#if past me had my tenacity

[felikatze]

I feel like it's a prudent fact to know about me that as a child i attempted to novelize Mario Party DS. I copied down the entire intro sequence onto lose papers by hand.

I did not finish because I lost on the first board, but this just goes to show the only thing that's changed is my tenacity.

#feli speaks #if past me had my tenacity #he would've scripted all of Mario & Sonic at the Olympic Winter Games Vancouver 2011

[darklordofthesimp]

Ipseity (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Part of the "Anything" verse, can be read as a standalone.

Summary: When the 141 has to make a choice between saving you or a fellow sniper, you know that your time has come to an end.

A/N: This was meant to be a short filler and now it's like 4.5k long. Hope you're all happy.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Graphic Language | Graphic Violence | Gun Violence | Graphic Description of Injury

The ringing in your ears woke you up. 

It was a high-pitched squeal that scrambled your thoughts and made your head pound. You couldn't think straight, you couldn't get past the overwhelming dizziness whenever you tried to raise your chin.

Blood stung your eyes. Your chest burned. You hadn’t been in this much pain in years, every pinch of your nerves prodded at long-forgotten childhood memories. They were things that had been left behind from before you enlisted, things that no longer mattered. What mattered was that you were tied to a chair and barely breathing. 

You were going to die here. 

And nobody was coming to save you. 

"Oh,” someone crooned from behind your seat. You didn’t have the strength to turn your neck and you thanked whatever cruel deity was listening that you hadn’t flinched. The least you could do was fake some courage for what was to come. 

“Come back for more?” Your mouth was dry, wretchedly so. You wanted to gag and spit, but there was no moisture in your mouth- it was like sandpaper. 

“There’s not much left in you for me to take, Sol,” Valeria said, her fingers trailing the length of your shoulder. Your body shivered beneath her touch as she slowly circled your chair, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“Oh, I’ve always got something left for you, gorgeous,” you chuckled, flashing the drug lord a weak grin. 

She snorted, the harsh light of the overhead lamp illuminating the edges of her features. She was a sharp woman, Valeria, somebody that you secretly admired. Not for her deeds or the atrocities she’d committed, but for her tenacity and her ambition- there was no stopping her. 

“You’ve always been my favourite sniper, you know,” Valeria mused, pulling her hand from your skin to inspect it. Your blood stained her fingers, thick and warm from where it had oozed from your wounds.

“You usually kill your favourite snipers?” You tried to raise your eyebrow but sharp pain ripped through your face, you realized dimly that the skin of your forehead had been split.

“Only when they steal things that belong to me, Luz,” Valeria whispered, pressing her hands against the armrests and leaning in. “Then, I kill them.” 

“We didn’t do it,” you met her gaze evenly, the false claim falling easily from your lips. 

“You’d die a liar to protect your friends,” she nodded thoughtfully. “It’s unfortunate that they have chosen not to give you the same courtesy.” 

You frowned, taken aback by the statement. You suspected that the 141 wouldn’t be there in time, you’d come to terms with the fact that your journey might end here. But, the way she’d said it… it was as if you were missing something. 

Valeria’s brows raised, eyes wide as she mocked your surprise with a gasp. “Oh, I must have forgotten to mention it earlier.” 

“Mention what?” You ground out through your teeth. 

The drug lord huffed a laugh, pushing off from your seat and standing upright. Sweat began to form in a thin sheen across your skin, anxiety running rampant through your system. 

What did she mean? 

Valeria’s eyes hardened as she tutted under her breath, pulling the blade on her thigh from its sheath. When her attention turned back to you, the malice in her gaze made your spine straighten. 

“What you stole from me,” she began, pointing the knife towards your face, “got someone very close to me killed.” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat like gravel and your tongue like concrete. 

The woman was seething now, the cool facade that she’d worn had melted into pure vitriol and hatred. It was an expression you’d never seen on her but on so many others throughout the years, it was the stare of someone who blamed you for their loss. 

“So, as penance,” Valeria pressed the tip of the blade to rest against your chest, “your Task Force will have to lose one of their own- even after they bring me the information.” 

“What-” 

“We have the other sniper,” the drug lord shrugged. “The little broken one.” 

Your heart stalled in your chest, fear dousing your body like a bucket of ice water. Blood rushed through your ears, loud and roaring and all-consuming with the sound. You couldn’t think straight, the image of your colleague being tortured flashed across your vision like a spotlight. 

“Birdy.” You whispered the name but it sounded like a plea rather than a statement. Valeria must have heard the begging in your voice because she only smiled. 

“Birdy,” she confirmed, with a smug tilt of her head. 

God, please no. 

“Let them go!” You lurched against your restraints. 

The latina's eyes were like stone, hard and unyielding. She was in pain, she was hurting and now it was her chance to hurt you all for what you’d done.

“I will,” she nodded her head soothingly, fingers coming to trace your trembling jaw. You snatched your face from her touch and she raised a brow. When she leaned back with a sigh, you knew what was coming. 

Valeria struck you hard. 

The wounds on your face screamed and it felt like someone was making you gargle molten lava. Your eyes watered but you made no sound, you gave her nothing to indicate that she’d hurt you. 

“The 141 will bring me what they stole,” Valeria sucked in a breath, watching you from beneath her lashes. “But they can only save one of you.” 

Your eyes widened. 

They can only save one of you. 

You knew then that you were going to die here. 

“What’s the matter, pequeño sol?” Valeria spoke with a mocking lilt. Your body trembled. “You don’t think they will come for you?” 

“No.” 

The word was soft and broken and you wondered if the drug lord had even heard it. The way that her smile wavered implied that she did. 

“No,” she nodded, standing straight. “Neither do I.”

If you hadn’t been so shattered, you would have seen the glimmer of pity pass over her features. 

You took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, "will you keep your word?"

"What?" 

"Will you keep your word?" You repeated firmly. No one was stupid enough to trust the word of a drug lord but right there and then you would take it as law. If you were going to die you needed to know that Birdy would be safe. 

Your eyes bore into hers. Valeria swallowed and you could see her hesitation, the desire to spit on the dying flame in your chest and put it out. 

Instead, the woman only nodded. 

"I will." 

Instantly, you relaxed in your seat and leaned your head back with a sigh. You closed your eyes, fighting the tears that had gathered along your lashes. 

This was it. 

This was the end of it. 

You weren't stupid enough to expect anyone to come save you, not when Birdy's life hung in the balance. There was never a doubt about who was more valued on the team, despite your skills you'd never be able to contend with Birdy's spot on the team. 

It wasn't about who was better, it was about who was loved. 

And nobody in the 141 loved you more than they loved Birdy. 

No one. 

Your lips trembled and you fury rose like a volcanic eruption from within your chest. You would not die crying. You would not die without dignity. 

"I'll be leaving to retrieve my package," Valeria sighed, sheathing her knife. "Once the handover is made, my men will put you down."

You grinned.

"After all we've been through," you feigned hurt. "I thought you'd want to do the honors, gorgeous." 

But Valeria didn't bite. She didn't laugh nor did she retaliate, the woman only watched you with an unreadable expression. 

"We are the same, me and you, Sunshine." The drug lord stood tall, "Deberías haber sido valorado. Morir con orgullo."

You blinked dumbly.  "I don't know what the fuck you said but I'm going to assume you think I'm hot and that you regret not sleeping with me before I die." 

Valeria rolled her eyes and turned away. 

"You act tough, Sol. Don't die thinking this is anything but a betrayal."

Betrayal. 

You offered nothing but a snort, laughing the chill of her words off your spine.

The woman left the room and immediately the silence was overwhelming. There was no one to lie to now, no one to throw your facade at. You found yourself almost asking her to stay as she closed the door behind her, biting your tongue to reserve your dignity. But, you didn't want to be alone, not when the end was approaching so quickly.

 Though, you guess you'd done this to yourself. 

Always good, but never enough. König was your best friend, but you knew he'd leave you in a heartbeat to save the sniper he truly loved- you couldn't ask any differently from him. 

After all, if it had been between him and Ghost, you were sure you'd make the same decision. 

A pathetic tragedy in itself considering the feeling wasn't mutual.

Simon Riley loved Birdy, just as the rest of them did.

You would never compare, you'd never come close, not with your ambitious demeanor- not with your shitty attitude. You'd never allowed yourself to view them as family and when they'd tried to include you, you hadn't let them in. 

If your own family had wronged you, your own flesh and blood, what would the 141 do any differently?

By the looks of the situation: nothing. 

No one was coming to save you. 

The burning beneath your lids became so aggressive you wanted to tear the skin from your face. You wanted to gouge out your eyes, just so that the only thing dripping would be blood- not tears. 

Never tears. 

You were not Birdy, you did not cry. 

You were not Birdy. 

You'd never be Birdy. 

The pressure in your chest grew and swelled and suffocated, extinguishing the fire you'd kept burning for years. Through everything, you'd held strong. Through hellfire and brimstone, you'd crawled your way across death and misfortune to emerge from the ashes stronger. 

You did not break. Not until now. 

A scream ripped from your chest, unrecognizable. It wasn't you who wailed, it was the child inside who mourned their life. It was the adult who'd never been loved the way they'd prayed for in the dead of the night.

Never enough.

Never enough for König, the man who always found himself by Birdy's side, chasing for the crumbs of their attention.

Never enough for Simon Riley, who'd taken your heart and crushed it every time he watched you with distaste- with disappointment.   

You were never the priority. 

Never his priority. 

You'd never be anything to Ghost, not the way Birdy was.

But you were not Birdy and you'd not die wishing that you were. 

You pulled at your restraints, thrashing in your chair with renewed energy. While you knew it was unlikely you'd escape, at least you'd be put down fighting. 

"Hey!" One of Valeria's henchmen shouted. 

You struggled harder, the skin of your wrists ripping from beneath the ties. Fresh blood trailed down your fingers and you smeared it wherever you could reach, wetting the braided rope until it was slick with crimson rage.

Your heart jumped as your hands slipped through the restraints, the gory lubrication helping you pull your crumpled fingers free. 

"Stop!" The cool metal of a barrel pressed against your forehead, putting an instant halt on your plans. 

You glared up at the man before you, his eyes were hard but his hand trembled, the weapon jittering against your skull. 

"I will fucking paint this room with your brains," he hissed, the cigarette in his mouth jolting with each word. "Try me, I dare you." 

"If the 141 comes with the package and I'm dead, Valeria will butcher your entire family, cabrón." You were careful as you spoke, enunciating each word as clearly as you could muster. 

The butt of his weapon struck your cheek hard enough to send stars skittering across your vision. 

"I speak," the man hissed, "not you."

"I'm trying to warn you-" 

He hit you again, this time harder. You felt your teeth dislodge from in your mouth and panic gripped your heart as they slid down your throat. 

"I said don't speak!" He shouted, the words warbled as your vision spun. Your head lolled to the side, gagging as you choked on your own bones. Bile speared through your chest as a combination of blood and stomach acid hit the floor weakly. Your teeth clattered across the ground, like dice rolling across the board. 

"Ricky!" The man called over his shoulder. "Alguna palabra sobre el paquete?

"Aún nada, hermano."

"Mierda! ¿Por qué tarda tanto?"

The conversation fell on deaf ears as you fought to keep yourself conscious. Your hands were freed but now the element of surprise was lost and there was a barrel pressed against your face. 

"I should kill you right now," the man spat in English. "You fucking murdered my brothers like a coward."

"They should learn to duck," you shrugged weakly. 

This time when he hit you, it threw your seat backward. You hadn't been able to move your hands in time before the weight of your body and the steel spines of the chair slammed against your forearms. 

A sickening crunch reverberated through the room, echoing like the toll of a church bell and while that was loud, your scream was deafening. 

"Let's be honest with ourselves, Sunshine," the man laughed, watching you as you writhed and sobbed. "Nobody is coming to save you." 

He cocked the weapon slowly, leaning down to press the barrel against your forehead once again. You couldn't even keep your eyes open as you struggled for breath, choking on your own spit and blood as you shrieked. You wanted to watch him, you wanted to go down with defiance- but fear gripped your throat so tightly you were choking on it.

You weren't going to die fighting. 

You were going to die suffering. 

When the gunshot came, your body recoiled so hard that your head smashed the concrete beneath you. In that horrible moment of silence that followed, you wondered if there was no peace even in death. Agony ripped through your nervous system, every inch of your body screamed for relief. 

If this was death, then you were in hell. 

"Think again, cunt."

The distinct cockney accent had your spine straightening and your eyes snapping open. 

The gun clattered beside your head, unfired. 

You weren't dead. 

"Sunshine!"

You were being saved. 

"Talk to me, Sunshine!" 

The voice was so far away, he was too far away, he wasn't going to make it. You weren't going to make it. The man on the floor next to you must have sat back up because you could feel his hands gripping your shoulders, the gun rattling in your ears. 

Fingers gripped your face, jostling you from your semi-conscious state. Your vision was blurred by your own blood and tears, the figure before you a mess of shadows. You screamed, trying to pull your broken arms from beneath the chair to defend yourself until help got to you. 

Searing hot pain ran up the lengths of your arms and stabbed into your neck. You gagged, a low bellow wrenching from your throat as you heaved. 

"Stop! Stop! Don't move!" 

"Get away from me!" You wailed, voice shrill and unhinged. You tugged again and this time his hands came down on your shoulders. 

"SUNSHINE!"

The roar of your name made your entire body freeze, clutching you by the throat with the desperation behind the callsign. You closed your eyes, a whimper falling from your lips to taint your dignity. 

"Jesus." He sounded like Ghost. It couldn't have been him but, God, you wished it was. "Come on, Sweetheart. Look at me." 

"I can't see," you wept. 

His thumbs swept over your face, gloves wiping the blood from where it had settled on your lids and lashes. You tried again, blinking the crimson liquid from your eyes as best you could. You imagined that you looked a sight, the whites of your eyes a deep red, stained with evidence of your injuries. Finally, your vision settled. 

Simon stared back at you, eyes wide. 

You gasped. 

"Simon?" You slurred, his name broken on your lips. 

"Yeah, Sunshine. S'me." He murmured distractedly. His fingers were twitching on your neck, scanning the rest of your body for injuries.

Your heart was beating against your ribs, sudden anxiety flooding your being.  If he was here it meant that they'd brought the package to you rather than to Birdy. 

That meant… 

"No, no, no," you whispered as the Lieutenant lifted the chair with one hand, pulling your broken hands from behind your back. "No, no, Simon, what're you doing here?" 

Ghost recoiled slightly, a frown overtaking his features. "The fuck do you mean?" 

"Birdy," you rasped, a sob building in your chest. "You need to get Birdy. What about Birdy?" 

"Birdy's-" 

You fought to stand up, pushing him out of the way as you stumbled to your feet. Your body swayed side to side as your vision swam, but you weren't going down- not again. 

"Need a gat. Need Birdy- we can't lose Birdy. Everybody needs Birdy-" 

"Sunshine." 

"I can't lose Birdy!" You snapped, reeling on your superior with a broken gaze. 

For a moment, he stood frozen, speechless. You'd never recover if they killed the other sniper, no one would. Everyone would blame you, it'd be your fault.

"König's got Birdy," Ghost said slowly, straightening to stand to his full height. "I've got you, Sunshine."

You gawked at him as though you hadn't understood a single word he'd said. Realistically, you truly hadn't. They'd come for you, knowing that it would put everyone at risk. 

Simon had come for you, leaving Birdy to a man that he hated with every ounce of his being. 

Simon had come for you, not Birdy. 

"You're here?" You whispered and although it sounded fucking stupid, Ghost only nodded. He knew what you were really asking. 

"Of course," he said. "Of course, I am."

"You came for me?" Your voice broke.

The soldier shuffled on his feet, shaking his head as though he thought it was obvious. 

"I'd follow you anywhere. We both know it," he huffed, that dark gaze pinning your soul to your chest. 

You rocked forward at the words, knees buckling from beneath you. Simon shot forward instantly, his arms looping around your waist and hauling you upward. His hand came to grip your chin, fingers slapping your cheek lightly as your eyes rolled backward. 

"Come on, Sweetheart. Stay with it, it's nothin',"  he growled, jostling your body to keep you conscious. Your head fell forward to rest against his shoulder, ears ringing and your mind shattered. "Sunshine, stay awake for me."

You couldn't any longer, you couldn't listen to him. He should have been used to it by now, you'd always been the troublesome one for him. Never directly disobeying him but never doing it the way he asked, always driving him bat-shit fucking crazy- always under his skin. 

But, if Simon couldn't save you, you'd die happy knowing that he'd even tried. 

You'd die happy knowing that somebody loved you. 

—

When you thought of dying, you always had such a visceral image of what would happen. You'd be the last one on your line, and the rest of your unit would be shot down; you'd make a stand on a hill and wipe out the enemy until you were out of ammo. Then, you would fight until you were overwhelmed. 

That was the death you'd imagined. 

Not abandoned and left alone in a warehouse in a sick game of "pick the sniper you like more." 

"They'll fully recover physically," someone sighed from above your head. "Mentally, though…" 

"They'll be right," Simon finished. 

"That's what they said about Birdy," the doctor muttered. "We all know how that ended." 

"Doc-" 

"Saint."

Simon cleared his throat. 

"Saint," the callsign foreign on his tongue, "Sunshine's not Birdy."

To hear it from Simon Riley himself was all the validation you needed. 

You stirred in the bed and immediately all conversation fell quiet, the both of them waiting for you to fully awaken. 

You knew you were in the hospital before your eyes opened. You recognised the doctor who was talking, a medic who had yelled at you often for ‘being reckless.’ The smell of antiseptic was near seared into your memory and the sound of the monitor beeping was too familiar. 

However, the room was brighter than you’d anticipated and you cringed into your pillow with a moan. The overhead light stung your eyes, searing your retinas and making it near impossible for you to think. 

“Get the lights,” Saint ordered, realizing what the issue was. 

The room fell dim, enough for you to finally pry your lids open and have a look around. Your jaw felt heavy like there was cotton in your mouth. As you probed with your tongue, you realised with a pitted stomach that there actually was something stuffed between your teeth. 

You moaned, reaching upward to pull it out. 

It was as though you’d set off a bomb with the movement. Both Simon and Saint immediately shot forward, hands on your arms to rest them by your side gently. They stood on either side of your bed, like two sentries, one dark and one light. 

“Gonna need you to just relax a second for me, spitfire,” Saint chuckled. 

You huffed, fighting the urge to gag on the material in your mouth. Your tongue ran over it, moving to dislodge it from where it had been wedged between your teeth. 

“Now,” the doctor leaned over to adjust your drip. “Do you remember your name and what happened?” 

Rather than respond, you opted to slowly let the gauze fall out of your mouth and onto your chest. Saint watched you with a deadpan expression as you fought with your facial injuries to perform this feat. 

At the end of it, you offered a weak smile. 

A long moment of silence ensued before the doctor sighed, staring at the lumps of bloody fabric sitting on the gown. 

“I’m gonna go grab some shit,” they said. “Maybe a fuckin’ whiskey.” 

They disappeared from the room swiftly, leaving you alone with the Grim Reaper himself. With a harsh sigh through his nose, the Lieutenant reached over and scooped up the gauze, dropping them into the bin. 

“You couldn’t just answer the question?” He muttered, moving to crouch by your head. He wore only his balaclava, his hoodie down for once. 

“Not with that in my mouth,” you rasped, words thick and sickly. 

Simon snorted softly but he said nothing, opting to watch you instead. His gaze ran from your hair to your neck, over and over as if he were committing you to memory. His expression was gentle but there was something hidden that made you think that, at that moment, he was extremely vulnerable. 

Anything you said from this point on would determine the relationship between you both. You remembered what he’d confessed when he found you beaten and bloody on the floor. It was clear as day and imprinted on your brain as though it had been branded on the inside of your skull. 

“I would follow you anywhere. We both know it.” 

You’d both reached the point of no return, no more smoke and mirrors, no more half-truths. Neither of you could get away with hiding your feelings behind hatred anymore. 

Not after he’d chosen you. 

“You came for me,” you whispered. A statement, not a question this time.

“Of course,” he said again, just as he had before. 

You hadn’t realised you were crying until his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping the tears from your cheeks ever so gently. As much as you hated it, as much as you wanted to stop, you couldn’t hold them back. 

The relief was palpable, the understanding that you were valued was freeing. 

Simon Riley knew the kind of person you were, right at your very core, and he still chose to love you. He still chose to hold your hand and dry your tears with nothing but pure reverence in his gaze. 

You realized then and there, that you were valued.

You were enough.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 ghost #cod x reader #cod mw2 #modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty mw2 #cod ghost

[onlyswan]

summary: in which a shameless ex-lover makes your bad day worse and jungkook can’t help but to go wherever you are.

> fluff, dashes of angst / wc: 4k

> warnings: mention of blood bc oc gets scratched :( + is ready to throw hands at jk’s ex and then cries lol, taehyung cameo and mentions of yeontan :P + a line of jk reminds me of the orpheus drabble <3

note: last one for a while as i take a rest from writing and process jimin’s album <3 reblogs and feedback are always appreciated! it goes a long way :]

—

“jungkook, you’ve been in there for an hour! answer your phone!”

you click your tongue in annoyance, bouncing your thighs up and down as you fiddle with the controller and collect your kills with reckless tenacity. the ringing of the third phone call he’s receiving in the past ten minutes is overpowering the volume of the game, which you turned all the way down just enough so that you can faintly yet clearly hear it. well, right now, you can’t anymore. again.

“baby, you’re home?!” jungkook yells in surprise, and you spare him a glance.

half of his naked torso is peeking out of the bathroom door, and he looks like a maltese puppy who heedlessly jumped into a swimming pool, hair still dripping wet and pure excitement painted all over his face.

“who’s calling anyway? you can answer it for me!“

“can’t. i’m playing call of duty.”

“you’re what?!” he exclaims, but his voice enters your ear then escapes from the other as you remain deeply absorbed in the game. he disappears for a minute before emerging from the bathroom, half-naked with a striped white and khaki towel wrapped around his waist down to his knees.

you’re situated on the floor with your back leaning on the couch. he stands beside you with his hands on his waist, watching the television screen in sheer curiosity, which then morphs into astonishment. “wow, you’re actually playing it… i haven’t seen you touch your controller in months. but why are you sudden- yah! what is this? how are you doing so good?!”

the phone lying on the center table lights up once more. the incessant noise is seriously getting into your nerves and you’ve had enough of it, gritting your teeth as you snap. “i’m begging you. answer it. or i might break something.”

the irritation embedded in your voice makes him jut out his bottom lip sadly. more than that, your facial expression and body language evidently scream that you’re feeling on edge. you didn’t even bother to let him know that you’ve come home, and he’s uncertain if you nearly muted the volume because you don’t want to listen to the ear-shattering sounds of ammunition being fired or you don’t want him to hear them.

he picks up the phone per your request, eyebrows knitting in confusion when he fails to recognize the number flashing on the screen.

“it’s an unregistered number. i don’t know who- oopsie-” he scrunches his nose, chuckling because he accidentally ended the call when he muted the device. it vibrates with a new message from the same person not too long after.

“it’s my ex?” he blinks with a blank expression on his face. he intently reads the content of the text, tugging at the silver ring piercing the corner of his lower lip. “uhhh- she’s… asking me to put in a good word for her… because she applied to be an in-house choreographer at- at the company.”

on the other hand, you feel like a bucket of ice water was dunked over your head at the mention of your boyfriend’s ex-lover. your vigorous focus on the game wavers, but luckily, you’re already so close to finishing, and you still maintain half a mind to end the game in your own terms. the word ‘victory’ flashes on the giant screen, and you almost break down into tears because god knows you needed a fucking win today.

jungkook gasps in amazement, whipping out the camera app to capture a photo of your achievement. “did you just fucking win solo versus squads?”

the thing is… you’re not the biggest fan of these games. sure, you play occasionally (only using his accounts because you like how he already has most items unlocked and you can freely play around… you like to pretend that you’ve never been scolded for making him rank down before), but you prefer the relaxing types with adorable and colorful graphics. and just like he said, you haven’t touched your controller in months, which must be the reason why he’s pleasantly surprised. you won’t be shocked if you get bombarded by his gamer friends to play with them tomorrow, by the looks of your boyfriend proudly typing away at his keyboard while smiling from ear-to-ear.

“don’t move on too fast.” you breathe out a deep sigh before standing on your feet. “which ex? that bitch you broke up with because she kept on picking stupid fights with your friends? and now she wants to work with them?”

the combination of your harsh intonation and the recollection of dreadful memories make him wince. that relationship didn’t end on good terms, so this is confusing to him as well. it was a person he wholeheartedly liked, but they barely lasted six months because the way she treated those who are near and dear to him, unkind and discorteous, eventually turned him off and made him nothing but angry. she tried to convince him that she could change, but it was his decision that could no longer be changed.

does it even matter? he didn’t dwell on it too long, anyway. because then, he met you.

“yes,” he shortly answers, flipping his phone so the screen is facing you.

your brain chooses to not register any of the other characters used in the text except for those at the end: the flirty ‘Thanks babe! I miss u so much. See u around soon. Let’s catch up’ and winking emoji blowing a red heart next to it. you release yet another sigh, this time shaky and frustrated, and you gently move his hand aside to get the phone out of your sight. a headache is beginning to blossom at your temples, and you truly do not have the energy to deal with this bullshit right now.

“you must know how i feel about this, right?”

“i’m not sure-”

“like if she calls you ‘babe’ infront of my face i won’t hold back and i will claw her eyes ou-“

“okay, okay, baby, i got it!” he chuckles, taking a hold of your arms to pull you closer to him. he plants a sweet kiss to your lips, hoping that would aid in putting your mind at ease. “i won’t let her call me that again, hmm? or do anything that will make either of us uncomfortable for that matter.”

“good. i trust you. do whatever you want.” you speak softly, giving his rosy cheek light pats. he always looks a dash more attractive when fresh from the shower, so entrancingly hypnotic when bare-faced that it makes you want to fall on your knees and worship the stardust making up his existence.

unfortunately, your mind is too clouded and restless and you can’t stay to admire him some more. you withdraw from his hold, the cold drops of water from his hair sliding down to your forearm and you wipe them away on his towel.

“i’m going out for a bit. i need to buy something at the convenience store.”

you don’t wait for him to answer. you head straight to the bedroom to collect your essentials.

“wait for me. i’ll go with you!”

you return wearing a long purple jacket over your blue t-shirt and white sweatpants, also carrying your phone, wallet and pepper spray.

“i’ll be fine alone. i got this.” you wave the small bottle infront of him before stuffing it in the pocket of your sweatpants.

the front door rings as it opens and shuts, and jungkook despises the weight sitting on top of his chest— heavier and heavier with your absence. he still wanted to insist on tagging along, worried because it’s already late at night, but he gave up when he sensed that you really need to be left alone.

“shit, let me take care of this first.” he tilts his head to the side, and then the other, cracking his neck before he scrolls through his contact list to make an important call.

—

the soles of your sneakers scratch the rough asphalt as you lazily drag yourself to the convenience store. you’re having one of those kind of bad days- you woke up this morning mad at the world for a reason you couldn’t decipher, and it only got worse after you left the house for work. you brushed against someone while chasing the bus and the zipper of their bag scratched your arm that it bled uncontrollably. the nearest restaurant to your workplace was closed and you had to walk an extra kilometer. you didn’t have the time to text jungkook and complain about the shitty day you’ve been having. and you had to suffer the bus ride home beside an old teacher from high school who never ran out of uninteresting stories to tell.

oh! and how can you not mention that you were subjected to remembering that your boyfriend fell in love with other people before he knew you? the mere mental image of jungkook being emotionally and physically intimate with somebody else is a strong punch in the gut that makes you want to run in a corner and hurl.

and to rub salt on the wound, his ex-girlfriend, who is more than comfortable to reach out to him with an old term of endearment, wants to work at close proximity with him after saying ‘i miss you so much’… was the ‘so much’ necessary? was saying ‘i miss you’ necessary at all? you don’t know her intentions or if she even has any, and you don’t care if they’re good or bad. you simply cannot bear the idea of having to be constantly plagued by these vexatious musings.

maybe a good cry would help, but the tears won’t come out of your stinging eyes blinded by bright and flickering neon shop signs lined up beside the street. they’re saltwater in your lungs, making it difficult for you to breathe and to make sense of why you don’t feel like yourself today. it’s hormones. it’s always the hormones, you try telling yourself.

—

you’re sitting infront of the glass wall separating the sidewalk and the convenience store, watching the humans and the cars speeding past without much thought in your head… except for the hellish torture you’re inflicting on yourself. you sniffle loudly as you chew the spicy noodles in your mouth. your tongue is tingling and almost numb, but you lift up the flimsy wooden chopsticks to eat more of it because somehow, this is exactly what you needed. perhaps, it wasn’t accidental when you ended up pouring most of the buldak sauce.

however, your own little bubble gets popped by a tattooed hand you recognize all too well. it sets down a bottle of cold water infront of your cup of noodles.

“hi there.”

jungkook kisses the top of your head before occupying the stool on your left, which is the second seat farthest from the door that chimes every time a new customer walks in. he is very much not naked anymore, wearing a plain white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his hair is still damp, bangs forming a perfect comma on his forehead, and the thin silver chain dangling from his delicate neck sparkles when the light grazes it.

“aigoo, why are you so messy?“

the doe eyes behind his glasses smile at you warmly as he wipes your swollen lips, the paper napkin you’ve been neglecting now stained with the dark red sauce.

“you’re here?” you ask dumbly, wanting to slap yourself right after the words escape your mouth because yes, what the fuck, he’s here. he’s touching you, and he’s real.

“of course, i’m here,” his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he answers, sounding upset. he removes his glasses and places it on top of the long white table. “i just wore the first things i saw then speedwalked here. i was sorting out the laundry and your handkerchief had blood all over it! care to explain?”

you guiltily avoid eye-contact, reverting your attention to the food as you poke and mix the noodles that have gone dry due to the cold air. “you didn’t have to. i already cleaned the wound twice- my left arm just got scratched.” you shrug your shoulders meekly. “i had a bad day, that’s all.”

“who do i have to fight, huh? who hurt you and ruined your day?” he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting it up to make you look at him. his sincere concern is written all over his widened round eyes and creased forehead. “tell me, baby. i’ll make them pay.”

“well,” you anxiously sink your teeth on your bottom lip, a hesitant effort to control yourself because the particular word tastes too sour on your tongue. “your ex was just my last straw, you know? i don’t even want to call you ‘babe’ anymore.” your voice gradually quiets down in exasperation.

“why not?!”

you roll your eyes with a huff, pushing his hand away. “you’ll just remember her every time i say it.”

you grab the bottle of water, twisting off the cap and hissing when its ridges scratch the heel of your palm. you take big gulps of the beverage, feeling refreshed after the burning onslaught that assaulted your mouth.

“oh, come here. you- i need you closer.”

you squeak when you feel the heavy metal chair moving closer towards jungkook’s direction, one hand flying to your mouth and the other gripping his shoulder in fear of falling. he jokingly copies you when you send him a sharp glare. he puts an arm around you to affectionately hold the curve of your waist, anchoring his elbow on the table to rest his face on the palm of his hand.

“i took care of that, alright? i asked the company and they told me they put her on the waitlist. pretty sure she knows, too- that she’s not getting the job.“ he raises his perfectly shaped eyebrows in jest, playfully sticking out his tongue. “i told her i can’t help her, and not to contact me again in the future because i’m in a committed relationship. with you.” he squeezes your hip to reiterate his words. “then i blocked her number. i thought i did it before, but i guess i forgot to? ah, i don’t know!”

a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips and he happily grins when he notices, deep dimples making an appearance. unable to resist the urge, he briefly draws closer to kiss your cheek.

“besides, i forgot she even existed. why would i think of her when my favorite person is right infront of me? that’s absurd.”

he was truthfully flabbergasted at the foggy memories that resurfaced when he read her name, had one of those ‘oh, that’s right, this happened,’ and ‘why the fuck did i like this person again?’ moments.

“you’re the only one i think of when i hear the word ‘babe’. and when i hear love songs, or breakup songs, because they make me imagine us breaking up and i get so fucking sad.” his expression crumples into a look of sheepishness after spitting out the unplanned confession.

it’s terrifying at times, how an imaginary breakup with you feels more painful than his past heartbreaks combined. he almost lost you once, and he won’t let that happen again. he removes his hand on your waist to tenderly caress your hair when you bury your face in your hands.

shaking your head, you giggle at the genuine distress lacing his voice when he said the last sentence. “what are you saying?”

and then it finally happens.

restrained sobs replace the carefree giggles racking your body. your hot tears soak the palm of your hands until they drip down to your wrists. your frail voice comes out trembling, shattered, and disgustingly vulnerable for a space scattered with prying eyes and ears.

“…i just- fuck, i don’t want to say this but- i don’t think you understand- that i’m selfish. and i want you all for myself. i can’t stand that everybody wants to have you. i hate it, jungkook.”

your name rolls off from his tongue with a soft sigh as he pulls you in for a tight embrace. the comfort of his love and warmth further breaks you down, and you almost make yourself bleed to keep your cries quiet. his silken lips brush against your temple before he puckers them for a kiss that lasts four, five, six… seconds. you begin wondering if he might just stay like this forever, not that you mind, until he detaches himself to speak and you hear the smooching sound that signals the end of it.

“shhh, trust me, baby. i do.” he rubs your shoulder to soothe your tensed up body. “but i don’t care about that. they can die trying because i only want to be yours.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as his reassuring words tug at your heartstrings. you wiggle out of his secure arms, wiping your tears with the paws of your jacket as you force a smile. “it’s embarrassing. i don’t want to cry here.”

“how about in there, then?” he teasingly undoes the third button of his shirt, exposing more of his honey skin to the cool air. it reveals the rest of his silver chain, and his defined pecs are also peeking out. you whine in protest of his scandalousness, pounding his chest lightly with your closed fist.

he chuckles, corners of her crinkling with mischief as he buttons himself up again. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding-” he cradles your face in his hands, gingerly wiping away the tears still rolling down your cheeks.

between the two of you, he admits that he’s the one who cries more easily. it takes a colossal build-up of emotions for your tears to be released, and today’s influx caused your sink to overflow at long last. seeing you weep, it feels like a direct stab to the heart— especially unbearable, twisting deeper, when he’s part reason why. even so, it’s a big relief when the weight you’re carrying is being unloaded. but he understands that you don’t want to do that here… not here.

“as if you’ll let someone steal me away from you, huh? i know you, you cunning minx.”

you feign innocence, batting your eyelashes. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“that’s exactly what i’m talking about.” he smirks before planting a chaste kiss on tip of your nose. “don’t cry anymore. i love you.”

“i love you, too. but-” you sniffle, frowning at him as you motion at the cup of noodles infront of you. “why did you have to go and make me feel better? i don’t feel like finishing this anymore. it’s too spicy.”

“yeah, i can tell. look at your face. oh-” he squeezes your puffy face in one hand. “you were already crying eating that, poor baby… i’ll just finish the rest, how about that?”

“please,” you smile sweetly, delighted with his preposition. “i’ll buy ice cream. do you want anything? beer?”

“beer-” his face lights up like a christmas tree when it dawns on him that you said the word simultaneously.

you beam proudly, recounting the time you’ve been well-acquainted with every nook and cranny of jungkook’s essence of being. “did i pass the test? i’m taking my master’s degree in kookology.”

—

after jungkook finished your spicy noodles, he claimed his appetite only treated it as an appetizer and it demanded to be served ramyeon for the main course. that brings you to this moment, your boyfriend applying bandaids on your arm while he waits for his food to be cooked. concurrently, you devour your cone of vanilla ice cream.

“babe, i think two is enough.“ you attempt to stop him from opening another one of the teddy bear patterned bandaids. he found them displayed by the counter when he paid for the ramyeon, and only then did he realize that he forgot why he ran to you in the first place.

“they’re not- it goes all the way down your elbow.”

and you can’t argue with him because he looks undoubtedly pissed off, his expression instantly darkening when he saw the damage that damn zipper did to your skin. if this happened to him, he would be in a terrible mood for the rest of the day, too.

he plants a healing kiss on top of each one and your heart flutters at the loving gestures, but you feel a little ridiculous walking around with three bandaids running across your arm. you decide to wear your jacket again in order to hide them, since you’re freezing beside the airconditioner anyway.

jungkook starts eating his second round of noodles, but not before boasting that he perfectly separated the wooden chopsticks unlike you. you roll your eyes at his cocky grin and tiny dance of celebration, taking another bite of the cone you’ve consumed halfway.

the two of you comically freeze at the same time when a familiar ringtone tickles your ears.

“who would be calling at this hour? it’s 1am!” jungkook puts down his chopsticks to fish out his phone from the depths of his pocket, his thick satoori accent slipping out as he chides the person on the other line. he shakes his head with a laugh when he sees the name written on the screen. “ey, of course, it’s him again. i knew it.”

you watch him with an amused smile, his reaction giving you an inkling of who it is.

he answers the video call and props up the phone on his tall can of beer, grabbing his chopsticks to resume eating. “hyung, did you just wake up again?”

judging by the background, taehyung is in his gaming room. the given keywords being messy hair and eyes as puffy as yours, you’re pretty sure the answer to your boyfriend’s question is yes.

his deep and rough voice rumbles through the speaker. “jungkook-ah, i just caught up to our gc. where’s ___?”

“with me. why?” jungkook answers, words muffled as he chews and bounces his legs with the pleasure of having his food craving beyond satisfied.

taehyung ignores his question for the second time, instead calling out your name to catch your attention.

“whyyy?” you mimic his sulky tone, slightly shifting the phone to the side to show him your face.

you snicker when he flashes you his famous boxy smile, almost choking on your ice cream when his following remarks cause jungkook to throw a fit.

“play with me. no one else is awake and i’m getting bored of jungkook. he doesn’t want to play new games.”

“yah! you know i can still hear you, right?!” he takes a break from chugging his beer to throw his retort.

“i know, i wanted you to.” taehyung blows a raspberry at his best friend.

you grimace, stealing the opportunity to butt in before their banter lengthens. “listen, i’ll play with you if you let me play with tannie again.”

he opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes it again to stare at you nonchalantly. you impatiently quirk an eyebrow at his silence. “soooo?”

“wait there. i’ll think about it.”

and then he ends the call.

jungkook throws his head back, bursting into vibrant laughter after witnessing the interaction, and your head drops on the table with a pitiful whimper.

with bam staying at the training center for the meantime, you awfully miss the rush of happy chemicals flooding your brain in the company of man’s best friend. it was two weeks ago when you and jungkook hung out at taehyung’s house. you spent some time with yeontan at the park after you complained about getting bored watching them play ‘i’m on observation duty’. and he wasn’t… very happy when his dog started flat-out ignoring him in favor of your presence ever since you came back from the walk. tannie was adamant on sitting on your lap during dinnertime, even almost following you past the front door when it was time for you to leave.

“aww, my baby.” jungkook strokes your back with faux sympathy. “he hasn’t moved on from it yet. give him some time… maybe, like, five more minutes?”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

[flanaganfilm]

Hey, Mike! Did moving to Los Angeles at the start of your career turn out to be all that you thought it would be? It’s a big step that a lot of people take, and I’ve never really heard you talk about those early years before. Did you ever contemplate quitting? And if so, I’m glad you stuck to it - we love your work!

Oh, I contemplated quitting many, many times.

I moved to Los Angeles in January, 2003. I had just graduated the previous summer from Towson University, and a group of five of us moved out together. Some wanted to be filmmakers, some wanted to be actors. We shared a 3-bedroom apartment in Glendale. The adjacent apartment was occupied by four other Towson alums. Between the two apartments, we called it "Little Towson." I didn't own a car at the start. I had no health insurance. I'd saved a few thousand dollars to get me through the first six months, but none of us had jobs at the beginning. I remember applying (and being rejected) for a job at Walmart. I combed Craigslist looking for non-union editorial gigs.

I had told myself I'd give it five years, and if I hadn't gotten any traction, I'd move back to Maryland.

People started dropping out pretty quickly. One of my roommates (and one of my best friends) had moved out here to be an actor, and only lasted a few months before he decided to go back. It's overwhelming and terrifying to take a leap into a city as expensive as LA, and you're surrounded by people who all want the same career that you want. But it feels like there is a thousand foot wall circling the industry, and it seems impossible to scale it.

I found work doing odd editorial jobs before working as a logger, than an assistant editor, then an editor on a few reality shows. I shot and cut those local car commercials you see on late night cable. And I frequently ran out of money and overdrafted my account. As more and more of our original group gave up and moved back East, I started to feel more and more crazy. A lot of my friends from school were getting married, buying houses, having kids. I felt pretty delusional as my 5-year deadline came and went, and I still hadn't found any way over or through that wall. When we started to talk about making Absentia in 2010, I had been in LA for more than 7 years. I was working two jobs as an editor. I found out I was going to be a father. It felt very much like whatever I'd wanted to happen by moving to LA was not going to happen. Absentia was kind of last-ditch effort. Ultimately, the five year plan I'd allowed myself when I moved to LA turned into a 9-year plan. I started shooting Oculus - my first "real" movie - in the fall of 2012, just shy of my 10th anniversary in Los Angeles. That movie wouldn't come out for a while after that, so by the time I actually had a career as a filmmaker, well over a decade had passed struggling in LA.

For most of that time, my refusal to move back to Maryland looked (and felt) like a delusion. Only afterward did it start to look like "tenacity." And it never felt like "persistence" or "determination"... it felt insane. It felt like constant, daily frustration and rejection. And when I couldn't pay the bills, or couldn't land a job, it felt downright embarrassing.

For what it's worth, the only difference I've seen between people who "make it" out here and don't are that the ones who made it all stayed long past their expiration dates. I've seen wildly talented people pack it up and head home. Talent helps a lot once the door is open, but really the only thing that opens the door is persistence. To the point of feeling insane.

#los angeles #film business #behind the scenes #I felt absolutely insane for almost ten years

[magicxc]

Rain Down On Me

Pairings: Survey Corps x Black!Reader - Where They Like To Cum

Word Count: 4407

Warnings: Just a whole lotta cum lol

A/N: Phew chile, not me dipping my toes in the anime water. It’s gonna be SO much fun! I can’t wait to explore different scenarios and play around with my favorite characters. That being said, expect a wide range of topics from the mundane to the sexy. And for my first piece I had to come out the gate SWINGING lol. So without further ado, enjoy:

Eren - inside. He only committed mass genocide to preserve his race. Might as well see if all his efforts proved futile. 

Lets face it, Eren is a rough lover. The only thing gentle about him are his deep green eyes, and even they can be intimidating. But it’s his sheer tenacity that makes him so intense; his need to get something right the first time, everytime, almost concerning. So it should really come as no surprise that he needs to get you pregnant.

Fierce thrusts against your pelvis has you mewling into the evening sky. Both hands locked in a vice grip atop your head, Eren uses his other arm to hook onto the back of your left thigh, wrapping it snugly around his waist. 

His key chain dangles above your face, swinging swiftly along to his movements. You’re captivated by the way it twirls in front of you, unaware that you could feel even more turned on than you already do; loud sloshing noises a clear sign of your growing arousal.

“You think you can cum again for me honey? Hmm, just once more to increase our chances.”

Beads of sweat line his forehead while Eren’s face twist in concentration.

Apparently conception works best when the woman is able to orgasm. But according to Eren’s logic, double the orgasms mean double the chances - his thumb mercilessly rubbing against your clit in hopes that she’ll rain down on him once more.

Small drops of sweat pool into your neckline, your body convulsing in sensitivity. But all that does is egg him on with Eren’s fingers circling quicker and his hips driving deeper. Your nails desperately scrape against his knuckles, thighs shaking around his body as you thrash through your release. Head thrown back, you howl into the night, breathlessly panting as tears stream down your face. His lips swallow your sweet sounds, spilling into you as he heavily groans into the kiss.

“Almost honey, I promise. But we can’t be sure if that one will take, so go ahead and turn over for me.” 

Levi - inside your mouth; and you better swallow. Did we really expect anything less from mister clean his blade during battle? He hates mess and that applies to the bedroom as well, though he is willing to make exceptions from time to time. So if Levi can’t have your mouth, he will paint your body as a last resort.

Face smushed against his pelvis, his agarwood scented soap engulfs your nostrils, the fragrance deliciously spicy. Levi’s fingers are tangled deep into your locks, his hands guiding you on the exact pace he prefers. It’s nothing too hurried, his thrusting motions almost slothful. 

On the field, he’s humanity's strongest soldier. His swift moves and sharp senses are life saving but here, behind closed doors, Levi prefers to take his time with you. He wants to revel in every sensation, his cat-like instincts not missing a beat, from the way your hands grab onto his thighs for stability to the way that your eyelids flutter close when you really get into the moment. 

“Mhmm,” he groans. “Open wider for me angel.” 

Even now he’s not much of a talker, but he won’t hesitate to tell you exactly how he wants to be pleasured. Obliging to his request, you open your jaws as wide as they’ll go, savoring the taste of Levi as he continues to cram himself to the very back of your mouth. 

He’s a stark contrast from the stoic demeanor you’re used to seeing, watching as he falls apart from your expert tongue. You’ve never seen him so desperate, so starved as he loudly pants through his gratification, warm breath fanning past your face as his eyes never leave yours. Levi’s intense gaze fills you with a deep hunger to satisfy him, your pussy sopping at the idea of seeing him finish.

Damp hair sticking to his face, they bounce against his forehead with each jerking motion, his gruff temperament crumbling with every lick, twirl, and suction to his dick. Hands nestled on your jaw, you relish in the way his thumbs softly brush against your cheeks, watching as his thighs quiver and his lips tremble, tongue darting past his teeth to swipe over them. 

His languid thrusting picks up in speed, fingers lightly squeezing your skin as you feel his warm release coat the walls of your mouth, your pace unfaltering as you make sure to swallow every drop. Dick slowly sliding past your lips, you watch in awe as the shiny coat glistens before you, thinking how soon enough there’ll be another coat to add to the sticky mess. 

“You always do so well for me angel,” he coos, the pads of his thumbs gently caressing the soft skin of your face.

Erwin - on your tits. Though his steel blue eyes are one of his most striking features, they’re good for spotting more than just titans. He’s very much so a breast man at heart and finds them to be a woman's most prominent feature. With the pressures of the government and the stress of being a Commander, he needs something soft to lie on at night - for tranquil purposes of course.

Erwin is one of the most composed people; it's a necessity. It’s how he’s able to assess a situation and get his team to safety - allowing him to effectively delegate to his squad and ensure that the odds are in their favor during missions. But boy does he let loose around you. When the day is finished and his body is aching, he finds solace in you and your breasts. 

“Bbbrrrrrrr,” is the rumbling that sounds from your chest, Erwins face buried deep between your breasts as he rapidly shakes his head through the plump globes. 

“Are you done Commander?”

Trailing his head up to your neck his mouth lands to your sweet spot, sucking a hickey onto the skin. Moaning, you unclip the bra letting the girls fall freely.

“Baby, it’s Commander out there and daddy in here. You’re not gonna make me repeat myself right?” he cautioned.

You want to. You want to push his buttons and tip him over the edge oh so badly, but his day has been rough enough and you save your bratty behavior for another more lighthearted occasion.

“No sir,” you promised.

“Good,” he says, hands fondling your nipples. “Go ahead and throw the rest of your bras out baby cause I have all the support that you need.”

His head dives to your chest before you have the chance to respond, licking and nibbling against the surface. He gladly leaves bruised spots in their wake, deading the idea for you to wear any deep cut shirts in the days to come. 

“On your knees.”

Not that you need to be told twice, your limbs are hitting the ground before he can finish the sentence.

Standing tall above you, his icy stare bores deep into your brown orbs, pride heavy on his face at how well trained you are for him. Unzipping his pants, Erwin lets them fall, your hands reaching to his underwear to free his thick member.

“You gonna keep me waiting baby?”

You wouldn't dream of it.

Sliding his dick inside your mouth, he only intends for you to get it wet, your tongue lapping over his veiny shaft until enough spit has gathered. As inviting as your mouth is, Erwin considers it more as an appetizer, something light to hold him over until the main course.

“That’s enough, now hold up the girls for me.”

Breasts held together in your arms, you push them up and watch as Erwin slides his tip through the middle, a haughty groan slipping past his lips as he does so. He drives his dick upward, slowly at first and then sloppy soon after. Your spit combined with the lush feeling of your perky boobs is his perfect sensational cocktail, one that leaves him drunk on ecstasy and quick to bust.

“You look so fucking sexy right now,” Erwin whimpered. “Stick your tongue out for me, real wide just how I like it. 

Tongue hanging out your mouth, it occurs to you that you’d bark if he asked you to; without hesitation. Drool gathers at the tip of your tongue, gradually sliding down to your chest and adding to the slobbery mess down below. Erwin can move with ease and at this angle each time he drives his dick forward, it touches the warm tip of your tongue. Your position won’t allow for much more than that and so you stay put, allowing Erwin to destress through your body, listening intently as his light whines crescendo; his explosive finish splattering against your chest and chin.

Connie - Anywhere! Mans is just happy to finish. Connie is far from preferential, so long as both he and his partner find pleasure. And while he’ll cum wherever you tell him, you two have found it more entertaining to see just where his sperm will land. The more ridiculous the better actually. 

A few weeks ago during sex, you had forgotten to take your birth control and in the knick of time Connie pulled out, spraying his seed directly into the sheets next to you. It was a close call, but who could blame him when you felt that good? You found yourselves in a similar situation yesterday and when he pulled out, his load shot across the room, painting the walls. Though it was pretty close in distance, it did pique his interest enough to see just how far his can spunk can land without something to hinder it - and that's how you found yourself in your current predicament, ankles propped next to your head. 

While Connie is a bit of a goofball, sex was where he seemed to shine the best; folding your body in ways you didn’t know it could bend. And you were grateful for the generous lover that he was, making sure that you always got yours. 

Hips meeting yours, Connie finds his face nestled between the junction of your neck, his soft grunting loud inside your ear. 

With Connie pinning your legs to the bed, he rests his full weight on your body, any chance for a break long gone as you cry out for a moment's relief; one Connie won’t give you unless you soak him completely. Arms as limp as your legs, all you can manage is to sink your nails into his chest, taking every forceful thrust he sends your way, the pressure too much to handle. Your poor pussy is puffy and swollen, yet furiously leaking at how good he works your body over. His uneven breathing harsh against your face, Connie litters it in butterfly kisses, proud of the peak you managed to reach.

“Nice one buttercup,” he compliments, rolling off of you to lie flat on his back; jerking himself to the finish line. 

You both watch in amusement as Connie shoots his load directly into the air, his hands continuing its ministrations until the task is complete. 

“That’s gotta be at least three feet.”

“Maybe, let's get a tape measurer and find out.”

“I need to practice my aim, whaddya say next time you hold your lips nice and wide for me and see if I can make a hole in one?

“You wanna try aiming inside my mouth?”

“Not those lips buttercup.”

Jean - Face. He’s a cocky one, no pun intended. No matter what position he finds himself in during sex, he doesn’t miss the chance to pull out and paint your face; jokingly referring to himself as the next Hokusai on occasion. Jean loves knowing he’s the one doing this to you, a strong sense of power coursing through his veins at the sight of you dripping in his essence. 

As dirty as Jean likes to get you, he’s equally as excited to help clean you up; like a one stop shop sorta thing. And so showers have become a common place for you both to do the deed. Most times you find yourselves clean only to get dirty again and while it started off as a way to save the water bill, you’re sure all you’ve done is jack up the price. 

Hands pressed against the shower glass, it threatens to slip at your wobbly footing. The only real sense of security is Jeans hands wrapped securely around your waist. The steady rocking of his hips into your ass has your forehead planted against the glass, heavy breathing fogging it almost as much as the steam. 

Every so often, he’ll bear down his palm into your back to keep your arch as deep as he likes it. And while it isn't the most comfortable, his lengthy dick keeps you distracted, the delicious burn of the way he repeatedly rams his member into your dripping pussy. 

The steam obscures your view, but there's nothing you need to see anyway. The only thing your fucked out mind can manage to focus on is feeling and you do just that; relishing in the way Jeans calloused fingers tug on your damp skin again and again and again. 

You can’t help the wails that spill from your lips, crying aloud as your screams echo against the tiled walls. Jean never really gives you a break either, his ego on full display each time the force of hips pulls an even louder noise from your sweet lips.

How your feet haven't given out on you is miraculous, but it’s probably Jean holding you up until your body can milk him dry, his stamina coming to a relieving close. Pussy throbbing against him for the nth time that night, it’s become his personal little shower; your creamy finish dripping down his thick length. 

Pulling out of you, Jean spins you around, knees slapping against the wet floors, on autopilot, for his oncoming release. A few pumps of his hands and he shoots his load on your face, careful not to waste a drop. 

You don’t mind and lap up whatever drips down to your mouth for added effect, his legs quaking at the sight. 

“Keep that up and we’ll never make it out this shower, my love” he cautioned.

But the real intimacy is him helping you wash it off, every time. You aren’t allowed to touch your face and he’ll gladly sit there and towel wash it until you’re fresh and clean - peppering your cheeks in kisses with promises to paint it again.

Onyankopon - An ass man, so he enjoys seeing your silky skin sparkling with him. Ony loves a woman on the thicker side of the spectrum, shit he’s got enough juice to pour. Thighs work just as great and he finds them equally as sexy so it’s anyone's guess where his cum will land next. 

The handprints left behind leave a red tint on your ass which makes it a touch more swollen, adding to the already thick asset he’s come to adore. Your thighs quake each time his heavy palm connects to your plush thighs and though your eyes brim over with unshed tears, so does your pussy brim over with never ending slick.  

Ony’s calloused digit drags itself inside your warm walls and you repeatedly clench around him in hopes that he’ll drag them in a little further.

“Didn’t I tell you to use your words pretty? Tell me what you want and watch me make it happen,” he assures.

“I want y-you,” you stammered. 

Even though Ony is easygoing and super chill, you always found yourself flustered when it came to him. And the bedroom was no exception. Oftentimes you got nervous and stuttered at the simplest command.

Thankfully he doesn’t withhold from you much longer and sinks himself to the hilt with delicious ease. You both pause for a minute, the sensation too much and not enough all at once. His dick jumps at your moist walls as your pussy throbs in an attempt to adjust to his sheer size.

Driving himself inside you, Ony builds a nice rhythm, his hips slapping against yours as he moves to the ripple of your skin. He can’t help himself and his palm rains down on your ass for the seventh time; the thunderous crack loudly echoing throughout the quiet morning.

You whine as the unshed tears spill over into the sheets. Fingernails tightly clutching the fabric, your mouth hangs open and the wails get an octave higher.

Hands delving into your skin, he uses it for support and plunges into you repeatedly; hoping that his body can get you to tell him what his words can’t.

“Right there Ony, ohhhh my, right there please.”

And right there he’d stay, grounding his foot into the mattress for better support to make sure that you found satisfaction and that it’d envelop your heated body in all the ways his busy hands couldn’t. 

He won't last long like this. He rarely does when you crawl out of your shell and get so vocal with him. That, coupled with the way your pretty body reacts to his sends Onyankapon over the edge each time. 

He feels your body squeeze him tighter, hear your moans grow louder, and watch the sheets get wetter. Knowing that you’ve climaxed allows him to follow suit, pulling out of your warm walls to spray your ass cheeks with his seed. Through gritted teeth and breathy moans, Ony jerks himself to completion, watching with hooded eyes as they trickle down to your thick thighs.

Reiner - On your back, mostly because he LOVES doggy style. He absolutely refuses to cum in you, terrified of the fact that he could become a father. It’s almost like the Pavlov effect, his race to the finish line incomplete if he can’t finish on your back.

Reiner is a beefy guy and while he has no problem displaying his strength in the bedroom, your safety and comfort trumps all. In fact it’s you who has to initiate rough sex with him, agreeing upon a safe word that lets him know when he’s taken things too far. But it’s something about doggy style that lets him get as feral as he wants, all without hurting you in the process. Also, it gives him the perfect view: he can see your breasts slap against the bed with each thrust. 

“Squeeze em for me darling and twist each nipple until it gets too much.”

Renier didn’t come second in his overall scout training just because he was good at slicing titans. After all it was his strategic ability, amongst other things, to evaluate a situation for the long run all the while remaining collected. And it's safe to say, those qualities carried over into your sex life with Reiner expertly instructing you to touch and twist your body in the ways he know you love; which no doubt always led to your fireworks moment. 

Also, it gives him the perfect view: excitedly watching your pussy swallow him whole. Reiner was never one to explore kinks but he’s definitely discovered a few through you and size just so happens to be at the top of the list. Bodies pressed together, he’s entranced at the junction where you both meet, slowing down ever so slightly to take it all in. Eyes glossed over, he admires the way his dick is covered in your creamy goodness, your pussy molded to accept his impressive size as he pushes past your lips repeatedly - amazed each time he manages to fit the entirety of himself inside of you. 

While you relish the sweet sting at the way he pounds away at your cervix, you know crossing your legs in the days to come will become the ultimate challenge. 

“Ahhh fuck, you're in this for the long run, you know that right?” he pants. “You ain't going nowhere right? RIGHT?”

R-right Reiner, righ-”

Also, it gives him the perfect view: Reiner swells with pride when your tight asshole gladly accepts his thumb.

The first time he decided to jam his thumb down there wasn’t the most pleasant experience for you. But with lots of prep and planning, it’s come to be another erogenous zone, damn near a spot you can’t come without him using.

Thumb sitting to the hilt, he fiercely thrusts at both ends, his sausage-like fingers providing just enough size to topple you over. Teeth sinking into his lips until they bleed, it’s your release that sets off a chain reaction for Reiner with him pulling out of you to cover your back completely. 

Once everything calms down, he usually comes back with a warm towel to clean you up, thanking you with each drag of the cloth for sharing your body with him.

Armin - on your tummy. He’s another one that's deathly afraid of knocking you up, but for completely different reasons; therefore he tends to be the responsible one in regard to protective sex. 

Legs intertwined with one another, you both lay on your sides as Armin gently rocks his hips into yours. Hands wrapped tightly around your waist, your fingers dig into his shoulders for support.

Eyes trained on your face, he’s come to know what each contortion means and exactly where he should place his attention next, angling his hips upward to kiss your g-spot just right. Eyebrows drawn together, it’s the crinkling of your nose that lets him know that he’s found it. His glare never leaves you, watching attentively to what your features tell him you’ll need next.

“My flower - that's what you are to me. Something that adds beauty to this gloomy world of ours,” he admits in between thrusts.

Head dipping low, he takes a nipple into his mouth, grazing it ever so gently across his teeth. Moans tumble past your mouth, gibberish not too far behind on just how perceptive Armin is with your body. He raises your thigh higher to get deeper, your hips greedily meeting his as you chase your second high of the night.

“Much like the thorn that protects the rose, harming only those who wish to steal its beauty, I’ll protect you from the sins of the world before I dare let it taint you sweetheart.”

Pulling out, Armin’s fist flies to his lengthy member, squeezing and tugging until your tummy is drenched in the aftermath of how good you made him feel. 

So sweet, he’d make your tooth rot. Armin is much the same behind closed doors as he is on the field - his heart on full display of his sleeve. He always makes sure to tell you just how much you mean to him and you eat that shit up every time. His soft voice coupled with the gentle way he handles your body has heat rising to the surface of your skin, unable to meet his eyes. 

But that’s okay. He has time and stamina, but most of all patience. And he’ll gladly make love to you until you build up the courage to talk him through his release or beg for a moment's relief; whichever comes first.

Floch - in the ass. It's the place you save for someone really special, no? What better way to show your love to him than to let him fill your ass to the brim. After all it's the sacred hole you entrust to your partner and why are y’all even together if he can’t have you entirely? Prove your loyalty to him and see how he’ll worship your body in return. 

Face planted into the pillows and ass hiked high in the air, this position has become a salute of sorts. Much like the pledge Shinzou Wo Sasageyo, so do you promise to devote yourself to Floch. 

“It’s a mystical place that only the worthy should be allowed to enter,” he’d tell you. “Allow me the honor of experiencing you whole and see how I reward you in return,” he’d promise. 

You weren’t opposed to anal, but it did throw you for a loop the first time Floch suggested it. And while the thought did pique your interest on occasion, it’s Floch who’d convince you to go all in; and your body has been grateful ever since. 

Fingers vigorously rubbing against your clit, it helps add to the heated sensation deep in the pit of your belly. Your other hand gently pushes against Flochs stomach but all he does is lock your arm against your lower back as his dick drives into you with rigor.

“What you running for? The next time I find your hands anywhere but knuckle deep in that pussy, it’s gonna be a problem.”

One hand on your arm and the other curled tightly around your hair, Floch hones in on his point with harsh thrusts between each word, his pelvis knocking you off your knees and into the mattress. 

Even with his body pressed against yours, you don't make the mistake of stopping your ministrations, fingers intensely rubbing against your swollen nub. The feeling is otherworldly, but it doesn’t stop the pressure from being too much to handle as the build up rises almost uncomfortably.

Your thighs twitch and your eyes water; but it's all a boost to Flochs ego and so he thrusts deeper along your rigid walls, hoping to reach the spot that makes you go dizzy. Him knowing that he could get you to this level of pleasure only encourages him to continue on and that he does; instructing you to do the same.

Your brain eventually goes fuzzy, screaming as you squirt for what feels like a lifetime; drenching Floch and the sheets as soon as your body reaches its peak. Your climax sets Floch off on his own and he loudly groans as he shoots rope after rope of his thick cum into your ass.

Once done, it’s like a veil is lifted and he softens up almost instantly, delicately rubbing on your soft skin and cooing at how well you did for him. After removing himself, he goes into heavy aftercare - cleaning your body down, ice cold water on standby, and if you’re up for it, a few snacks before the eventual nap. He figured it’s the very least he could do after he’d wring out endless pleasure from your taut body.

“You did so good for daddy, sugar. Sleep tight so this gorgeous body can get the rest she needs.”

#Emmy Writes #Emmy Tries #AOT #Attack on Titan #shinjeki no kyojin #snk #eren yeager #levi ackerman #erwin smith #connie springer #jean kirstein #aot onyankopon #reiner braun #armin arlert #floch forster #Black Reader #aot smut #aot x black reader #aot x you

[thesamoanqueen]

Hold me

Warnings: 16+

A/N: finally joining the seven paragraph thursday challenge, tagged by @dreamsinfocus @joannasteez. Its just one shot about my kink hope y'all like it, addio~

It was the way they caressed her neck, insinuating themselves between curls, gently rubbing that portion of caramel skin behind her ear until their movement and his breathing lulled her to sleep. They held and protected her, as if wanting to prevent someone from stealing her during the night, taking her away, away from the warmth and security that only them, only him, could give. They were an almost childish reassurance, simple and good in the true, profound essence of that word, there to cherish and love her in the most banal and undervalued gesture a human being could have made. A certainty that was never missing, unexpected, always, everywhere, requests or not.

It was the feeling of them on the small of her back, to guide, not force, accompanying her through any moment, letting her know that he was there, behind her, covering and supporting when she could find a way herself. It was seeing them open doors, move obstacles, take anything before her mouth could even bother to ask, to offer, serve and provide. Almost bodyless, ghosts in her peripheral vision, supporting actors who in her mind had stolen the prize from whatever great broken promise every nobody shouted before in her face.

It was the strength they showed by keeping her upright when she bent like a tightrope walker on her heels, acting as her anchor and then softening as soon as her strength returned. The ardor with which they held her soft hips, encouraging the obscene movement of her body in the ecstasy of pleasure, the dangerous, frightening possession with which they tightened around her throat, suffocating moans, grabbing, slapping, claiming every portion inside her wet folds and even outside. The heat, crave, with which they burned on her skin, between her lips, on her thighs wrapped around his solid body, against her chest shaken by tremors and prayers. Rough, arrogant, confident and hungry.

And the imaginary circles they drew on that bare finger, the one he always kissed with persistence, commitment, not one by chance, that one, without explanations because they didn’t need them. And she had pretended to don’t understand, not to see, to ignore, keep her feet on the solid ground and reality, but sometimes they pulled her up physically, like a little dreamy girl, like something more special, promising and she ended up looking for them as air in her lungs. No shadow of the past could stand a chance against those fingers, those hands that she had fallen madly in love with.

Them and not just them, she admitted at least to herself, because in her own words she couldn't - not yet - but she hoped to make up for that lack with the same tenacity that those fingers showed in keeping her anchored there, with him.

- You're stuck with me...- she heard Roman laugh, forcing her to raise her head, moving away her dark eyes from their irremediably linked hands, tearing a dangerous, uncontrollable smile from her lips that he ended up miming too.

- God help you - and his grip got tighter, holding her there in that lovely trap, always.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @reignsangel444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @love-islike-abomb @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @joannasteez @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @usosthetics @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @blkbutterfly816 @spritelucozade

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x female reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 21)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut, Torture

Words: 1,889

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

It was early December and a few more weeks had passed since Robert had sent the letter to you, to which he received no response. 

Concerned, Robert met with General Groves who informed him about the progress of your case and difficulties for him to obtain correspondence from you. Unfortunately for Robert, Groves also informed him that reaching a conclusion in respect of your release still required more time than initially expected due to bureaucratic delays.

Feeling helpless and anxious, Robert continued to pour his energy into his work, focusing solely on the task at hand which, again, proved more difficult than he had anticipated. 

The first implosion test failed and a series of subsequent tests resulted in setbacks too. Although these failures might have discouraged lesser men, they served to intensify Robert’s dedication and tenacity. Each failure drove him further into his research, leaving behind nothing short of success when the stakes were highest.

But, it wasn't just the scientific aspect that consumed him – the mere thought of failing you made his predicament worse. 

It didn't matter how many hours he spent poring over equations and calculations, his mind always drifted back to you. Your image haunted him like a phantom, taunting him with visions of your smiling face, tender touch, and warm embraces. And then, late nights turned into sleepless nights as thoughts of you invaded his dreams, making sleep seem like an elusive creature refusing to grant him respite.

These agonizing days wore on, each bringing fresh torments. Nightmares plagued Robert's slumber, filling his waking hours with a profound exhaustion until, one afternoon, just weeks before Christmas, everything seemed to fall into place when Groves came to visit.

"Robert," Groves greeted with a solemn expression as, without knocking, he entered his office and startling him from his thoughts.

"General," Robert acknowledged with equal gravity, rising slowly from his chair, a hint of worry etched across his brow.

"Do sit, Robert," Groves ordered calmly, gesturing towards the seat and, as Robert sat back down, he noticed that General Groves appeared unusually serious and formal.

Swallowing hard, Robert composed himself, preparing to confront whatever dire situation lay ahead, thinking that, clearly, his day could not become any worse after, just that same morning, yet another implosion device failed to detonate. 

"I have an early Christmas present for you," General Groves announced abruptly, casting aside any pleasantries. 

"General, I am Jewish, we do not..." Robert began to say, but the General interrupted him sharply.

"Trust me Robert, you will be delighted nonetheless," Groves chuckled, causing Robert to furrow his eyebrows.

"Unless that surprise is going to helpful when it comes to activating the gadget, I must apologize if my excitement remains contained, General," Robert retorted with a rather exhausted look on his face, making the General realize how little he must have been sleeping.

"Well, for a matter of fact, the surprise I have for you is a scientist and I am hopeful that she might be able to help you become inspired with new ideas that will, indeed, help with the activation of the gadget," Groves responded confidently, knowing full well how important your contribution would be.

"You are bringing a new scientist on to the project without my consultation?" Robert asked incredulously, his initial disbelief transforming into anger. 

"Indeed, I am Robert. Now come. I want you to meet her," Groves commanded briskly, stepping past Robert's desk to lead the way. Robert hesitated briefly, wondering why the urgency, feeling somewhat unwilling to get excited. But, curiosity piqued his interest, driving him to follow suit despite his reservations. Together, they descended the steps leading outside and, soon enough, Robert realized that General Groves was leading him past the security gate and towards his own house.

"General, forgive me for asking, but why precisely are we heading to my home?" Robert enquired curiously, attempting to contain his growing suspicion.

"Like I said Robert, I want you to meet the newest addition to your team," Groves stated firmly, opening the door to his residence, whereupon Robert found himself suddenly standing inside, bewildered by the sudden shift in locale.

"General, please explain to me..." Robert began to plead, his tone displaying a mix of frustration and impatience, just before he got interrupted. 

"Robert, believe me when I say you will appreciate meeting this woman," Groves answered cryptically, guiding Robert into the living room where, suddenly, he saw you sitting there, looking up at him with those intense eyes that had captivated him so completely.

Robert froze in shock and disbelief upon seeing you. The unexpectedness of the encounter left him momentarily speechless, taking in the sight of you before him as though he were viewing something unreal or a mirage. Time stood still as he gazed at you, lost in admiration. His heart raced wildly against his rib cage while his mouth went dry.

Standing up, you rose gracefully, walking towards him with an undeniably feminine sway, your soft footsteps echoing against the wooden floorboards beneath you. As you reached closer, Robert felt his breath hitch, watching your every movement intently, struggling to regain control of his erratic pulse.

"Do I not at least get a kiss?" you teased playfully, tilting your head to the side, flashing a shy smile. Robert felt his heart skip a beat, overcome with both relief and longing, the familiar yearning returning with vengeance. Reaching forward, he took hold of your hands, pressing his lips fervently against yours, feeling a surge of desire coursing through his veins. 

"Where is our son?" Robert demanded passionately, pulling away momentarily while you clung onto him, reciprocating his affection wholeheartedly.

"He is asleep. In your bedroom. He cried all the way here, so he really needed the rest," you explained earnestly, caressing his cheek lovingly. Robert leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, relieved that your son was safe.

"Thank you, my love," Robert exclaimed gratefully, embracing you tightly, unable to let go even after several minutes had passed. This was the second chance he never imagined receiving – a gift straight from heaven. For about a year, you two had been kept apart, separated by deceit, distance, and obstacles, but fate had conspired to bring you together again.

"Perhaps I should give you some privacy, but before I go, please be advised that officials are going to keep a close eye on the both of you. Y/N will not receive security clearance and must remain at Los Alamos until the project concludes. She has been cleared of all wrongdoing, but these are the precautions we will need to take to bring her back on to the project, Robert," Groves began before addressing the fact that Robert now had not only one, but two, children to be looked after.

"As far your children are concerned, they will remain here, with you. This includes Kitty's son who she chose to leave in your care upon her departure from Los Alamos. I have taken it upon myself to employ a child nurse to look after them both. She will arrive tomorrow," Groves informed, pausing briefly as Robert digested the news. It was certainly a lot to process - finding solace in your arms, having been reunited with you, and now learning that he would also bear responsibility for raising not one, but two young lives. "Now, you must understand that, for obvious reasons, I expect you to retain professionalism at work. The only reason I have allowed Y/N back on to the project is because I consider it beneficial to the well-being of the man who runs Los Alamos for me. So now, I expect focus from you, Robert!" Groves instructed sternly, drawing attention back to matters concerning national security before saying his farewell, hoping not to be back until after Christmas. 

After Groves left, silence fell heavy around you both, giving you both time to truly reflect on what transpired. Both hearts racing, filled with gratitude and apprehension, Robert pulled you closer, allowing your bodies to nestle snugly into each other. He couldn't believe this was finally happening, you being right there beside him, holding him close, cherishing moments previously stolen from you.

"I need to see our son," Robert insisted, breaking free from your embrace gently as he heard him squirm, making unsettling noises.

"Of course," you smiled before, overwhelmed, you closed your eyes, savoring the tender memory of his touch.

"Come with me and I will introduce you," you offered, entwining your fingers with his as you led him toward the bedroom, sharing a comforting warmth as you walked shoulder to shoulder.

You then opened the door to the dimly lit room where your tiny son stirred peacefully, swaddled in blankets, angelic features contrasting the gloomy atmosphere. The sight of him stirred mixed feelings of joy and sadness in Robert, reminding him of the responsibilities he faced along with the happiness derived from being reunited with you in this world, at war. 

"Go on, pick him up. He is awake," you encouraged softly, reaching across to guide Robert's hand toward your son's small body.

Gingerly, Robert lifted him from the cradle, feeling like the weight of the world was now balanced precariously in his palms. Carefully, he held the infant close to his chest, feeling his fragile frame trembling slightly underneath the pressure of fatherhood. The sweet innocence radiating off of his son struck Robert hard, filling him with both immense pride and trepidation simultaneously.

"See, that's your daddy, my sweet boy," you whispered softly, your voice resonating with genuine tenderness as Robert rocked him gently.

"He looks just like you, Oppie," you added lightheartedly, referring to his striking features, causing a hint of laughter to surface in Robert's strained expression.

"He's got your smile though," Robert remarked pensively, gazing deeply into the baby's eyes which mirrored his own intensity. Seeing the resemblances brought forth fond memories of the days spent together when everything seemed perfect, a stark contrast to reality.

With tears beginning to pool in his eyes, Robert turned to face you, trying to hide his vulnerability behind a facade of bravado. Unable to maintain composure any longer, he wrapped you both in a protective embrace, holding onto you fiercely until, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Dr Oppenheimer! You must come quickly!" his secretary announced frantically, catching Robert unawares with the urgency in her voice. Startled, Robert glanced hurriedly towards you, hesitation evident in his eyes as he contemplated leaving your presence prematurely.

"Go, Robert! I will be here when you get back," you reassured him, stroking his arm affectionately as he moved closer to you.

Taking a deep breath, bidding you goodbye, Robert set off towards the sound of his secretary's distressed call and, before you knew it, he barged out the door. 

Tags:

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #oppenheimer movie #oppenheimer 2023 #j robert oppenheimer #robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer x you #kitty oppenheimer #oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer x you #j robert oppenheimer x reader #robert oppenheimer smut #oppenheimer x reader

[ramshackledtrickster]

May I ask why you associate Connor to the element of water? (I'm genuinely curious!!)

Hi I’m so sorry but I’ve been DYING to do something with this and explain it beyond words bc the images in my head are very vivid so my response is gonna include this drawing sorry xoxo

Okay so !! Ratonhnhaké:ton + water. I kind of have a connection association there because of the blue motifs in his assassin robes, and blue = water, plus he’s more low key and calm ish compared to the other assassins so that matches with the tranquil association of water, so there’s that. But for actual answers...

Water heals, water changes and water brings life. And an extra thing.

It’s such a perfect symbol for Ratonhnhaké:ton in my head and his personal journey, and if it were up to me in an adaptation of ac3, I’d definitely make an emphasis on this.

Water heals

I especially envision rain and petrichor as a soothing agent for Ratonhnhaké:ton, something to help ease his state and clear his mind when things become all too much, and he would let the rain water gather in his hands and overflow, cooling over his scars. It’s a direct contrast to destructive fire. Fire that changed his life, that scarred his childhood and left a damage that couldn’t be undone. I envision Ratonhnhaké:ton with burn scars on his hands carried over from when he was little, trying to rescue his mother out of burning debris. It’s a physical, constant reminder of why he does what he does and possibly how he feels he failed her, but the association of water putting out a fire is a gentle reminder that he’s doing okay. He’s only human, and he shouldn’t be too harsh on himself, he’s doing more than enough for what’s right. While he’s putting out fires everywhere else, he needs a reminder to take care of himself too. The pain is still there, but it gets easier to manage.

Water changes

Ratonhnhaké:ton is an incredibly adaptable man— almost to his own detriment. He moulds to the expectations of everyone around him— from defending his village, to becoming an assassin under Achilles (and receiving a new name), to blending with the colonists, to shifting his approaches on the Aquila, to allowing himself to ally with Haytham. He constantly has to adjust and change to accommodate these different people, but he never loses his core or conviction (kind of like the idea of water carrying memory of previous substances or states it had become). Water can become ice or mist or slush or whatever, but it’s still water.

Water brings life

Look no further than the Homestead missions. He brought safety and community to those living in the Davenport homestead, helping whoever needs sanctuary. Whoever comes here becomes invigorated with passion and purpose, and even the manor itself goes from a ramshackle, near abandoned structure to a home. And of course, Ratonhnhaké:ton brought life back to Achilles. Despite his initial hesitation, he found purpose in training Ratonhnhaké:ton again, and by extension on some level, saw a son in him, Connor. He goes from an isolated man wasting away in solitude to becoming more involved with the rest of the homestead as the missions go on, and he finds hope again after years of dwelling on failure of the past. With Ratonhnhaké:ton’s tenacity and hope, he’s brought life back to Achilles, to the homestead, and to the Colonial Assassin Brotherhood itself.

Bonus and a bit less poetic but…

Don’t fuck with the elements

As reserved, calm, and kind Ratonhnhaké:ton is, he’s not afraid to set boundaries and goals and mean them. He’s a tank— he’s a powerhouse, and there’s no other force quite like a Pissed Off Connor. He lunges head first into some incredibly risky territory and frankly impulsive-planning (shelling of New York and battle of bunker hill), but nothing will stop him. He is a one man army, and he refuses to waver in his morals and conviction despite all the shit thrown at him by everyone around him. Nothing will get between him and bringing Lee to justice. It brings to mind the unstoppable nature of storms and raging waves, unable to be quelled on anyone else’s terms. He’s simultaneously the storm itself, and the calm at its center.

Sorry this is so long but I hope this all makes sense!! I think in my head I definitely want to play more on water paired with healing from trauma and positive turning points in his life— like maybe it starts to rain when he finally exits the tavern after assassinating Lee, after the years of struggle, and a climactic chase through the burning skeleton of a ship. Maybe Ratonhnhaké:ton realizes he’s ready to pursue a future with a special someone while hiding with them in the alcove behind a waterfall. And uhhhh His daughter is literally nicknamed Rainbow.

That’s all though yeah!! Ty if you read through everything

#assassins creed #assassins creed 3 #ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway #my art #fanart #im sorry this sounds so corny wtf don’t let me analyze shit

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ~ 𝐩𝐭. 𝐨𝐧𝐞🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

previously titled Talk Dirty

word count: 1.7k

genres/tropes: romance, dealer!chris, sturniolo au, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers

teaser: here

summary: Christopher Sturniolo has built an unshakeable empire in Los Angeles, California. He manages "business transactions" and "cargo export and intake" along with his two brothers, Matthew and Nicolas. One night the three gentlemen attend a high-end nightclub in the more affluent district and are met with a nervous bottle-girl working her first shift. Christopher strikes up conversation in the way only confident men can until an accident causes her to spill a drink on him. In a panic, she drags him to the bathroom to clean him up, and, quite amused, he lets her. Thus, their strange friendship begins.

warnings: drug usage, alcohol consumption, guns mentioned and used (non-sexual context), smut, mature themes and topics

notes from bambi: this is a multi-part series, and updates will be sporadic. lmk if you're interested in this one <3

Cassandra's POV:

The year I almost died held more excitement, danger, and tenacity than any one person deserves to encounter. Definitely more than I knew to prepare myself for…I wonder sometimes, as I look back on the events of these last few months, if the choice to go back and change anything is one I would make. 

But then, if I did, I would never have met Christopher Sturniolo, and I can confidently say he is worth every moment I spent at gunpoint.

My life as a bottle girl seems so far away now, though at the time, I couldn’t imagine anything more glamorous. Every darkened hour of my shift filled with music and soft neon, running trays of drinks beneath beautiful people on shining poles, weaving past tables covered with swaths of chips and cards and surrounded by only the most elite clientele Orange County, California so graciously offered.

It stands to mention that at the time I felt I had no talent, no prospects, and no education, and therefore would only get so far in life. Until Christopher, I sold myself short in every aspect of my life.

The hour of 2 a.m. always buzzed–the air itself breathed to the rhythm of some unknown heartbeat, all exemplified by the lively hum of the building of vices I called “work”. At 2:07 a.m. three gentlemen in dark suits accompanied by a small entourage were ushered into Private Room 9 and as I only just clocked in, I took them onto my books for the evening.

Pressing my hand on the opaque glass, I pushed the thin, floor-to-ceiling door inward and braced myself for whatever I might encounter. Working in the pleasure business left no room for shock or awe, and though I knew better than to comment on anything I may see, my face hadn’t quite picked up that particular skill.

The entourage caught my attention first. A dark-haired and strikingly beautiful young woman sat primly on a cushion near the darkest corner of the room, running her elegant fingernail along the edge of her empty glass. To one side of her sat a scantily-clad, gorgeously built man with a side shave, his curls tamed into a neat row down the back of his neck, and to the other side, one of the men in suits. I realized then that every man in a three-piece that sat before me also wore the same facial structure–I was looking at identical triplets. 

“You look so pretty!” the man with the side shave said to me, reaching over to lay an arm behind the girl.

“Thank you, sir, I try,” I responded, hoping to keep the conversation light and fast to disguise my glaring inexperience. I was rewarded with a simple chuckle–nice job. “How can I serve you tonight?”

One of the triplets spoke up. His voice had a gravelly quality that I made sure to note internally. “Pinot noir for the room, please.” He carried on with his individual order as I kept meticulous, if not shaky, written record in my notepad. 

“For you sir?” I directed this to another suited man, this one sporting a deep red tone to his hair. 

“Champagne, thank you.”

“Are we celebrating?”

The last triplet, who had up to this point remained silent, cracked a smile in the soft lighting. “You could say that.”

“And you, sir?”

He lounged in the plush couch beneath him as if completely at ease, which rendered me baffled–though perhaps this scene didn’t phase him as it did me. The first shift at a new job has a funny way of making you forget everything you’ve ever known.

“What do you recommend?” This one’s voice flowed like honey, smooth, slow, warm. 

I paused, thoughts trampling over themselves in an effort to tumble most ungraciously from my tongue. “...That depends, sir. What taste are you looking for?”

He waved his hand. “Christopher. Call me Christopher. You’re an employee, not a servant.”

The room chuckled along with him and returned to their own conversations. 

“Alright…Christopher,” I said, tasting the name for a moment before releasing it. “We have an excellent collection of reds, if you’d like a variety…Though I have to suggest the Oak Knoll Merlot, she has a bit of a plum taste without being too sweet,” I suggested. I clenched my fists slowly in the hope none of them would notice they’d previously been shaking–I really hoped I’d just told him the right shit, because if not, this night was about to go downhill very quickly.

Christopher nodded. “That one, then. Thank you.”

I dipped my head and turned to leave. 

“Miss,” his voice hummed, “What was your name?”

I looked back at Christopher and his loosened black tie, laid in such sharp contrast to his white button-down. “Cassandra.”

He smiled again. “Pleasure, Miss Cassie.”

I ducked out of the room as blush bloomed across my cheeks.

My heart thundered down to the main floor and all the way to the bar. With trembling hands I poured the wine, and unsure wrists did their best to support the tray of drinks. Weaving back through the crowd, I managed to keep from any mishaps, but only barely. One misstep and hundreds of dollars would splash all over patrons, staff, and the freshly cleaned floor–and off of my already-measly check. Finally off the social level, I ascended the underlit staircase and made my way toward the private rooms. The music pounded through the walls, our DJ losing himself in the height of his set, and the floor seemed to breathe in time with the sultry bass. Room 1, 3…5, there’s 7, 9, here we go…

I leaned against the door with my hip and entered the room once more. A faint, sweet smell touched my nose, and it twitched of its own accord.

“She’s back,” said Side Shave. “Hey, girl.”

“Hi,” I offered weakly, trying my hardest to focus on the drinks in hand. “Champagne…for you,” I said as I placed the tall flute in front of what I hoped was the right triplet. He smiled, revealing a small gap in his teeth. Dark red hair, gapped teeth…that’s one of them. Now how to tell the other two apart? 

“For you…” I murmured to the one with the gravelly voice, and he nodded his thanks. “The Pinoit for the room,” as I placed it on the low center table, “And the merlot for you, Mr. Christopher.”

At that moment, the glass door shattered into a thousand pieces, and I yelped, jumping in shock as the wine went flying all over Christopher.

Christopher's POV:

A man fell unconscious on the floor as bits of glass tinkled down around him. The culprit responsible for the door, I assumed. Looking around, I took note of the lack of injury, at least injury of the physical. Poor Cassandra stood frozen in shock, hands trembling, face drawn, taught with fear. “Matthew. Nicolas,” I said, “Please call security and have this man removed.” My brothers nodded and, after carefully stepping over the slovenly, drunken man on the floor, disappeared down the hall. “Ms. Thompson, take our lovely server to the bathroom please-” Tara stood to lead her out, but Cassandra suddenly leapt into action. 

“Your shirt, I am so sorry sir, let’s get you cleaned up, I–oh god, I’m so sorry, so sorry, I–” As she rambled, Cassandra took a firm and unyielding hold on my wrist, dragged me up from the couch, and before I could say a word, she tugged me around Tara and Larray, out through the door frame, past the arriving security guards, and down the darkened hallway. I blinked rapidly for a moment as my body ceased to become my own, held captive by the strange woman who led me toward…the bathroom? 

Sure enough, she ducked into the Women’s room, and I couldn’t help but smile a bit in apprehension. “What exactly are we doing in the restroom?”

Her breathing had become labored as she gulped oxygen around her stuttered apologies. “Your shirt, sir, it’s going to stain, we’ve got to–here I’ll just…”

My jaw went ever so slightly slack at the sight before me. Cassandra, who only moments before had been a simple picture of nightclub elegance, now furiously loosened my soaking tie, unbuttoned my dripping shirt, slipped them off my body, and threw them into the sink, running the water as cold as she could manage, scrubbing away at the red-stained fabric. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to–You have to know that was an accident, oh god, I’m so sorry, so sorry–”

In her manic cleansing, she failed to notice my hand until it rested on her shoulder, at which point she jumped, and my lip twitched. “My apologies. I don’t think you’re of any use to anyone if you deprive your body of air and keel over dead on the tile.”

She stood stock still, panting from the exertion of the past few minutes, her eyes locked onto mine.

“I know this wasn’t your fault. It wounds me that you think I’d be so unfair,” I said with what I hoped was a comforting smile. “After all we’ve been through together, you really think I’d take something so accidental and make it so personal?” I prayed she understood the sarcasm.

Cassandra cracked a smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared, though I would have none of it. “I saw that smile. There’s no going back now, I’m afraid.”

She looked to the floor and took a moment to breathe, or so I assumed. When she turned her gaze to me again, I saw a pooling of tears at the base of her eyes. 

Change the subject, you idiot. “Where did you learn the cold water trick for wine stains?” I asked, hoping to give her time to recover.

Cassandra went back to scrubbing relentlessly at my now-sopping wet shirt. “I know that cold water is best for blood stains, so I assumed it would work for wine as well,” she said quietly, the soft hiss of the water almost beating her out for volume. I snorted. “Do you deal often with blood-stained clothing?” Her gaze snapped to mine, and, realizing my mistake, Of course she does, you dolt, she’s a woman, I tried to recover myself. “Or do you take every man to the bathroom and strip him naked?” And now you’ve accused her of prostitution. Zero for three, Christopher.

#the sturniolos #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic smut #christopher sturniolo fanfic smut #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic fluff #christopher sturniolo fanfic fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #bambi slxt

[cavalierzee]

I Am You

A poem from 2012 by the late Dr. Refaat Alareer – murdered by ‘Israel’ on Friday, December 8, 2023, that will absolutely mesmerize you: “I am you”

Two steps: one, two. Look in the mirror: The horror, the horror! The butt of your M-16 on my cheekbone The yellow patch it left The bullet-shaped scar expanding Like a swastika, Snaking across my face, The heartache flowing Out of my eyes dripping Out of my nostrils piercing My ears flooding The place. Like it did to you 70 years ago Or so.

I am just you. I am your past haunting Your present and your future. I strive like you did. I fight like you did. I resist like you resisted And for a moment, I’d take your tenacity As a model, Were you not holding The barrel of the gun Between my bleeding Eyes.

One. Two. The very same gun The very same bullet That had killed your Mom And killed your Dad Is being used, Against me, By you.

Mark this bullet and mark in your gun. If you sniff it, it has your and my blood. It has my present and your past. It has my present. It has your future. That’s why we are twins, Same life track Same weapon Same suffering Same facial expressions drawn On the face of the killer, Same everything Except that in your case The victim has evolved, backward, Into a victimizer. I tell you. I am you. Except that I am not the you of now.

I do not hate you. I want to help you stop hating And killing me. I tell you: The noise of your machine gun Renders you deaf The smell of the powder Beats that of my blood. The sparks disfigure My facial expressions. Would you stop shooting? For a moment? Would you?

All you have to do Is close your eyes (Seeing these days Blinds our hearts.) Close your eyes, tightly So that you can see In your mind’s eye. Then look into the mirror. One. Two. I am you. I am your past. And killing me, You kill you.

#poetry cavalierzee #poetry #poems #words words words #prose #poems on tumblr #poet #refaat alareer #refaat in gaza #free gaza #gaza #gaza strip #gazaunderattack #gaza genocide #ceasefire #free palestine #israel #photography #art #palestinians #palestine #free free palestine #current events #palestinian genocide #gaza under fire #khan younis #hamas #gaza city #israel palestine conflict #united nations

[mcntsee]

Letters to her

prologue

summary: kaz’s letter to y/n throughout the years.

warnings: Kaz’s past is kinda mentioned, mentions of death, cursing

note: I tried to express kaz’s feelings and growth with every start and finish of all the letters, hopefully you guys understand it too. I added a little something at the end, hope you enjoy! <3333

first letter:

Deer y/n

My da said you can came come play wheneber you want to come play with my me again can you please come play with me soon pleas?

I miss you and Jordie miss and da and the little kitteny miss you we all misses you very much

Love Kaz!

(I drawed a pist picture of you and me and spots playing)

2nd letter

Dear Y/N,

I hope you're doing okay. I wanted to say a big thank you for being there when we said bye to my da. It made me feel better knowing you were there, even though it was kinda sad.

Guess what? Jordie said we're gonna move to Ketterdam. He says it's cause he wants me to go to a good school there. I'm not sure about leaving this house, but Jordie says it'll be good for us.

The cool part is that you live in Ketterdam! That means we can hang out more and play together. Remember when we used to build forts in the living room and pretend we were pirates? Maybe we can do that in Ketterdam too.

I'll miss this house a bit because it's where we played hide and seek and had ice cream parties, but I think Ketterdam will be fun too. And I'm really happy cause we'll get to see each other more often!

I will see you soon, okay?

Love, Kaz!

3rd letter

Dear y/n,

I'm really, really sorry I haven't come to see you yet. It's not 'cause I don't want to, I promise. You're still my bestest friend ever. It's just that things got a little crazy since we arrived.

Jordie met this guy named Jacob Hertzoon. And guess what? Jacob offered us a whole bunch of money for our house! Jordie said it's a really good thing 'cause we can use the money for important stuff. But it also means we're super busy.

I didn't want you to think I forgot about you or anything. I miss you a lot and I still want to see you and play together. Maybe once we're all settled in our new place and get the money, we can have a big adventure like we used to.

Thanks for being the best friend ever. I promise we'll hang out soon, okay?

Love, Kaz!

4th letter

Y/N,

Are you okay? Please write back! Jordie is gone. I need to know you're alive.

Kaz.

5th letter

Y/N,

I heard you went on quite the journey to Shu Han just to retrieve my cane. I assume the trip was bearable. Your efforts are appreciated.

It's curious how life unfolds, isn't it? One day we're children playing in the streets, the next we're scattered across the world for various reasons. Yet, here we are, still connected by some thread of familiarity.

I imagine you'll return from your expedition when the time is right. Until then, business with the dregs continues as usual. The city keeps turning, and so do its dealings. As for me, well, I have my own matters to attend to as soon as I’m able to walk again.

- K.B.

First note

Get well soon! Let me know if you need anything else.

- Love, Y/n!

6th letter

Y/N,

Your letter reached me, and I must admit, it contained more substance than I anticipated. Word travels fast in the Barrel, and it seems that Haskell has taken quite an interest in your recent endeavors. His words carry weight, though they seldom come without a price.

If his assessment holds true, and you manage to prove your worth in the upcoming job, it could indeed elevate you within the ranks. Haskell’s recognition of your potential is both promising and concerning. The higher one climbs, the more treacherous the fall can be.

In the midst of this, know that I await your return.

May you navigate these challenges with the same tenacity that has carried you thus far. I wish you the best of luck, Y/N. Tread carefully.

- K.B

7th letter

Y/N,

You certainly have a talent for uncovering promising recruits. Jesper Fahey. The word on the street is that he’s got a steady aim that’s worth noticing. The skills he possesses could indeed be valuable, particularly in the line of work we find ourselves engaged in.

However, I must tread cautiously when it comes to individuals entangled in debts and vices. Jesper Fahey, from what I’ve heard, is no stranger to gambling. His tendency to wager recklessly has garnered quite a reputation, one that isn’t entirely favorable. The loyalty of a man buried under the weight of debts is a precarious matter. Whether his skills can outweigh the burden of his choices remains to be seen.

Your perspective on recruits is valued, and I’ll certainly keep a watchful eye on Fahey. I trust your judgment, and I’m willing to entertain the possibility. In the midst of all this, remember that your return is anticipated and your presence missed.

Return safely,

K.B.

8th letter

Y/N,

Do you remember Jesper? It’s almost comical how, after discussing him in my last letter, fate seemed to conspire to validate our conversation. Not long after I sent those words to you, I found myself intervening to prevent Jesper from getting himself thoroughly thrashed due to his gambling debts.

I hope I’ve made the right call by extending a hand to Jesper. It’s a calculated risk, one that I’m hoping will pan out in our favor. There’s potential there, no doubt, but potential doesn’t always translate into reliability.

This letter is short, I know, but I will tell you more about it when you come back.

Stay safe,

K.B

9th letter

Y/n,

It’s been days since your last communication, and the weight of uncertainty presses heavily on me. The quiet absence of your presence has stirred an unease I’m not accustomed to.

I’ve seen you handle insane odds, and I know you’re more than capable. But here I am. My mind keeps wandering to places I’d rather it not go, imagining scenarios that could have unfolded, and none of them are sitting well with me.

I hope that this silence is a result of strategic detachment, that you’re immersed in the intricacies of the job and haven’t had a moment to spare for correspondence.

I’m not accustomed to this vulnerability, nor do I care for it. Yet, here I am, plagued by the absence of information. I ask you, if you’re able, to dispel this uncertainty. A simple message, a token of reassurance – anything to quell this rising tide of apprehension.

I await word from you with an intensity I hadn’t thought possible. May it come soon.

Expectantly,

K.B

10th letter

Y/N,

I received the coat you sent, and I must admit, it's a rare occasion when I'm at a loss for words. It's unlike anything I would've chosen for myself, yet somehow, it feels surprisingly fitting. I can't deny its utility either – I appreciate it.

Jesper and Nina have managed to cultivate a special talent for driving me to the brink of exasperation. Their camaraderie is both amusing and bewildering, a chaotic symphony that I'm still attempting to decipher.

Today was no different. Jesper's antics at the club bordered on audacious, and Nina's unbridled laughter was enough to turn heads in our direction. As I tried to navigate the sea of chaos they create, I found myself, unusually, yearning for a return to some semblance of normalcy.

I must confess, the prospect of your return holds an allure I hadn't anticipated. There's a steadiness in your presence, an understanding that's often a rare commodity in these tumultuous times. The chaos, the hustle – they feel more manageable when you're around.

Till then, I'll persevere in the sea of antics that Jesper and Nina stir up, counting down the days until your return.

Until then,

Kaz

11th letter

Y/N,

Your mention of the jurda parem caught my attention, no doubt about it. It’s a name that carries weight, and I’ve got a feeling we’re treading on some dangerous ground here. It’s the kind of thing that’s best left untouched until we’ve got a better handle on what it entails.

Listen, I won’t preach, but I’ve got to say it – be careful and keep an eye out for trouble. The city’s not known for being kind to those who don’t tread carefully, and I’d hate to see you caught in something you didn’t see coming.

I’ve got a job for you. One that’s right up your alley. It’s always better discussing these things face to face, so when you can, make your way back. The sooner, the better.

Until then,

Kaz

12th letter

Y/N,

I’ve never been one for words, as you well know. My tongue seems to have a mind of its own, often saying the wrong things at the wrong time. And when it comes to matters like these, I’ve found that my eloquence takes a swift exit.

So, here I am, writing this letter in hopes that the words come out right, that they somehow capture what I’m feeling. I’ve spent years navigating the intricacies of this city, and yet the complexities of my own emotions have managed to elude me.

I’ve always valued our connection, from those early days of childhood mischief to the present. You’ve been a constant in my life, someone whose presence brings a sense of order to the chaos that surrounds us. And somewhere along the way, that bond transformed into something deeper, something I’ve been grappling with.

I find myself wanting to say more, to articulate the thoughts that remain half-formed in my mind. But it’s difficult, Y/N, and this letter might be the best I can manage.

What I’m trying to say is that you’ve become more than a friend, more than a partner in crime. There’s a depth to my feelings that I’m only beginning to understand. And if I’m being truly honest, I’d like to explore where this path might lead.

I understand if you need time, if my sudden candor is a lot to process. But I wanted to put these thoughts down, to let you know where my heart is at. And if you’re open to it, if you’ve felt even a fraction of what I’ve been feeling, then maybe we can navigate this new terrain together.

Kaz.

Second note

I’d like to explore where this path might lead too.

Love, y/n!

13th letter

Y/N,

I can't thank you enough for stepping in when I couldn't. I hope the contractor in Lij wasn’t hard to handle.

Now, I have a proposal of a different kind. How about we put our skills to use in a more relaxed setting? I'd like to take you out to dinner. No heists, no secret dealings, just you and me, navigating the menu instead of the back alleys.

I've made reservations for us at a place that's a bit more reputable than the Barrel's taverns. Consider it a step toward normalcy, a chance to enjoy an evening without looking over our shoulders.

Looking forward to your return,

Kaz

14th letter

Dear Y/N,

Your letter reached me, and I've got to say, the way you put it into words – how much you miss me – it hits home. The distance is a constant reminder of the warmth I've grown accustomed to, and I find myself missing you more than I thought possible.

This job is driving me insane, and my thoughts often wander back to Ketterdam, back to you. It's like a pull, a magnetic force that tugs me back to the life we've been building together.

I bought something with me – a box of those chocolates you can't seem to get enough of. The catch? I'm hoping they survive the journey and don't turn into a gooey mess.

I want you to know that with every sunrise and sunset that passes, I'm getting more restless to return to the city that's been our canvas, our backdrop. Until then, my thoughts are with you, and I'm eagerly counting down the days until I can wrap my arms around you again.

With all my longing,

Kaz

3rd note

I apologize, it seems the chocolates didn’t fare too well. I hope they’re still somewhat salvageable and that they manage to satisfy your sweet tooth.

- Kaz

15th letter

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you on the mend, wrapped in warmth and taking good care of yourself. It pains me to know you're unwell while I'm away, unable to offer even the smallest comfort.

My love, get well soon. I miss your laughter, your presence – they're a part of my life I can't bear to be without for long. The distance feels heavier when I know you're not well.

Today, during the heist, I saw a small brown cat with delicate white spots. The sight of it was like a reminder of simpler times, of moments when things were less complex. It stirred memories of my old cat "Spots," whose antics used to provide a reprieve from the realities of the Barrel.

As I look around, I find myself yearning for the day when I'll return to Ketterdam. Until then, my thoughts are with you, my love. Rest well, recover soon, and know that I will be there soon.

With all my affection,

Kaz

16th letter

Dearest Y/N,

There are times in life when words are inadequate, when even the most eloquent phrases fall short of capturing the depth of one's emotions. Today is one such day, and I find myself grappling with a sentiment that defies my usual precision.

I love you, Y/N. There, I've said it, though the words seem almost insufficient to convey the weight of my feelings. You've woven your presence into the very fabric of my being, and I find that I'm navigating uncharted territory, stumbling upon emotions that have long remained dormant.

In a world marked by uncertainties, you've become my constant, the one I turn to when the winds of the Barrel grow fierce. I cherish our bond, our shared history, and the future we're forging together.

As the days pass, my conviction only grows stronger. You've touched a part of me I thought was unreachable, and I find myself grateful for the warmth you've brought into my life.

Love,

Kaz

4th note

I love you too, more than words can express.

- Love, y/n!

17th letter

My Love,

I've stumbled upon something while on my trip to Lij, a revelation that caught me by surprise. My old house is up for sale. I confess, it's a notion that's been hovering in the back of my mind, a possibility I've been toying with.

And then, as if fate had a hand to play, it occurred to me – what if we made it our own? Y/N, would you consider it? The thought of creating new memories in a space that's intertwined with my past is something that holds a certain allure. A place where we could carve out our own sanctuary, away from the schemes and chaos that surround us.

If this notion speaks to you, let me know. It's a step I'd only take with you, a shared decision that would mark a new chapter in our journey together.

Love,

Kaz

18th letter

This is to certify that Y/N L/N and Kaz Brekker is (are) now registered as the absolute proprietor(s) of the land comprised in the above-mentioned title, subject to the entries in the register relating to the land and to such of the overriding interests set out in section 30 of the Registered Land Act as may for the time being subsist and affect the land.

Kaz Brekker __________

19th letter

My love Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits, even though I’m far away in Shu Han. I wanted to share something with you – I stumbled upon the perfect dining table. It’s a piece that seems to embody the essence of what we’ve built together, a symbol of the life we’re crafting, even from a distance.

As I stand here, thousands of miles away, my thoughts are never far from Ketterdam, from you. Every corner of the city is a reminder of our shared journey, of the future we’re molding. And with every passing day, I find myself longing to return, to be by your side again.

The plans we’ve made, the dreams we’ve spun – they’re a driving force, propelling me forward through the challenges that Shu Han presents. I promise you, Y/N, I’ll be back soon enough.

Until then, know that you’re in my thoughts, my heart, every moment of the day.

With all my affection,

Kaz

20th letter

Love,

I’ve come across some interesting information that might be of use to you. It seems that there’s a rumor circulating about a certain merchant in the Fifth Harbor. This merchant, it’s said, has been trying to make deals with both the Merchants Council and the Whitecrows, something that has my interest piqued.

I’ve also managed to uncover some details about a potential source of counterfeit currency that might be making its way into the hands of certain unsavory individuals. The source, surprisingly, seems to be tied to a printing press hidden away in the Barrel. It’s a curious development, one that could have far-reaching consequences.

And finally, I’ve received word that a shipment of goods has gone missing from a storage warehouse near the docks. This might not seem significant at first glance, but it’s the timing that intrigues me. A missing shipment, coupled with the merchant’s deals and the counterfeit currency – it’s all connected, I’m certain of it.

Stay vigilant, stay cautious. And know that even in the midst of our separate tasks, you’re in my thoughts.

I miss you, and I love you.

Love,

Kaz

21st letter

Y/N,

Listen to me, and listen carefully. You need to come back to Ketterdam, now. What you walked into, it was a trap – calculated, deliberate. I can’t explain it all in this letter, but trust me when I say your safety is in jeopardy.

I don’t care what you’re in the middle of, what plan you’re executing – drop it, and make your way back. I can’t lose you, not now, not like this. The threat is real, and the longer you stay where you are, the more danger you’re in.

I’m begging you, Y/N, hurry back. We can sort through the details, I’ll explain everything, but right now, all that matters is your safety. Don’t delay, don’t second-guess. Just come back.

Kaz

22nd letter

Love,

I’m pleading with you, begging you to reach out, to let me know you’re safe. This silence, it’s a torment I can’t bear. Every thought is tinged with worry, and I find myself grappling with scenarios that are far too grim.

I don’t care about the details, the reasons – they pale in comparison to my overwhelming need to know you’re okay. We’ve faced down darkness together, navigated treacherous waters, and I can’t accept the idea of you being lost in the midst of it all.

Please, Y/N, come back to Ketterdam. If you’re reading this, if you’re anywhere, find a way to let me know you’re alive. I’ll make sense of the rest later. Just, my love, come back to me.

Kaz

23rd letter

Y/N,

I can’t wait any longer. The silence is a weight on my chest, a suffocating reminder of the unknown. I’ve agonized, I’ve begged, and still, there’s no word from you. It’s time I take matters into my own hands.

Please, hold on. I’m coming. I hope you’re okay, I hope you’re just out of reach, waiting for me to catch up. It’s a risk I have to take.

I love you.

Stay strong, my love. I’m on my way.

24th letter

My Dearest Y/N,

It's been a week since you left us, a week of darkness and aching emptiness that nothing can fill. I know you won't get this letter, that these words will remain suspended in the void, but I find myself needing to put them down, needing to release the feelings that have taken hold of me.

The pain is suffocating, a weight that's settled into my bones. I still can't grasp the reality, can't accept that you're gone, that your light has been extinguished. It's a void that stretches beyond comprehension, a void I'm stumbling through.

The memories are a double-edged sword. They're a balm, a reminder of the moments we shared, of your laughter, your warmth. But they're also a blade, a reminder of what's been taken from us, of the future that was stolen away.

I want you to know, even though you'll never read these words – I love you. I always have, and I always will. You were more than a partner, more than a confidant. You were my anchor, my solace, my reason to keep pushing forward.

It's impossible to fathom life without you, Y/N. Your absence leaves a void that can never be filled. I can only hope that wherever you are, you're at peace, free from the pain that's gripped my heart.

Until we meet again, my love,

Kaz

25th letter

My dearest Y/N,

Six months have passed, and the ache of your absence has only deepened. The city, our city, is a different place without you. The crows, the ones you brought together, are slowly finding their separate paths, their separate destinies. It's as if the world itself is reshaping in your absence.

I found the little box where you kept all those letters. Your letters, my words – I'm surprised, in a way, that you kept them all. It's a piece of you that I'll treasure forever.

It's in these moments of solitude that I find myself yearning for your presence the most. Your laughter, your insights – they're still very much alive in my memories, and they continue to guide me through the labyrinthine twists of this world.

I miss you, Y/N. More than words can say. The void you left behind is as vast as the Barrel itself, and there's a hollowness that's impossible to fill. I can only hope that, wherever you are, you've found the peace that eluded you in life.

Until the next time we meet, my love,

Kaz

26th letter

My Dearest Y/N,

Time has continued its relentless march, and two years have slipped through my grasp since you left us. The city, once our canvas, has taken on a different hue, a different weight. The crows have scattered, their paths diverging, and the life we built together feels like a distant memory.

I wanted to share something with you – I've made a decision about the house, the one that once held the echoes of our shared history. It's a decision born out of the reality that without you, it's ceased to be a home. The walls, the rooms – they're empty without your presence, and it's a stark reminder of what's been lost.

Putting it up for sale again, it's not just about letting go of a physical space. It's about acknowledging that our time together, our shared moments, live on in memories, not in bricks and mortar. I carry you with me, always, but it's time to release the hold the house had on me.

Life continues to move forward, though it's a path I tread with a shadow that can never be dispelled. I hope, wherever you are, you've found the peace that eluded you in life. And I hope, wherever I am, you're watching over me, your presence a guiding light through the darkness.

With a heart full of love,

Kaz

27th letter

My dearest,

It's been almost three years, and some days it feels like it was just yesterday when I last saw you. I miss you, fuck, I miss you so much. It's like this gaping hole, this emptiness that can't be filled. No matter how many schemes I plan, no matter how many crows I put to work, it's like there's this void that's always there.

I was gonna do it, you know? I was gonna ask you. I got this ring, this small little thing that I bought just a month before you fucking died. It's funny, you know, I never thought I'd be the one to feel this way, to want something that much, to want to stake a claim in this shithole of a world.

But I guess that's what you did to me. You turned this cold, calculating schemer into someone who wanted more, who wanted you. I'm sorry I didn't ask you sooner, that I waited, that I let time slip through my fingers like sand. I'm sorry I couldn't be the one you deserved.

You were my light, Y/N. You shined a light into my darkest corners, and now that you're gone, it's like the shadows have returned with a vengeance. I need you, I need you so fucking much it's like a knife in my gut every damn day.

I don't know where you are, what's out there after this life, but I hope you're somewhere better. I hope you're at peace, and I hope you know that I'm here, waiting in this shithole, missing you every fucking day.

I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much it hurts. And I wish... I wish I could've showed it more when you were still here.

With all my shattered pieces,

Kaz

28th letter

Deer Y/N,

This will be the last letter I write to you, and as I put pen to paper, I’m filled with a mixture of emotions that words could never truly capture. The passage of time has been unkind, separating us by years that have felt both fleeting and eternal.

It’s strange, the way grief works. It’s a steady ache that never truly fades, an ache I’ve grown accustomed to carrying. There’s an emptiness in my heart that’s become a part of me, a void that can never be filled by anyone or anything else.

I’ve learned to navigate this world without you, though it’s been a journey fraught with challenges and moments of unbearable pain. There’s a longing, a yearning, that can never be quenched. You were my constant, the force that kept me grounded, and now that you’re gone, there’s a piece of me that will forever remain incomplete.

As time marches on, I find myself grappling with a heartbreaking reality – the sound of your voice is fading from my memory. The way you felt, the touch of your hand in mine, it’s becoming harder to recall. It’s as though the vibrant details of your presence are slipping through my fingers, leaving behind a hazy impression.

And oh, Y/N, the thought that your laughter will never again reach my ears, it’s a pain that reverberates through my very being. Your face, once etched in my mind with unparalleled clarity, is beginning to blur around the edges. The little details that I once treasured, the nuances that made you uniquely you, they’re slipping away, like grains of sand carried by the wind.

I love you, Y/N. Those words have become a mantra, a whispered refrain that echoes in the corners of my mind. I carry your memory with me, every step of the way, and I hold onto the hope that, wherever you are, you’ve found the peace that eluded you in life.

As I place this letter alongside the others, a part of me hopes that somehow, somewhere, you’ll receive these words, that you’ll know that you were loved, that you’re still loved, even in your absence.

I miss you, “we all misses you very much.”

Love, Kaz!

#fanfiction #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #angst #fluff #kaz brekker #i cry now #flangst

[pseudonymphomania]

HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO ME!

February was the month I became involved in the Obey Me fandom. I had some time last year and I was so inspired that I ended up writing a longfic, but it simply wasn’t enough for my newly obsessed brain. I was a traditional artist until last year when I decided to try my hand at digital art. Uh. It was difficult. I was so frustrated. Canvas size, where my tools are, how brushes work, making a colour palette and layers are all examples of things that I now take for granted these days. Dialuci was the entire reason I didn’t just give up and throw it all away. In fact, they became the reason I got better. I was determined to depict them in whatever scenario I had in my mind even if it was going to be a visual travesty. I focused on the most important thing; having fun. Over time, they became proof-of-concept that improvement is tenacity and repetitiveness.

My first and most-popular fic is Self Control. I spent exactly two months on it powered by creative inertia and an intense hyperfixation that I had not experienced since my teen years writing on Fanfiction.net; the DiaLuci ship dynamics were just that compelling and what was supposed to be a 20-Chapter loosely-connected aphrodisiac-induced smut turned into a whole play-by-play smutty epic about events before and leading up-to lesson 16 (87 chapters!). The rest is history. Now I have multiple stories under my belt and from this, even became a digital artist even though the only thing I thought I could do was write!

Spotlight: Happy Almost-One-Year Anniversary to this comment that I come back to and think about often out of all the wonderful comments I’ve gotten this past year.

I'll have you know that every time I have to write something, I try my best to place the characters in the scene so that it makes sense to someone who isn't me; I think of you every time I do so, dear reader. Thank you again for such a nice comment and representing the value of constructive criticism.

I’ll get back up and writing soon, I promise!

My biggest project to-date:

My Work-in-Progress Lineup:

Based on Obey Me Nightbringer chapter 37 and 38. I am pleased to present these two in their emotional duality. I’m planning on releasing them both at the same time because of the meaning I took from this narrative.

I started out a writer but I've been more involved in art these days. As various platforms are excited to regale me about my anniversaries, I look back on my fandom journey and I remember that you were all at the beginning of it. Thank you all for being excited to see what ridiculousness I get up to and for being a place I can enjoy my time being.

Here's to another year!

#my status #my wips #dialuci #fanfiction #obey me diavolo #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me #diavolo x lucifer #obey me dialuci #fanart #obey me fanart #obey me nsft #obey me smut #obey me nightbringer #obey me fandom #art progress #obey me art #obey me fanfic #obey me spoilers #obey me thoughts #obey me writing #lucidia #art improvement #tumblr anniversary

[glazelilyy]

before the roar of thunder

pairings (separately!) - diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich, childe/tartaglia, xiao x gender neutral reader (no pronouns used!)

word count - 4597

genre - angst, hurt/comfort

format - drabbles

warnings - blood/injury/wound mentions, cataclysmic destruction, violence, crying, kissing, character deaths with no graphic description (but not for the paired character or reader EXCEPT in childe's)

summary - a storm approaches but just before it does, you share a tender moment with your beloved for the last time

a/n - i have been mia for a while :') but this idea just kinda hit me out of nowhere so i decided to write about it :P i don't know if this writing will live up to expectations or any of my work from the past because i haven't written in a while but i'm trying to enjoy writing just because i like it rather than to live up to an expectation, so i'm gonna try and do my best :) i hope you enjoy this piece and thank you all so much for your patience and love these past few months i could not be more grateful that i am being interacted with and sent such wonderful messages <3 (also fun fact i listened to multiple vbs songs while writing most of this which just doesn't fit in with anything happening in these drabbles and majority of the time i had akito rapping in my ear while writing about death LMAO)

diluc loved.

he loved his city, born from the death of corruption and nurtured by the souls and free spirits of her people. he loved the crisp breeze that swept by falcon coast and cradled its peak in a bough of brevity where his worries would fly away and cast themselves up into the sky to become stars. he loved the shade from beneath the towering tree at windrise where memories of summers and picnics and childhood mischief came alight with a single glance towards her wavering leaves. he loved the cool touch of a crystalfly's perch upon his gloved finger.

he loved his companions; silently from afar he'd send well wishes in quiet messages meant only for their hands to caress or ears to indulge. he loved lisa; lazy as she might appear not once had she ever let him down. he loved jean: hardworking, disciplined, strong, courageous, but for every pedestal she was placed on was she ever more human—flesh and blood with a heart that pounded for others and never herself. he loved kaeya—his beloved little brother who always preferred the cool shade of his shadow and shielded his back from the many blades that sought his head.

he loved you. you who brought light with gentle hands and placed it within his heart. you who illuminated the dark, winding pathway of justice he thought he'd walk alone forever. you who showed him trust, who knew how he liked his tea (sweet, for a man who was even sweeter). you, who braided cecilias into his hair and peppered kisses across his ruddy cheeks and doused him in all the sugary sweetness that love could ever provide.

diluc loved, and loved, and loved, tremendously.

and he still loved, even as mondstat burned in a storm of fire.

he still loved, even as he stood over lisa and jean whose eyes had lost their brilliance and sparkle of life.

he still loved, even as he wept for his little brother who had feared death and spent his remaining strength gripping onto the tassels of his jacket and begged for him to stay; to reassure him in his last moments.

he stayed, despite the agony that coursed through his body and the never-ending sorrow that scorched his heart when kaeya stilled.

he still loved, even as he gripped your hand with tenacity laced in his veins.

soot and ash coated both of your bodies and faces as you stood at the gates of mondstat and watched the world before you crumble beneath your feet.

diluc felt his heart bob up and down in the narrow passageway of his throat.

he was always too late.

too late for his city. too late for his friends. for his brother.

the love in his heart was never enough. he was never enough. and now everything was gone. burning.

never before had he despised looking at his vision so much.

"they'll be back," you whispered hoarsely, and diluc turned to look at you, "the abyss order."

your hand seemed to squeeze his with every ounce of strength you had left, eyes wide and trembling with the flickering flames of destruction reflected in the glassy haze of your irises. the fresh tear tracks on your face twisted his heart into a knot.

"i know," he replied, never once casting his gaze away from you, "i'm still alive, after all."

diluc would not tell you that he could smell the unmistakable stench of abyssal magic from over the horizon. he couldn't. you'd seen horror after horror and now was not the time to tell you that more bloodshed approached. the abyssal army approached slowly and steadily, and soon they would be here to have his head on a stick. there was no running, there was no use escaping the inevitable.

"diluc..." you turned to him, doll-like and devoid of life with a tremble of sorrow buried in the abyss in your expression, "what do we do?" you whispered to him, as if he contained secrets of the universe that should only be shared between the two of you.

wordlessly, he pulled you close and rubbed a soothing hand in gentle strokes up and down your back. his embrace guarded you from the inevitable end that slowly crouched closer, rising with newborn sun. gloved, soot-covered hands slid up to your cheeks to thumb away at the tears that collected near your eyes.

diluc's heart wrenched in his throat uncomfortably, knowing well and good that this may be the last tender moment he'll ever share with you.

to that end, he found himself asking, "would you care for a dance?"

the question came out broken and hoarse, just barely under a whisper and lost was the man who once held a burning flame of retribution and tenacious blaze of justice in his eyes. you peered into a pool of tired red, glossed over with a misty haze of sorrow.

wordlessly, you allowed him to guide your hands and let him set the tempo as you moved carefully to avoid the debris scattered at your feet.

you'd always joke that he was much like a prince when he danced; so elegant and refined with the composure of royalty itself, he spun and dipped you much like a silk ribbon weaving through the air.

this time, however, diluc held you close and swayed to an invisible song. no elegant movements or dips from your prince. now, he was but a man clinging to the last remnants of life in his soul; the only thing tethering him to this world.

your hearts wildly pounded against each other's chests, horribly out of sync yet still so tremendously close that you'd fuse together if you could.

as the sun rose and illuminated his once beloved city, home to the people he loved, diluc leaned in and captured your lips one last time in a kiss that touched your soul and wrapped your heart in a blazing warmth of flame.

his hand wrapped so tightly around your waist and held itself firm at the back of your head, desperate to drink every last drop of your love and desperate to not let your eyes open and see that the abyssal army had breached what was left of mondstat's defenses.

diluc loved, and loved, and he loved you more than life itself. but in the end his love was never enough.

(continued utc!)

once, at the tender age of five or six, kaeya alberich witnessed death for the first time.

he'd grown fond of the butterflies that fluttered near the crystal clear lake behind dawn winery. their vibrant colors were foreign and new and his childhood intrigue urged him to watch with glowing eyes at each flap of its multicolored wings.

it was on one of these days where he found himself in the presence of the gleaming scythe of death itself when a colossal frog leapt from the waters and captured a butterfly within its maw.

he'd never felt such fear, and he convinced himself he'd never feel that fear again.

he now realized he was wrong.

he felt it again when diluc screamed, a horrifying sound, for his fallen father and kaeya did not know how to handle the immensive wave of relief that flooded over him. he felt it when a fiery blade swung itself down against his eye and believed his punishment was nigh. he felt it now, as mondstat burned to the ground and the corpses of citizens, knights, and abyssal monsters alike littered the once love-filled, lively streets.

death had always followed him closely like a friend—like a lover, he corrected himself. its arms wrapped around his body and cooed sweet nothings to him. death trotted after him wherever he went.

perhaps he should've gave into its embrace. maybe if he had, death wouldn't have found a lover in his home and snuffed the life and vivacity out of every mondstatian and every building within the city's walls. death would not have sunk its claws into jean, who took the abyssal army's leader with her when she pounded at the gates of celestia. or lisa and albedo, who fought at the western front for days on end only to succumb to the overwhelming onslaught of enemies with not enough manpower. what a shame, kaeya thought; he was rather looking forward to his daily midnight tea session with lisa and bothering albedo during his experiments. in some other universe, he is there and he is happy.

he loathed to think of it, but death had latched its talons into the flesh of little klee. a child was no exception to this hoard of monsters, but was the monster not truly him for failing them all? he wondered as he held her cold body close and wept.

death had always followed him but kaeya came to the conclusion that he was the one who truly wielded death. where he went, bodies dropped and lives fell into ruin. his prime example: his brother, who now lay at his feet with a sword through his back. a sword through his back, he seethed, because his attackers were so cowardly that they knew this uncrowned king would not go down so easy. it filled kaeya with an ugly rage that blotted out the tears in his eye. his shirt remained caked in diluc's blood from when the man brought him into a hug as he dangled at death's edge and whispered apology after apology into his ear.

always caught between the worlds of the blessed and the sinned, kaeya believed that he had grown quick enough to outmaneuver fate itself. but death remained steadfast and tenacious.

death was his lover and he was doomed to dance an everlasting tango so long as he lived. if not for him, the imposter in an aviary full of beautiful, golden-winged seabirds, perhaps the abyssal army would have left mondstat alone. jean would be here, ready to give him an earful for getting carried away with all the scars littering his body. albedo would chide him as he dressed his wounds while klee went on about another dodoco story while her little legs swung back and forth in the air. lisa would hand him a cup of tea and enjoy his company in silence. diluc...oh diluc, all the things he wished to tell his brother.

the only problem in his death theory was you.

you were still here.

you held him close as he wept for his beloved friends, for the little girl who always called him big brother, and for his beloved most treasured big brother whose fiery hair blazed no more.

how were you still here? was death not his lover? did he not bring death and sorrow wherever he went?

but if anything you were life. in your hands he renewed himself again, much like a butterfly unfurling its wings after cocooning for so long. warm smiles and fluttering kisses always greeted him after a long day's work. even now, as you wept beside him for your fallen friends, you remained his last thread of life keeping him tethered to this world.

"everyone's dead." you whispered from the crook of his neck as you both sat on the dust covered ground where the statue of barbatos once stood, mighty and proud.

"i'm sorry." he pleaded in return.

you shot your head up, bewildered and...offended.

"it's not- it's not your fault!"

kaeya laughed dryly, "oh, darling, you know it is."

death was his lover and he was succumbing to it. death was his lover and he drank in each of its poisonous kisses and sneaky touches.

you wasted no time in bringing him close, effectively delaying off death for a while longer. "it. is. not. your. fault."

"they'd be elsewhere if not for me-"

"mondstat would have fallen a lot quicker without you, kaeya," you interrupted, "you are no harbinger or vessel of death. you protected this city and its people with your life."

how did you always know what to say? perhaps you were an archon—that would be funny, wouldn't it? a sinner and an archon in love. kaeya wanted to laugh at the thought of it but all that left his lips was a broken whine that slid into a muffled sob. you were there to catch him as he fell into the overwhelming onslaught of sorrow that flickered around him much like the distant flames of burning houses and crinkle of crackling wood and stone.

"it should have been me." he croaked.

you shook your head and swept away the locks that clung to his sweaty forehead. "if it were ever you, i would go as well."

his heart ached in the cavity of his chest, eager to run away from this all. but he lay tired in your arms as you peppered kisses to his skin. even as you sunk to the ground on your side and gathered him in your arms, all he felt was the overwhelming tide wash over him.

death was not his lover, you were. and you were life. he loved living with you and with his beloved friends and comrades.

he lay beside you and kissed every inch of your face, covering you in his love. he cared not for the distant roar of abyssal mages and monsters anymore, not when he held life itself within his arms. life who kissed him back with just as much love and sweet tenderness that set his heart alight.

on this day, two butterflies sat perched on a perfect calla lily, waiting for the inevitable end of a frog's maw; their hearts and souls forever intertwined.

childe can't remember many of his dreams, but there is one he's clung onto for years.

he is in a soft bank of snow, surrounded by his darling siblings and cherished parents. his father does not look at him as if he's seen a beast dredged up from the darkest of nightmares. the world around him is pure and crafted of childhood dreams: there is no evil and there is no heart ache.

you are there and you are smiling at him, waiting for him with open arms.

this has remained but a mere dream of his for a reason.

in reality, there was only the cold, concrete ground of the fatui jail cell and dry, underground air that left him suffocating. slivers of eerie, ghostly blue light trickled in from the false candles that lined the underground jail. the rust-caked iron bars bathed reluctantly in the ghastly glow.

his eyes flickered up to the ceiling, hoping to make out shapes or cracks within the foundation. just give me some hope, archons if you're listening—please! but the gods stayed silent and the ceiling remained unchanged.

his vision and delusion had been stripped, weapons all but ripped from his hands. there was no hope left. childe let his gaze wander to you.

you lay in the cell across, face down, unconscious after taking the butt of a fatui gun to the nape. how cruel—to involve the lover of a scorned harbinger. for the god of love the tsaritsa was awfully sadistic. no matter how much he struggled and screamed that you should not bear the burden of his crimes it did nothing but urge the fatui to get their hands on you even more urgently.

childe wishes that he had accepted reality—wishes that he had never tried to desert from the fatui. steal away under the cover of night with you in hooded cloaks and cross the snezhnayan border for a life free of misery and a life where it'd be you and him together.

as much as the fatui have given him power, you have given him strength and courage and hope and love. there was no place for childe among the fatui, not when he wanted his place to be by your side. to feel your love each and every day and wake up to your smile.

you stirred from your cell, snapping childe from his thoughts. his hands snatched themselves at the bars, eyes blown wide and searching for signs that you were okay.

"hmmn...childe? where...where are we?"

his heart ached tremendously and beat against the skin of his throat.

"jail." he whispered.

"what?! but...but we were just about to cross the border when-"

"when we were caught by pulcinella's men," childe finished, "and brought here. i've been charged with desertion and my punishment is at sunrise."

childe hated seeing you feel anything but happiness—anything but love and the sunshine of emotions that you deserved to experience. he failed you when tears gathered in your eyes.

"but the punishment for desertion..."

childe smiled with eyes that swam in a sea of sorrow, "execution." he finished.

you lifted yourself up onto your forearms and dragged your semi-awake body to the edge of the jail cell. between each cell lay a narrow path, where you desperately reached your hand out to the other side. the tears that had gathered in your eyes streaked their way down in hazes across your cheeks as you suppressed your sobs and whines. your fingers shook with everything within you as you stretched and reached out to him, this beautiful, golden man whose wings would be clipped at sunrise.

childe scrambled to shove his hand past the bars and reach your hand. he only managed to grab onto the tips of your fingers but it was enough for him. you were in his grasp, it was enough for him.

he was thankful his family would not have to bear the brunt of his desertion, he should really thank mister zhongli for sneaking them out of the country into liyue. he regrets not having you go along with his family, but you insisted on going with him. it's his fault you were in jail.

reality was far too cruel.

"you'll escape, right? you've always got a plan." you pleaded between heaving breaths.

childe weakly laughed from an ugly, hopeless place.

he wished to make all your dreams come true, protect all your wishes and hold your smiles and laughter close like a warm trinket tied around his neck. anything but this ceaseless crying and sorrow that he felt slither from your heart through your arm and into your connected hands.

"come now, no tears, sunshine. you know i'll be okay, i'll figure something out." childe cooed, though he knew better. oh, lord, these lies would swallow him whole, but it is fated.

"do you promise?" you whispered brokenly.

his heart screamed at him not to do it, conscience pounding at the doors of self control in his mind. but childe was a protector of dreams and happiness.

a lean, scar riddled pinky looped in your own, holding tight to the invisible promise that linked the two of you. "i'll keep it all my life."

"if you break it i'll throw you on the ice myself."

the warbled smile on your face was enough. your watery eyes and tender touch gave him light that was not reminiscent of death like the flickering blue candles that lined the jail.

"of course. i'll owe you a duel as well. do you think you'll best me this time?"

you scoffed and tugged on his fingers, "of course i will, so you have to stay alive for me to beat you."

"well, i can't ignore orders from the top now can i?" he joked and reveled in the muted laugh that bubbled past your lips.

even in the bleakest of moments you gave him hope, like a light shining in a sea of never ending darkness.

"you'll always have me, no matter where i am. i promise you i won't let them hurt you." he whispered, and unlike that last promise, he meant it.

you held his hand until the guards came and even as you screamed and pleaded and cried with all your heart for him to stay, there was some morbid part of childe that was glad he got to hold your hand for the last time. he called out his declarations of love one last time as he fought against the grip of the guards and shoved his hands through your jailcell bars to cup to face and swipe away your tears. agony coursed through his veins as the guards ripped him from your grip and your fingers slipped through his hands like the sands of an hourglass. the last picture of your face would be one of horror and tear-stricken as the guards dragged him off. he whispered your name and as it rolled off his tongue it left in its wake a taste of sunshine and mirth.

i love you, more than anything in this world. more than power and glory and all the temptations of this world. you are my dream.

as he kneeled before the tsaritsa in handcuffs and chains nailed to the floor with her hand raised to deal the strike of death upon him, he smiled once more at the dream he cherished.

he is safe, and warm, and everyone he loves knows no sorrow.

though he promised to protect that dream, he knows his tongue will freeze over so that he may never spew lies again.

for as long as he's lived, xiao has prepared himself extensively for only a single thing: his death.

it wasn't a matter of sorting out the wares and material items he didn't own—such things weren't of importance to an adeptus like himself. rather, it was the acceptance of death itself. he was no stranger to this cloaked figure of fear that knocked on its hosts doors or barged in uninvited. blood covered his hands, dripped down the slope of his jaw and pooled at his feet. death invaded every crevice of his life much like a persistent parasite that sought to drive him to the brink of madness and back again. but it was familiar and offered a morbid sense of comfort.

as far as he could ever consider, xiao had waited for death for as long as he'd known the stars to dot the sky.

those same stars flickered down back at him, almost pitifully, as the ground shook with tremors that made the grass come alive and dance a morbid waltz of terror. crimson smoke painted the sky and blotted out the overhead glow of the stars. screams cried out in the distance and clashed with the sounds of blades and battle cries and war horns to produce a macabre melody that twisted a knot in his stomach.

fading bodies of monsters lay at his feet, numbers in the dozens. his breath caught in his throat, desperate to retreat yet needing to escape. he clenched his blood-bathed spear, fingers curling taut around the metal to cling to the last shred of hope he could muster.

his eyes flickered up to you, who mimicked his breathless, tired disposition as a mitachurl fell at your feet. your weapon clattered to the ground, your knees following shortly after.

xiao raced to your side in a blip, quick to grip your forearms before you could hit the ground. his polearm laid abandoned where he once stood, now its final resting place. his arms were now full of you and eyes clouded in worry. exhaustion crept its way onto your face and it was then he knew: hope was all lost.

the abyssal armies and undead, ancient gods raged onwards in the distance, they harrowing sounds a mere whisper in comparison to the loud thundering beat of your heart against his body.

reluctant as he was to touch you for fear of his karmic debt, xiao found himself hesitant to let go. for you to slip through his fingers and the fear of never allowing his fingers to trace the slopes and edges of your face invaded him like an intruder. your arms reciprocated and slid around his shoulders as a silent plea. this madness would never end, let's stop. you seemed to cry out.

perhaps this was the very moment he'd been preparing what felt like eons for. death crept its way around the corner, leaving war and destruction in its wake and its march to sink its fangs into both him and you was inevitable.

his knees buckled as you both sank to the grassy bed, bodies and limbs entangled and intertwined in a connection that seemed impossible to sever. as much as his conscience begged him to move and enact his long written duty, his body cried out a different tune, his heart a different dance altogether.

you shifted his body and laid his head on your lap, bracing yourself on a palm as your other hand worked to move the sticky strands of lush, forest-green locks from his sweat-covered forehead.

"rest, you've done well." you murmured with a gentleness in your eyes that made his stomach swim up to his throat and choked him ever so sweetly.

had he done enough? war raged on, lives devoured by the endless deluge of monsters and evil beings that sought death. his most reliable companion, death, would soon march up to his door and barge in with a demand for his head.

all the while, xiao believed that he was ready to embrace death. he pictured it perfectly: he'd meet his end in the midst of battle and his death would contribute towards a greater good. some would garner a chance to escape while the monsters gorged themselves on his death and feasted on his powers.

now, however, an unsettling sense of dread settled in his chest. the world around him burned and crashed and yet you remained intact, gently stroking his hair and humming a sweet song that you'd often coo to the birds on the railings of wangshu inn (and he loathed to look west and see the silhouette of a once towering, proud inn now toppled to the ground).

had he not readied himself for the one, singular thing that has been constant in his life? had he not witnessed enough to resolve the conflict that was life or death?

as he listened to the melody that fell from your lips with the world around him blotted out to nothing but you and him, he realized a truly frightening thing: he was not ready yet. death could not guarantee that you would be there to sit silently beside him on cool, summer nights and fold butterflies out of leaves or go crystalfly watching in the early mornings of spring. death would not ensure that he felt an uncomfortable yet welcoming warmth in his stomach when your eyes met his and a smile bloomed on your face (and though he'd never know how he should respond, you always seemed to somehow know how he felt).

he was not ready to be without you. a dreadful realization. he had failed at preparing himself for the one thing he knew was inevitable. but in this moment, as the world caved in and crumbled around you, he felt peace. his worn body lay tired and supplicant in your arms. once a weapon, now he found himself rusted and worn beyond repair left with only this beautiful longing in his heart to be filled with all of you. his eyes fluttered up to your visage and behind your kind eyes and warbling smile, the stars glimmered back down at him.

in these final moments, xiao wished to be nowhere else. with a heart so full of love, its wings unfurling and stretching high towards the sky where it'd soar on forever in an unmarked destination.

date published: january 30th, 2023

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact angst #TW: MCD #TW: blood #TW: death #works—☆

[hussyknee]

If there's a Wikipedia editor here can they do something about Refaat Alareer's Wikipedia page? The Zionists have got into it and used the New York Times to insinuate he was a hate-filled person who was asking to be murdered. Please help.

If you want to know how much Refaat hated the Israelis that terrorised him and his family birth to death, here you can see for yourself:

I am You by Refaat Alareer

…Look in the mirror: The horror, the horror! The butt of your M-16 on my cheekbone The yellow patch it left The bullet-shaped scar expanding Like a swastika Snaking across my face, The heartache flowing Out of my eyes dripping Out of my nostrils piercing My ears flooding The place. Like it did to you 70 years ago or so.

I am just you. I am your past haunting Your present and your future. I strive like you did. I fight like you did. I resist like you resisted And for a moment, I’d take your tenacity As a model, Were you not holding The barrel of the gun Between my bleeding Eyes.

…The very same gun The very same bullet That had killed your Mom And killed your Dad Is being used, Against me,

Mark this bullet and mark in your gun. If you sniff it, it has your and my blood. It has my present and your past. It has my present. It has your future. That’s why we are twins, Same life track Same weapon Same suffering Same facial expressions drawn On the face of the killer, Same everything Except that in your case The victim has evolved, backward, Into a victimizer. I tell you. I am you. Except that I am not the you of now.

I do not hate you. I want to help you stop hating And killing me. I tell you: The noise of your machine gun Renders you deaf The smell of the powder Beats that of my blood. The sparks disfigure My facial expressions. Would you stop shooting? For a moment? Would you?

All you have to do Is close your eyes (Seeing these days blinds our hearts.) Close your eyes, tightly So that you can see In your mind’s eye. Then look into the mirror. One. Two. I am you. I am your past. And killing me, You kill you.

#i want to cry #why can't they leave him alone #just leave palestinians fucking alone #isn't it enough that you're massacring them and razing everything they love to the ground #i can't think of refaat without remembering that his body is still under the rubble #free palestine #free gaza #tw death #refaat alreer #wikipedia #wikipedia editing #zionazis #poetry #anti zionist

[amputeewomen]

Alena in the Snow (short story)

Once, during my high school years, I developed a crush on a girl named Alena. She was captivating in a way that seemed almost unattainable to me. We went to the same school, but she seemed to belong to a different world, one that I could only admire from a distance.

Years passed, and life took us on separate paths. Alena's parents lived not far from my place, a gentle reminder of a past affection, but with time, she became a distant memory, a flicker of teenage yearning that faded into the backdrop of my life.

However, fate has a peculiar way of reweaving old threads. When Alena was 23, she fell gravely ill. I only learned of her condition when it had escalated dramatically. She was hospitalized, battling a severe illness that resulted in the necrosis of her lower arms and both legs. The news struck me with a profound sadness, reviving emotions I thought were long gone.

Driven by a mix of concern and revived affection, I found myself at her bedside in the hospital. She was unconscious, unaware of my presence, but I stayed there, silently supporting her in her fight for life. It was during those quiet, somber moments that I realized the depth of my feelings for her.

Miraculously, Alena survived. I was there when she woke up, offering a familiar face amidst the disorientation and fear. In those vulnerable moments, our connection rekindled, growing stronger with each passing day.

As she recovered, I found the courage to confess my past crush to her. Her reaction was heartbreakingly self-deprecating. With teary eyes, she joked, "You surely wouldn't want to date someone like me now, disabled as I am." Her vulnerability was palpable, a mixture of humor and deep-seated insecurity.

Without a moment's hesitation, I assured her of my sincere feelings. "Alena, my affection for you goes beyond any condition. I would love to date you, no matter what." It was a moment of raw honesty, a declaration that transcended physical limitations.

From that day forward, our relationship blossomed. We fell in love, not in spite of our circumstances, but perhaps because of them. Our bond, forged in the crucible of adversity, grew into a deep, unconditional love. It was a love that celebrated not only what was present but also what was lost, and in doing so, found something truly beautiful. As Alena's recovery progressed, she was fitted with prosthetic arms and legs. This marked the beginning of a demanding, yet transformative rehabilitation journey. Throughout this period, our relationship flourished. We found strength in each other's presence, our bond deepening with each challenge we faced together.

We spent countless hours at the rehab center, where Alena demonstrated incredible resilience and determination. I marveled at her spirit; she tackled each exercise and therapy session with a fierce tenacity that inspired everyone around her. Despite the hurdles and frustrations inherent in adapting to her new prosthetics, Alena's progress was remarkable.

During this time, our relationship evolved from just dating to something much deeper. We found solace and joy in each other's company, and it wasn't long before we decided to move in together. It was a natural and exciting step forward in our journey as a couple.

Our first significant activity as cohabitants was decorating our home for Christmas. Alena, ever enthusiastic, dove into the task with her usual vigor. We spent hours hanging lights, setting up the tree, and placing decorations, transforming our living space into a festive haven. It was a heartwarming experience, filled with laughter and shared moments that I cherished deeply.

One evening, as we were putting the finishing touches on our outdoor decorations, a light snowfall began to blanket our surroundings in a soft, white layer. Excited by the picturesque scene, Alena stepped outside to admire our handiwork. However, still adapting to her prosthetics, she lost her balance on the slippery snow.

In an instant, I rushed to her side, but to my relief, she was already laughing, unharmed. The snow had cushioned her fall, and she lay there, smiling up at the falling flakes. I joined her on the ground, and there we were, lying in the snow, laughing together under the gentle glow of our Christmas lights. It was a moment of pure joy and love, a testament to our journey together, filled with challenges but also with laughter and unwavering support. Our love had not only endured but had become a source of strength and happiness in both our lives.

#amputeegirl #amputee #dak #double above knee amputee #leg amputee #dbe #double below elbow amputee #arm amputee #prosthetic leg #prosthesis #artificial leg #amputiert #amputation #stump #stumps #amputada #amputierte frau #amputee woman #amputeewoman #amputee girl #amputeebeauty #quad amputee #quad

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for letting out our* indoor cat?

i (24 they/them) live with my mother (51 she/her) and my sister (29 she/her), altho both of us have moved out and lived on our own, but moved back into our childhood home due to economic/health stuff, mostly caused by the pandemic

during the time living on her own, my sister has gotten a dog and two cats. while we all love them and take care of them, i would be lying if my mother and i didn't expect her to, and be annoyed when she isn't, be their primary caretaker

both my sister and myself are against outdoor cats. i dont think its safe for the cat or the local ecosystem, and she agrees. one cat however does not care for our opinons, and tries to escape by any means, having learned to open doors, both with normal handles, and the garden ones, and we had to start locking everything up even when people are at home. due to his tenacity, he is always wearing a collar now, has been microchipped, and is up to date on all outdoor cat vaccinations just in case he does slip away

before you say we should take him on walks — we tried but he starts thrashing so violently in his harness he breaks out of it and runs off. trying to tire him out at home hasn't really been working, cuz he just doesn't want to play with us in the limited space — he likes getting chased

the issue is. i have migraines that have gotten much worse over the past year. i finally started medication about two weeks ago, but apparently it will only start showing any results after 2-3 months

one of the ways the cat tries to get us to let him out is by screaming bloody murder. i think you can guess where this is going

i asked my sister to take him to her room, and she has, but 1) we share a wall so it was still painful, and 2) she works from home, and after about 20 minutes she threw him out and said that sorry, but she just cant have him there. her door locks. mine doesnt. so even if i close the door he will open them and stand by my bed meowing as loud as he can

i was having a bad one. i-have-broken-a-bone-and-this-is-worse bad one. extreme photosensitivity and double vision, sounds hurting, nausea. honestly looking back at it, i probably shouldve called emergency services it was that bad. but i obviously havent been thinking clearly, and all i wanted was for the sound to STOP. so i let him out and went back to being miserable in a dark room

usually when he slips out, we tell my sister immediately, but i didn't. i guess she assumed he gave up. she found out when he showed up at her window couple of hours later

my sister is obviously majorly pissed at me. mam grew up with barncats, so she thinks cats should be allowed to come and go, but since its my sisters cat, she respects him being indoors — but shes annoyed by the racket, and thinks that its on my sister to find a solution, and being mad at me for this is her own problem. i feel really bad bc i really do think that letting hinm out like this is dangerous for him, but i genuinely felt like my head was going to explode

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole