and calmly paced toward your first exit.

“Ah, Y/N!” Your grandsire bellowed, beckoning you over to join his conversation with Queen Alicent. “My dearest granddaughter, how beautiful she looks in Hightower green this night, do you not think so my beloved?”

Alicent smiled faintly, nodding in agreement. “Quite, your Grace.”

You could barely hear their conversation over your thundering pulse in your ears, well aware of the precious time this idle conversation would be wasting. You glanced back across the hall to the spot where you left Aemond, clocking his lip curled into a predatory smirk. “Go now,” he mouthed before turning on his heels to disappear down a darkened corridor.

“I… I am sorry, grandsire, I must bid you farewell,” you stuttered frantically, balling your fists into the layers of your dress. “I… I am tired and I must rest.”

“Oh, of course my dear, it has been quite a long evening, please take your leave,” King Viserys pleaded, palms outstretched toward the nearest doorway.

“Thank you, your Grace, I shall see you at first light on the morrow!”

The promise sent a pang of regret through your veins the moment it left your lips while you fled for the door, for if Aemond has his way tonight, you will be quite unable to walk for the next five days straight, let alone first light.

In the throes of sheer excitement, every hallway in the Red Keep looked exactly the same. The same bronzed candlelight only partially illuminating the way, leaving all too lengthy sections of darkness in which danger could lurk. The dull grey flagstones never changed in texture or pattern, enough to leave you disoriented after the first few twisting turns in the darkness when motivated by sheer tension between you and Aemond should he find you. You broke into a run each time you faced a long, straight hallway, settling to a jog with every corner.

Your breaths grew ragged and hitched in your throat, spinning on your heels to check behind you at every turn but finding the same empty corridor as before. Your heartbeat brewing a storm in your ears prevented you from hearing even your own frantic footfalls on stone, let alone those of a predator.

You swallowed thickly as you reached a familiar hallway, recognising that you were not far from your destination and that Aemond would lose his precious hunt after all. Slowing your jogging pace to a brisk walk, your thundering pulse relaxed. It was a nice challenge while it lasted, you thought to yourself, allowing your mind to drift through the multitude of consequences you could enforce on Aemond as forfeit for losing his precious race to you. Perhaps you would tie him to your bed and leave him untouched for hours, pleasuring yourself with your fingers while he watches on with lust-blown pupils, unable to reach out and conquer your body for himself.

Suddenly, a loud whoosh behind you suggested that the shadows concealed more than the same old flagstones, but a cloaked hunter. You swooped around to catch a glimpse of the spectre but found nothing. Your heart sank at the realisation that Aemond was not wearing a cloak in the hall, eyes widening at the thought that you may have been pursued by someone other than Aemond. After all, the castle was still teeming with noblemen and women of varying families with very conflicting ideals of loyalty to House Targaryen’s claim to the Iron Throne, not to mention the looks of incredulous disgust cast in your direction for kissing your husband in front of the court. In a heartbeat, your blood ran cold as your anticipation transfigured into terror, freezing you to the spot — there is another attacker in the Red Keep.

Yet the hunter did not strike, leaving you motionless in the middle of the hall staring into shadows but finding no ambush. Trying your best to dismiss what you heard as a cruel delusion in the midst of panic, you turned on your heels and continued on your path. Only two more corners and you would be safe within your chambers, free from this torment on your nerves and senses.

Your heavy dress swooped around the final stone turns as a lead weight, dragging you down as if you were taking one step forward and two steps back. Trudging ahead, the wooden portal to your chambers came into view in the dim candlelight and elicited a deep sigh of relief from the bottom of your lungs. Whatever had been chasing you had failed, you were finally within reach of safety. Grinding to a halt as you pressed a palm to the wood between you and your safe haven, you exhaled once more, eking a slight self-satisfied grin across your lips.

The loud swoop of an unsheathed blade filled the silence and a cold breeze snapped you from your blissful stupor, you gasped against the shock of a cool blade resting on your throat and a hand firing to cover your mouth to conceal your screams. Wordlessly, your captor steered you through the portal which once offered you sanctuary in order to avoid any prying eyes in the hallway.

Your eyes darted to their peripheral points desperate for a glimpse of your captor, any glimmer of poker-straight silver locks would quell your concerns at any moment, but there was no respite to be found beneath a pitch black cloak flowing in the corner of your eye. The long fingers cupping your lips were concealed by a pair of sleek black gloves, hiding your assailant’s identity at every turn. You swallowed as shallow as you could against the restraint of the blade, jagged breaths betraying the sheer terror conflicting your every thought as you were being puppet-driven into the doors of your own chambers.

As you entered, the attacker threw you against the closing door, the wooden portal smashing into your chest as they used your body to close it. In removing their gloved hand from your mouth to click the door lock beneath you, they soon ensured no escape from your once safe haven that had now become your prison. No matter how many times you strained to see your captor, you could not glimpse any recognisable features. Whoever they were, they took great efforts to remain anonymous. Now free to cry out for help but still restrained by the threatening blade, you instead issued a soft plea to your captor.

“Ser, please…,” your pathetic pledge spilled from your lips against the wooden door, careful not to move your throat too much against the sharp Valyrian steel edge. “If it is money you seek, I can bestow riches upon you. If it be power, I can arrange it. But please, spare my life for the sake of my family.”

Your assailant did not respond, merely holding you flush to the portal and awaiting your next comment.

“My… my husband, h—he would stop at nothing to avenge me,” you cringed at the mere thought of the words tumbling forth. Whether you genuinely believed they would spare your life for the sake of a weak plea such as this was by-the-by, the waves of sheer panic flooding through you were responsible for all your decisions at this point, foolish or otherwise. “Please, ser…”

A low groan echoed from your captor’s throat, stopping just short of allowing you to identify their voice. Instead, they removed the blade from your throat and trailed it down your spine, following the path of the boning in your gown which cinched your waist beneath. Now able to breathe, your chest heaved and another growl emitted from the attacker as they observed your dress throbbing before them. While a hand reached to pull the top seam away from your body, the blade traced to the edge, pressed into you and sliced the fabric all the way down to your hips, decimating your smallclothes underneath in the process. You squeezed your eyes shut and hissed softly as the cool air of the chamber flushed over your bare back, the realisation of your fate flooding over you in chilling waves. Your captor would certainly take what he wanted from you before slitting your throat, your own Targaryen blood flowing between the flagstones of your chambers.

“Ser, I’m begging you,” you pleaded weakly, gasping at the sharp sensation of cold gloved hands rolling the ripped fabric down your shoulders so what remained of your gown pooled at your ankles. Your captor swallowed thickly behind you, consuming your naked figure and the goosebumps that prickled in the cool air’s wake.

No response came.

“W… what do you want with me?” You stuttered, petrified of the answer. Suddenly, both gloved hands clasped around your hips and steered you toward the bed in the centre of the chamber, violently tossing you head-first onto the sheets. In that brief moment, you could have escaped, should have escaped, but the fear of capture as you raced naked across the room no doubt to be stabbed by your captor froze you to the core, instead burying your face in the pillows as if to will the moments away. Maybe your ordeal would be over sooner if you accepted your fate, but that didn’t stop you kicking and flailing your limbs to deter them from attempting to pin you down.

“Please, stop…”

A rustle of leather behind you suggested your speechless captor had taken off their gloves and began fumbling with their pants while watching you bare before them, faint echoes of sobs emanating from deep within the pillows. The mattress sank beneath you as they crawled onto the bed, bare knees caging you on both sides of your bucking hips yet still evidently wearing their cape as a wave of heavy fabric sweeping up your bare thighs. In the blink of an eye, a hand reached into your hair and tugged you skyward as hot, predatory breaths fanned your hair. A faint chuckle erupted from the attacker, coiling their fist into your silver locks and revelling in the way your body so easily caved to their will, even if your mouth did not.

“No, please, my husband, please…,” you panicked, writhing in their vice-like grasp as a wave of dread coursing through you as the enormity of your situation finally hit you. You had only ever bedded your husband, only ever felt his touch, only ever felt his cock inside you, only ever felt his cum dripping from your folds. Tonight, that loyalty, that commitment would be forever tarnished. Scalding hot tears burst their banks and seared their way down your countenance to soak the pillows below as you lowered your cracking voice to a pleading whisper: “Aemond, please help me.”

Suddenly, the hand that tugged on your hair reached for your left wrist, pressing two fingers to your pulse point.

Aemond’s signal.

Your every muscle relaxed with relief, the tension in your spine loosening immediately. A sigh of contentment escaped you as you tapped your fingers twice onto the pillows beneath you, an unexpected bolt of pleasure thrumming through your core and seeping through your folds as you snapped back into the room, realising you were completely naked and pinned beneath your husband, not an anonymous attacker.

“Aemond, gods be good, I--.”

You were cut off by his hands firing straight back into your hair, yanking you back to face him. His silver locks billowed under his dark hood, the cloak clearly the only garment he was still wearing, his jaw tensed in a sinister pout and most notably, his eye patch was nowhere to be seen, enabling his sapphire eye to glimmer softly in the dim light of the chamber.

“It seems I won the hunt, Princess,” he cooed into your ear, nibbling gently on the lobe and groaning gratuitously as you bucked into his touch, your thighs squeezing together tightly. “But you resist me so well.”

With one hand wandering to part your cheeks beneath him, the other scooped around your hip to drag you up from the sheets. His motions were just as swift, curt and merciless as they were before you knew his identity, making it abundantly clear that Aemond was still very much in character.

“Aemond, I need time to still my nerves,” you pleaded weakly and unconvincingly, your back arching instinctively into his touch.

“I don’t think you do,” Aemond snapped, again tugging at your hips to pull you against him, his hardened cock tapping on your parted cheeks, leaving a light trail of his own slick in its wake. “You will do as I say, dear wife.”

“Please, at least prepare me first,” you panted, wriggling gently against his restraint but not enough to betray your own desires. The adrenaline rush from realising it was indeed your husband that ravished you had left you desiring to fuck him now more than ever. You didn’t need any preparation, he could bottom out inside you in a heartbeat and your warm walls would welcome him as ever.

“Oh, my dear sweet little princess,” he hissed through feigned gritted teeth, venturing a finger to trace through your already dripping folds. “It appears your cunt is already well prepared for me.”

A blast of heat rose to your cheeks as if a furnace had ignited before you. “Aemond, stop…”

“Tell me,” he hummed, replacing his finger with the tip of his cock lining up at your waiting entrance. “Did the thought of being ravaged by an anonymous intruder really satisfy my little wife that much?”

Frantically shaking your head, you balled your fists into the sheets in anticipation.

“This is quite a way to find out my beautiful wife is not only a liar but also a whore,” Aemond concluded, slapping his tip against your cunt before nudging inside just a little. “I’ll have to take you by force more often.”

In one swift snap of his hips, his cock slipped inside you as comfortably as the first time he bedded you so many moons ago. Both moaning in unison, his fingers dipped into the flesh of your hips and drew you back to impale yourself further on his cock, his length nestling into your spongy walls like the missing piece of a jigsaw. Your eyes bulged at the intrusion, in sure and certain knowledge that you may never get used to how big he felt, how perfectly his girth filled you, how his tip reached the furthest points inside you that felt as if he was nudging into your lungs.

“Oh gods fuck, you’re so tight,” he swore out amongst a strangled gasp, the sensation of your walls clamping around him becoming almost too much already. “That’s it, clench down on me, try and stop me fucking you.”

“Aemond please, please stop,” you let out a half-hearted protest which stoked a fire in his loins, making your husband rear back and deliver a punishing thrust that stole the air from your lungs. “Please, it’s too… too much.”

“You’ll take what I give you, Princess,” he commanded, reaching down to knock your elbows from beneath you so you fell into the pillows. His hand pressed the back of your skull ever so slightly downwards. “Scream into the pillow if it hurts, because I’m not listening.”

Muffled whimpers and yelps vibrated through the cushion as you feigned protest, arching your back and pushing up your ass to meet his thrusts. Somehow, play-fighting against his actions only heightened your sensitivity to his every movement inside your heat, and Aemond responded eagerly each time you pleaded with him to stop when every inch of your body persuaded him to surge ahead.

“I knew someday my plan would come in useful,” Aemond’s free hand fumbled to cast aside his cloak as it impeded his motions, leading him to initiate a perfectly normal conversation while piledriving your cunt and sinking your head into the pillows. “I concealed a cloak and gloves in a chamber some moons ago for a quick midnight escape if the Red Keep ever became too much to bear. Tonight, it finally paid off handsomely.”

Aemond began bending his knees to curl his thrusts, his cockhead meeting your sweet spot with every swoop inside you. Noticing his new tactic, you took the opportunity of his distraction to wriggle your hips beneath him, a false attempt to break free and stop his onslaught on your pussy.

“No you don’t, little whore,” he spat through gritted teeth, one hand grasping your hips and the other firing to pin your hands above your head. “You’re not just fighting a mysterious assailant now, issa jorrāelagon, you’re resisting your husband and we both know you could never resist me.”

Testing his theory, you writhed and flexed harder beneath him, trying to kick away his thighs behind you. “Please, please let me go,” you feigned, gasping for air now you could freely breathe above the pillow.

“Take what I give you like a good girl,” Aemond commanded, an accomplished growl spilling through his last syllables. “Next time, I think I’ll fuck you while you’re sleeping. Maybe then you’ll stop trying to fight off what you want more than anything.”

You swallowed harshly as your body betrayed your façade, hot waves of pleasure pooling in your core and building a searing tension in your walls that threatened to burst its banks with a particularly devastating thrust.

“Aemond, I’m… I’m…,” you stuttered in hopes your husband would catch your hint that you were about to reach your peak.

“No you fucking don’t,” he snarled, rearing his hips back to pull out of you completely, kicking your knees from beneath you and tumbling you on your back into the sheets. Your first full-body vision of your feral Prince claiming you by force revealed his porcelain frame beaded with sweat, his violet eye so blown with lust that in your blurred vision it looked pitch black. His jaw constricted into a fierce pout, he gazed down at your shaking body beneath him as if a man starved, desperate to reach his home deep inside your cunt once more. But in dropping to the sheets, your thighs had clamped together, battling the loss of his cock inside you.

“Spread yourself for me,” he growled like a wild animal. “Now.”

You nodded frantically, acting as innocent as possible as you opened your thighs before him, your throbbing folds reddened and puffy after his first onslaught.

“I said, spread yourself for me,” he repeated, palming at his cock as he waited for your compliance.

Your shaking hands trailed between your legs and parted your soaking folds, trails of your own slick glistening in the dim light.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised through a filthy drawl, his syllables melting together as his own heightened senses overwhelmed him. “Always such a good fucking girl for me.”

He leaned forward and plunged his length back into your waiting cunt, his eye journeying to the ceiling as your rippling walls greeted him willingly. He returned to his devastating pace all too quickly, fighting to gaze back down and watch his slick-glistened cock disappearing inside you at a breakneck speed, the lewd splashes of your coupling making a filthy echo throughout the chamber.

“Please… please let me go,” you began to falsely plead for mercy again while his punishing thrusts sent you sinking into the mattress. “It’s… too much…”

“Easy, princess, I won’t cause you harm,” he cooed softly, bending down to whisper in the shell of your ear. “I only intend to break you so that the only coherent thought in that dumb little whore mind of yours belongs to me, my cock and how beautifully I split you open.”

The bolts of pleasure from his sinful words sent your hips keening up to meet his, head throwing back into the pillows and crying out his name like a sacrament to the Seven.

“Aemond, please…,” you pleaded in the brief pauses between his thrusts, gasping for air and consciousness as the corners of your vision began to blur, your eyes fluttering closed. “I’m… I’m…”

“Stay with me, angel,” he husked, curling a hand around the back of your neck and hovering his lips above yours. “Be a good girl and watch me claim you.”

His pummelling pace refused to relent, taking your approach to your peak as a challenge to chase it fervently, swooping his hips and drawing his length out as far as possible before plunging deep inside you until you gasped his name so weakly that no sound came out.

“That’s it, all you can think about is me, right?” He growled, relishing the way your mind and body had now caved to his desire, melted to his will and broken any wish for resistance. “I knew you could take it, I knew you wanted me to force you. All you needed was a little encouragement.”

With one last surge of strength, you pressed your hands to his chest and made a half-hearted attempt to push him off you. Chuckling deep in his throat at your pathetic action, his trademark sinister grin crept across the corner of his lips.

“A valiant attempt, dear wife,” he smirked, rearing his hips back so far his tip very nearly slipped out of your folds. “Now you get to watch me fuck a babe into you whether you like it or not.”

With one last devastating thrust, his tip pummelling against the perimeter your cervix, you cried out and wrapped your legs around his waist, curling your arms around his neck and drawing him in for a searing kiss as you toppled over the edge of your climax along with him, spilling his seed inside you and grunting with each string painting your walls.

The chamber filled with both your ragged breaths, slowly riding out your orgasm as if you could stay rutting up into him for the rest of time. His exhausted gaze met yours, the fierce snarl to which you had become accustomed now softened to his traditional warm smile.

As he tentatively withdrew from your folds, the mixture of your fluids dripping onto the sheets beneath you, Aemond scooped both arms under your back and pulled you up to sit upright with him. He held onto you so tightly, arms wrapped around you protectively as he dipped his head into your neck. Your body shook so gently in his grasp, the aftershocks of your experience still taking hold of your limbs.

“I’m so sorry,” he pleaded softly into your ear, his tone so gentle and reassuring in such stark contrast to the entire evening. “Can I call for the Maester?”

“I… I am fine,” you stuttered weakly, returning his embrace and slumping into him. “Please, don’t send for him, I really don’t wish him to see me like this.”

“I did not mean to harm you, I would never… but you didn’t say the word…”

You shook your head against his. “I didn’t need to, my love. I promise, all is well.”

“Are you sure?” His worried tone calmed as his fingers ghosted lazy, comforting circles over your back.

“Of course, please just… hold me.”

You could feel the stretch of his smile against your skin.

“Kesan ōregon ao syt mirre hen ñuha tubissa, ñuha jorrāelagon.” I will hold you for all my days, my love.

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libraryofgage · 11 months

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Saw the Barbie movie the other day and Billie Eilish's "What Was I Made For" (click the song title to listen to it lol) hit so fuckin different good lord. Anyway, it's perfect for Steve angst with a dash of platonic Stobin and romantic Steddie fluff so ;)

---

Steve is five when he learns that he was made to keep his parents together. At least, that's why his mother made him.

He learns it one night when his father is staying late at the company (before his mother started accompanying him all the time, leaving an empty house and Steve behind; Steve can confidently say his presence did, in fact, fix their relationship: it gave them something to unite against). His mother is three large glasses of red wine in, draped inelegantly on the couch and slurring her words with a glassy film covering her eyes.

"Steven, you were supposed...supposed to make him stay," she says, her fourth glass of wine dangerously close to spilling across the white rug. "An-and he's still gone! What did we do wrong?"

Despite the use of "we," Steve knows very well (even at the age of five) that his mother means "What did you do wrong?" He doesn't have an answer for her--he never will--and that seems to be just one more thing she holds against him.

Steve is seven when he learns that he was made to keep the family name strong and respected. At least, that's why his father made him.

He learns it when his father brings him to work, his stern expression and tense shoulders telling Steve to behave himself, to be seen and not heard the entire day (he did, and it worked a little too well; after falling asleep on the couch, his father had forgotten him at work, leaving him to spend the night in the locked office). His father is sitting at his desk, expensive pen in hand and phone just hung up after a tense conversation that ended with the most genuine smile Steve has ever seen from him.

"Steven, I hope you've been paying attention today," he says, placing the pen on the desk and fixing him with a suffocating gaze. "You'll be working here one day, and I expect you to make something of yourself when you do. You're to be a model man, someone I can proudly introduce to others."

When his father says proudly, Steve knows he means that he can't do that now because Steve has yet to make something of himself. Steve nods once, says a firm but not too loud, "Yes, sir," and his father goes back to work.

Steve is sixteen when he learns Nancy made him her boyfriend for...for a distraction? Because it's what was expected of her? Because she was curious? At least, that's what Nancy seems to be saying.

Honestly, Steve isn't sure she knows, either. But she definitely knows that he wasn't what she wanted, that he wasn't what she expected, that he couldn't live up to the expectations she had made for him.

Either way, he learned it over the course of their relationship, but it all hit him at the very end, when fights and names (idiot, asshole, and dick, to list a few) compounded into a breakup that left him aching, angry, empty, hurt, and desperate to know what he did wrong.

Maybe then he'd be able to save himself from making the same mistake over and over. Because it must be him, right? It must be something he's doing; if only he could figure out what that is.

Steve is seventeen when he learns that maybe he was made to be a shield. At least, that's how he understands the plan Dustin comes up with wherein he calls Steve their tank.

He learns it when they're huddled together at some point, readying to face demodogs and whatever else the Upside Down has decided to throw at them. Dustin is explaining the plan, his eyes bright as he throws around terms Steve can't recognize. "And Steve is going to be our tank," he says.

"What's a tank?" Steve asks, at least certain they don't mean the military kind of tank.

"Like a meatshield, duh," Mike tells him, the explanation short and quick and then disregarded in favor of the rest of the plan.

Maybe Steve should have felt hurt, but part of him is more excited by the fact that he could do well as a tank, a meatshield. He could, in fact, be made for that role. He's great at taking a punch, great at jumping back to his feet, great at putting himself between the kids and whatever wants to kill them.

The only way he could possibly fail at being a shield is by dying, and he doesn't plan to die just yet.

Steve is eighteen when he wonders if maybe he's made to love. At least, that's a realization he has after befriending Robin, getting tortured together, and learning he doesn't need romance to love someone. It's a realization he throws himself into wholeheartedly one day when he looks at Robin and sees her trying to drink a slushie with a Twizzler.

"I think I love you," he blurts out, unable to hold the words in and feeling bad for it when Robin subsequently chokes on Twizzler and Cherry slush.

She spits out the slushie, tosses her Twizzler into the cup, and spins around to look at Steve. "We've definitely talked about this, dingus," she says, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "You got amnesia or something?"

Steve rolls his eyes and pushes her. "Not like that. I mean, like, a friend. I love you, Robin. You mean a lot to me, and I hope we're still friends when we're 80 so we can make fun of other people in our nursing home."

Robin breaks out into a grin that she quickly suppresses. "Ugh, affection," she sneers, turning her nose up. It lasts all of three seconds before she glances at Steve from the corner of her eye and adds, "I love you, too, dingus."

Steve is nineteen when he decides that he's made for love, to give and receive and bask in its warmth. At least, that's what he decides when he's with Eddie, sprawled across his bed and listening to the mixtape he made for Steve.

They've been dancing around each other for a while up to that point: obnoxiously obvious flirtations, finding any excuse to brush against each other or share space or lean together, creating reasons to hang out with some as simple as "I'm just bored." Steve has been enjoying it; they both seem to understand what's inevitable, and they're just taking their time getting there.

And right now, listening to Eddie sing along to Metallica, Steve thinks that he wants to stop dancing around each other and dance together, instead. So, he turns onto his side, places a hand on Eddie's arm, waits until Eddie is looking at him with a bright smile and curious eyes, and says, "I was made for loving you."

Instead of the joy Steve was expecting, Eddie just looks confused. "How'd you know that was the next song?" he asks.

"What?"

"On the mix tape. I Was Made for Loving You by KISS. That's the next song," Eddie explains.

Steve blinks and frowns. He sits up, throws a leg over Eddie's hips, and settles on top of him. Eddie doesn't look surprised, since it's not the first time Steve has done this. Usually, it just means Steve wants him to pay close attention. "I didn't know it was the next song, Eds."

It takes a few moments for Eddie to fully understand what he means. And Steve gets a front-row seat to the confusion that morphs into understanding that morphs into amazement. "Oh," Eddie breathes, pushing himself up to rest on his elbows. "Could you say it again? I don't think I heard you the first time, Stevie."

Steve snorts but humors Eddie anyway. "I was made for loving you," he says, softer this time and leaning closer.

"Yeah, much clearer that time." Eddie's grin is wide and blinding before he closes the distance between them. "I was made for loving you, too, sweetheart," he whispers back, his words pressed against Steve's lips and searing into his heart.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steddie fluff #platonic stobin #stranger things #stranger things fic #Barbie movie soundtrack hits different ngl #can we also talk about Steve just being barbie?#like #he starts as a Ken and becomes a Barbie #tell me i'm wrong you can't #also I'm realizing Steve is a character that turns in my mind at supersonic speed #and Steddie by extension cuz gosh those boys could be so good together

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imtryingbuck · 2 months

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Forty Five

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 1,483

Warnings: angst, heavy use of pet names. fluff. swearing. Domestic abuse mentioned. This one is short, im sorry.

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

‘Grace and Bunny’s Haven’

Each letter engraved in the bricks bold and proud on the administration building. Behind it stood the housing unit which looked more like a manor than anything. There was large fence that sounded the whole property, the gate opening for safety to those who needed it, right where her former home use to sit.

True to his word Bucky let Y/n bulldoze the remains of the house she spent her early childhood being tortured in. Surprisingly it was very therapeutic for her. The massive smile on her face when the remains went down made Bucky’s heart tingle.

In five years the woodland that once was a sanctuary for Y/n had been transformed into a sanctuary for women in need.

The manor had twenty bedrooms with the same amount of bathrooms, at the time of opening there was only ten available rooms as the rest were still being done up. A large and spacious kitchen, two large living rooms, a huge dining hall, a kids play room that had already been filled with books and toys that were either donated or brought new. There was a day room at the back that had a skylight, it was beautiful in the summer. Two rooms on the lower floor was to be used as counselling rooms Y/n had already hired councillors and actually let them have their say on how the rooms were decorated.

On the grounds there was a park for children with slides, swings, seesaws and other fun little things for children. Sam just had to go on the slides and swings to make sure they worked, so he said. On the other side there was a green house, it was something that her mama always said she wished she had.

Owners of furniture stores were kind enough to donate furniture for each of the rooms, people went through their homes finding things that could be donated when word got out about Grace and Bunny’s Haven, a lot of children things ranging from clothes, shoes, books and toys were mainly donated. A couple came with a moving van and gave Y/n cots for babies, pushchairs, highchairs and many other different things for babies, they explained that they use to run a day-care out of their home, they retried two years prior they no longer needed them. Y/n could have cried as she hugged them and thanked them.

The finishing touches were being done when a woman no older than twenty five showed up seeking safety with her two three year old twins. Charlotte became the first person to be under their protection.

The doors opened two days after Y/n’s forty fifth birthday and already five rooms were being used. Charlotte and her twins taking up one room seeking safety from her abusive ex boyfriend, Maryanne was in her mid-thirties and had a son who was seven years old. Carla had five children with her when she showed up covered in bruises, she and her youngest had a room together whilst the other four had the room next to hers. Robin was the youngest out of the women at nineteen, when Y/n heard her story it broke her heart, poor girl had gotten pregnant when she was seventeen two months before she gave birth her boyfriend had been killed in a car crash, hers and his family had turned their backs on her and the baby for over a year she bounced from one place to the next with her daughter until she found a flyer at the hotel she managed to save enough money to stay at for a few nights. The next day she showed up asking for help.

All of the children got along with each other, unknown to them they had actually broke the ice between their moms as none of them knew what to say to the other. Now the four women were friends and helped each other out when needed.

“I’m proud of you, you know that don’t you?” Bucky asked after handing Steve another box of things that had been donated.

“I couldn’t have done it without you Ducky”

“I didn’t do anything my love”

“You brought the land, got everything ready-slow down Luca or you’ll trip-” Luca was the second oldest of Carla’s, he was running past the administration building to go and play on the park with the other children.

“But you’re the one giving these women hope and safety, not me I’m just doing all the heavy lifting”

“Heavy lifting? Buck you keep picking up boxes full of clothes” Steve shouted from the storage room.

“Fuck off. Do you need me to do anything Bun?”

“Nope, actually you could help Steve we got a rather large donation in last night so”

“I can do that, gimme a kiss first”

Kissing Bucky before he went over the storage room, Y/n stood at the front desk with a smile on her face. Proud of how everything turned out, proud of the fact that she could help women who needed it. Every time the moms saw her they thanked her, every time, even though she told them that they didn’t need to thank her at all, they still did.

Wanda had come and brought the twins along with Y/n’s and Bucky’s children who were all currently playing tag with the other children, their laughs brought a smile to her face. When the gates came open and a police car drove up to the administration building, this wasn’t new as Maryanne and her son was brought to her in a police car, what was new though was that instead of a woman sitting in the back it was a man.

“Morning Mrs Barnes” Officer Jones greeted as he got out of the driver seat.

“Morning, who is he?”

“He needs safety and yes I know this is a place for women but he needs help, no one else is willing to take him in”

“Oh. Right well let’s get him in so I can interview him” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed when he saw his wife walking in front of a man and two little kids and Officer Jones, he gave Y/n a questioning look that she just waved off.

Y/n offered a seat to the man and told the two young children play with the toys that were in the room whilst Officer Jones stood at the door. “Hi I’m Y/n, your name is?”

“Henry. Look I understand if you can’t take me in just say no so I can fin-“

“Who said I can’t take you in?”

“I’m a man”

“And? Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean anything. How about you give me the rundown of why you are looking for help and-“

“So you can judge me?”

“Why would I judge you?”

“Because I’m a man, a man that would get beat the shit out of him by his wife. The mother of his two kids, been put in hospital more times than I can recall, never once laid a hand on her. Never. I’m a man who’s now seeking help at a place that was made just for women, bet you think I’m weak don’t you?”

“You’re not weak because you married an abuser Henry. You’re not weak for coming here asking for help. You’re not weak at all so please do not think that about yourself”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I-I-I didn’t mean to snap. I promise”

“It’s okay, Henry look at me, it’s okay I promise. How about you tell me about your babies, yeah?”

“My oldest is Robbie he’s five, youngest is Lucy she’s two”

“Five and two, how old are you?”

“Thirty three ma’am.”

“Have you filled for divorce?”

“Yes but she refuses to sign them”

“Okay, can you write down any allergies you and the kids have and any medication you or they need please?”

“W-what?”

“Allergies and medication…”

“No I understand that b-but are you really letting us stay here?”

“Of course I am, Grace and Bunny’s Haven is a safe place for everyone who’s victim of domestic abuse. A room is already set up for you, I’ll give you the tour when you are ready”

“Tha-thank you, thank you so much”

After giving Henry and his children a tour, she introduced him to the women who was understandably nervous but they trusted Y/n’s judgement, they knew that she wouldn’t bring a man into their sanctuary if he wasn’t trustworthy or had gone through what they had gone through themselves.

Getting home that night Y/n had a hot shower whilst Bucky got the children into bed, she was proud of what she had created and though she had some understanding of what these women and man was and had gone through it didn’t stop her from getting emotional thinking about the pain they went through.

Bucky held her tight that night as they slept.

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01 @gaya-is-weird-af

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matan4il · 22 days

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Israel's 76th Independence Day

-> Geek fact: Today is the 14th of May, but also the fifth of (the Hebrew month of) Yiar. The Hebrew and Gregorian calendar only coincide once every 19 years. Since Israel was established, this is only the 4th time when we get to celebrate it on a day which is both the Hebrew and the Gregorian date of its founding.

-> Israel's Independence Day start the eve before, with a ceremony that both concludes our Memorial Day for our fallen soldiers and terror victims, and transitions into celebrating our independence. I don't think anyone can understand life here, or the Israeli people, without getting this impossible, yet necessary emotional transition.

-> This year, more than ever, the two days, commemorated one right after the other, feel impossible to separate.

-> We have an Independence Day ceremony. Every year, it celebrates the best of Israeli society. All of it. Jews and non-Jews. 12 Independence Day torches are lit (representing the 12 ancient tribes of Israel) by individuals who stood out in making a change for our society. As you might imagine, this year the ceremony was more emotional than ever before, with an incomprehensible number of heroes of all kinds.

-> Some highlights for me included the lighting of a few torches in the scenes of the massacre instead of all being light on Mount Herzl in Jerusalem. For example, families of some of the murdered at a southern Israeli beach, invaded by sea, lit together a torch at the place where their loved ones were taken away.

-> The Jewish prayer for the release of all hostages, sung by Lior Elmaliach in front of 132 empty yellow chairs (same color as the ribbon that people wear to call for this return).

-> One of the released hostages singing a mash-up of two songs about the sun (re-finding it, and discovering that the sun is inside us), while all the violins around being lit in yellow, and the yellow ribbon for the hostages' return looming larger than life in the background.

-> An Israeli soldier, who fought in this war in Gaza, performing a love song to the Land of Israel on his violin (it was performed in that moment without the lyrics, but the song goes, "The land of our people, the land of our eternity, a land in which we were born, a land in which we will live, come what may"), lit in white, while all the violins around him are lit in blue, the two colors of the Israeli flag.

-> That moment when Iris Chaim, whose son Yotam was one of the three hostages accidentally killed in Gaza by our own soldiers, who right away sent a message to those soldiers that she understands, she's not angry at them, and they're invited to her home, who's been working to lift and unite people's spirits before and since, when she was saying she's the mother of... she named her first born son, but then she had to stop and take a deep breath before saying Yotam...

-> When the flag bearers, outstanding soldiers carrying the flags of all the units of the IDF, did the traditional portion of the ceremony where they form different shapes, but this year they started by spelling the Hebrew word נזכור (nizkor, we'll remember).

-> How soldiers wounded in the current war (enough to need crutches or wheelchairs) participated in multiple sections of the ceremony, including the more physical ones, like the flag bearers' formations (in the pic below: forming Israel's flag).

-> They had a group of kids from different northern and southern Israeli communities who are still, even over 7 months since the start of the war, internal refugees. They got to perform as singers and musicians together with several very successful Israeli singers. The second song they performed felt especially fitting, as it's about going out into the world, strengthened despite adversity.

-> It's not easy to celebrate when the pain is so endless. The other day, I shared this list for our Memorial Day of just some of our victims that we lost, but will never forget. One of them was 24 years old Baruch Korichman. On the eve of Purim 1924, he was walking to his home in Tel Aviv. Out of nowhere, two Arabs showed up and shot him to death, then fled the scene. Even though the British Mandate was in place, meant to hunt the murderers down and bring them to justice, meant to take care of Baruch, no one really did anything. The body was taken to the courtyard of a hospital, Baruch's mom was called, and a small crowd of locals started gathering around, angry and protesting the injustice and the lack of proper treatment. Baruch's mom turned to the crowd and asked them to be quiet, and not stop Jews from celebrating Purim.

IDK how she managed to do that, care about other people's joy even as she was going through the worst nightmare of any parent. IDK how Jews during the Holocaust managed to find it within themselves to go on celebrating Jewish holidays. I just know that they did. And if they could, so can we. We can remember the Holocaust survivors, who survived the worst of what human nature is capable of, who came to the Land of Israel right after the end of WWII, and who saw the founding of the Jewish state, who got to celebrate its creation and first Independence Day. Most talked or wrote about it in terms of a miracle. The State of Israel is still a miracle. All the hatred we've seen turned against it even on Oct 7, while our people were still being massacred, is proof of that. And it is a good thing to remember that, even while we hurt.

On Oct 7, Israeli civilians went out to save their own, because the State of Israel has given them the tools to be able to, to know how, to have the strength, courage and self-confidence to go and tackle the enemy. On Oct 7, Israeli civilians knew that someone was coming to save them. Even if it took time, even if there was no way of knowing who would get there first, they knew an army that cares and wants to save them is on its way, and when I think about my Jewish People, in the shooting pits in Europe, about to be massacred by an antisemitic army, knowing for sure that there is no one on the way, that no one cares, that no one's interested in saving them, I know that as difficult as Oct 7 was, it's not the same, and it will never be the same, not as long as Israel exists. So I will continue to celebrate its independence, even as I know there is no cure for antisemitic hate and violence. We can't eradicate them. But all of us here together have created something that gives us dignity as human beings and as Jews, that our ancestors were denied. We are here, and we are the People of Israel, and we can stand tall in the face of the worst of our haters and murderers. Am Yisrael chai!

(for more of my posts regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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gojos-thot-patrol · 10 months

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Ok, LISTEN. I'm about half way through seven minuets in heaven pt.2, but because I'm working on it while watching season 2, I got SatoSugu on my mind. so...

Now Presenting...

A little SatoSugu themed supplementary material.

Ok, so let's start standard

Suguru is a psychology major with a minor in musical performance

Satoru is a theoretical physics major with no minor because "ew, minors."

Suguru joined the ABO frat because fraternity housing is wayyy fucking cheaper than living in the dorms. Plus, easy access to booze.

Gojo did it for the memes and cause his best friend was joining.

Suguru is for sure an alcoholic and in denial about it

Gojo smoked weed once and won't shut up about it. He does take a weak ass edible every once in awhile to sleep though.

Gojos tolerance is absolutely shit. Two shots and three puffs in and he is gone!

Suguru on the other hand could drink an entire bottle of tequila and smoke 12 joints and only really be kinda buzzed.

Suguru is definitely in denial about his bisexuality. Everything that he does with Gojo is just for female attention, ya know?

Especially when they're making out alone in their shared room. That's definitely for attention. Source:just trust me bro

Gojo is very comfortable in his pansexuality, and has been known to use "are you a frying pan? Cause you're so fucking hot" as a pickup line.

Ok, now for their background!

Suguru and Gojo actually grew up together, and are the closest anyone can get to childhood friends,

Which morphed into the well documented phenomenon of an all too intense friendship that blurs the line of friends and dating, where if one of them were the opposite gender they would totally be together, but because they’re both boys there using that as a shield to avoid confronting their identities beyond the default settings

They were each other's first kiss 💋

Gojo actually had really kind and loving parents who were very supportive.

Sugurus' mom died when he was young though, leaving him and his dad to struggle. His dad wasn't necessarily bad, but he did have to work constantly and therefore wasn't home often.

Gojo was naturally smart and school came very easy to him. Meanwhile, Suguru struggled a lot, specifically with anything math related.

This led to Gojo, with his great grades and generational wealth, being able to go to basically any college he wanted to.

He still decided to go to the local community College in the end, at least to get his gen-eds and the first few years of his major out of the way at a heavily discounted price.

Yea, Suguru had no such opportunity, his options were community College or to start working with his dad as a mechanic immediately.

And while he's not opposed to the idea of working with his father, and will even work with him for some extra spending money in the summers, he really wanted to give the whole higher education thing a shot.

He's very proud to be in his community College, as he's the first person in his family to even attempt to get a degree

Now, here's how they are in a relationship because you can't have just one.

These boys have historically shared everything: their hot wheels, their Xbox, their bed, and their women. You are no exception. Lucky you 💜💙

When it comes to the three of you together, you find the boys actually work extremely well as a unit.

Where one struggles, the other thrives. Gojo isn't great when it comes to emotional venting and stuff, always looking to "fix" it.

Suguru is better at actually listening and only offering advice when you ask. He’s always willing to just cuddle and listen.

Suguru is terrible to try and watch movies with, he gets bored so fast. Meanwhile Gojo is obsessed with movies.

Gojos fixer attitude also comes in clutch whenever you need to get something done, but just do not have it in you to do it. Need to call a doctor but have phone anxiety? Gojos your man.

Suguru craves to be the primary partner for both you and Gojo. Yes he's aware this is irrational, no he's not sure what to do about it. All he knows is that he gets jealous when he sees you with Gojo, and has to find ways to cope.

To his credit, he's never made this a problem for anyone other than himself, and he is actively working on it.

Gojo on the other hand fucking loves to see you and Suguru spending time together. Those are his two favorite people in the god damn world, aren't they cute?!

Sugurus love language is music. He'll make you playlists, old fashioned mix tapes, and has forced you to listen to vinyl with him. He's written songs about you too, though he's too shy to show them off.

Will play his guitar for you only when asked because he knows the optics of 'frat guy with a guitar' are not ideal.

Gojo shows his love by sharing his candy. Splitting a Kit Kat, giving you a handful of skittles, sharing a sleeve of oreos. If Gojo shares his sweets with you he wants to marry you.

They two of you bond by baking together. You buy new cute molds and cookware together and set up entire spreads based on one theme.

Suguru was probably the first one to be in your life: I.E. the one that you agreed to date before realizing (and agreeing to) the package deal.

But Gojo said I love you first. He feels everything at 100% and hides none of it.

He said it loudly and in front of the rest of the frat, showing you off to everyone.

When Suguru said it for the first time though, it was quiet; whispered to you late at night while you were curled up in his arms.

Both of the boys are massive cuddle bugs!

You call them Sugubear and Satotoro. Gojo loves it and Suguru does too, but he pretends he doesn't.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #suguru geto #satosugu #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #satosugu x reader

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lucawrites11 · 3 months

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navigation post

hi, you can call me luca. i'm 20, use they/them pronouns and i am the anonymous writing the woso bits and bobs series on ao3

my asks are always open, please send me your questions, thoughts, headcanons, prompts, requests etc. (i do see them all but i will only reply to prompts/requests when i write them)

i am a lifelong newcastle united fan and currently just follow a load of woso teams while i wait for them to get out of the third tier of english football this includes but is not limited to arsenal, barcelona and man city and never includes chelsea for personal reasons. i love football tactics and stuff as well and always love to talk about it :))

(i just want to add that this is my secondary blog so if you don't see me interacting with posts and other blogs - it's because i can't)

masterlist:

leah williamson/alessia russo

make this the best dream i've ever known

complete: seven chapters

alessia invites leah over after united play arsenal for lasagne

[a hint of slow burn, first kiss, euros 2022]

i can't keep up

complete: one shot

alessia misses the uwcl qualifying penalty and breaks down

[hurt/comfort, established relationship]

maybe i should have called you first (but i was dying to get to you)

complete: six chapters

five times leah and alessia drive three hours to see each other and one time they don't need to anymore

[5+1, fluff, established relationship, acls]

you said it looked better on me than it did you

complete: one shot

leah steals alessia's clothes, alessia gets her revenge

[fluff, sharing clothes, wwc 2023]

tears are the words the heart can't say

complete: one shot

leah does her acl playing her girlfriend's team

[hurt/comfort, major character injury]

for better, for worse

complete: one shot

leah deals with endometriosis after a concussion

[hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship]

is forever enough? (the series)

if i know what love is, it's because of you

complete: one shot

prequel: leah and alessia's chaotic proposals (can be read as a standalone)

[marriage proposals, idiots in love]

how long do you wanna be loved? (is forever enough?)

complete: twenty-nine chapters

leah and alessia's journey to expanding their little family

[ivf, pregnancy, SO MUCH FLUFF, marriage]

never knew the best was yet to come

incomplete: chapter two of thirteen

emilia russo-williamson is here, follow the first thirteen months of her life

[kid!fic, fluff, marriage]

jenni hermoso/alexia putellas

it's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday

complete: three chapters

jenni and alexia have been broken up for over a year and are living in different countries but then they have the world cup

[angst with a happy ending, fluff, suggestive, slow burn (ish)]

mapi leon/ingrid engen

i wouldn't know where to start

complete: one shot

ingrid has just opened her own tattoo studio in barcelona. mapi goes along to check it out and develops a crush

[fluff, getting together, tattoo artist au]

hei!

incomplete: chapter five of six

mapi has a crush on the pretty new midfielder on the team and ingrid has a pretty big secret

[fluff, angst with a happy ending, kid!fic, sick!fic, coffee]

ellie carpenter/daniëlle van de donk

you'll always be my favorite new year's kiss

complete: one shot

ellie and daan get together in new year's eve

[age gap relationship, first kiss]

you know what the best part of today was? i got the chance to fall in love with you all over again

one shot collection

ellie meets daan's daughter as her girlfriend after dating for almost a year

[fluff, kid!fic]

evie bronze

the missing pieces (of our souls)

one shot collection

lucy's daughter, evie bronze, is iconic in the women's football world

[lucy/ona, past lucy/keira, keira/laura, fluff, angst with a happy ending]

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wintervalewritersecond · 7 months

Text

tears to shed - simon 'ghost' riley

masterlist // masterlist call of duty

requested: no, but requests are OPEN! request: x

A/N: i have been thinking of this AU for a while now! i dont know why or how, maybe because of the skull mask he has on, or maybe just because i love both media, but alas, here it is! going to be multiple parts i think...

part one // part two // part three // part four

wordcount: 2,366 warnings: ooc simon, corpse bride au, she/her reader

An arranged marriage to unite two worlds. But no one would have expected that it would bring together the living and the dead.

"I do not want to see that pout again! We have gone over this, you are to wed mister MacTavish, whether you like it or not!"

Yes. Yes, we have gone over this. Quite frankly, it is all that you have heard about for the last few weeks. Your family finally had the chance to climb the social ladder, claiming their spot that 'is rightfully theirs'. The MacTavish family is one of the highest ranking families with a son that your parents deem perfect for you.

Perfect, as in, for them. A high rank, society looking up to you, and all that for the small price of marrying out their only daughter.

"Besides, with a face like yours, who else would marry you? Anne, tighten her corset! I can nearly hear her breathe."

Anne, your maid, looks at you as she furrows her eyebrows, slightly tightening the corset as you breathe in. God, can this already be over?

A carriage is driven in front of your doorstep, ready to bring you to the huge MacTavish mansion. Your mother seems like she could not be happier as your father only trails behind her.

"Oh, I can not wait for our daughter to be married! We will finally be where we should have been from the very start!"

"This is only a rehearsal, my dear."

"Oh, nonsense! This wedding will happen, whether you like it or not! This time tomorrow, we will be the talk of the town!"

In an attempt to ignore them, you already enter the carriage, pulling on your gloves as you lean your head on the small window. Your mother huffs, climbing into the carriage as well before your father comes in, closing the door behind him.

"Now, come on! We don't have all day. Shepherd!"

The old man grunts, pulling the reigns as the horses taking off. It takes only a few seconds before your mother taps you with her fan.

"I can see you thinking! Whatever plan of escaping you have, you better forget. Everything has to go according to plan, Y/N! This life we have lived up till now is something not fit for us. We are rich, and this marriage will only mean good for us. Oh, can't you just see it?" She looks over at your father, "We will have balls! Oh, can you just imagine? Dancing, and goodness, people will be coming over for tea!"

You wonder how it was going in the MacTavish home now. Were his parents also lecturing him on everything? Were they tying his tie so tightly so that he can barely breathe? Or maybe his parents were actually quite sweet.

Before you knew it, the carriage already comes to a stop, the huge mansion in front of you. It is even more terrifying as you remember. Sure, you knew their home would be bigger than yours, but this is nearly a castle. You breathe in deeply - well, as deep as you can with the tight corset - before exiting the carriage after your parents.

Your mother pulls you behind her and up the stairs that lead to the tall doors. How will these even be opened? They are five times as tall as you and they must be so heavy. Your mother roughly turns you around, tugging on your dress and hair to make sure it looks absolutely perfect before the door opens.

"Oh, goodness! What an impeccable taste," your mother mumbles to herself, looking around as you just trail behind, "So grand!"

In front of you stand two tall figures.

"Lord and Lady MacTavish," the butler gives your family a side-eye before stepping back.

"Ah, you must be mister John MacTavish. I have to say, you do not look a day over twenty!"

Can your mother be more idiotic? Your father tugs her arm, shaking his head before coughing.

"Well," Lady MacTavish raises one eyebrow, "We will be taking tea in the drawing room. Follow me."

The Lord and Lady already walk off, your parents trailing behind them as your mom keeps muttering random compliments. Something else catches your eye though.

A piano.

A grand piano at that. It is cleaned so well that it seems to reflect anything in its path. You wish you were allowed to play piano at home, but your mother always insisted that it was simply not fit for you. There is more important stuff to do, such as pushing yourself into the smallest corset just to appeal to others.

Your fingers float over the keys as you slowly sit down. The door to the drawing room was already shut, they wouldn't hear you, right? You slowly press the different keys. Gosh, it feels good to finally play the piano again. It was a small secret between you and your father - only playing the instrument if your mother was not home.

Johnny was running late. His parents will kill him. They had warned him so many times that he should have been on time, yet here he is, still trying to tie his tie. After multiple tries, he finally gets it, rushing out of his room and down the stairs. But, before he can even get out of his hallway, he is met with the soft notes of a piano. The piano actually being played in this house?

He is met with you as you still softly play, not even noticing the man at the top of the stairs. Were you Miss Y/L/N? He walks down the steps, slowly making his way over to the piano. You are still sat on the little stool, not even noticing the figure behind you until you see a shadow towering over you. You yelp, quickly standing up before pushing the seat back in its original place.

"I am so sorry! Please, excuse me."

The man shakes his head, laughing.

"Hey, no need for that. You play beautifully. I wish I possessed that talent."

"Oh, it is nothing," you let out a deep breath, smiling at him. "My mother does not quite like my playing. Says it is improper for a lady."

"Nonsense," Johnny sits down on the little stool, gesturing for you to sit down as well. "If anything, you should never stop playing. You truly have a talent for it, miss Y/L/N."

It is quiet for a bit, just the two of you sitting together, both not knowing what to say.

"So... We are to be wed tomorrow."

"So it is, mister MacTavish."

"Oh, no, call me John. Or Johnny, both is okay. Considering the circumstances, I think it will do."

"All right, that is, if you call me Y/N."

He does not have time to respond as his mother comes rushing out of the drawing room, visibly mad.

"What is this?! How improper. You shouldn't be alone together! The rehearsal starts in one minute! Come, at once!"

Time goes as slow as it could. In front of the group stands a tall man, trying to guide everyone through the rehearsal as you fight to not fall asleep. His voice is almost as boring as his appearance, and nothing about this entire situation makes you feel happy. You are not even allowed to sit directly next to Johnny, not to mention that both of you just could not keep to the script.

"Okay... Again," the old man groans, nearly wanting to rip the book that he is holding apart, "Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine."

"With this candle," Johnny begins, but quickly gets cut off.

"Mister MacTavish, first repeat the other sentence," the old man shakes his head, dropping the book on the table. "First the cup, then the wine, then the candle. Let's try it again..."

You quickly glance back, seeing multiple disappointed faces looking back at you. The doorbell rings, Lord MacTavish quickly waving the butler away to open up the door.

"How about you, miss Y/N?"

"Yeah," you quietly mumble, taking hold of the candle. All that you have to do is make it lit up and make sure the flame stays on the entirety of the speech. "I, uh... I use this candle..."

"With this candle, miss Y/N."

"Oh, it seems that I am early."

Both you and Johnny turn around, seeing the visitor that knocked on the door earlier. A woman, one dressed in a neat and fashionable gown, stands in the middle of the aisle.

"Is she from our family?" Your mother whispers to your father, but he only shrugs in response.

"A seat for Miss Graves, please."

What an odd name.

"Oh, please. Do carry on."

"Right... Let us try this. Again."

"With this hand," Mister MacTavish takes hold of your hand, holding the candlestick in his other. "I will..."

He bumps into the table in front of him, everything on it shaking and nearly falling over as the old man starts yelling yet again.

"Three steps! Can you not count?"

You look over at Johnny before looking back at the man.

"I am sure that he can, sir."

The man mumbles something under his breath, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Did he even remember to bring the rings?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

Johnny fumbles with his pocket, trying to fish out the small bands, but while doing so, he accidentally elbows you, making you drop the candle. Oh, no.

The candle rolls away from you, much too fast for you to catch it, the dress of Lady MacTavish slowly catching fire.

"Lady MacTavish!"

You quickly hurry over, stomping on her dress in a weak attempt to get rid of the flames. It does not take long for the butler to return with a bucket of water, emptying the contents over the fire and you.

"Enough!"

The tall man stands up even straighter, towering over everyone in the room.

"This wedding can not take place until both of them are properly prepared. Both of you, learn your vows."

He nearly pushes his pointer finger in your eye as you nervously look from him, to your parents, to Johnny's parents. The young man quickly pushes open the door, hurrying out as you follow behind him. He is, however, much too fast, almost running up the stairs, but not before accidentally dropping something from his pocket.

His ring.

You quickly scoop it up, holding it close before rushing out of the house. You need to be away from this place, if even just for a moment. The ring will be safe in your possession, so hopefully Johnny will not get in any more trouble if he fully loses it. The band is much too big to fit your fingers, it has to be the one belonging to Johnny. Either that, or they were really bad at measuring your rings.

"They must think I am a fool," you groan, slowly walking up to the bridge, shaking your head. "I mean, what did I even think? I set her dress on fire!"

You twirl the ring around in your fingers, crossing the bridge, the woods in front of you.

"Not only that, but I can not even seem to remember the stupid vows. It is just a couple of sentences!"

The next fifteen minutes are spent trying to go over the same vows again and again. At one point, you weren't even sure anymore if the words you were speaking even existed. You decided to sit down on a fallen tree, leaning against it as you twirled the ring in between your fingers again.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine," you whisper, looking at one of the branches right next to you. "With this candle I will light your way into the darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

You slip the ring onto the branch, huffing as you lean back even more. Mud and sand are staining your dress now, but as you look over at the ring again to take if off of the stick, something grabs your wrist.

A yelp leaves your lips as you try and pull your arm back, but it seems like the branches have wrapped themselves around your wrists. It nearly pulls you down into the ground before you fall backwards.

"Ouch!"

You shake your head, looking up, but you still feel the grip around your arm. On it are bones, a hand, still gripping you.

"Oh my God!"

A figure rises from the sand, clawing at the dirt as it slowly stands up, dirt and leaves falling from its shoulders. On their face, a skull, though quite obviously a mask. He is missing his left arm - is that what gripped you?

"I do."

He does? What does he do? You glance down, the ring that you put onto the branch now around its bony finger. No.

No.

Another scream leaves your body as you hurry to scramble up, running as fast as you can with the dress you are wearing. The ground is uneven and it is dark, but the figure does not seem fazed. You rush, leaves and branches hitting you in the face and hooking onto your clothing. Do you dare to look back? Once you do, you see the figure catching up to you, its arm now attached to its body again.

You reach the bridge, your breathing heavy as you almost rip the corset off of your body. Why did your mother insist on tightlacing it? Well, you had not expected on having to run through the woods. Is it gone? You look back to the woods, the figure seemingly gone as you let out a relieved sigh. You take a few steps back, but immediately stop when you feel that you bump into something. Slowly turning around, you are met with someone's chest.

Its the figure.

He looks down at you, his eyes peeking out from the mask. He is wearing a clean suit, a white flower in his pocket, and the ring around his fingers.

"I have to say, that is one hell of a way to ask me to marry you, love."

#simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #call of duty imagine #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley

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indigosunsetao3 · 21 days

Text

Older CIA Alex

NSFW | 18+ | Age gap/dad's employee/forbidden

Perspective: Female reader

We're going to work this like Ex-Husband Price where I expand on things here and there. I just had to get this listed out.

So much for 'next few days'. I swear these ideas will eat me alive if I don't write them out.

OCIA!Alex - Was in your father's office when you walked in to meet him for lunch. He rose from his chair the moment you entered, a sign of respect and also that he would be leaving. You give him a small smile which he returns before slipping out the door.

OCIA!Alex - Casually asks your dad about you, and how the lunch went, when he returns from an overseas mission weeks later. It's not very out of place, Alex is an observant man, but the fact it was over a month later and he recalled where you went to lunch together struck your dad as interesting.

OCIA!Alex - Accepts your father's offer to join a few of the group for dinner. Your father always extended the invite to his whole team which Alex declined each time with an excuse. Except this time when he finds out you'll also be at this dinner. Your father questions his sudden change of heart to which Alex answers charity is important.

OCIA!Alex - Is careful to make sure he is seated next to you at the charity gala. He's in his dress blues looking polished and the attention he pays you has your flustered. All evening he keeps you engaged in conversation, pulls out your chair for you and makes sure your glass is never empty. In an effort to make a friend you give Alex your number as if he didn't already have it, and your social media accounts, saved in one of his burners after a bit of digging so he could learn more about you. Your father notices the friendly exchanges and makes sure to have a conversation with his subordinate. (Lunch and Dinner Date can be found here)

OCIA!Alex - Barely bats an eye at the fact you are almost twelve years younger than him. What's age really when you were both adults? He's even less phased by the fact your father lets him know you're fresh out of a long term relationship which is why you were living with him for the time being. That explains why Alex hadn't seen you before and why you subconsciously ran your thumb over your ring finger all evening to play with a ring that was no longer there. Your father warns him, in a casual but firm tone, that you were off limits; he kept family and work separate for a reason. Alex assures him he was just being friendly, Sir.

OCIA!Alex - Volunteers to assist you in moving to your new apartment in exchange for a couple of beers. You texted him out of desperation, no friends in town, and your father is not the young man he used to be. It was the first time you had messaged him since the charity event, he had been waiting none too patiently. Alex agrees, he's got the time and it's an excuse to see you again. Your father would have been more suspicious of this if he wasn't relieved to not be the only person lugging your furniture up three flights of stairs.

OCIA!Alex - Swings by when you send him a message at one in morning that the AC unit is on the fritz. The landlord didn't deem it an emergency and your father was out of town. The apartment is beyond sweltering and there isn't even a breeze to help. It was more of a venting session, you had been talking more often via text through the past couple of weeks, but Alex takes it upon himself to give you a hand.

OCIA!Alex - Fixes the unit enough that it's at least blowing semi-cool air. He insists on hanging around to make sure it doesn't go out again, promising it's not a problem. "Too hot to try and sleep without some air." You offer him some left over pizza before joining him on the couch, a good distance away because it's too hot. Yet somehow you end up with your feet resting in his lap and his fingers massaging out the soreness from wearing heels all day.

OCIA!Alex - Texts you even when he's gone overseas. He's polite in his timing, making sure he doesn't disturb you when you should be sleeping or at work. You are less restrained, finding you stare at the phone waiting for the next message like an impatient teenager. You tell yourself it's because he's the only real friend you've got around and it's lonely when he's gone. Then when he sends you an audio message you nearly fall out of your chair listening to his silky smooth voice as he tells you about his day.

OCIA!Alex - Smirks to himself in his bunk at night when you start sending him pictures. Innocent ones of course. Things you saw on your walk, sighing in frustration at another video meeting at work, the dinner you made (and didn't burn!) and the weird neighbor downstairs that only checks her mail at night. But then a not so innocent one pops on his phone after you've had a few glasses of wine.

OCIA!Alex - Avoids your father's questions as he tries to probe and see just what your relationship is. He had tried you when he saw your phone buzz with a text from Alex when he stopped by. You maintained you were just friends, that Alex was a nice guy but too old for you. That was, if friends sent lingerie and shower pictures to one another...and instructed the other just what to do when they were feeling particularly needy and lonely.

OCIA!Alex - Doesn't let your dad know he took a flight back two days early, and neither do you. He barely makes it in your apartment before you jump him and insist the uniform stays on. Those two extra days are spent solely at your apartment before Alex reports back to your dad, who is none the wiser. Even if Alex has hickey's all over his neck and his clothes reek of your perfume.

OCIA!Alex - Has to play nice when your father has an award ceremony and he insists you meet a few of his friends sons. Your father determined you've been alone for too long, not enough friends, and is trying to get you back out there. He doesn't see Alex staring down each man as if they are his next target. Nor does he see the two of you slip away before his speech.

OCIA!Alex - Is unimpressed when you start spending time with others, men your own age in particular. You insist it's to keep your dads suspicions away because he's been asking very leading questions, he's not dumb. And also, you had both agreed that whatever this was it was only a hookup, no commitment. Alex had his job and you wouldn't risk your father's ire.

OCIA!Alex - Agrees, two can play this game. He starts making some other 'friends' of his own and grins as he notices the worry in your tone that he's turned the tables. Jealously is a young persons game and he knows exactly how he feels about you, it's just getting you to admit it yourself. Your father seems a bit more relaxed that the two of you seem to spending less time together.

OCIA!Alex - Is sent out on a particularly long assignment in Europe. After three weeks of being gone and radio silent he knows he won this battle of wills when he get's a notification of an airfare purchase. He's hardly shocked to find you waiting outside of his hotel room he booked under his fake name. You are your father's daughter after all.

OCIA!Alex - Tells you to let him worry about your father as you lay sprawled on top of him. He's dealt with bigger issues from smaller targets before. You attempt to talk about it more but he silences you as he rolls you under him.

OCIA!Alex - Has a conversation with your father. (We're not going to give away the ending here 😉)

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #fanfic #cod #cod fanfic #my fic #fanfiction #alex keller fanfic #alex keller cod #cod alex #alex cod #alex keller x reader #alex keller x you #alex keller smut #OCIA!Alex

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cleolinda · 8 months

Text

My sister noticed

Previously on: I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice: So I told you a story about how a Count Chocula used to creep behind me at night when I was a child, and I described my very weird childhood home to you. I told you how my sister had Something Dark living in her bedroom, and I told you about the time she and I compared notes and realized that we also had the ghost of a young woman in the house. Maybe.

I asked my sister to read over the draft for me, maybe gather up the fortitude to fill in some details, and she texted back, "Oh, I'll tell you anything you want. But that’s not how it happened."

I am willing to believe her version for two reasons:

1) My memory has been shit after having covid umpteen thousand times.

2) I actually remember her version of the conversation we had, now that it's in front of me.

I also remember my version, is the thing—the one where I told her about Rebecca when we were younger. And that raises some questions about how independent, how uncompromised, our experiences were. But I think those questions are themselves the story. Can I trust my memory at all? I had such bad brain fog the first time I had covid that I could not remember how to scramble eggs. A lot of things are just mist to me now. There's what I remember and there's what actually happened, but what do I even remember? And that's before you even get into the idea that we're talking about ghosts we "felt" in the house. We saw no apparitions, no shadows, no odd movements.

This is not a story where I'm asking you to believe me.

There are things you experience, and things that happen. An example from the winter of 2016:

What I experienced was standing out on our deck one night and looking up at the stars. They were moving in a slight swirl motion, not unlike the painting Starry Night. I turned to my mom and said, "Well, the stars are moving, so if the world ends or something any time soon, here's our first sign." She stared at me.

What happened was, our upstairs heating unit had a leak, and I sustained mild carbon monoxide poisoning. (I like rooms to be cool, so I had used the heater less than most people would, at least.) This was only discovered during a routine furnace check, after my vision had been a little weird and I had been deeply fatigued for two or three months. I have had a CO monitor upstairs ever since.

Did I see the stars swirling? Yes. Were they? No. That's the distinction I want you to make while I tell you all this. Did my sister and I experience things? Yes. Do I know what happened? No.

So what I agree happened was, we were having Grownup Sunday Family Dinner a few years back, maybe 2019 or so. I had been really into Buzzfeed Unsolved, which later evolved into Watcher Entertainment, but my sister was refusing to watch any of it. She's a big fan now, but she only started watching the guys last year. Yesterday, we tried to piece this back together via text.

My sister ["MS" from here on out]: Like I feel like off and on for years you mentioned [Shane and Ryan's shows] and I refused

MS: And one day my argument was to talk about our own house

Me [let's go with Cleolinda Jones, "CJ"]: You said you felt like fake ghost shows were disrespectful to people who actually experienced [hauntings].

MS: YES I FEEL LIKE THAT WAS THE CONVO

I love paranormal investigation shows, whether they're patently fake or not, as long as I enjoy the people investigating, so I couldn't understand why they personally offended her. Pulling at this thread back in 2019 is how the the whole ghost story started coming out.

CJ: And I was like, okay, but here’s one show where they get, like, nothing, but I can promise you that it's real

(Because the Unsolved/Watcher shows pair a believer with an actual skeptic who still, lo these many years later, does not believe in any of it. I truly believe Shane and Ryan would not stage "evidence," for that reason. Shane makes fun of ghosts and people who believe in them, but he's honest about it, and my sister likes that.)

At this point, we go back to the first version of the story that I posted: my sister had told me that Something had lived in the Four Closets Bedroom with her when she was a preteen/early teenager. It felt very dark, very bad, and she had not told anyone else about it until that dinner. The way I relayed it to you, Dear Reader, was that she hadn't wanted to go into detail, and I wasn't sure what it looked like, or if it "lived" in the little witch closet, or what. That night at dinner, I had gone on to tell her that, you know, now that you mention it, I did feel like something used to follow me up there at night. And this was when "My sister started crying. Like just staring at me in wide-eyed horror, her eyes filling with tears" had come in.

1. Something Dark

CJ: So you were telling me about our house being haunted. Something in your room. How would you describe it?

MS: I think it more lived in the attic

(our pal the dark fucked-up attic room)

MS: but would roam the entire floor so I felt it in the peach room [my (Cleo's) old bedroom and then later, my sister's] but more so in [the Four Closets Bedroom] as it was closer to the attic

MS: The best way I can describe it is just never feeling like I was alone. Feeling like something was always behind me. But I refused to turn around to look. It felt like a darkness that almost oozed behind you in a way that was almost suffocating.

CJ: What I find interesting is that we both describe it as Just Feelings, and never feeling alone.

My sister texted me at this point that she used to sense Something upstairs whether it was day or night; "even in the day, it didn't feel safe." But night was worse.

MS: There was one night in 3rd grade when I was reading and had like my first panic attack because I was newer to living upstairs and I felt it come in the room at night for the first time

MS: I also used to feel compelled to keep the AC running all night like it was never cold enough.

Here's the weird thing: when we moved to the house where I currently live and our rooms were on the same floor, we always fought over the thermostat. My sister hated her bedroom being too cool, whereas I get hot. I remember one night, we were arguing over it, and she was weirdly on the verge of tears: "Why do you have to have it so cold?" In 2023, my sister texted me at this point that she didn't want our childhood home to be cold; it was like the thing wanted that temperature, even if she hated it.

You often hear that ghosts make rooms cold, that's a big ghost hunter show thing—but whatever was up there couldn't lower the temperature on its own?

CJ: "If you can’t make it cold yourself, storebought is fine"

CJ: And you don’t have a visual impression of it, I’m not just blowing past that?

MS: I refused. REFUSED to look. Ever. For any reason.

CJ: I did too, so that’s interesting

CJ: I describe it as a Count Chocula, which should tell you how much it didn’t bother me. Which I find weird

(Truly, there is a reason I titled that post "I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice.")

MS: I can’t tell if it was truly terrifying. Or if the amount of data I was getting from it was just so overwhelming that that alone was terrifying to a child. I wish I could answer that now.

CJ: Yeah, in some way I think we’re saying the same thing. I was seven years old and I couldn’t comprehend what it was, either, so I just imagined a silly vampire

CJ: like I can’t overstate how cartoonish it seemed to me at the time, while still being very DON’T LOOK BACK

Part of the problem, she added, was that she felt compelled to go turn down the air conditioning... and the thermostat was next to the (carpeted. shag carpeted) bathroom. And then she had to race back to her bedroom... the same way I used to, as quick as she could.

MS: I also felt like I could NOT run. Like the way you shouldn’t run away from a mountain lion. It would create the need for it to chase me.

MS: What is so strange is that [learning about paranormal investigation] has not changed my perception of my experience in the slightest. Whether that’s the reality or not. It is still something I find dark and terrifying.

CJ: I think you would answer this differently now than you did then: what do you think it was?

We discussed this by text for a while. I mentioned being intrigued that Something Dark wanted to be cold (but apparently was not able to make the room cold). My sister—having agreed to be quoted here—said, "I kinda hope to avoid someone being like 'you had a demon in your house,'" as she doesn't really feel like that's what it was. Her gut feeling (and, bear in mind, we are working off nothing but feelings here) is that it was a spirit or ghost: something formerly human. We agree that it seemed male in some way (again: a Chocula).

And you're probably thinking, This is total bullshit. And it probably is! I'm not claiming any of this to be real evidence! I just find it interesting that we somehow came up with the same bullshit.

CJ: It just fascinates me that I did not experience 90% of this, and yet I got a strong enough whiff of it that I’m like, yeah, I can see it

But what about the female presence, the one I went off to color with in the middle of the night?

2. Rebecca

MS: I didn’t find out you had done the ouija board until we were adults. You didn’t tell me when we were kids

MS: That’s why I was SO shocked when we talked at the dinner table.

See, I was convinced that I had told her about my ouija adventures when I was a teenager, and "What about Rebecca??" flowed really well in the first post. That conversation was already a bit fictionalized in order to condense it from what I remembered—that's how memoirs work, really, unless you have actual transcripts of your life and room to include them. You're telling a story. I thought I was telling a condensed version of a true story. And yet, I do remember how shocked my sister was at dinner that night. And she would have only been seven or eight when I was messing around with that shit. Those two things do support the idea that I wouldn't have told her.

MS: You did tell me skeletons lived in my closet tho

I told you I was kind of a shit.

CJ: when I told you about Rebecca, what was your reaction?

MS: That’s when I went white. Bc I realized we had had a similar experience and I wasn’t just crazy

CJ: The thing is, I WOULD HAVE SWORN I had told you about Rebecca when we were younger

MS: If you did you didn’t name her and that’s why it was nuts when I realized 2 decades later we pulled the same name and we both remembered it.

We did it again, too—I posted briefly about putting this whole saga together, and how my sister asked me to give the ghost a pseudonym (ghosts deserve privacy too). And in trying to think of a good replacement, we both came up with "Rebecca."

CJ: so how did you know the [original] name?

MS: Ouija board with [best friend, redacted] in the playroom when I was like 13. She cried the whole time. We both thought the other was moving [the planchette].

You'll remember the weird, windowless, sky-blue playroom with the scary door from the previous post.

MS: But she was crying so she wouldn’t have been. And I would have never pulled out the name [Not Actually Rebecca]

MS: There was part of me that wonders if I did it but I would have NEVER chosen Rebecca

CJ: So did I bring Rebecca up first in this conversation [at dinner in 2019], or did you? I did?

MS: You said it first. I would have never [told you first] cuz I would have thought you were placating me. Like I’d never really know if you weren’t just agreeing with me

And that's when my sister had "stared at me, saucer-eyed, pale. Like I'm not sure I had ever seen anyone 'go white' until that moment." And I had told her about getting up at midnight and going to color in the weird playroom, and someone else being in there with me, no big deal.

After all this discussion, we do think that Rebecca was briefly my "imaginary friend," but our mom told me to stop talking about that. Not because our mom was spooked, but because she felt like it was rude for me to talk about someone I was presumably making up in front of company. So that stopped. Thinking back on it, I just felt like someone was sitting next to me on the couch. I didn't feel anyone next to me; when I looked, I felt like I could see where... someone was not? The space that someone invisible was taking up? It felt like something reasonably friendly. "Chill" is the word I keep using. Not super eager or possessive, just like a girl who was a bit older, maybe a teenager, a babysitter age, who liked me well enough. There was some dark shit in the attic, apparently—it did feel very oppressive in there—but I would get a sense that a metaphorical desk lamp had been turned on. A presence that stayed back, relaxed, but emanated "hey, I'm here."

What my sister and I agreed on was that we remembered how these "feelings" were both vague and memorable. I can't remember events or chronology accurately, but I remember the actual sensations and presences very, very clearly. They resist reinterpretation. I can't sit here and say, "Oh, Rebecca was totally a guardian angel, I see that now." The Something Dark sounds functionally demonic, but my sister doesn't feel like that's accurate. (If anything, she gets a sense that this could have been a malicious uncle—not father—of some kind to Rebecca, if the two beings were related: particular in their vagueness.) These two presences just... were. My sister says she primarily sensed Rebecca outdoors in our backyard, when we were pretending (were we?) to play with fairies. I didn't sense Rebecca there—but then, I wasn't aware that what I sensed was a someone, not for another thirty years or so. My oblivious ass was up at midnight filling in my She-Ra coloring book with a ghost like, "Yeah, I'm alone in the dark for no reason, this is normal." It's only in retrospect that I recognize atmospheric feelings as things that actually took up space, and I don't know how I didn't see it at the time. I can't explain that, and I can't ask you to believe it. All I know is that my sister still feels very traumatized by her experience of it—and I can't explain why I don't.

I think one of the reasons paranormal investigation shows don't scare me a whole lot is because so much of the "evidence" is random knocks and creaks and movements and vibes, and I'm like, yeah, I've lived in two houses now like that. The door of my current bedroom opens and closes on its own all the time. It's probably a draft from the ventilation system (which does not have CO leaks anymore) (probably). I've seen something at this house that a lot of people might call a shadow person, but I was probably imagining it. So many of these ghost shows just have things that I grew up with and didn't even think a whole lot of at the time; I seem to be protected by a +3 Sphere of Sure, That's Fine. Is my current house also haunted? I honestly don't know. Would I notice if it was?

#part two of two #story time with cleo #long post #the haunting of jones house #spooky season #halloween everyday #me for some reason #first look on patreon

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inbarfink · 9 months

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I’ve heard some DHMIS fans say the TV Show/Season 2 feels more optimistic and hopeful than the Web Show/Season 1. Like that the trio is more independent and offers a bit more resistance against the teachers. So it makes them more hopeful they can break out/fight against this Horrible Situation.

And I mean, I do see where this interpretation is coming from. The three do have a lot more agency in the TV Show, a lot more control over the narrative. While in the Webshow they spend nearly the whole duration episode just sort of going along and following a Teacher’s lead. Plus they are a lot more likely to talk back to a teacher -

Try and go against the teacher -

Just annoy the shit out of a Teacher -

AND THEY’RE EVEN CAPABLE OF CAUSING THE DEATH OF A TEACHER!

Plus, the Teachers themselves are often less explicitly sinister and/or antagonistic. Especially when you consider reappearances of Web-Show Teachers consistently show them as being on more amicable terms with the trio. Like Tony mostly just chilling there -

And Colin being extremely friendly with them.

And like, yeah, all of these things are true. But still, for me, the helplessness and hopelessness of the trio situation is a lot more palatable on the TV Show. Their whole situation feels a lot more dire.

Cause the thing is, yes, the teachers are less obviously sinister and the characters talk back to them more in the TV Episodes - but they are also more likely to totally buy into their bullshit and vehemently agree with them and even argue about it with the others. (See: Red Guy in "Jobs" and "Family", Yellow Guy and Duck in "Transport)

It’s especially notable when you compare Red Guy’s behavior between the two versions of DHMIS. Since in the Web Show he was the first one to ‘break away’ from their world (or at least try). While in the web-continuity, he was pretty consistently disinterested in the Teacher’s lessons - generally only reacting to express his annoyance or befuddlement at them -

The TV Show puts a lot more emphasis on his personal foibles, and how despite his detached and apathetic attitude - he is just as likely to fall into the bullshit of some ‘Teachers’ in the right situation.

And while the TV Show also emphasizes Duck’s ability to Defy the Narrative - it also emphasizes how much this independence is based less on his intelligence -

And more on his ego.

I want to be in a family, I want to be the dad!

So with every character’s ‘resistance’ to the Teacher really depending on their personal behavior and flaws, we don’t really get moments like that thing in ‘Time’ where they all together started questioning Tony’s lesson.

And that’s also a thing that is less prevalent about the TV Continuity in general, the trio are less in harmony with each other. Obviously, it is a requirement of the format. The show has more emphasis on the puppets’ personalities and therefore gives more focus to their interpersonal conflicts. While in the Webshow they were seen more-or-less as a single Unit, with each their own personal quirks, but generally being Together and having pretty much the same goals - in the TV Show they are a lot more separate and distinctive. But that can also mean they can turn on each other and hurt each other.

The fact they have more Agency in the story also means they can cause damage and hurt like the Teachers can.

With the bigger focus on character comes a much bigger focus on the long-term effects of their ‘Format’ over their lives and thoughts. They don’t just sort-of ‘go along’ with whatever bizarre object has bursted into their house, but they have actually internalized the core concept behind all of those lessons, they internalized all sorts of ideas of how they’re supposed to act and what they’re supposed to do and what they are capable of doing. And they will reinforce it amongst themselves, no Teacher needed.

We don't have the Transport Man, it's just us three! We can't just... do stuff, just us three, can we?

While the last episode of the Web Show has both surviving members of the trio apart and separated, they've both come to the conclusion that their life is Wrong from their own perspective.

(And Duck figured it out just before he died)

The TV Show’s final episode shows how the Trio themselves (and especially Red and Duck’s sense of superiority over Yellow) is much more effective at keeping them in line then just a Teacher. The Insurance Safe was easily discouraged by Yellow’s intelligence and knowledge, but Red’s unease and Duck’s hostility is what actually made him feel bad.

And before Yellow Guy, Red Guy was the one trying to get them all free the episode before that - the Teacher was pretty helpless to stop them - but his friends were the ones constantly urging him to go back home.

And at the end of episode 6, they all doom each other, and themselves.

And while the ending to the Web Show is ambiguous, and can be read in a very negative light, there is at least some element of change and disruption in it. Red at least tried to pull the plug. And even if it is all doomed to repeat again and again, some things, no matter how small, have been shifted.

The TV Show’s ending is a lot more direct, but also a lot more directly hopeless. Yellow Guy’s attempt to break free has failed. There has been no real change or shift, or disruption - the house is back to normal, this loop has probably happened thousands of times before. They are just as trapped as they were before, and they are all willfully oblivious to it.

One interpretation for the ending of the Web Series is that it demonstrates how the trauma of the ‘Lessons’ will remain with the characters forever, or that the indoctrination they suffered still lingers or that they might be doomed to repeat these patterns in themselves or with others. If this is true, then the TV Show’s greater focus on character really helps to demonstrate how this trauma and indoctrination affects them. Even if they were to break out of it, they will bring something of it with themselves wherever they go, they might even drag each other straight back into it - because it’s all they know.

The show also puts a much bigger emphasis on this fact, that this strange situation they are trapped in is all that they know. Just watching the Webshow on its own, you can’t really tell how long this has been going on - it could just be one very weird day. And you could kinda separate the Trio’s lives and the teachers intruding on them. Before the TV Show, it was easy to imagine a version of their lives where they are not constantly hounded by Singing Living Objects, and that it wasn't that different and it wasn't that long ago. Like, it wasn’t a surefire thing or the authorial intent - but it was at least a valid interpretation of the text.

The TV Show makes it clear that yes, the house and their entire living situation is part of that terrible surreal experience. It’s not just about their occasional edutainment misadventures, it is really everything about their world that is wrong and confining and nightmarish. Their rooms and their own house, and the world outside their window is all part of this Actual Nightmare. And it really is all they know. As far as they can tell, their life has always been defined by being trapped inside a nonsense house and being hounded by living objects. I mean, in retrospect that was probably also true for the Web Show but, again, the TV Show is a lot more explicit about that.

And the ‘outside’/‘real’ world is… okay, we have no way to be sure whatever either the Red Guy World seen in the end of “Health” and the beginning of “Dreams'', or the Junkyard seen in “Transport” is actually real or just like, another layer of illusions but still… The ‘world outside’ seen on the web show looks drab and soul-crushingly boring but it’s still fairly livable. If the only real problem is that it’s dull and too grown-up, then it’s easy to assume that if Red Guy could save Yellow Guy and Duck and get them out - then it wouldn’t be that bad. They could give color to that gray world themselves.

Meanwhile… The glimpses of the ‘Real World’ in ‘Transport’ just looked like a junkyard. But considering how the puppets were wandering from daytime to nighttime without finding any way out or any other signs of life, and considering Duck’s Visual Inventory included stuff like “one skull” and “one bag of meat” - I think this is less of an ordinary junkyard and more of a post apocalyptic wasteland.

So, even if the trio could ever break free of their surreal felt world - it’s unclear whether or not they could survive outside of it. Even if their world is a nightmare, that might be better than waking up.

And while the teachers are nicer, or at least less actively malevolent, their presence and influence is constantly felt. Like, even when there isn’t a Lesson ‘actively’ going on - there’s often some googly-eyed motherfucker just… watching them.

Yeah, maybe the fact Tony doesn’t do anything but tell the Time Child they’re absent shows that he’s a nicer guy in this continuity. But… even if the teachers are generally kinder, they’re still prone to overriding their ‘Students’ wills and opinions, often disrespectful and/or manipulative, and generally care more about being smarter than their students than actually being right. Even Electracey, probably the most straight-up benevolent and competent teacher we’ve ever seen on the show -

Seems to have issues understanding the mortality of organic beings.

So there’s still a lot to be weary of the fact these guys are constantly watching our main characters. Even if they’re not quite as sinister as they were before. Besides, even if the Teachers were just the nicest folks ever - it is still rather sad and concerning that the Trio are constantly watched like that in general. Like, they basically have no privacy. Even disregarding Lesley and maybe even us the audience. Someone is always watching.

And they can’t do anything about it.

And the thing that I’m thinking about most… it’s something specifically with Colin the Computer. Like, it seems like he’s the most unambiguous and straightforward example of how much nicer Teachers are on the TV Show. Compared to the data-harvesting control freak he was on the Webshow, he has become such a sweetie! So polite and complimentary and friendly to the trio! But the thing is… it’s very easy to be nice and sweet to people who are already doing what you want.

In the Webshow, the trio were at least somewhat in conflict with Colin because they wanted different things. The trio were having a quiet board game night at home and maybe wanted to learn about the World, and Colin was determined to pull them into his computer world. As Red Guy pointed out, they already had a computer. So they didn’t really need him or his ‘lesson’ about computers. They were totally independent of him. It was easy to see Colin’s pushy and over-controlling tendencies in that situation.

But that sort of conflict is simply not present in the TV version of Colin. It’s hard to tell if TV!Colin would have acted better if the trio were not as interested in using him because he is simply never put in that situation. That’s the part that always sticks to me; unlike in the Webshow - Colin is the only computer they have. He is actually their only connection to the digital world, the internet. They can’t wait to use him because he only comes around once a year. He joins in on the trio’s insults towards Warren because they would all just like to go back to focusing on Colin.

The things that do maybe make Colin come across as genuinely kinder on the TV Show are the facts he offers to help with Yellow Guy’s situation (and doesn’t interrupt or distract them after the solution extends beyond looking it up on Colin) and gives them that ‘Glass Spherical Computer’ In the end - ensuring that they won’t be that dependent on him after all. I mean, I think you can argue about whether the ‘replacement’ computer being made of very fragile glass is such an unlucky coincidence or not… but even if we give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he legit wanted to make them less dependent on him…

The fact that was the situation in the first place, that they could only go online one day in a year, and had to be constantly monitored by Some Guy (who was also acting as their computer)- no matter how well-intentioned he is - is still deeply fucked up!

I think that at the end of the day, me and the folks who see TVDHMIS in a more optimistic light aren’t really in disagreement. At least not about the actual contents of the web and TV shows. It’s more that we have different priorities about what’s the most disturbing elements of the trio’s Actual Nightmare. Because yes, it is true they are put in the care of less Actively Malevolent Teachers this time around. And it is true they are less actively suffering, and they have a bit more agency now.

But for me, the bigger emphasis on the constant surveillance they live under, the focus on how much this situation affects their lives and relationships and psyche, and the trio’s tendency to hurt each other and doom themselves - makes the world of the show feel more hopeless and bleak to me.

#don't hug me i'm scared #don't hug me #i'm scared #dont hug me im scared #dhmis tv show #dhmis #dhmis tv series #dhmis analysis #dhmis web series #colin the computer #dhmis colin #dhmis computer

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oldshrewsburyian · 11 months

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I love this ask! A Persuasion Campus novel please. (Must go lie down at the thought of Ciarán Hinds as a college professor.)

So, to address your parenthetical first: you've seen Circle of Friends, right? I didn't love it, and his role, iirc, is not sympathetic; however:

The academic gown over the three-piece suit is just gratuitous. AHEM. A Jane Austen campus novel AU is tricky, I think, because I have to undo most if not all of the family relationships in favor of other connective nexuses (nexes? nexii? help). Here goes. I might have spent too much time thinking about this over my morning tea.

Sir Walter Elliott is, inevitably, the college president. He's photogenic. He loves uttering empty and incorrect platitudes about his own achievements. He loves schmoozing with important people. Unfortunately, he's perfect for the job.

The Admiral and Sophy have been at the university for ages, and the Admiral loves to tell the story about how he was her spousal hire in 1987, not the other way around.

Elizabeth is using family money to take a never-ending PhD in fashion history. She's always weirdly vague about her project, and finds a way not to participate in chapter exchanges. Rumor says that it's Sir Walter's influence keeping her from being kicked out.

Mary took an M.A., married money, and has been (dis)contentedly living on the UWS ever since. It's not quite true to say that she's never looked back. She visits colloquia and other open department functions with a depressing persistency, and appears not to notice that this is sometimes awkward for people who are united by their passion for a subject in which she never excelled.

Louisa and Henrietta are grad students, and remarkably carefree with it. Somehow their work does, in fact, get done.

Harville is, I think, Wentworth's sailing club buddy.

Mr. Elliott will be a smarmy visiting academic at another area institution. Unfortunately, I know his type. Eventually it will come out that he's eternally "visiting" because of a plagiarism scandal in his past.

Lady Russell is, of course, Anne's PhD supervisor. Who else would be in loco parentis and giving prudent and unwelcome advice?

Anne administers the interdisciplinary center in eighteenth-century studies. While she is several decades younger than those who usually take on such jobs, this works out well for several reasons. She has a head for detail, and is conscientious to a fault. Also, the faculty are (almost) all extremely fond of her, and the importance of this in getting academics to comply with bureaucratic necessities cannot be overstated. She's an alum of the program, and did finish her PhD. Lady Russell still sometimes sighs, a little too audibly, when she sees her erstwhile star student being competent in the front office. But care-taking duties during her mother's long illness meant that Anne's progress through the degree was slow, and international conference travel to boost her reputation didn't happen. The job market, with its precarity and long-distance upheavals, didn't either. So here is Anne, still in the department. Anne herself may not have the career or the life she dreamed of, but she has employment and health insurance, which is more than many recent PhDs can say. She sings in a choir. She tells herself that she has a good life.

Frederick Wentworth was Sophy's student. (I will miss her big sister energy, but a PhD supervisor also has the lifelong privilege of dragging you and telling you to get your life together, so here we are.) Lady Russell thought he was always going to burn out. Sure, he looked good on paper: a bright scholarship student from a state school in the fields of nowhere. But his project, studying contested empire and constructions of masculinity in the Atlantic world using network analysis, was always too ambitious. Until it wasn't.

With several fellowships, a postdoc, and a visiting position at a SLAC behind him -- the OUP monograph is in press -- Frederick Wentworth is back. Lady Russell wasn't on the search committee. But not only is Frederick Wentworth competent to teach the gender studies courses the department wants and the survey courses the university wants, he is also willing to take on the military history courses that the jocks want. "Thank God," says Sophy bluntly, once he's accepted the offer, "I won't have to read their opinions of my haircut in the student evals anymore." Also, there's that OUP monograph. No one quite says out loud that they have in their midst that rarest of creatures, the photogenic male historian who actually is a historian. But the consciousness runs through the halls like a current. This, for the department, could be a beginning.

For Anne, it is something else. It's not that they dated, exactly. It was never that formal, or that limited. Only in retrospect, really, did she realize that it was odd to spend an entire day walking around looking at architecture, or to end up with intertwined ankles on a museum bench, or to cook freely in each other's kitchens, before having an understanding. The understanding came. It was a November night, and they were sitting on a bench in Riverside Park, and she didn't feel the cold. They had agreed that they'd go on the job market together. They would read each other's applications the way they read each other's dissertation chapters. And they'd move to wherever one of them got a tenure-track job first. And then everything fell apart. Anne still thinks that Dr. Russell was right, that it wouldn't have been fair to hold him. More, she thinks that she herself could not have borne to lose what they had in a slow death of long-distance phone calls, too-brief visits, awkward negotiations of what they could and could not expect. Better to be sensible. Better to make a clean break while they were still young, still resilient. But she has never felt resilient. And now Frederick Wentworth is back.

#persuasion #campus novel au #will i actually end up writing this?

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enriquemzn262 · 4 months

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I haven’t mentioned this publicly, but I honestly think it’s about time I do so:

Back in 2021, a whole bunch of family, myself included, got together and decided to apply for the American tourism visa, where we hoped to take advantage of the disruption in travel that the pandemic still posed just to see if it would be easier to get it.

And while it was relatively cheaper, the set date for the interview was August 2023, almost two years from the time we started, so that process was basically left in the back of our minds.

Well, come August, and we all travelled as a group to Bogota, got ready, and hoped for the best.

30 minutes of security screenings at the US embassy, 1 hour of waiting in line, and a 10 minute interview later

I got my visa! I can travel up to three months a year to the US now!

And as celebration, one of my family members, who recently had an insurance payout after an incident 4 years ago, gifted all of us plane tickets to Miami, taking advantage of how dirt cheap those are from here (barely a 4-hour flight), so this Tuesday I’ll be going to the United States of America for the first time in my life, a dream come true!

Its going to be a 9-day trip, we will be renting a car together as a group, and staying at both Miami and Orlando, hoping to visit as much as we can as cheaply as humanly possible, where we will also take advantage of the recent fall of the US dollar compared to the Colombian peso.

So yeah, I’ll finally get to visit the country that has given me so much over the years, not to mention, I’ll actually get to use my spoken English! Hopefully everything goes smoothly.

I wanted to go shooting, but looking at online prices those are criminally expensive, so maybe for another time, hopefully with my (future) wife on my side (since she’s Venezuelan and we’re still not legally married we couldn’t make her part of our group)

If any old mutual lives in the Miami or Orlando area, be sure to let me know, one of the items of my bucket list is finally meeting irl someone from Tumblr, and I’m hoping to cross that on this trip!

#text

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matan4il · 6 months

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Update post:

First, on a personal note, I started my day by calling my family that lives outside of Jerusalem to tell them I'm alive. Two terrorists, residents of an Arab neighborhood of Jerusalem (i.e, not Palestinians, who would have to go through a checkpoint, giving soldiers the opportunity to stop them), started shooting people standing at the bus station at the entrance to the city, using a gun and an assault rifle. Three people were killed, one of them a young woman, 24 years old, one is a 73 years old rabbi, and the last is a 67 years old woman. At least 9 more people were injured, 3 of them are still in serious condition. The two terrorists were neutralized at the scene thanks to three people who fired back, one of them was a soldier who was on a 12 hour leave from Gaza, he was at the bus station on his way back to his unit. The terrorists were brothers, affiliated with Hamas, and both had been jailed for terrorist activity in the past. Some of the convicted terrorists who had been released in the past few days, to free innocent Israeli civilians, are residents of the same Jerusalem neighborhood.

Then there was a second terrorist attack today in the Jordan Valley, in this case the terrorist tried driving his vehicle into a crowd, he was neutralized, a few people are injured lightly.

This is Kfir Bibas.

He's the baby who was 9 months old when he was kidnapped together with his 4 years old brother Ariel, his mom Shiri and his dad Yarden. Hamas first said that the Bibas family was handed over by them to another terrorist organization to hold them. Yesterday, Hamas said the Bibas family had been killed by Israeli fire in Gaza. Hamas had previously said that 19 years old Noa Marziano was killed by Israeli fire, it later turned out that she was murdered by a Hamas terrorist in the basement of the Shifa hospital in Gaza. Hamas also said Chana Katzir was killed by Israeli fire. She was released alive. We're all hoping that Hamas is lying about the Bibas family, and that we will see little Kfir and Ariel again, that this is just another part of Hamas' psychological warfare (i.e, psychological torture).

This is 17 years old Aisha al-Ziadna.

You can tell from her hijab, that there is no way Hamas didn't know they were kidnapping a Muslim teenager when they took her, her dad, and her two brothers captive. We know that on the list of hostages to be released today, there are 2 kids. It was just confirmed that it's Aisha and her 18 years old brother Bilal. I'm so glad for Aisha and her family! I'll also admit that as a woman, I've been more worried this whole time for all the girls and women held captive by rapists. I've heard an Israeli Bedouin saying he believed Hamas was keeping her to be released among the last of the hostage kids, to drive a greater wedge between Israel and its Bedouin population. If Aisha and Bilal will finally be freed today, that would mean 38 of the 40 kidnapped kids and teenagers have been released, and the only two remaining in Gaza are Kfir and Ariel Bibas.

We've been hearing more and more about the conditions of captivity the hostages were held under. I'll emphasize that they were kept separately, so what's true for one, is not necesarily true for all, but the overall picture is grim.

Most hostages were kept underground, without fresh air and sunlight. They slept on benches or on plastic chairs. They were not given the medications they need, or they were given unsufficient doses of them. At least one hostage was released in critical state because of this, 84 years old Elma Avraham. One of the doctors fighting to save her life said that had she been released even just one day later, it would have been impossible to save her. She could have been released on the first day of the deal. She was released on the third. For the most part, hostages were not allowed to shower, they were only given new clothes once, on the day of release, and they had no privacy when using the toilettes (again, think about what this meant for girls and women), when asking to use the toilettes, they were sometimes forced to wait for hours for that. At least one kid (12 years old Eitan Yahalomi) told his family he was forced to watch the horror movies Hamas filmed on Oct 7 under gun threat. I'm terrified for what this must have done to him psychologically. All of the kids are having trouble speaking normally, they were threatened with violence if they do anything more than whisper. The Thai captives who were released said they were abused as well, but that the Jewish hostages they were held with, were treated worse (one Thai man mentioned Hamas beat the Jewish captives with electric cables). All of the hostages were malnourished, some of the adult hostages lost up to 15 kilograms (roughly 33 pounds) over 7 weeks, which doctors said amounts to being starved.

(this is Elma Avraham when checked by the Red Cross during her release. I can't not mention that the Red Cross was supposed to give Israel a heads up if any hostage was in a life threatening condition, which Elma was, but the Red Cross didn't say anything, so it was only after a second check by Israel that Elma's critical condition was diagnosed, and she was rushed to the hospital by helicopter)

(speaking of the Thai nationals who were released by Hamas, they were also taken to an Israeli hospital to be treated there until they can go home. Something that really moved me is that the hospital bought a Buddha statue so that these people could pray, even before they're well enough to be discharged)

One Israeli hostage, Roni Crivoi, managed to take advantage of Israeli fire in Gaza, escape his Hamas captors, and he tried to make his way back. Unfortunately for him, he was captured by Gazan civilians, and handed over back to Hamas. Gazan civilians are also some of the people holding Israeli hostages. One kid hostage recounted that he was locked in the attic of an UNRWA teacher (just a reminder, this is a UN employee), who barely give him food, and didn't provide him with his medication. Another was held captive by a Gazan doctor, a man who provided medical care for Palestinian kids, but betrayed his hypocratic oath when it came to an Israeli kid. And it's been Gaza civilians showing up every night, screaming, banging on the jeeps in which the Israeli hostages were being driven to their release, or even throwing rocks at those vehicles. In fact, as hostages were not told they were being freed, many of them said the violence of the crowds made them think they were being taken to be lynched.

Hamas has been violating the hostage deal repeatedly. There's the rockets fired into Israel 15 minutes after the fighting was supposed to stop, there's the promised Red Cross visits to the hostages not freed, which have not yet happened, there's the separation of kids from their mothers (such as Hilla Rotem... Hamas claimed they couldn't release her mother with Hilla, because they didn't know where the mom is. Hilla indicated this was a lie, as she was held together with her mom up until a day before her release. Or another example is Maya Regev, who was freed without er brother Itay, even though he was 18 years old and they were supposed to be released together), there's the Hamas terrorists who fired and threw explosives at IDF soldiers while the fighting is supposed to be on break (starting on day 5 of the deal, we're now on day 7), there was an attempt to offer kidnapped bodies (Israel was able to confirm that three hostages, were actually killed on Oct 7, and Hamas is holding their bodies captive) instead of living people to be released today (which Hamas tried to claim they had to do since they had no more women and kids to release today... when Israel insisted that wasn't true, and if Hamas doesn't rectify the list, the fighting will resume this morning at 7, suddenly Hamas was able to add 3 more women to the list of released hostages for today)...

On a personal note, one of my two kidnapped colleagues was released yesterday, Liat Atzili, and she's been reunited with her kids, but her husband is still in captivity. We've heard through the released hostages that my other colleague is still alive. That's a bit of a relief, since we didn't even know if there was hope for that, given the fact that he had undergone a surgery not that long ago, and is till need of medical care. This is Liat:

This was a perfect reaction to an American projecting American social concepts onto Israel, where the whole history of the conflict is completely different:

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"Israelis get to be white"

Just a reminder that while Jews come in a variety of skin colors, as the above vid nicely points out, no Jew is a part of the social construct of "being white."

This is Liora Argamani, a Chinese woman, who fell in love with and married an Israeli man. Together they had one daughter, Noa. She was kidnapped to Gaza. Liora is dying from cancer. This is the message that she wanted to share:

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