#shots fired and target buried

[little-pondhead]

Mother’s Day discourse in the family group chat??

#pondhead rambles #mother’s day #goddamn #shots fired and target buried #for context one of my brothers moved out #this is the first Mother’s Day he hasn’t been home

[simpleeindulge]

The Beast and The Mouse

Info: fem/reader x Kid, 1st meetings, cussing and rude language, Kid in denial, Kid gets a crush, implied sexual yearning, future mature content planned.

Context: Kid develops a crush on a girl, and he can't deal with it.

Part 1.

Part 2. Me Mouse, You Bull.

Kid breathed heavily as his heart pounded in his chest. A mixture of joy and rage with hits of excitement and annoyance sparked his adrenaline to act. Kid had to give this lame example of a pirate crew some credit. It was a ballsy move to sneak attack his crew.

"Rip them apart and burn this hunk of wood!" Kid shouted over the noise of the battle. "I want this ship buried at the bottom of the ocean!"

His crew cheered out to signal that they heard his command. Kid smirked and lifted the defeated captain by his shirt.

"This is why you don't mess with real pirates." Kid sneered as the man struggled in his grip.

The sound of a bullet hitting its target nearby caught his attention, and Kid saw one of his crewmembers wounded. His flaming orange eyes narrowed, and he looked for the perpetrator. The failed pirate captain beat his hands uselessly at Kid’s grip while pleading for his life.

Growing more annoyed and bored, Kid hung the man on the handle of a knife stuck in the central mass of the ship. He then swung his metal-covered fist and punched the man’s face. The impact made cracks in the wood surrounding the man's once-intact skull.

The crushing wet sound satisfied Kid a little, but it didn't make up for how boring this fight had been. Another shot rang out, and Kidd moved his head. The wood in the mass splinters, sending pieces flying onto Kid's shoulder.

That sniper is getting brave to try a headshot, especially since he's a lousy shot, Kid thought as he turned.

The space where his crewmate had been shot was empty. In the air, Kid could get a brief whiff of her scent. This would be his mouse’s third battle, and the silly girl was actually doing fine. Kid scoffed at the mental praise and rubbed his neck as he thought of her.

This battle is nothing compared to his past ones, and this was only the beginning. The bloodshed will get to her eventually, and she will leave.

Kid had to wonder why the girl hadn't left yet but not now. Now, he had a ship to set on fire.

“Heat!” He shouted at his long-time comrade. The man cut down two fleeing enemy pirates and then looked at Kid.

“Light it up! We’re done here!”

Heat thumbs up him as Killer and Wire called the crew back to the ship. Kid didn’t bother to stick around and turned his back.

The gunshot came a third time, but Kid was ready. He used his power to repel the bullet and then used it to summon the rifle. The sniper stupidly held on to his weapon and flew towards Kid.

Kid grinned wickedly, balled up his fist, and punched the man into the sea, knocking him out.

Around him, Kid’s crew fled towards the Victoria Punk with whatever valuables they found. At least they had some decent treasure, Kid observed as he tapped his fingers on his arm. His eyes searched for the girl among the others. Usually, he would just trust that everyone on his crew made it safely back, but…

“Mouse!” Kid shouted out impatiently.

She had a name, but Kid didn't want to be too familiar with her. She couldn't possibly last another week of pillaging, killing, and whatever debaucherous acts he and his crew committed. Or once did, Kid had been cutting back on his usual "habits".

“Yes?”

Kid snapped out of his thoughts and peered down at the short girl. Her hair was pulled up, and on her right cheek was a small bandage. Over her shoulder hung her medic bag.

“Did you get everyone off the ship?” He asked gruffly.

“Anyone that needs help has been assisted.” She replied militantly.

Kid rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. Smartass. He then noted the bandage and motioned at her cheek with his chin.

“You were careless.”

Y/N’s hand flew to the bandage to cover it.

“I was-“

"Careless!" Kid snapped.

Her eyes glanced down, and Kid could see the defiance in her body. It angered him that she wasn't understanding what he was trying to tell her.

"I can't be looking out for you! I need everyone to pull their weight in a fight!"

Y/N winced at the Kid's loud voice, which, in her defense, can be jarring when you least expect it.

However, Kid saw her wincing as something else. Weakness. Weakness was the last thing he needed on his crew, and his simmering annoyance at her flickered to rage.

"GET ON THE SHIP AND STAY OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

With one blink, Y/N had disappeared. Kid huffed and rubbed a hand over his face. What had gotten into him? How could he let his temper get so out of hand?

Why did his mood become unstable every time he talked to the girl? This was clearly on her, not him. Why hadn't he gotten rid of her? And what happened to her face that she needed a bandage?

Kid sighed and quieted his mind as Killer approached him. In the background, Heat spread his fire over the ship's deck, and Wire was busy tying up the rest of the sorry crew together.

"You okay, Captain?"

"Yeah, let's go."

Kid started to walk back to the ship as the screams of the men filled the air along with the smoke from their burning ship.

Killer followed beside him quietly and calmly. There were many reasons why Kid considered Killer to be his best bud. The main thing was that Killer didn't talk just to talk. Kid spat on the burning deck just before boarding the Victoria Punk.

"Bunch of weaklings. Couldn't bother to put up a decent fight! What fucking waste of time!" Kid mumbled to himself. Killer said nothing as he listened to his best friend. Kid walked along the deck side of his ship and opened a door.

"I mean, why bother attacking if you're just going to run when it gets difficult! You either attack and win or have some guts and die trying!" Kid went on as they kept walking.

Killer was still listening to his friend, but now he was wondering why they were heading in this direction. Kid stopped talking momentarily as the image of Y/N's bandage cheek crossed his mind. Killer waited patiently to see if he would say something else, like what was actually bothering him.

"Hey," Kid asked Killer in a low voice. "Did you see what happened to Mouse?"

Kid could see the brows raising behind the mask Killer wore and turned away as he walked.

"She has a bandage on her face," Kid explained with a hint of a growl in his voice.

"She was doing her job, Kid. Mosh got shot by that sniper you punched into the sea, and Mouse was helping him."

Kid considered Killers' words and then asked again. "But did you see what happened?"

Killer sighed, rubbed the back of his head, and said, "It doesn't matter. You already punched the guy into the sea."

Kid stopped cold, and Killer stopped with him out of curiosity. Contrary to what his rival, Trafalgar Law, thought, Kid wasn't stupid. Impulsive, egotistical, and cocky, yes, but stupid, no. He understood what Killer had implied and what had happened to Mouse. That made him think of what could have happened to her, and it angered him.

Kid had never once thought, "What if...", but ever since that damn girl joined the crew, his mind had been filled with nothing but "What if...".

His shoulders shook with anger, and Kid's steps hit the floor with a heavy sound as he started walking toward the medical ward. Killer's shoulder heaved as he sighed, then followed behind his captain.

Y/N was busy putting away supplies and restocking her medical kit. Thankfully, the battle wasn't that bad, and there were only minor injuries to treat. Most of her injured crewmates were in the mess hall drinking while the others were resting in their rooms. Still, she wanted to be prepared for the next time-

"YOU!"

Y/n hated that she squeaked at Kid's sudden outburst of anger, and she stepped back as the jar she held in her hand slipped and exploded on the ground. Kid had this annoying habit of shouting at her whenever he came near her. She guessed that it was a silly tactic to frighten her off. All it really did was stoke the flames of her own simmering temper.

Oh, god, what now? She thought as her eyes met Kid's while she focused her breathing. The last thing she wanted to do was get in a screaming match with her Captain. One, she would lose, and two, it would hurt her throat.

Y/N stood still, not wanting to step on the broken glass and spilled ointment. Her hands gripped the side of her pants as she mourned the broken jar of salve that took her three months to make. Maybe she could salvage some of it?

Kid was used to her eyes by now, and by used to them, it meant he trained himself not to look directly into her eyes. He stormed up to her and ripped off the bandage from her cheek.

"Ouch!" Y/N cried.

Her hand went to cover the mark, but Kid grabbed her wrist and gripped her chin to turn her face. The wound looked red and puffy. It was barely two inches long, but had she not been lucky, her jaw could have been shot off.

The sniper was a lousy shot, but Kid would have lost his mouse if he had more skills.

"Captain," Y/N said in a harsher tone than he was used to hearing. "Captain, please let go of my face and wrist."

Kid blinked and released Y/N from his grip. Y/N noticed that he was standing on her homemade salve. There would be no saving any of it now, and it angered her.

For the first time, she glared up from her lashes at Kid. His anger simmered down, and he took a step back. Y/N knelt down to see what, if anything, she could still save.

"Y-you," Kid started to say, then glared down at her and shouted, "You could have been shot dead today!"

This again?!

"You were careless doing your job, and you could've-"

"Well, I didn't! I didn't get shot, and I didn't die! I did my job!" She shouted back as her face snapped up at him. Her eyes brightened with anger, and Kid and to glance away before he could get lost in them like a damn fool.

Killer stayed leaning in the doorway in case he needed to jump in to defend the girl, but it looked like Kid's 'little mouse' could fend for herself. He was tempted to leave but wanted to see how this would play out.

"Are you raising your voice at me!"

"If it will get you to listen to me, then yes! Captain! I am!"

"You have some gull-"

"And you're rude! Look at my salve! You made me drop it and stomped all over it like some raging bull!"

"Are you calling me an animal!"

"Not to insult the beast, but yes, I am!" Y/N said as she stood to her feet.

Kid blustered and paced before her. He wanted to punch something. Not her, no, he could never hurt her, but he wanted to punch something hard to release everything he was feeling. That "what if..." feeling, along with his desire for Y/N, he wanted to punch it all away.

Y/N watched him carefully as she shook with frustration. She could tell he wanted to hit something. She bit her lip and clutched her fists, ready to run in case Kid decided to make her his target.

Y/n didn't think he would, but the past was something to learn from, and she didn't know him completely yet. Killer had to be by the door for a reason. Would he jump to help her out? Why did she think joining this crew would be good for her?

A better question is, why did she fall for Kid's charismatic offer? For him?

She stopped asking rhetorical questions when she saw Kid stop and raise his fist above an examination table.

''Don't you dare!" Y/N shouted in a commanding voice.

Kid flinched and felt chastised as his fist fell short. Killer snorted and felt impressed as he turned to leave. He had seen enough to know that the girl had a fair amount of sway over his short-tempered friend. She would be alright.

Kid held his fist over the table with the temptation to slam it down, but he stared at Y/N. Stared right into her beautiful, stern eyes. How strong they looked without being cold, and her lips pressed calmly together looked tantalizing to kiss till they were red and swollen.

With his mind clearly drifting, Y/n walked around her ruined salve and put her hands on his fist. Kid raised a brow as she tried to move it away from the table.

"What are you doing?" He asked with a corner of his lip turning up.

She grunted and said forcibly as she continued to push on his arm.

"I don't want you breaking anything else in the medical ward! Go, oof, break something in the mess hall, you big bull!"

Kid snorted and then laughed as Y/N kept trying to move his arm. He flexed his arm and held it steady.

"Come on, Mouse! Is that the best you can do?" Kid teased.

"I used too much of my speed strength during the battle," Y/N said, punctuating each word as she struggled.

Kid quieted, then surprised her by grabbing her by the waist.

She gasped and shrieked as Kid lifted her up and sat her on the table. Y/N may have overused her power, but she had enough to escape if needed. Only Kid shocked her again as he slammed his hands down on the table, trapping her.

Her face was close to his, and she felt her breath go still as Kid's red/orange eyes bore into her. Her heart thumped, and her spine heated with a shiver she hadn't felt in a long time. Her lips tingled, making her crave something she shouldn't.

Kid wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her deeply with his tongue, tasting her while pushing her down onto the table to feel her. She would taste good, and her whimpers would be like sprinkled sugar on an already delicious treat.

It was hard not to lick his lips as he, for once, thought of what he would do. What he would do her.

"You need more training, Mouse," Kid said in a warm, gravelly voice.

"This battle, along with the other two you were in, is nothing. I have seen worse, and this was nothing."

Y/n's eyes widened, and she sucked in her bottom lip nervously. God damn, Kid didn't think she meant to do it on purpose, but he ached for her. Seeing her soft, pink lip moving like that made him ache in the worst way.

"Alright," She sighed, looking down at her lap. Kid had to shift to keep her from seeing and winced painfully at what he hid from her.

"I'll train harder, but you need to stop yelling at me for no reason."

"I have-"

"No!" Y/N said in a sharp, pleading tone. She then touched his chest, and Kid instantly calmed. "Please, Captain, you can't barge in here and scare me into dropping things! That salve is expensive and takes a long time to make."

"Fine."

Kid pushed off the table and crossed his arms. Being scolded again by this little woman made Kidd's aching lessen, but only a little.

"I'll give you the money to make it again."

"And you'll help me make it!" She added cheerfully.

When Kid tried to argue, Y/n held up her hand and explained, "So you will understand its value. It's a family recipe that helps with cuts and burns."

"I don't-"

"Please."

She gazed at him with that soft expression that warmed the blood in his heart. As he gazed at her, sitting calmly on the table with that mark on her cheek, Kid started to feel a vague sensation that had not been felt in a long time.

He looked at the ground where the salve was smeared and found a glob that looked clean enough to use. He picked part of it up with his finger and swiped it upwards on Y/N's cheek. She closed her eyes at the cold ointment touching her skin.

A small part of her wished he would kiss her, but when his hand left her face, she knew it was hopeless to wish. After all, she wasn't his type.

Part 3

@ella157 , @bdudette ,

#eustass kid x reader #eustass x reader #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kidd #eustass captain kidd #eustasscaptainkid #op kid #one piece #one piece x reader #op fanfic #one piece fanfiction #kidd one piece #x reader #eustass kid #eustass kid x you #op eustass kid #kid x reader #captain kid x reader

[matan4il]

How to write this update post on Israel's Holocaust Memorial Day. Where to even start. It feels unreal to make a post about so many killed because of an antisemitic, genocidal terrorist organization, on the day we repeat the promise, "Never again."

We have found out that Dror Or, who was thought to have been kidnapped, was actually murdered on Oct 7, and it's his body that's being held hostage in Gaza.

We've also been informed that another presumed hostage, who I've written about before, Elyakim Libman, has actually been murdered on Oct 7. They'd found indications that Elyakim, who worked at the Nova music festival as a security guard, was in the "death ambulance" after he had brought there one of his wounded colleagues, Shani Gabai, and staying with her to help. Hamas terrorists noticed the ambulance aiding the wounded, and fired RPGs at it. The vehicle became a fire death trap, and not only were all the people inside murdered, it was also very difficult to distinguish the bodies from each other. This is what happened to Shani Gabai, they discovered that what little of her remained, was difficult to separate from another body and they ended up being buried together. Once indications were found that Elyakim was in the same ambulance, suspicion rose that maybe what happened to him was similar to Shani's fate, so they started opening graves and checking whether his remains might have accidentally been buried with someone else. They eventually found him in the grave of Victoria Gorlov, who also worked with her bf, Alexander Samoilov, as a security guard at the party (both had been murdered by the terrorists).

Elyakim Libman:

Victoria Gorlov and Alexander Samailov:

Shani Gabai:

This brings the number of hostages, both living and dead, held in Gaza, down to 132, with at least 37 confirmed to have been killed, so it's their bodies that Hamas is refusing to return, and with more suspected of being hostage corpses, too. There is still one Israeli woman missing, whose fate (whether murdered or kidnapped) is unknown. This is the uncertainty of an indiscriminate massacre and mass kidnapping campaign, it's been almost 7 months, and we're still searching for and collecting pieces of our dead.

Yesterday, Hamas fired mortars from Rafah at the Israeli soldiers overseeing the Kerem Shalom crossing. It takes mortars just 8 seconds from when they're shot until they hit, which means the people targeted don't even have time to react and take cover. Iron Dome, which can fail on occasion like all technology, didn't intercept the mortars. I wanna emphasize: this crossing doesn't bring anything into Israel, Israelis aren't getting anything out of it, it was closed after Hamas' massacre, we opened it and have been keeping it running purely to allow humanitarian aid in, from Israel into Gaza, and thousands of humanitarian aid trucks have crossed through it during the war. Every soldier operating it, is a part of Israel's humanitarian effort on behalf of Gazans. What do you think Israelis feel and think when they hear Hamas fired at the Kerem Shalom crossing? But the mortars also hit the nearby civilian community of kibbutz Kerem Shalom. Bottom line, Palestinian Hamas terrorists murdered (as of now, at least one more person is still in critical state) 4 young Israeli soldiers at the humanitarian crossing and wounded at least 10 people inside Israel (at least one civilian house was reported as hit). The attack forced the IDF to close the crossing. Where are all the social justice warriors, crying for more humanitarian aid, to denounce Hamas depriving Gazans of precisely that? But also, the terrorists chose to fire out of Rafah, making sure that even if Israel wanted to stay out, Hamas has proven they use the city and the civilians in there as a basis for murderous actions against Israelis. Where are all the people opposed to an IDF ground operation in Rafah, why are they not denouncing the terrorists' choice, which is forcing Israel's hand? Unsurprisingly, as Hamas has been stalling its response to the latest Egyptian-proposed hostage deal, and with this murder of our people, today the IDF has ordered the start of civilian evacuation from eastern Rafah. You can thank your local friendly murderous terrorists, Hamas-loving college kids.

The murdered soldiers (left to right): Michael Ruzal (18 years old), Ruben Marc Mordechai Assouline (19 years old), Ido Testa (19 years old), Tal Shavit (21 years old).

Yesterday, we also experienced shooting from Hezbollah at Israel's northern communities, with some direct hits. This is what it looked like from inside a Kiryat Shmona home that was impacted:

And today there was another attack by Hezbollah, this time with several waves of suicide drones, leading to 2 people having been seriously injured (another drone attack from Iran-funded militias in Iraq, plus rocket attacks from Syria, were intercepted overnight):

After we've had a Hamas computer server center discovered by the under an UNRWA location, now the IDF has also operated against a Hamas center inside UNRWA's headquarters in Gaza. But I'm sure once more UNRWA heads will claim they "didn't know." How much more linkage between Hamas and this UN agency do people need, to get that when you fund UNRWA, you fund terrorism? When you support UNRWA, you support the death of innocent civilians, both Israelis, and Gazans used as human shields. Is this the right time to talk about all the countries that were quick to re-instate their funding of URWA, without waiting for any real change? (You can find a list of which countries reinstated the funding and when, plus which are the few heroes still freezing it on UN Watch's site, kudos to US, UK, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Romania, Estonia, Italy, New Zealand and Austria for proving that countries can have a backbone on this matter) Here's the shame list for the countries funding UNRWA, despite its symbiosis with Hamas: France, Spain (never suspended its funding), Finland, Germany, Iceland, Japan, Norway (never suspended its funding), Canada, Denmark, Sweden, Australia and the European Union. True champions of human rights. /sarcasm

Last Tuesday, a 34 years old Turkish supposedly-tourist, who had entered Israel through Jordan, chose to commit a terrorist attack, stabbing an Israeli policeman at the Old City of Jerusalem with a knife he bought in one of the local shops. The policeman is recovering, the terrorist has been neutralized. But since this is all supposedly about the occupation, I would love to hear which part of Turkey Israel is occupying...

I've mentioned Hamas robbing humanitarian aid to Gaza multiple times during this war, but did you know that they don't stop there, and last month, Palestinian terrorists have actually robbed about 70 million dollars from a Gazan bank? "Free Gaza from Hamas" is not just an empty slogan. No one should live under the rule of a group capable of intentionally creating this nightmare reality for its people.

Yesterday, the 2024 Eurovision had its opening ceremony with the "turquois carpet." Israel did not participate because it was the eve of Yom Ha'Shoah, our Holocaust Memorial Day. Instead, the Israeli representative, Eden Golan, participated in a Yom Ha'Shoah ceremony held by the Jewish community in Malmo, while wearing the hostage pin. I recently came across a magazine interview with Eden about the hardships she'd experienced growing up abroad, and how returning to Israel gave her back her faith in humanity. It made her participation as Israel's representative even more meaningful. Eden at the ceremony:

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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

[palms-upturned]

I can’t even keep up with the Al Jazeera live coverage of Gaza fast enough to highlight specific bulletins. Every single report is so damning. I’m going to try to compile a timeline of bulletins regarding the attacks on Al Shifa and other hospitals tomorrow, but please, please if you haven’t, read through yesterday/today’s live pages. The hospitals are surrounded by Israeli tanks and snipers. Anyone who moves too much inside the buildings or who try to flee on foot are being shot and killed. Buildings in the medical complexes are being bombarded and catching fire. Power has run out and two babies at Al Shifa have already died because of the incubators losing power. ICU and dialysis patients are also going to die at this rate. Most if not all other hospitals are in the same situation. People are already dying just because the doctors can’t get to them to treat them. And those dead bodies can’t be kept in the morgues anymore because there is no refrigeration. They’re going to have to be buried in mass graves on hospital grounds. And the survivors will have to cope with hunger, dehydration, poor sanitation, disease outbreaks, lack of medical care/supplies, and the continued bombardments. Salah al-Din street is getting bombed. Rafah is getting bombed. There is literally no safe place for anyone to go. Israel is not going to stop either until the Gaza Strip is emptied, or somebody fucking stops them.

#palestine #free palestine #al jazeera #im barely managing to stay awake as i type this so i apologize for any inaccuracies

[quintessencewrites]

Pernicious

toxic!Shuri x reader; OC x reader

“Nah, baby, just getting a taste. 

“Fuck y-”

“I told you, you can’t do this shit better than me.”

Warnings: 18+!!! slight smut, TOXIC! Shuri (i'm sorry in advance), slightly toxic!reader, Shuri's got a twin, yall! explicit language (as always) If you liked how She Loves Me ended, I suggest you skip this one, I'm bout to fuck that all the way up (again, sorry in advance)

Word Count: 6.7k+

Tags: @shurislover @6-noir @doramilaj233 @ihearttish @vampzxi

@verachii @jessiap @phantomof-themcu @taiiunknown @sapphicvqmpires @pocketsizedpanther @oceean

Special shoutouts to my babies @venusdraco for naming Shuri's twinem and @inmyheadimobsessed for the story idea to begin with (love y'all lots)

A/N: I was supposed to post this like three days ago...and forgot...my bad, I hope yall still love me cuz I love yall

“I’m sorry, this voicemail box is full. Please hang up, and try again later.”

The line didn’t even ring- straight to voicemail she went for the umpteenth time today.

Either your phone was powered off, or you’d blocked her, and it was more likely the latter.

Shuri’s blood was boiling. If she were a cartoon, steam would be puffing from her ears. Instead, the backlight of her phone illuminated her angry features in the dark room. The device was brick-like in her grasp, the screen sporting a fresh crack from her overreaction to the photo you’d sent her before you went ghost.

Flat on your back, you lay in a sea of white sheets with one draped over your torso, barely covering your most intimate parts. The glimpse of your nipple played peek-a-boo with the camera. Pure ecstasy was written across your face, curls wild and frizzed, and eyes rolled, half-closed. You looked like a Greek goddess, etched straight out of the finest marble.

Your tongue stuck out, hanging over your lips teasingly. Shuri could practically hear your laughter rolling from it, mocking her. 

The hand around your throat was the icing on the cake. She could see the indents in your skin from their fingers, and they weren’t Shuri’s fingers.  It wasn’t her hand, and even more infuriating, Shuri didn’t know whose hand it was.

You were playing her game and beating her at it. 

How fucking dare you?

She’d snapped a photo in retaliation and couldn’t even send it because her messages weren’t going through. 

Shuri’s anger was inextinguishable. Her eyes roamed the room, fury flooding the unusually dark orbs. A weight shifted next to her, and she suddenly remembered the whore in her bed. She was attractive earlier, a nice little plaything whose moans had caused a blush to creep to the princess’s cheeks. Unfortunately for her, now she was a target whose name Shuri couldn’t even recall.

“Aye, get up.”

A deep breath escaped the girl’s chest, but she didn’t stir, and that just pissed Shuri off more. 

“Get up,” her accent was thick with the venom that coated her words; her hand felt like fire against her lover’s chill shoulder. “You gotta go.”

A blond head shot up, and if Shuri’s eyes were to roll any harder, they would have rolled across the floor like marbles. She knew the bitch was pretending to be asleep.

“I gotta go?”

“Did I stutter? Get gone,” Her attention was back to her phone, back to the photo- now zoomed in as she inspected it harder.

Shuri was glad to see the girl comply; the sooner she got up out of Shuri’s room, the sooner she could investigate this shit in peace.

“Uh, you know where my panties are-?”

“Find ‘em”

Shuri knew she wouldn’t. They were folded in her pocket, a little trophy from tonight’s conquer. 

“I can’t-”

An exasperated sigh left Shuri’s pretty lips, and though they remained sealed, her glare spoke in volumes.

The poor girl practically shrunk beneath the gaze, grabbing what little clothing she came with and heading to the door. “Guess I can go without them-”

Shuri was already buried back in her phone, barely noticing the door opening and shutting. She was wracking her brilliant mind, trying so hard to understand.

She wanted to understand why you were ignoring her, why you’d left. She needed clarity for the past seven months that now felt like wasted time. 

You were just ungrateful. Ungrateful and greedy, that was the only explanation. 

She’d spent hundreds on you, thousands, really. She bought you flowers weekly, the biggest bouquets with the most vibrant roses, tulips, and lilies you’d ever seen. She even printed your name on the card in the most expensive fonts. 

She’d take you out to eat at establishments that drained her pockets. Shuri would even order for you, priding herself on knowing your favorites.

She’d taken you home to Wakanda on a week-long trip that you claimed was “unforgettable”. You’d met her mother and childhood friends, you shared a laugh with her brother and his wife. 

You were just fucking ungrateful.

Sure, Shuri had come home a few times covered in dark spots, but you believed her when she told you they were bruises. She was just sparring, boxing in the gym and she’d taken a few hits. 

Sure, she slipped up a few times, calling you by a name other than your own during sex, but she switched it up quickly enough for you to not notice. It’s not her fault; there were too many names to keep track of.

Yeah, you may have spotted her in a pic or two and it may or may not have been incriminating, but shit, she had told you the truth with, like, half of those. 

“It wasn’t even like that-” It wasn’t; you were always blowing shit out of proportion.

“She’s just a friend-” With benefits, but you ain’t had to know all that.

“I have a long-lost twin sister-” Maybe not long and lost, but the twin part was real.

This was all your fault for not believing her.

Val fucking tore you up. Your body was sore and spent, and sleep almost overtook you. Her warm lips against your shoulder kept you conscious just long enough to hear her parting words. It was good, so fucking good.

“Get some sleep, baby. I’ll call you in the morning- don’t forget to turn your phone back on.”

You could only moan a response, far too exhausted to open your mouth. Valkyrie’s deep chuckle reverted through the room, and the sound of the door opening and closing soon followed. 

Your curves sunk into the mattress beneath you and the sigh you released was therapeutic. The same thoughts you’d been trying to push away began to crawl right back, and you wished so badly that they would truly disappear. 

Valkyrie was here, she was gentle, and she was healthy. She was a breath of fresh air in comparison to the air trapped in your lungs that you felt you couldn’t release.

Yet, for some reason, you couldn’t genuinely feel the happiness you feigned around her. 

She’d surprise you with flowers with your name adorned on the card they were packaged with. 

Your name was the only one that rolled off her lips and it sounded so sexy when it did.

There were no imaginary twin sisters, no suspicious bruises, and no damning photos with girls who weren’t you.

And still, somehow, that wasn’t enough. 

It was who the flowers came from, not the name they bore.

It was the accent your name was spoken with, and it wasn’t the one you wanted.

It took the strength of a thousand men to lift your head from the pillow that supported it. Your arm was deadweight, as heavy as lead as it moved across the comforter towards your phone that lay several feet away.

The screen was much too bright when you powered the device back on and your face took cover back in the pillow until it dimmed enough for you to look at it without wincing. 

Once the buzzing started, it didn’t stop. Message after message, missed call after missed call, your phone was blowing up, and the flutter in the pit of your stomach told you who it was before you even looked.

She must have gotten your picture. The one you’d asked Val to snap “just because”. The second thoughts swarmed you immediately when it came to sending it but second-guessing yourself wasn’t a habit you wanted to keep. That little blue arrow was but a seductive little tease, drawing your finger closer and closer until the next thing you saw across your screen was “delivered”.

Twenty-five. 

That’s how many times Shuri had called you over the past hour, how many times she’d been sent straight to voicemail.

Hundreds of messages started to pour through, all from the same number. As clever as she was, Shuri wasn’t a woman of many words and most of her texts repeated the same thing. You only tuned in to the last handful, skimming over them just barely.

‘You think you funny?’

‘Who’s the bitch, y/n?’

‘Where the hell you at?’

‘You can’t do this shit better than me, baby.’

The smirk that made its way across your face was purely devilish. You had her bothered. Good, she should be.

This wasn’t a game you should be playing. You were supposed to be out of this toxic-ass relationship, not dipping your toe back into it, but the waters were warm and alluring, with the way they pulsed to and fro.

The temptation that soured your veins didn’t need to do much to sway you. The desire to hear her hurt, the urge to crumble her confidence, it was just too fucking strong to ignore.

The line only rang once before she picked up. Shuri didn’t speak, but you knew she was there. 

“I can’t do this shit better than you, huh?”

Shuri was silent. 

“Well, guess what, Shuri?”

“What y/n?”

“I am doing this shit better than you.”

A scoff was all you heard through the receiver. “Oh, you think so?”

“I do-”

Shuri’s harsh words cut you off. “I saw that picture, y/n.”

“I-”

She was giving you no chance to speak. “I know she ain’t fuck you good though, cuz she ain’t me. If she was me, she would have been too preoccupied to snap that cute lil pic. You would’ve been too distracted to send it.”

“She-”

“Cuz the bitch I had in my bed tonight ain’t have her mind on nothing else but me, baby.”

Her words tripped you up, and you stumbled and fell hard. Of course, she’d had somebody else in her bed tonight or any night. That wasn’t outside of Shuri’s norm and you knew it. Within seconds, the chime of your phone sounded, and every nerve in your body begged you not to look at it, to hang up the phone, and never turn back. Unluckily for you, though, your muscles usually moved on their own. 

Across your screen popped up an image: Shuri, with a broad in her lap. Everything about the photo took your cockiness and threw it straight out the window. The girl was naked, legs spread with Shuri’s fingers dipped between them. Her pale skin glowed beneath the contrast of Shuri’s umber tone and blond hair barely touched her shoulders, the very shoulders that had your princess’s lips pressed against them. 

“You fucking with white bitches now?”

Shuri’s laughter infuriated you, and fury gained dominance over your emotions, shaking you from the inside out until the phone was trembling with your anger.

“Nah, baby, just getting a taste. 

“Fuck y-”

“I told you, you can’t do this shit better than me.”

“Fuck you, Shuri!” Your voice rang through the room, climbing several octaves. Its shrillness was unfamiliar to you, a sound you weren’t used to hearing in a pitch you weren’t used to hitting.

“That’s how I know she ain’t do a good job, baby, you still so angry. Want me to come over and fix it?”

This time it was a voice in the background that cut you off. Mumbled words that didn’t make any sense through the phone, muffled and whispered vibrato that was indistinguishable. 

“Nah, Shuri. I want you to stop hitting my line, for good. Go enjoy your little snow bunny.”

Her deep chuckle withdrew a breath from you that got caught in the concave of your chest. “I sent ol’ girl home a long time ago. I gotta surprise for you.”

Unfortunately for Shuri, you were standing firm with a stubbornness that was just a side effect of the fury that flamed you. “Ion want any surprise you got for me.”

The pouty princess merely shook her head at your response, a sight she knew you couldn’t see. “I’ll see you in fifteen, baby.”

“Shuri, don’t you bring your ass-”

She’d hung up before you could even finish your sentence.  

She could never fucking listen. 

Fifteen minutes later, on the dot, a soft knock came from the heavy wood that granted access to the outside world.

Your legs swung over the side of the bed out of habit, but you truly didn’t have any intention of getting up. The knocking turned to thumping the longer you hesitated and she pounded the tough oak like she was the police.

Neighbors would begin poking their nosy heads out their doors if you continued to ignore her. It was two in the morning, and the old lady next door wouldn’t take kindly to being awoken like this. 

The sheet around you would serve as a robe, just long enough for you to answer the door that would have swung right off its hinges if you were to pull on it any harder.

“Shuri, what the actual fuck-”

She stood still, leaning against your doorframe with a readable smirk dancing on her hard features. Your princess looked damn good, and she knew you knew it. The baggy tee hung loosely on her broad shoulders, and the thick, black sweats that sat low on her hips didn’t do a damn thing to hide those sexy ass dips that you used to trace with your fingers. 

“Silence suits you.” Her head dipped as she pushed past and into your home. 

Her voice was deep, a bit deeper than it was just moments ago when you were on the phone and she looked about your home as if she was stepping into it for the first time. Your eyes trailed her body so slowly you’d have thought the two of you were frozen in time. 

“Y-you cut your hair?”

Her curly top was gone. Like, gone-gone, not just the sides like before, but the whole damn head. 

Instinctually, her hand rose to brush out the faded cut, like a habit she’d developed in minutes. “It’s always been cut, baby.”

Her hand outstretched toward you, luring your stunned figure straight to hers. She’d cast a spell and you were enchanted, letting her lead your body to hers until your breasts, barely concealed by the slipping sheet, were pressed firmly against her torso.

“Sh-Shuri, I’m not fucking stupid-”

“I never said you were, baby girl.”

It was much easier to ignore the charm in her voice when it was over the phone. Now, with her hands on your flesh and her fingers toying with the dimples in your back, her magic was much harder to resist.

Your words were lost in a void, and a hush fell over the room, over the space, over the two of you. 

She was just toying with you, that’s all. That’s what you tried convincing yourself. Shuri didn’t want to do anything but come over here and play with your feelings.

But if that was the case, and you knew that was the case, why couldn’t you push her away?

Why did your heart thump a little harder when her eyes dropped to your lips and stayed there?

Why did anticipation creep through your belly when her head got lower and lower and lower-

Why didn’t you stop her when her lips touched yours?

It was so gentle, the way her mouth met yours. You can’t remember the last time Shuri kissed you so tenderly.

Her grip around your waist tightened, and if she pulled you any closer, your bodies would become one.

The sweet sound of your sigh was melodious and just as you began to melt beneath the heat of her caress, she pulled away. 

It was such a pathetic sound, to hear you whine for a girl you weren’t even sure you wanted, and yet you did. 

“What’s the matter, baby?” The heat on your hip traveled to your pouted lips when her hand left to graze the bottom one with the tip of her thumb. 

What the fuck was the matter?

Here stood Shuri, the source of your headaches and late-night cry sessions. The liar, manipulator, player-girl on campus whom everyone wanted and everyone could get.

Here stood Shuri, the source of the thoughts that spun through your brain. The jokester, genius, who would move the heavens and the earth for you if you asked. 

“Y-you gotta go-” 

The whisper was so low, you weren’t sure she’d heard you. When she made no move to drop her hand from your naked body, you were sure she hadn’t.

“Shuri, you have to go-”

“Why?” Her question cut your orders short and the fact that she even questioned you ignited anger.

“‘Why?’ Fuck do you mean ‘why?’”

“Why, baby? Why I gotta go?” Her arms snaked around you even tighter, and she dropped her head into the crook of your neck. The warmth of her breath tickled as she descended, causing a stifling giggle to catch in your throat. 

“Do you want me to go?” 

Seduction rang throughout her tone, and like a siren’s call, it almost pulled you under.

Almost.

“I-I want you to go, Shuri.”

“Why, baby?”

“Because just an hour ago, you had some bitch in your bed-”

“Should’ve been you-”

“But it wasn’t, Shuri. It usually isn’t more often than it is.”

“Is it?”

Rage fueled your hands to fly with exasperation, and the girl before you flinched, as though they would come back down onto her.

“I’m not fucking dumb, Shuri-”

“Aren’t you?”

The response came from Shuri’s voice, you knew that for sure, but the girl standing before you hadn’t opened her mouth. 

“Usisi-” That one came from the Shuri standing in front of you, slithering from between her clenched teeth like a reptilian. 

Her eyes were no longer trained on you. She was staring at something behind you, a moving figure from the way her eyes shifted back and forth, and you almost didn’t want to turn around to know what it was.

Damn, those muscles that moved without instruction. 

Shuri Udaku was standing in front of you, hands glued to your waist with a shortcut that she didn’t have yesterday, and yet, somehow, she was also standing behind you, leaning against your doorframe with crossed arms and the same curls that always hung over her furrowed brows. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d stopped breathing, but it was long enough to earn a too-loud gasp at the sight before you.

Curly-haired Shuri’s arms dropped, and her hands fell into her oversized pockets before she started making her way toward you, and Short-cut Shuri’s grip on your body tightened.

“You’re not fucking dumb, y/n?”

A gaped mouth was all you could offer up in response. 

“You play this game better than me?”

Still nothing. 

It’s like you’d regressed back to infancy, forgetting what words were and how to use them. 

They didn’t make any sense in your scrambled mind, this didn’t make any fucking sense. 

“Ngaba kufuneka uthethe naye ngolo hlobo (You gotta talk to her like that)?”

“Thula (Shut up), usisi”

Foreign tongues spewing foreign words. Shuri times two, standing ahead of you, arguing with herself. 

Your Shuri’s eyes shifted, taking in your barely covered body, still in her clone’s grasp, and you could practically see the fire ignite behind her gaze. 

“Nalla, izandla zakho (your hands).”

“Kuthekani ngabo (What about them)?”

“Get them off my girl.” Finally, something you could understand. It was slow, the way the duplicate dropped her hands from your hips and brought them down to her side. As soon as hers were gone, Shuri’s replaced them, and the way she pulled your body into hers was rough. It should have hurt her, the harshness with which your back hit her front and her arms wrapped around you in defense. 

“Baby-” Shuri’s lips brushed against your ear as she spoke directly into it.

“Sh-Shuri, wha-” It was barely a legible sentence, coming out in gasps that were lulled to silence by Shuri’s shushes. 

“I told you I had a surprise for you, baby.” She spoke to you between kisses that were planted gently against behind your ear, trailing down your neck. 

The Shuri behind you was the one speaking; it was her warmth you felt and her arms that engulfed you, and yet, it was the Shuri in front of you that had your attention. Your eyes couldn’t leave hers, with a thousand questions burning behind them. 

“A surprise-” The crazy octaves you were reaching earlier had long gone, and every syllable that spilled from between your lips was so low, it took concentrating ears to hear. 

Mhm, the vibrations from Shuri’s hum tickled against your neck. “Remember that twin you called imaginary?”

“Imaginary-” you parroted absentmindedly.

“Meet the imaginary bitch with whom I shared a womb-”

“Mazenja (bitch), hm?”

“Andizange ndithintitha (I didn’t stutter). Baby girl, Nalla. Nalla, baby girl. Umntwana wam oyintombazana (My baby girl).”

Nalla. You’d never heard Shuri speak of a ‘Nalla’ except for when she was making up a sorry-ass excuse. Yet, here she was, standing before you, a smirk smile etched across the perfect face she shared with her sister. Here she stood, reaching toward you until your hand was in hers and her lips pressed against it, leaving behind a warmth you wanted to feel again. 

It didn’t last long enough, though, with Shuri pulling your hand from her sister’s grasp with a click of her tongue. 

“Shuri, Nalla-” 

“I think you broke her, usisi.” A deep chuckle left Nalla’s lips, and her hand swayed back and forth in front of your gaze, trying hard to break whatever trance you were trapped in. 

Shuri’s guard on you broke when the phone in her pocket began to buzz, snatching away her attention, and Nalla swooped in. Her hands tugged yours, pulling you away from her sister until the two of you stood chest-to-chest.

“Come back, baby girl. It ain’t that mind-blowing,” her whispers matched yours, speaking low enough to avoid Shuri’s wandering ears. 

She underestimated her sister’s intelligence; Shuri was no dummy. From the corner of her eye, she could see her twin luring you into her space and how willingly you just stepped into it. Suddenly, the phone in her grasp was no longer of interest, and neither was the needy bitch she was entertaining in it. 

One foot in front of the other, you were lulled by Nalla, closer and closer and closer, until the vibrations of Shuri clearing her throat shattered the bubble you allowed yourself to become encapsulated in. 

“Was I interrupting something?” The question could have easily just floated through the air unanswered, had you not turned toward the sound of her voice and seen the arch in her brows and venom in her frown. 

Words still hadn’t found their way back to you yet and there you stood, voice gone as though it’d been stolen straight from your throat. 

Nalla took control of the impending situation while your brain was wracked for something to say and your needy eyes looked on from one sister to the other. 

“Nah,” her long, veiny hands rubbed along the carve of her chin, and the shackled staring contest between the two of you was broken when her eyes found the ground beneath her. “Nah, Shuri.”

“Then back up. You a little too close to my girl.”

“Intombi yakho (Your girl)?” Nalla’s scoff is low, but not low enough, and it does nothing to diffuse her sister’s anger. She’s yet to release your hands from hers and Shuri’s taken notice. 

“Yintoni ingxaki (What’s the problem)?”

“I didn’t say anything, Shuri-”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Nigga, you called me over here-” The lookalikes are speaking as though you’re not standing between them, trapped in a Wakandan princess sandwich-

“Yeah, to iseti the irekhodi ngqo, not try and fuck on intombi yam!” Shuri’s english always breaks when she’s upset; a habit she’s yet to control. Half the sentence is in Xhosa and despite the few months you’d spent with her and the few weeks you’d spent in her country, the words still sounded foreign to your unfamiliar ears.

“Was she your girl when Snow White was laid up in your sheets earlier tonight?”

The step Shuri took toward her sister shook the ground below as though she’d moved the Heavens and the Earth to approach the two of you. 

“Fuck you say, Nalla?”

This was not a situation you wanted to be in the middle of, quite literally. Their native tongues flew, leaving you out of a loop that you found yourself to be at the center of. Nalla’s hand rose,pressing against Shuri’s chest and keeping her a full arm’s length away while you stayed squished between the two, barely reaching chin level. 

While one twin bore an expression of pure rage, the other was totally amused. Shuri’s nostrils were flared, her teeth bare. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, and you were certain that she was staring past you with a crimson hue. 

Cowardice ran a single shiver down your spine, one which made itself more dramatic the more you tried to hide it. It missed Shuri’s eyes, but Nalla took notice and her brows met together in the middle with your reaction toward her sister. 

“Kufuneka uhambe (You should go), Shuri.”

Her words were accessorised with little droplets of spit that collected at the corners of her mouth, her jaw taut with anger. “You taking her side? She-”

“I’m not taking nobody side, Shuri, but you’re scaring her.”

You weren’t scared. Who the hell did Nalla think she was, to accuse you of such an emotion?

Fear was an emotion that had escaped long ago when it came to Shuri, and while her fury was scorching, Nalla stood behind you, cooling the burn caused by your former flame. 

You weren’t scared, though shocked you stood still, with Nalla’s hands still covering yours and her chest a rooted grounding point against your back. 

“You should go-” 

“I’m not-”

“Go, Shuri.” Damn your voice for sounding so small, damn you for feeling so trivial. 

“Go?”

Your nod was pathetic, as was the way you restrained from wincing when Shuri scoffed. 

“Are you serious?”

Another pitiful nod. 

“Ha, ight. Let’s go-” Shuri spun toward the door too easily; with no fight. She’d been expecting to hear the sound of her sister’s footsteps follow-

The room remained silent.

Her slow turn was menacing, facing the pair once more, hiding the shock that etched its way across her face when she saw Nalla, standing where she had been before.

“Nalla, masihambe (let’s go).”

“I-” Nalla appeared stuck, flashing frantic eyes between you and her sister, unsure of which way to turn.  

“Do you want me to go?” It was a question meant for you, just for you, as her whisper floated directly from her lips and towards your ear. 

The room was still, three bodies awaiting an answer.

A confident ‘yes’ should have been your answer. She was a stranger, blood-related to the trigger of your trauma. They shared the same face, strong nose, and sculpted jaw and all. Their hands were similar, but where one grabbed at you roughly, the other stroked you to safety. 

Your right shoulder bore the devil Shuri, the one who lied and cheated out of habit. The one who manipulated you like a game and lost her temper like you were a child. She made your stomach hurt, made your head tight with anxiety. 

And on your left, was the angel Nalla. Maybe not an angel in truth, but an angel in comparison. You knew nothing of her other than her name, and she, you, yet here she stood, in defiance to her sister to offer you solitude and security. Her hand never left yours, and in thirty minutes, she’d treated you more tenderly than her carbon copy had in seven months. 

You leisurely shook your head to and fro, the dome weighing too heavily on your shoulders by all the thoughts that consumed it. 

Shuri’s laughter was heinous and it traveled with a chill like ice in your veins. “You for real?”

“She said go, Shuri.”

“Fine,” the princess spat, stepping into your personal space. She was so close, your noses were practically kissing. 

Nalla’s grip on the fabric collected at your waist tightened and she was ready to pull you into the safety of her arms if her sister’s temper were to pop off. 

“Fine, y/n. I’ll go, but ole’ girl tonight been better than you in seven mon-”

“That’s enough, Shuri. Hamba (Go).” 

She parted without another word, and all you and Nalla could do was linger in the remaining essence of her presence. 

Nalla’s deep vibrato broke through the silence first. “You good?”

If you were to nod anymore tonight, your head would roll across the floor like a bowling ball. 

You were avoiding eye contact with the girl who so closely resembled the source of your hurt. Her head dipped until your gazes were level and a sympathetic smirk played across her chin. “She scared you mute?”

An audible sigh of relief escaped her parted lips when a smirk of your own mirrored hers and teased the corners of your mouth up. “I thought silence suits me?”

The heart beating in your chest stopped when her laughter rang through and my God, it sounded so much like Shuri’s.

“I was wrong, I guess,” Her eyes fall to the floor, searching for anything to look at but you.

“My bad.”

“Fuck you apologizing for?”

“I thought you was just gonna stop at ‘fuck you’”, Nalla laughed again, and this time, you could feel it in your toes. “Nah, ma, I’m sorry for her. I haven’t really been keeping up with her shit these past couple of years-”

“You good.”

“I’m good?”

“Yeah, and I’m good on the apology and shit. Shit sappy, I’m cool.”

Nalla’s silent and for a moment, the two of you are frozen in time, just gazing at one another. 

“Why you want me to stay?”

Your shrug was too nonchalant of an answer, and the way her head cocks to the left tells you just that. Any thought behind the question didn’t even bother to cross your mind before you responded. “You kissed me.”

On instinct, in a habit she’d surely picked up over a few years, Nalla’s hand passes over her barren scalp. “I did,” she admits through clenched teeth. 

Here stood not-Shuri. She looked like Shuri, but she was not-Shuri. She’d kissed you gently, not like Shuri. She’d kept you safe, not like Shuri. She’d protected you, not like Shuri, from Shuri. 

“I liked it.”

Nalla’s entire expression changed at your confession. Her perfectly arched brows jump to the top of her face with a look of undeniable surprise. 

“I want you to do it again.”

Her breath caught in her throat when you closed the already non-existent gap between the two of you. “You do?”

Her question was lazy, as was the way her head fell to the side and her gaze deepened upon you. 

You nodded one last time before your lips hesitantly met, almost as though this kiss were forbidden and neither of you knew who was to initiate it. 

The kiss was forbidden, but once Nalla’s soft mouth descended onto yours, control rolled over into her court, along with your tongue. 

How slow, how sensual could a kiss be before one of the participating parties would need to come up for air?

Nalla’s lips were just begging for your teeth to sink into their plumpness and the guttural groan it produced proved it to be a good idea. 

Her hands tickled as they roamed your body, trying so hard to keep up the sheet that concealed your intimates while also searching for somewhere to rest while her mouth worked on yours. 

The feeling was distracting and the damn sheet had to go.

Your lips never left hers when your arms rose to drop the white sea of fabric from your figure, allowing it to pool at your feet. Nalla couldn’t pull herself away from you to gaze upon the blessing you’d just feasted upon her and the control she once held was now transferred into your court.

With the guidance of your hands, rested underneath the shelf which held your ass high and your hips higher. She lifted you as though you weighed nothing, wrapping your long legs around her waist, bringing your body just a bit higher than hers. 

You were mesmerized; the way she handled you was mouthwatering. You weren’t sure if it was the want to get over Shuri or the desire to wash Valkyrie’s touch from you, but you needed this. 

This unfamiliar person whose lips you were starting to like the taste of and whose touch burned your flesh in all the right ways. 

“Bedroom-” Nalla didn’t appreciate you breaking the kiss, immediately reconnecting your lips and ignoring your words. 

Biting her lips once more proved successful to separate yourself for just a moment, though it was a moment too long for the princess. 

Mm, hummed from the back of your throat. “Nalla, bedroom-”

“Are you sure?” her panting was hard to control; neither of you realized how long you’d gone without air due to the distractions you served for one another. 

“I’m sure.”

Whininess was not a trait you usually held, but it seemed to be a recurring trend tonight. Nalla released you from the air, from her arms gently, sharing in your sadness when your feet touched the ground and your bodies no longer touched. 

“Show me.”

Her hand felt like it was sculpted to fit in yours. It molded too-perfectly into yours as the two of you walked down the short hallway, turning the corner to your bedroom, with the bed still messy from you and Val’s rendezvous just hours earlier. 

Nalla couldn’t hold back the smile that fell upon her features at the sight of your safe space. “Cute,” it was murmured, and she hadn’t even considered the possibility that you’d heard her.

“I know-”

The corner of her lip tucked between her canines and it had your tummy doing somersaults. Your knees buckled beneath her stare and the hunger behind her eyes. “Um,” Damn, she had you stammering. “Where do you want me?”

Her steps towards you were quick and effortless, as was the way she lifted you by the back of your knees and threw you atop the disheveled sheets. Your naked body bounced with the force of the quick movements and your thighs fell apart to brace yourself for the impact.

“Right there. I want you right there.”

Your pussy was on display to the girl before you and it had her hypnotized. She wasn’t even looking at your face anymore, too focused on your pretty brown and pink folds as she dropped to her knees. 

Her arms hooked underneath your thighs, pulling your bare body to the edge of the bed, closer to her. She sank back onto her knees when your pussy rested in her face. 

The anticipation in the room was thick enough to cut through and a sexy waiting game ensued. You sat, weight resting on your left arm with Nalla’s head between your thick thighs, not moving but wanting so badly to be. 

She had all the patience in the world, sitting and watching your slickness collect and drip, inviting her tongue to lap up the nectar that was being wasted. 

You had no patience at all, wiggling your hips, inviting her in, wanting to feel the same soft tongue that explored your mouth explore your cunt.

“You just gonna sit there and stare at it?”

Nalla didn’t move a muscle, other than her eyes, to look up at you. “Just waiting for permission, baby girl.”

“Permission? Nigga, I’m sitting here with my pussy in your face-”

Your words got lost in your throat when a cool stream of air hit your cunt and it quivered beneath Nalla’s gaze.

“Tell me I can, baby-”

“Nalla, man-” You’d never been so whiny with Shuri, never this needy for Val.

“Tell me I can eat it, y/n. Tell me I can play with you. I need to hear you say it.”

If she would have just touched you already, she’d have known you were fucking soaked; she wouldn’t have needed verbal confirmation.

“You can eat it, Nalla, please-”

The rest of your sentence was swallowed by loud and proud moans. Nalla’s flattened tongue spreading your lips and tasting from hole to hole. The muscles in your abdomen tightened at the sudden sensation and your legs curled into your body, allowing the focused girl all the access she wanted.

Nalla was a fucking munch. She kissed at your cunt the same way she did your lips, slowly and sensually and so seductively. Her tongue dipped into your hot core, licking up your taste from the source. Your moans were her melodies, egging her on to continue.

“Ohhh, my gawdddd, Nalla, shit-” Words just thrown together, that made sense in the beginning, and made much less sense now. The tip of her nose rotated about your clit while her mouth swallowed you whole. Every sensation she brought upon you was a new one, from the way she lapped at your lips, to the way she just barely brushed your clit with teasing moves. 

You wanted so badly to grab at her hair, but the lack thereof left your hands empty and grasping for something until they rested upon your own breasts. Harsh tugging and not-so-gentle rubbing of your erect nipples between the tips of your thumb and index finger contrasted boldly with the slow way Nalla used her entire tongue to rub across your cunt. 

“You taste so fucking good,” The accent, the cussing, the way she licked and sucked as though you were the best meal she’s ever had, it was almost too much.

Your moans morphed into grunts the closer she brought you to your edge. Your clit was so round, so smooth and it fit so perfectly in her mouth when her lips enclosed around it, sucking the little bean hard and flicking the tip of her tongue over it in rapid succession. 

“I-uh, I’m close, I’m close-”

It would have been polite to warn the Wakandan that you were a squirter, but your words were slurred together and she couldn’t decipher where one began and another ended. She felt your impending orgasm, with the way your wetness collected on her chin and your clit swelled between her puckered lips. 

She was unsuspecting when her index finger played between your folds. Just one, then two, and three, playing at your entrance, but not daring to enter. 

But you were so wet, so fucking slick. A slight twitch in your movements caused Nalla’s fingers, all three, to stretch you out as they entered with no warning. 

“Oh fuck!” Nalla’s lips released your clit and she planted herself at your entrance, still three fingers deep, mouth open and tongue out. Your cum dripped down her chin, trailing down her neck and falling to the bed as she tried hard to not let any go to waste. What a sticky mess you’d made, in a way that you never had with Val.

Nalla’s eyes bore into your soul when the grip of your warm pussy finally released her hand and she stuck all three fingers in her mouth, sucking your taste off of them and savoring every drop.

“Anybody ever tell you you taste so fucking amazing?”

“Do I?”

Again, she bore that lip bite that could rip the clothes off a nun. “You do.”

“Lemme taste.”

Every muscle in her arm was visible as she raised from her knees and onto her feet, slinking across the bed until her face was right in front of yours.

Your hands were still shaky, recovering from your orgasm, when you brought them up to her face and pulled her lips to yours, taking her bottom lip in your mouth and sucking your taste right off of it.

Nalla’s eyebrows rose in amusement that quickly faded when you pulled her face in again, entangling your tongues together as your cum passed back and forth between your two mouths. 

The girl before you smirked when you let her come up from air, eyes glued to your lips before they rose to meet yours. Her sultry lip bite was enough to ignite another round and her whispered words found your ear as she laid you gently against the cool sheets underneath you.

“You nasty girl-”

Nasty indeed. Who didn't play this game better, Shuri?

#quintessencewrites #shuri x reader #black panther #letitia wright shuri #queen shuri #shuriri #blackgirlmagic #toxic!shuri

[underthenightskydreamsneverdie]

Little Wolf

Summary: After taking out an Ashwinder camp, Sebastian and MC have some feral sex in the woods.

Warnings: 18+, Outdoors sex, rough sex, spanking, degrading/humiliation, idk it's just really filthy guys

pairing: Sebastian x f!MC

Word count: 1289

A/N: @callmehopeless asked for outdoor feral sex and here is my contribution. This may be the filthiest thing I've ever written and I fucking love it. @pugsnotdrugs92 @sebswebs

------------------------

Sebastian took your hand, running into the night, his heart pounding in his chest. He spared one last glance over his shoulder at the ruined Ashwinder camp, his mind flashing with a memory just made; standing back to back with you, taking out enemies, never missing your targets as you moved in unison, spells firing in quick succession, the look in your eyes as you stood surrounded by bodies of your victims, the air around you simmering with remnants of your ancient magic.

Adrenaline coursed through both of your veins, with it an insatiable lust. He stopped running, pulling you into a small grove of trees, roughly pushing you up against the closest one. He didn’t ask, didn’t say a word, just ripped at your clothes. The moment you were naked he was on you, lips biting at yours, hands grabbing at your flesh, roughly squeezing a breast, a hip, raking across your body as he growled into your mouth. Breaking the kiss, his hands worked quickly to undo his pants, pushing them down enough to free his achingly hard cock. You whimpered as your hands slipped under his shirt, wordlessly begging him to take it off. He ripped at the buttons desperately, not wanting to wait a second more to have you. The shirt fell to the forest floor and his hands found your thighs, lifting you up, pressing you against the tree, shoving his cock inside you in one quick movement. He growled as he filled you, your warmth increasing his lust. He thrust hard and fast, each one scraping the bare skin of your back against the rough bark of the tree. You felt it digging in, cutting into you but you didn’t care. All that mattered was him. 

You loved this side of him, his desperate, animalistic desire for you. When he didn’t care if he hurt you, if you liked it, if you could be seen or heard, all that mattered was the chase of release. In these rare moments he wasn’t your love, your darling, your sweetheart, no, he was your wolf. You would do anything to encourage him to let go, give in to his primal desires, entice the wolf in him to come out to play with the wolf in you. 

Bringing your head to his shoulder you nipped at his skin, loudly moaning his name. As your first orgasm hit you dragged your nails down his back, leaving angry red marks on his freckled skin. The sting of it brought his own release and he paid you back in kind, his teeth sinking into your skin hard enough to draw blood. You crushed your lips against his bloody ones, groaning as you ran your tongue over his teeth, tasting your own blood. 

As his orgasm subsided he set you down, stepping away to undress fully before pulling you to him and sinking you both down to the forest floor. Pushing your hips into the dirt he spread your legs, his strong hands keeping them in place while he pushed back into you, burying himself in your wet pussy once again. He thrust into you as hard as he could, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every one. Lifting your leg he threw it over his shoulder, grunting uncontrollably, lost in his pleasure. Gripping your hips hard, he pulled you to meet him as his pace increased, the sounds of your skin slamming together echoing through the forest. When his orgasm rocked through him this time he let out a deep groan, the end of it turning into an outright howl as he shot his load deep inside you. You let yourself do the same as your own orgasm overtook you, hands digging into the dirt around you. 

His chest heaving as he came down from his high, you pressed on him, urging him back, forcing his cock out of you. Rolling over onto your stomach, pressing your face into the dirt, you raised your ass into the air, shaking it in front of his face. If you were going to act like lust crazed animals, you were going to let him fuck you like one. 

Finally he spoke his first word since leaving the destroyed camp. “Fuck.” You smirked, loving that you’d gotten to him, but it was the feel of his hand coming down on your ass that made you moan. He kneaded the soft flesh before bringing his hand down hard multiple times in a row, high pitched moans slipping from your lips. He slapped at your rear for a long time, switching between cheeks, hitting and kneading until you were almost crying from the growing sensitivity. Just when you thought he was done, you felt his wet mouth on the already bruising skin, sucking at it, nipping at it. 

“Sebastian.” You whimper his name softly not wanting to break him out of this animalistic state. “Fuck me. Fuck your Little Wolf.” 

He let out a muffled growl, your flesh between his teeth. His hand came down one more time as he slipped himself into your wet folds. Setting a much slower pace he pulled completely out of you, making you whimper at the loss, before plunging back in, all the way to the hilt. Finally in the mood to speak, he punctuated his words with  forceful thrusts. 

“Do you..have any idea..how..sexy it is..to watch you..take out a..camp full of..bad guys..with your ancient magic? Have you..any notion.. of the ways..it drives me..wild?” With each thrust you let out small pleasurable screams as his body slammed into the tender flesh of your ass. Your mouth open, dirt sticking to your lips, the scent of the damp earth filling your nostrils, your mind went blank as he continued to pound into you, nothing but the deliciously painful feel of him breaking through your fogged head.

“Look at you, a whimpering, bloody and bruised, dirt covered mess, giving yourself to me. Fuck you look so beautiful right now. The Hero of Hogwarts grinding her face into the dirt like an animal. My strong, willful, girl reduced to this all because of my cock.” 

You hated that you loved the way his degrading comments pushed you over the edge, a shockingly loud scream emanating from your throat as you came for him, bucking your hips wildly to meet his thrusts. With another loud howl he lost control, his own climax descending on him, pulling so far out of you, desperate to fuck you as hard as he could, half of his seed shooting onto the ground underneath you. 

As the last waves of your orgasms subsided, he pulled out, collapsing on the forest floor next to you. Letting your legs relax you stretched out to your full length, giggling as his seed smeared on your stomach, dirt and twigs sticking to your skin. Turning your head to face him, an arm coming out to rest on his chest, you laughed together. Loud, obnoxious, tear producing laughter. 

“Well that was interesting my Little Wolf. I like calling you that. Makes my blood race. Damn, you’re a mess darling.” He pulled a leaf from your hair, chuckling. 

Sitting up, you crawled over to him, climbing on top of his body. Rocking your hips, your sopping wet core rubbing against his cock, you smirked at him. “You’re not nearly messy enough, my sexy wolf. I’m going to change that.” Feeling his cock growing hard again you raised yourself up before sinking down on him. With a long groan you set to work riding him, leaves and dirt falling from your hair, no plans of stopping until he was just as dirty as you.

#I can't believe I'm not embarrassed for writing this #What can I say? I'm a dirty minded freak #I hope y'all like this #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x female!reader #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy oneshot #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow fanfic

[magz]

Palestine news summary from Lets Talk Palestine.

[For more information, links, and ways to help check their LinkTree linktr.ee/letstalkpalestine]

April 22 and April 23, 2024.

April 22. Day 199.

• 54 Palestinians killed, 104 injured in Gaza as Israel commits 6 massacres in the last 24 hours

🏥 283+ bodies found deliberately hidden by Israeli army across 4 mass graves in Nasser Hospital following Israel’s brutal siege

• 3 Palestinians, incl. 19-year-old & elderly woman, shot by IOF as they opened fire on cars on a highway in West Bank

🍞 4 bakeries resume production in north Gaza after 170 days of being inoperable

🔻 Hamas claims strike on group of IOF soldiers & military bulldozer + sniped IOF soldier in north Gaza

🦠 700,000 Palestinians affected by unprecedented spread of infectious diseases in north Gaza

🇺🇸 Universities crackdown + authorize police to arrest dozens of students protesting at Columbia & Yale to divest from companies profiting off the genocide in Gaza; sparking similar protests across US campuses

• Leader of Tulkarem Brigades (local resistance group) resurfaces after claims he was killed during Israel’s 3-day raid of Nur Shams camp in West Bank.

April 23. Day 200.

200 Days of Genocide, Instagram Link.

Day 200 - what happened today in Gaza

‼️ Today marks 200 days of genocide. Over 34,000 Palestinians have been killed with the real number including the thousands missing, buried under rubble, estimated to be over 42,000, including 15,000+ children and 10,000+ women.

🏥 310 bodies uncovered in mass graves at Nasser Hospital; many found handcuffed, shot in the head, wearing prisoner's uniforms, or stripped of their clothes.

• 3 Palestinians killed in Israeli airstrike on residential building in "safe zone" Rafah.

• IOF naval ships attack Gaza's coasts, targeting Deir el-Balah, Nuseirat camp & az-Zawayda.

🚚 310 aid trucks entered Gaza yesterday, the most since Oct 7, but still far below the expected 500 per day.

🏥 Israeli forces turn Gaza’s only specialized cancer hospital into a military base, while only 11/35 hospitals remain partially functioning.

[Magz note: partially functioning hospitals in this case means having basic medical treatment available, medical staff, and being way over capacity unable to treat many of the patients. It has been previously noted that multiple hospitals in Gaza have long since lack anesthesia for example, and have to use basic painkillers like ibuprofen if any.]

• IOF continuously bomb Beit Lahia (north Gaza) after ordering evacuation of 50,000 Palestinians despite nowhere safe to go.

#text post #o post #magz upload #on palestine

[goodnightmemes]

THE WALKING DEAD SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ Sometimes I wonder if you even care about us at all. ❜

❛ Make sure you got a round in the chamber and your safety off. ❜

❛ Son of a bitch shot me. You believe that? ❜

❛ Look, I ask and you answer. It's common courtesy, right? ❜

�� Get away from the windows. ❜

❛ Conserve your ammo. Goes faster than you think. Especially at target practice. ❜

❛ There are others. It's not just us. ❜

❛ Folks got no idea what they're getting into. ❜

❛ We are surviving here. We are day to day. ❜

❛ Listen, whoever you are, I don't mind telling you I'm a little concerned in here. ❜

❛ Have you been listening? You're running out of time. ❜

❛ Yeah, whatever. Yeehaw. You're still a dumbass. ❜

❛ You know what the key to scavenging is? Surviving! You know the key to surviving? Sneaking in and out, tiptoeing. Not shooting up the streets like it's the O.K. Corral. ❜

❛ You were chasing a hallucination, imagining things. It happens. ❜

❛ Hey! Y'all be more polite to a man with a gun! Only common sense. ❜

❛ We survive this by pulling together, not apart. ❜

❛ If bad ideas were an Olympic event, this would take the gold. ❜

❛ You can't leave me. You can't leave me here. Not like this. ❜

❛ At least somebody's having a good day. ❜

❛ Words can be meager things. Sometimes they fall short. ❜

❛ Nothing bit you? Nothing scratched you? ❜

❛ So that's it, huh? You're just gonna walk off? Just to hell with everybody else? ❜

❛ You're putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that. ❜

❛ The world ended. Didn't you get the memo? ❜

❛ Toughest asshole I ever met. Feed him a hammer, he'd crap out nails. ❜

❛ They're not gonna say it so I will. You're scaring people. ❜

❛ Even I think it's a bad idea and I don't even like you much. ❜

❛ There ain't nothing gonna stop him from getting back here to you, I promise you that. ❜

❛ One wrong move, you get an arrow in the ass. Just so you know. ❜

❛ You come back locked and loaded, we'll see which side spills more blood. ❜

❛ Them guns are worth more than gold. Gold won't protect your family or put food on the table. ❜

❛ What life I have I owe to him. ❜

❛ I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation. ❜

❛ You're the dumbest son of a bitch I ever met. We walked in there ready to kill every last one of you. ❜

❛ The people we've encountered since things fell apart, the worst kind… plunderers, the kind that take by force. ❜

❛ Guess the world changed. ❜

❛ The people here, they all look to me now. I don't even know why. ❜

❛ Hell with them people. Wouldn't piss on them if their heads were on fire. ❜

❛ Unless I've misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end. At least hit a speed bump for a good long while. ❜

❛ Time…it's important to keep track, isn't it? The days at least. Don't you think? ❜

❛ Do not enter the city. It belongs to the dead now. ❜

❛ I know how the safety works. ❜

❛ We start down that road, where do we draw the line? ❜

❛ Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem! ❜

❛ We don't kill the living. ❜

❛ I'm sorry for not ever being there. I always thought there'd be more time. I'm here now. ❜

❛ These people need to know who the hell's in charge here, what the rules are. ❜

❛ There are no rules. ❜

❛ We need time to mourn and we need to bury our dead. It's what people do. ❜

❛ I won't leave again. I promise you that. Not for anything. ❜

❛ You save a grave for me? ❜

❛ It's not about what you want. That sound you hear, that's God laughing while you make plans. ❜

❛ We can't stay here. We both know that. ❜

❛ The most important thing here is we need to stay together. ❜

❛ You go on your own, you won't have anyone to watch your back. ❜

❛ Leave me here. I'm done. Just leave me. ❜

❛ The fever… You've been delirious more often than not. ❜

❛ We can't be here, this close to the city after dark. ❜

❛ You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed. ❜

❛ You know, it's over. There's nothing left. ❜

❛ You don't know what it's like out there. You may think you do, but you don't. ❜

❛ We don't have to be afraid anymore. We're safe here. ❜

❛ I lost somebody too. I know how devastating it is. ❜

❛ What's wrong with him? Seriously, is he nuts, medicated, what? ❜

❛ I did the best I could in the time that I had. I hope you'd be proud of that. ❜

❛ We always think there's gonna be more time. ❜

❛ You should've left well enough alone. It would've been so much easier. ❜

❛ I had to keep hope alive, didn't I? ❜

❛ There is no hope. There never was. ❜

❛ What part of "everything is gone" do you not understand? ❜

❛ There's your chance. Take it. ❜

#rp meme #sentence starter meme #sentence starters #rp prompt #rp memes #inbox meme #roleplay prompts #sentence meme #roleplay meme #rp sentence meme #*tv #*twd

[starlightshadowsworld]

I love the idea of Hirotsu and Kouyou reminiscing about how much more fucked up the old days were.

Chuuya: Fucking paperwork, I swear this shit increases every time.

Dazai: I hate to admit it, but you might have a point. Sigh and only a week to do it.

Hirotsu: Just be glad your schedule isn't packed, you'll be done in no time.

Dazai: Well, yeah it'd be pretty inconvenient for us all otherwise.

Hirotsu: That it would be. I don't miss the days where you'd have important missions scheduled with thrice the amount of paperwork along with it.

Chuuya: Your kidding?!

Kouyou: chuckles He's not. It got to a point where I'd be in the middle of an assassination plot, spying on my target and silently writing in the dark.

Hirotsu: On paper at that, we weren't to use computers or phones. It all had to be hand written and individually filed away.

Dazai: That's insane.

Kouyou: Didn't one of the newbies get shot because he used the wrong kind of pen?

Hirotsu: Sure did, had him infront of a firing line and everything. 320 bullets, wasn't even a body to bury.

Chuuya:... Talk about excessive.

Kouyou: And guess what, he didn't even use the wrong pen.

Dazai: And this was when the old Boss was sick?

Hirotsu: Nope, it was but a regular Tuseday at the Port Mafia.

Kouyou: If it had been when he got sick, the pen would've shot too. And the paperwork set ablaze.

#ozaki kouyou #hirotsu ryuurou #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #bsd port mafia #bsd kouyou #bsd hirotsu #bungou stray dogs #bsd

[xo-rihanna]

Hurt - Neteyam Sully

Warnings - Descriptions of blood and injury

Update - Thank you so much for liking this. Genuinely expected this to get about 5 notes ngl. It means alot. I enjoy writing so much so I'm glad some people have enjoyed what I've produced <3 I have also made a part 2 to this if you're interested called 'Break me' You'll find it on my page. It is a smut so check it out if thats your thing. Thank you all so so much :)

Neteyam didn't like you joining the missions. Don't get me wrong, he knew you'd be amazing at them. No one could deny that you were an incredible hunter. The minute you got on your Ikran, he couldn't take his eyes off you. You left him purely in awe. But he always had a nagging feeling in his stomach that something would go wrong. He was like a hawk, watching your every move waiting for something to happen and for him to swoop in. His sweet golden eyes were so full of concern and worry he could hardly get his head in the game.

Today was no different for him. He begged you not to join but you were too stubborn to accept the offer of staying home with nothing to do. You wanted to help, you wanted to feel like you were pulling your weight for the clan. "Ma Neteyam. Always so worried." You stroked his braided hair that morning as he buried his face in the side of your stomach, keeping you locked in his arms so you couldn't leave and get yourself hurt.

Eventually he had to let go and he couldn't stop you joining the war party. He hung his head almost in shame, like he was letting you down as your mate for letting you put yourself in such a dangerous position. The sky was clear as you readied to take off for the mission. The trees hardly stirred as if they too were listening for sky walkers to invade at any moment.

Neteyam was quiet. Too quiet. It made your tail flick in concern and an uneasy feeling settle in your gut. "Teyam." You soothed, putting a small hand on his large shoulder. He continued to look down, making it look as if he was busy buckling his saddle to his Ikran Seze. "Neteyam look at me." You moved his chin to force those liquid gold eyes to look up at you. He softened at your face.

"I know you don't like it. But I can take care of myself. Please don't worry for me." You stroked his cheek. His face scrunched and he let out a feeble laugh, "You are very capable of protecting yourself I know that. But I will always worry for you, my yawne (beloved)."

He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you so you were skin to skin and you could feel his heartbeat against your own. Even his heart sounded worried. His eyes flickered between yours and your lips before finally closing the gap. His lips were soft and comforting. You wanted to call off the war party and stay like this forever. Neteyam was desperate not to let you out of his grasp. But he had to and he instantly regretted it.

You kissed his nose gently. "There is no need for the dramatics, my love." Giving him a smile.

His heart ached as you walked out of his touch and climbed onto your Ikran making the bond and pushing your headpiece further onto your forehead. Sucking in a breath, he did the same.

SOME TIME LATER, MIDWAY THROUGH THE FIGHTING

Neteyam had done well to not check on you so much during the fighting. But more gunships were falling in faster then you could count. Neteyam was having a hard time himself dodging hits.

He looked to you and saw you were handling yourself well. You had minimal damage, he could only see a few scrapes. He got caught up watching you flawlessly in your element, taking down ships with the help of your Ikran and your archery skills.

Neteyam was too focused on you to notice the gunship targeting him. He had just regained focus in time to miss a flurry of bullets. "Oh shit!" He yelled, swerving and barrelling to avoid the fatal hits but they were gaining on him.

He frowned when he noticed the shots no longer being fired in his direction. He looked back through knitted brows to see that you had taken it upon yourself to help out your mate.

You effortlessly shot an arrow through the chest of two skywalkers at the same time and then flew above the craft to take it by its tail. That's when it all went wrong. Neteyam saw it all in slow motion. The skywalker positioning his gun in a frenzy and pulling the trigger. The bullet puncturing your torso and the look on your face as you saw the blood flowing from the wound.

You quickly lost your strength, relying on your Ikran to keep you in the air. Luckily, the bullet had missed your Ikran but had shot straight through the side of your stomach, leaving a nasty wound that was drowning in blood. Neteyam only saw you in this moment. His heart was breaking with every second that passed, a second closer to potentially losing his mate.

Neteyam felt like every movement he made was a million times slower then normal. He couldn't get to you fast enough. When he did, he pried you away from your Ikran. Silently thanking her for staying calm and keeping you steady in the air. He applied as much pressure as he could to the wound but it was impossible to stop or even slow the bleeding as the bullet gone straight through your flesh.

Adrenaline was all Neteyam was running on. With a bloody, shaking hand he called to his father through his neck piece. "Father, Y/n's been hit! We're falling back! It's bad." He didn't waste another second, taking to full flight before he could finish his words.

You were drifting uneasily in and out of consciousness. The world was spinning around you. "Stay with me, my love. Don't go to sleep. We're almost there. Grandmother will fix you right up, okay." He was convincing only himself.

The fly there was excruciating. Every second that ticked you were losing more blood and becoming weaker. Neteyam had to bite the inside of his cheek raw ro keep the tears from falling. He needed to be strong for you. He landed swiftly, carrying you bridal style as he practically ran to his Grandmother's tent. He looked down to see you close your eyes. "No, no, no my tìyawn (love), open those pretty eyes for me. Stay awake, we're here." He begged you. You forced your eyes open but it was exhausting

Your sense of hearing was coming and going and you could only make out a few words of Neteyam and Mo'ats intense conversation. Neteyam laid you flat on the woven mat of his Grandmother's floor and kept pressure on your wound until his Grandmother shooed his hands away.

Neteyam watched intently as his Grandmother worked away. "Neteyam." You cooed up at your boyfriend as the pain started to set in. Neteyam stroked your hair and held your hand tightly. "I'm here my tìyawn (love). Don't worry. You're almost done." He brought your weak hand up to his lips and kissed it gently and held it close to his face.

"Neteyam it hurts." You cried, letting hot painful tears spill down your face. Neteyam's heart was throbbing to see you like this. The guilt settling like stones in his heart. This was his fault and he couldn't help you. All he could do was soothe you and keep you as calm as possible.

Mo'at sympathised with you, seeing the true love between her Grandbaby and his mate. "It will, my child. I'm afraid I can only do so much." She patted your shoulder respectfully as she finished.

Neteyam felt a huge relief as his Grandmother left the room. You were alive. Ultimately that was all that mattered. Neteyam finally broke down. His silent tears dripped onto his legs as he was still sitting besides your weak, bandaged body.

"Oh no, my Teyam." You slurred. You attempted to pull yourself up to give him a hug but he put a soft hand onto your chest forcing you down again. "Rest, Y/n. I'm fine. I'm just so sorry, my yawne (beloved). This is all my fault. I should have protected you." He hung his head, not wanting to look at you in such a state.

"Neteyam. I'm alive. There is no need apologise darling. Its my job as your mate to protect you like you've done for me. I'd take a million bullets for you, Neteyam." Your energy was fading by the second.

Neteyam sighed, "Sleep, little one. I'll be here when you wake up."

You drifted off to a peaceful, dreamless sleep knowing your boyfriend was by your side. Safe to say, Neteyam's protectiveness only grew from this event.

#neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #loak #loak sully #avatar way of water #avatar #tsireya #ikran #skywalkers #loak x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam avatar #neteyam fanfiction #jake sully #sully family #neteyam oneshot #avatar loak #loak x reader

[izvmimi]

cw: mafia au. guns.

you exhale slowly, letting your trembling fingers tighten around the grip of a semiautomatic pistol. izuku is close behind you, the cloth of his shirt brushing against your back, the sound and sensation of his gentle voice tickling your neck. his hands reach around and hover over yours, hesitating for a moment before settling your grip.

"careful."

this isn't his very own gun, and while the two of you are alone, you're in a very public, very legal place, a shooting range, and despite the noise canceling headphones and the wooshing of your quickened pulse in your ears, you can still hear him speak clearly.

"i'm here, you're not going to hurt yourself," he assures you.

you trust him, but all of this is so new - the gun in your hands (and his), the target ahead of you in the shape of a man, and the new knowledge that the only reason why you're here is in case you need to be.

you don't want to learn, but you don't want to be a burden to him or an easy target. izuku understands this, and as if he's reading your mind reminds you,

"we don't have to shoot if you don't want to."

you shake your head, quickly. if you're going to know his secret and stay with him anyway, you're going to have to be prepared for the worst. even if he promises to be there, to keep you safe, you cannot keep the burden of your life in his hands. you know it would hurt him immensely if anything were to happen to you.

"tell me what to do again." you ask. you sound short, but izuku understands that some of it is anxiety.

"breathe first," he insists. just a little closer he moves, his lips graze your cheek, and you can feel a gentle heat run through your body.

"this isn't helping, izuku," you murmur, embarrassed.

"fineeee," he laughs, then shifts back, but the weight of his palms pressed onto the backs of your hands remains present if not slightly lighter. you widen your stance just a bit to compensate. he is right behind you.

"your hands are in the right place. keep your arms steady."

you bite your lip as you line up.

"when you pull the trigger-" he taps gently on your index, -"it's direct pressure not a jerk. you have to mean it."

you freeze.

"ready?" he whispers.

you nod again. he presses again, and the shot is fired, loud and strong, but he dampens the recoil for you. you can see the hole in the figure's center and your heart races again.

"fuck."

izuku looks much less affected than you do, tilting his head slightly as he observes the target. muttering under his breath, he says something about being too far from the heart, one arm crossed over his chest and the other fixed below his chin.

but you've run into him again, holding him tightly. he looks surprised as he catches you in his arms, trying to figure out exactly where the loaded gun is now, slipping it away from your hands and putting on the safety in a quick sleight of hand, before holding you tightly.

"babe, are you okay?"

you don't say anything else but remain buried in his chest.

"mm."

he doesn't ask you further, instead using his free hand to rub your back.

"good job, my love. i’ll make sure you never need to do it for real."

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #thoughts: izuku #daydreams: bnha #cw guns #mimi’s notes

[lunarw0rks]

Through The Ashes | Chapter Three

Summary: You've been given an offer to join the 141 Task Force. Upon taking it, you find yourself ensnared with the mysterious masked man who won't take his eyes off you.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), p in v sex, unprotected sex, no aftercare/no comfort

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, so I hope it's decent. There will probably be more in this fic later on... | Word Count: 2.4k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter // requests | ao3 | playlist

The Point Of No Return

The look of disappointment written on Price’s face drew you in.

“It’s been silent for two days. Nothing on El Sin Nombre.” He was like a ticking bomb, ready to explode and demolish anything in his path. “Keep working at this. Find out anything you can, I want answers.”

You’d gotten used to the action-packed days, wake-up calls in the middle of the night when there’s new information. But to suddenly hear nothing on the person you’ve been tailing for months? Strange.

In a way you missed the chaos; twiddling your thumbs was going to be the death of you.

Perhaps you were right, and the tunnels really were a dead end or a distraction in finding El Sin Nombre.

“We sit around here and do nothing, while he’s still out there?” Ghost spoke, which was nearly an irritated snarl. Price replied by pressing his lips into a line.

Ghost was a man always ready for action, and when he didn’t get it, it boiled inside him.

—

Part of you felt guilty for taking advantage of the radio silence. The enemy could be planning something catastrophic, already fifty steps ahead of where your team will be when the intel hits your desks.

You couldn’t pass up the feeling of relaxation, however. No bullets whizzing past you, no drowning in tunnels, no wondering if you were going to be the next dead soldier.

Soap’s voice reverted your attention. “Enjoying the free time?”

“As much as I can… How could there be no new information? I have a bad feeling about this.” You speak, taking your eyes off the paperwork in your lap. Surely he understands. Although he usually keeps a more casual demeanor, you can tell he has the same concerns.

“Nothing we can do right now. Better to wait and be prepared.” Soap retorts as he puts a hand on the back of the chair beside you. He was right. Why exhaust yourself and become a weakness for the enemy to take advantage of?

—

After an extended period of mundane papers, you felt your head begin to swell. You need a distraction to keep yourself busy. You head to the shooting range and decide to practice your accuracy. You snag a rifle off the wall it's mounted on and load it, lining yourself up with the target at the end of the lane. You fire off a few bullets, mainly focusing on your reloading speed between shots.

“At least your shooting is better than your punching.”

You turn to Ghost and fiddle with the rifle in your grip, giving him a sarcastic nod.

“I suppose you’re right about that.” He returns his usual detached gaze in response. “But you’ve gotta have a weakness somewhere buried beneath all that brawn, L.T.”

You could swear he smirked under his mask. He might’ve been able to conceal most of his body language, but the look in his eyes was something that rarely lied.

“We all have weaknesses, some of us just need to hide them better.” He seizes a step forward and grabs a sniper rifle off the wall, placing himself in the shooting lane beside you.

You purse your lips and turn back to your target and line up your sights, preparing to squeeze the trigger. You knew he was right. Someone wasn’t always going to be there to save you in the thick of it. It would have to be you.

The following shot bounced off the walls with a sharp crack. You hit the mark in the middle, feeling satisfied with yourself. He glinted at it briefly before he proceeded to snipe the moving targets, a bullet going through the head of most of them.

It was impressive the way it was almost second nature to him. How deadly he truly was in the field. In terms of work, he’s the best ally to have because he won’t let you die, but on the other hand, he’s withdrawn and won’t form connections with anyone around him. Why does he keep saving you? Why doesn’t he give to you the harsh reality check he gives to the others who make too many mistakes?

You had a sense that figuring him out was a can of worms you didn’t want to open anytime soon.

You made sure the rifle you were practicing with was clean, then placed it back on the wall, leaving Ghost to continue taking his feelings out on the targets.

—

As the hot water ran down your spine, you leaned your head back in relief. The steam of the shower relaxed muscles you didn’t realize had been tense.

The only part of you that wouldn’t let lose was your head. Specifically, the thoughts inside them. Why did you gawp at him like that in the kitchen? Thoughts like that hadn’t crossed you up until now. His appearance was striking to you, and the way he stared made it even worse. Not even a glimpse of his true features, and you’re a puddle at his feet.

Your fingers wrapped around the cold metal faucet and shut the water off abruptly.

Reflection about your feelings wasn’t getting you anywhere. It was not the time either, you were here to work with a Task Force. You weren’t going to jeopardize that with just anything - especially a hardheaded, unattainable colleague.

Since Price eagerly wanted new intel on El Sin Nombre, you had no plans to go anywhere. You didn’t know how to tell him there was quite literally nothing new. The pipeline had gone dead - all you could do was wait for the next move.

You slipped on your casual uniform and proceeded down the hall. When you passed the window framing the yard, you saw Ghost sitting outside. He looked deep in thought as if the weight of the world was straining him, even more than usual. You opened the back door and peeked your head through, giving a concerned look.

“Everything alright?” You weren’t sure how else to approach the conversation.

Formal? Casual? Either way, it was like approaching a burning building that was ready to collapse. Although, it wasn’t because he was unpredictable. It was the opposite problem. He always remained stoic and untouchable.

“I’m fine,” he utters, holding a cigarette between his fingers. “Just get back to work, Sergeant.”

He wasn’t going to get away with that today. You can’t be expected to trust someone with your life without knowing the human behind the disguise of a killing machine.

You approached the bench he was sitting on and sat next to him. “I’m not going to pretend to understand what’s going through your head, because I don’t. But whatever it is…”

He spits back instantly, “None of your concern. Go back to work.” His tone is harsher, but you can tell he’s trying not to let his voice carry too loudly.

You gave a hefty sigh in response. You knew what to expect from him, but it still stung.

You shared a glance with each other briefly as he tosses the cigarette onto the pavement and snuffs it with his boot heel. You take that as your cue to walk back inside and leave him to brood. Perhaps some things, or some people, should remain untouched.

You walked into your dorm and opened the laptop sitting on your desk. He was right, you should just get back to work. After all, you had some files that still needed to be reviewed. You clicked on the first one and began typing away at your notes.

When you adjusted the angle of your screen further back, you spotted a figure in the reflection of it, and it was standing in the doorway.

You jerked around, seeing Ghost standing there for God knows how long. 

“Ghost…” You said under your breath. You tightened your brows when he didn’t respond. Something about it felt uneasy, like maybe you pushed him too far earlier. “If I pushed things too far earlier, I’m sorry.” You stood up from the chair, keeping an apologetic look as his eyes burned into yours.

He stepped closer.

“I didn’t mean to be a pain. It wasn’t my intent-” 

He grabbed the sides of your face and pulled the bottom of his balaclava up to his nose. Before you could even try to think, he’s initiated an impatient and heated kiss.

At first, your hands were frozen in place at your sides, but you couldn’t help yourself. They were soon resting on his waist.

There was no time for questions, and he wasn’t showing any signs of doubt.

You stumbled backward as the back of your knees hit the bed behind you. You felt a warmth wash over you as he climbed on top of you, forcing you to lay with your legs off the side of the bed - and his body in between them.

He reached for your belt and unbuckled it without even giving it a glance, only breaking the kiss when you both needed air. Your lips rested against his as you exchanged breaths into each other’s mouths, eyeing one another as you did so.

His fingers wrapped around the waistband of your cargo pants and yanked them down, leaving you in your t-shirt and underwear. You felt a rush of heat to your cheeks as you met his eyes again. The moonlight shining through the window illuminated his saliva-coated lips and the five-o-clock shadow that had begun to show itself.

He had boxed you in with his frame, and the hands roaming all over your body made him impossible to resist. It was too late to ask why any of this was happening, you were already in it too deep. He rolled your panties off and tossed them aside, running his thumb over your hips afterward. 

You felt a tingle whenever his hand left an area of your skin, it getting stronger as he went lower and lower.

You murmured a plead as he hushedly unbuckled his belt. He snakes his hand in between your thighs and brushes his fingers over your folds, finding your sensitive bud. His eyes had a look of amusement buried in them as he examined your reactions to his touch. His calloused fingertips gave friction against the slick already pooling around your entrance. 

He didn’t give you long to get used to his fingers before he was sliding his boxers down to his mid-thigh and guided his cock toward your moistened entrance, rubbing the seeping tip of it in a circle. You felt yourself shutter at the feeling of his manhood teasing you, wanting more of him. 

It was so wrong to feel this way about a superior, but his very skin grazing against yours made you drip in arousal for him.

He lifted his shirt up and put the fabric in between his teeth to keep it from blocking his view of your core. Your eyes wandered toward the bandage still wrapped around his torso - the one you put there.

“Wait,” you said in between gasps, halting his next move. “What about your side… your arm… won’t it hurt you?”

“It’s nothing.” His tone dripped with arrogance as he replied, pushing himself deep inside you while his thundering tone filled your ears. The natural deep octave of his voice had formed goosebumps all over your body.

You choked at the sensation of him filling you up with ease, sending a shock of desire up and down your spine. The cockiness made you ache for him more. The way he continued fucking you without the injuries he sustained holding him back.

You spread your legs wider, splitting yourself on his cock, letting him go as deep as he possibly could. He suppressed his grunts well, except for a few that slipped out when you dug your nails into his shoulder blades.

Your mouth hung open slightly as the pleasure began to form in your core, building with each thrust he gave you. He noticed you becoming weaker underneath him like you couldn’t take much more of this before you fell apart.

He looked as if he was approaching his climax before you. Even when he tried to hide it, his breaths formed more into shutters, and his pace quicked and got more sloppy. He gripped your thighs, making them stay in place against the sheets.

“Shit…” you cooed, feeling completely at his disposal.

He still hadn’t uttered an entire word this whole time, seeming to be completely focused on the sensation of being inside you. Your clothed nipples brushed along his chest repeatedly, putting you on the brink of overstimulation.

His eyes fluttered open and closed a few times as he pulled out of you, daring you to whimper from how sensitive you were with the absence of him crammed into you. You figured he wasn’t going to risk any accidents during a sloppy hookup, so you understood. In fact, you would be lying if the sight of him finishing himself with his hand didn’t make you want him more.

He ran his hand up and down his own manhood, still having the lubrication of your own wetness to help guide his fingers from tip to base. He quicked the movement of his hand, taking only seconds before he dissolved into his own pleasure, strewing his cum all over your stomach, some even ending up on the t-shirt you still had on.

You expected him to lean back in, to satisfy you with his hands or his mouth, but he didn’t. He pulled the balaclava back over his chin and pulled up his bottoms, leaving you a wet, sensitive mess.

You sat up, propping yourself on your forearm. “Did I do something?” You asked, knitting your brows together. This wasn’t some power play, he was quite literally leaving you high and dry.

He adverted your gaze as he readjusted his bottoms and lazily looped his belt before he trudged out of your dorm, closing the door behind him in haste.

You looked down at your nude bottom half, the cum on your stomach and shirt. You scoffed and ripped the shirt off your body, instantly finding yourself a clean one from your dresser. How could he do this to you? Quite literally leave you in his mess without saying a word?

You slid off the mattress and plodded into your bathroom, feeling ashamed of what you saw in the mirror. You wet a rag and cleaned off the wetness of your vagina before tossing it in the hamper, as well as the underwear he tore off of you.

In the heat of the moment; you wanted this, he wanted you.

This didn’t make any sense. He had to be playing some sort of game… or worse, just using you for his own satisfaction. 

Either way, you weren’t going to let him walk away from this.

This wasn’t over.

TAGLIST: @neoarchipelago @ghostlythots

#mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader #simon riley smut #call of duty

[babyyweebbitch]

Home

i would like so sincerely apologize for the sad writing i made a few days ago, please take this semi cute one 🧍🏾‍♀️ im gonna milk the shit out of this btw

content warning : !!!CALL OF DUTY MW3 SPOILERS!!! , Female reader , death , angst in general

It’s been a few months after yours and Johnnys deaths… Simon still wasn’t doing good but he was better than he was before. he went back to working with the rest of 141 a few times and there was a mission he was on that he got injured on pretty badly and he was fighting for his life in the hospital for days…

he was on a mission in Russia, flying in the back of a helicopter with Gaz being the pilot, Simon and John shooting at enemies down below. he was hitting every target and being dead silent while he did so. in the corner of his eye he saw something flying towards them but he didn’t think much of it, he just kept shooting trying to take out his anger on people that weren’t even involved in your deaths. suddenly the back of the helicopter was hit by a rocket of a rocket launcher. Simon immediately fell back as the helicopter lost control and started spinning in the air. Gaz tried his best to regain control but it was hard

John tried reaching for Simon once he noticed him starting to slip out, he failed to grab him in time and Simon fell out. after that Simon woke up in a hospital bed with tubes connected to him and in an excruciating amount of pain, he tried moving but eventually passed out from the pain…

this would happen a lot over the next few days, him waking up, screaming out in pain and passing out the rest of the day… the doctors only gave him a week to survive because his injuries were so severe, when he landed on the floor after falling out the helicopter he broke almost every bone in his body, lungs were punctured and many vital organs were damaged.

Simon woke up and his eyes shot open… he wasn’t in a hospital bed… or the hospital room he grew to be familiar with every time he woke up and screamed in pain… most importantly he wasn’t in pain… he moved his hands to touch his chest and stomach as if he had lost something. he looked around and he was in the living room of a house with a fire place, christmas decorations, a blanket over his lap and a cup of tea on the little coffee table beside his chair.

you walked in with a tray full of snacks and Johnny followed after you, you both we talking about holidays and how you can spend them with a few people who very clearly were not alive anymore, you placed the tray on the larger coffee table and you looked up to see Simon staring at the two of you.

“Y/n…. Johnny…?” he asked almost a little scared but confused. he slowly stood up and immediately ran to bring the two of you into a tight hug. Johnny laughed softly as he hugged him back, so did you

“Hey Simon, buddy! we missed you” Johnny said with the happiest sounding tone of voice

“hello to you too, Simon” you chuckled as you rubbed his back gently. you felt him shaking like he was crying — which he was. he buried his face into your shoulder and held you and Johnny like this was the last time he ever would

“am… am i dreaming…?” he said softly as he calmed down his crying and looked down at the two of you.

“no… you’re not…” you said softly as you looked up at Simon. you knew he knew he was dead…. you just didn’t know if it settled in quite yet

“what is this place…?”

“our home…. Simon… this is where we live from now on…” Johnny said softly as he could also tell Simon that knew he was dead, it just hasn’t settled in yet. after a while of silence and looking around the living room in shock Simon smiled softly and he laughed softly as well…

“whats so funny, Bubba?” you said jokingly using the nickname you had for him before you died

“i wasn’t expecting the afterlife to be something we all wanted….” he said as he walked to look out the window, it was snowing showing that it was christmas time in the afterlife just like it was in the real world. You and Johnny looked at each other before walking over to stand next to him

“we all wanted the same thing….”

“that was to spend the rest of eternity together…” you added softly as you looked at the two men

“im glad im home…” Simon said softly as he grabbed the two of you into another hug. the three of you laughed softly as you hugged realizing you all wanted the exact same thing in the after life — to be together

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare 3 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley headcanons #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mctavish x reader #soap x reader #soap headcanons #x reader #x female reader

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - General Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis on Forget Me Not as a character and other related things.

this post was brought to you by me, procrastinating on the second part of the Cover analysis and those yandere Pavia headcanons, and ALSO because mister lawrence cavendish jr is the second target for my brainrot

warning for suicide and self-harm themes!

On the subject of Forget Me Not's name and past.

It's Lawrence Cavendish Jr. Forget Me Not's real name is confirmed to be just that, as seen in this specific excerpt:

"Cavendish Jr, who was still alive and once sat in front of you [...]" which alludes to the dinner Vertin had at the Walden with Druvis III and Forget Me Not, and "'Forget Me Not', what a hilarious, stupid name". I only included this because I've seen people wonder about it.

What I mean to tackle in this point is the relationship between Forget Me Not, his origins and his current chosen name. Despite his calm and collected appearance, it becomes clear that Forget Me Not is one hair away from becoming entirely deranged, especially when confronted with the possibility of getting revenge. But why is Forget Me Not so focused on revenge specifically?

His backstory is not as openly laid out for us to read, but we can gleam some bits and pieces from all the documents and dialogue he has. To understand Forget Me Not, we also need to look at Druvis III.

All throughout chapter 02, we see parallels and connections being drawn between Forget Me Not and Druvis III - both of them appear to be extremely aloof, cold and collected, only to be revealed to be very emotional deep down, for better and for worse. Druvis III is initially defined by the neutrality and inertia that comes with being stuck in the past, while Forget Me Not is initially defined by the neutrality of the Walden and his ties with Manus Vindictae, an organization that rejects the future.

Druvis III is a disgraced, fallen noble whose life wasn't ruined by the fire that took her family, but the perception the world had of her, an image they forced onto her due to their hatred towards arcanists. And Forget Me Not has a family surname "buried in the dust, shot dead in history". A disgraced, fallen noble implied to have struggled with poverty, battling hunger and suicide countless of times. In the "··· Formula: 1920s" document, we can see a few pieces from various people and their opinions on Forget Me Not from the Big Mouth Bulletin. 3 out of 4 want him dead or think of him as a monster - entirely because of his existence as an arcanist.

The similarities are obvious. Hell, both share the theme of flora and plants, too. There is an even more subtle dynamic here too, alluding to the game's prominent religious imagery - Vertin's suitcase being compared to an ark that will brave the "Storm", the last supper moment, Arcana's offering, the orange, being a replacement for the apple of Eden...

And then, Forget Me Not association with snakes, rumoured to have a body covered in scales, with an arcanum skill that allows people to indulge in alcohol during the Prohibition Era - the snake that tempted Adam and Eve. Druvis III is associated with forests, trees, as well as a link between Vertin (the good guys) and Manus Vindictae (the bad guys) - the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The two go hand in hand and are linked together.

The big difference between them is that their respective quests to set things "right" are entirely different - their "revenge" is not the same. Druvis III was hellbent on finding out who set the fire that killed her family, not because she wanted them to face the consequences, but because in doing so, people would finally leave her alone and let her mourn. She could finally move on from something that she knew the truth of. Forget Me Not does it to feel satisfied with himself and get back at everyone who ever looked down on him or wronged him. To inflict as much as pain unto others as he had received before. It's a powerplay fantasy in which he finally wins, against all odds.

It's unclear what truly happened to the Cavendish that caused Forget Me Not to end up in such conditions, to the point where he'd go as far as make sure no one can trace him back to his family, to the point where not even the Foundation has a proper report on him.

But there is one line in particular that lives rent free in my head when it comes to the Cavendish and Forget Me Not's potential relationship with them.

This takes place after Druvis III loses her forest, after she loses her eternal branch because of Vertin's intervention during their dinner. They're talking about how to use her forest to build a refugee camp.

There's the possibility that Forget Me Not is simply alluding to that forest - something that used to belong to her is now something that he should have for the sake of Manus Vindictae's goals.

But! Indulge me for a second! There's a noticeable pause, there's a subtle tone to his voice. Reverse 1999's writing might be confusing at times due to the translation, but it's easy to see that it's loaded with metaphors, hidden meanings and so much more, to the point where reading deeply into everything most characters' say is pretty much the norm.

The dialogue that precedes that specific line is Forget Me Not insisting that he can transfer the ownership of the woods over to Druvis III anytime, because she has always been and will always be the only owner, no matter what. He does this to convince her to go through with Manus' plans, that's his main goal, he doesn't care about the woods. But that single line pictured above? It could mean so much more.

Again, the two share many, many similarities. So when Forget Me Not talks about what Druvis III once had - a prestigious family business, a name people can recognize, an assured future - is what he should have, it evokes a sense of entitlement and lingering resentment. Almost as if Forget Me Not's desire to go back to the past doesn't stem from nostalgia like her, but to reclaim something that was denied to him.

Which is incredibly ironic to me because both of them carried their family in their names - Druvis THE THIRD. Lawrence Cavendish JUNIOR. And yet, the one that worked so hard to obscure his origins and changed his family name was him.

Neither of these characters can be recognized nor traced back to their families by appearance alone - people need a name or a really good memory to truly recognize them. The only one with enough courage to continue carrying such burden is Druvis III. Forget Me Not wants something that he willingy lost the right to the moment he allowed Lawrence Cavendish Jr. to die and fade into obscurity.

The name "Forget Me Not" begins to sound more ironic. Like an order, a threat or the promise of his return - his desire for revenge and his hypocrisy become clear once you begin to dissect his character. Like the narrator in the "To Lawrence Cavendish" document says: "He is patiently waiting... to put his meanness, craziness and quivers under the sun". He's waiting to reveal himself.

The "stage" is shown when he makes people explode from inside out, a lot of people who recognized him as Forget Me Not, the mixologist. This is when we finally see his true intentions and the main difference between him and Druvis III, all in their respective reactions to the journalists.

She's terrified, thinking about the day of her family's funeral. On the other hand, he's ordering them to watch and record as he "takes everything he has been deprived of".

This is why the thing that breaks Forget Me Not is hearing that Druvis III does not care about the man who started the fire, that it's not important anymore. He believed them to be on the same page, that she would love to torture the single person responsible for all of her grief. The guy is projecting heavily onto Druvis III.

In the end, I don't know if Forget Me Not resents his father, his family name, if he had some sort of business to inherit and a "future" that was taken from him, or if they actually might've been a happy family.

What I do know is that Forget Me Not's desire for revenge was absolutely amplified and fueled by Manus Vindictae's own agenda. And that's why he works perfectly as both a victim of their MO and a willing member within their ranks.

He clings so hard to the past because there is no future worth fighting for, because everything would be much better if it was rebuilt from scratch with only those that won't oppose him and repeat history. He clings so hard that his new name and identity are, in the end, a plea for the world not to forget who he used to be and, at worst, an order because he sure as hell hasn't forgotten all the things others have done or said Back when Lawrence Cavendish Jr was around. Once his family outlived their usefulness or relevance within society.

TLDR: THIS is the cold-blooded, numb murderer who is actually very sad, empty and broken deep inside that some people wanted Pavia to be. Like, he's even sopping wet and sad and asking Vertin to kill him next time they meet.

Which leads us to my next point!

On the subject of Forget Me Not's self-destructive and suicidal mindset.

We've talked about Forget Me Not's views and relationship with the Cavendish - but what exactly is the end goal? He feels entitled to a better life, one he was supposed to have, and then what?

The "???" narrator mentions a woman who made a promise to Forget Me Not, as well as leaving a "sarcoma" behind which he then adapted and turned into his own. This woman is implied to be Arcana, as we see her talk to Vertin about being able to see the truth, to not be blinded - there's an emphasis in the way she recruits people by opening their eyes to reality. The sarcoma is the city (apparently "Windy City" is used to refer to Chicago, I had to google that but hey, that's pretty neat!). It's the world he lives in and that wants him gone. She focused Forget Me Not's grief towards it because in doing so, it would help Manus Vindictae's ideals of a world exclusively for pureblooded arcanists.

And even so, he remained suicidal. There was at least one more attempt at taking his own life, and that's when he saw "what had been on his mind". Whatever that might've been, no doubt influenced by Arcana and his situation, is what pushed Forget Me Not to "allow himself to revenge, revenge, re-re-re-revenge, and to die".

Ultimately, Forget Me Not's goal is to die at the end of it all - even after he gets his revenge, earns the life he wanted, takes back everything that was meant for him. This is why, after he's fully defeated, his last words to Vertin are to show no mercy next time they meet. To kill him.

This is not only a long and convoluted plan of revenge, it's Forget Me Not willingly marching into his own demise. And just like before, he's not strong enough to pull the trigger himself. Now that he has no solid argument to justify his anger - all because Druvis III has shown him that people can, in fact, move on - his only option is to have someone else end his life. He's shown tired, and the phrase "Don't save it no more" might indicate that even if there was someone who could repeat what Arcana did to him - give him a sense of purpose and a target for his grief - he simply doesn't have the energy for that.

Forget Me Not's self-destructive tendencies can also be seen in other ways. His job at The Walden is to cater to all the people who shunned him - he welcomes everyone and anyone for the sake of creating a network of secrets, he attends fancy parties and events full of those who call him a drug dealer, Satan's spawn and so much more. And he pretends to be someone else entirely while wishing for others to remember him. He willingly surrounds himself with all the things that hurt him.

His arcanum being related to alcohol is rather poetic to me - since Forget Me Not is said to have spiraled into decadence and into this extreme mindset, it makes sense that his main skill is related to being intoxicated and to drown into something that is largely hated but at the same time, desired and coveted. The Prohibition Era does have a very similar mentality to religion, namely western ideologies - you're meant to openly reject and loathe something, but the constant repression causes you to yearn for it instead. And at some point, this repression can become an addiction in itself, leading some to indulge in it. This loops back to Forget Me Not's association with the snake in the Garden of Eden.

It makes sense to me that he indulges in something so painful, while cohercing others into indulging in forbidden alcohol. That he later uses this very same arcane skill to kill all those people who, in his eyes, represent everything he loathes about the current state of the world. It's like a sarcoma that he now leaves behind, that kills from inside out.

And this is the last time I'll bring up Druvis III in a Forget Me Not post, but notice their choice of flower/plant? She has a mistletoe bouquet - a parasitic and toxic plant which represents positive things such as fertility, life and protection in many different cultures. Forget Me Not has black roses, roses being immediately recognized as one of the most beautiful flowers but, in this context, symbolizing things such as death and rebirth, remembrance, mourning. Their duality, contrast and the "two-faced" aspect is prominent there. And not to get very deep about character design, but Druvis III holds the bouquet very carefully and carries it around with her willingly, whereas the black roses that Forget Me Not wears wrap around his neck not unlike a noose.

To really drive home how Forget Me Not sees himself, here's the description they gave him for his boss fight.

They boil down his character perfectly, to all the little traits that make up his whole emotional baggage.

And to also put more emphasis on how Forget Me Not truly doesn't expect to live and "win" at the end of this whole revenge trip, here's his ultimate - "Heavengazing from Hell". He's fully aware that he's going to be destroyed by his own actions and that the only thing left for him will be to look up at heaven from hell. That all the good things will forever be out of his reach.

Now, onto proper headcanon territory, since I'm running out of media to analyze!

On the subject of Forget Me Not's scales.

As established before, Forget Me Not is associated with snakes - one of the segments from the Big Mouth Bulletin comments on this. "[...] he had scales under those long sleeves, one next to another embedded in his flesh."

And this can actually be seen on his in-game sprite! It's very faint, but there's absolutely some sort of texture peeking out from under his collar and sleeves that resemble scales. They can also be seen on the trailer animations. The only time these scales don't appear or peek out from his clothes are in The Walden illustration, with the other members of Manus Vindictae, but that can easily be explained as him covering up properly and the angle he's drawn in.

Originally I thought that they could be burn scars, as it would mean a stronger connection between him and Druvis III. But upon closer inspection, they don't look like burn scars at all.

I like to headcanon that it's a side-effect from his own arcanum, similar to how Rabies is implied to look like a scarecrow because of his involvement treating rabies. Being something "self-inflicted" - in the sense of him having the choice to stop and heal, but refuses to - also lines up with Forget Me Not's suicidal tendencies, the whole sarcoma metaphor and the fact that by carrying on like this, he's doing nothing but destroy himself and add to his suffering.

As for how far the scales have extended, I don't have a set favorite idea! Part of me really would love it if the scales coiled around his body like actual snakes, but also the idea of him having different patches of scales scattered throughout (again, like a sarcoma) and the third secret option of him being MOSTLY covered in them to the point where it becomes grotesque, something that he can't even look at.

They're not just a tattoo or pattern embedded onto his skin either - they're actual scales, cold and rough to the touch. The areas affected by this have grown numb, making it hard for Forget Me Not to feel any warmth or pressure applied onto them. This adds to that otherworldly and sinister vibe he's got going on, even if the lack of proper tactile sense irritates him. It's extremely uncomfortable if they're brushed or rubbed in the wrong direction, however!

Sometimes, Forget Me Not might pick at the scales, as if deciding whether he loves or hates them. In particularly bad days, he picks them out. I like the idea that, once picked, the scales grow faster and stronger, as well as in broader areas, making it a perpetual loop of picking them off from his skin.

Overall, it would be extremely easy to conceal them - he only needs a shirt with a higher collar and gloves or some make-up, but I like to think that Forget Me Not loves the idea of someone catching a glimpse of them, a reminder that he's dangerous and so much more than meets the eye.

As much as he he's been affected by the stigma against arcanists, he now thrives in their hatred for him and his existence - sneaking into places he knows he's not welcome is addictive, especially knowing everyone tolerates him because he's their only access to alcohol. The way everyone will turn around and talk shit about him once they're out of The Walden is fun, because it reinforces his views on why this current era deserves to be rebuilt from the ground up.

Forget Me Not has extremely poor eyesight.

I know the glasses look thin and pretty standard, but I just like to think that Forget Me Not can't see shit without them.

He has this habit of taking them off to "clean" them whenever he's talking with those he loathes - mostly humans - just so he doesn't have to look at them directly. Sometimes, he might just close his eyes and dissociate, pretending to pay attention if the situation calls for it. Yes, he's petty and hateful enough to feel physically sick when talking to people he hates.

If you pay enough attention, it becomes clear that eye contact becomes scarce, as if just looking at them will send him into a fit of rage (but he conceals it extremely well when needed).

Forget Me Not's poor eyesight is not a secret, and he often likes to make patrons nervous by making their drinks without his glasses - of course, he knows his way around drinks and potions, there's no chance of him messing up, he could do this with his eyes closed. But seeing customers squirm is such a delight. Because now, they must choose between making a scene in HIS territory or risk being poisoned with a poorly-made drink.

I like to think that he also just has a very fine ear, since he does play instruments (all of his attacks being related to music and him using a piano as his wand during the boss fight). So really, Forget Me Not couldn't care less about his eyesight.

Forget Me Not enjoys floral arrangement.

This is just based on his association with the actual forget me not flower. I think he enjoys creating bouquets or putting up vases full of flowers around his home, even if all of them may end up creating a very gloomy and decadent atmospere - they're perfect for funerals, and he simply may be preparing for his own.

And he leaves them out on display long after they've wilted. "They're more beautiful this way", he'd say.

It's not rare to find Forget Me Not on rainy afternoons with a pair of scissors on hand, absentmindedly cutting every leaf and petal off from all these roses, as if he had a personal vendetta against their colorful hues. Sometimes, he just twirls the stem around, pressing hard on the thorns to feel anything while he looks out the window. He's so very fucking dramatic and volatile.

Basically, I like to picture Forget Me Not as the type of person who has dedicated so much time into something as empty as revenge, that he absolutely has no idea what to do outside of that.

Everything he does is just a way to pass the time until he can go back to dedicate every waking second of his life into his and Manus Vindictae's plans, every "little pleasure" is just a façade, he doesn't get any real enjoyment from anything. Sometime he worries that revenge won't help him climb out of this apathetic life he's built for himself, but he can't afford to dwell too much on that possibility. Everything that he does is muscle memory, he's forcing himself to try and do it, because otherwise he could simply sit still in an empty room for hours on end, with the lights turned off, waiting and waiting - all alone with his thoughts.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #r1999 headcanons #reverse 1999 forget me not #forget me not #playable forget me not WHEN bluepoch i NEED him #i like forget me not when hes like. deranged #when hes one hair away from hurting others or hurting himself because hes. in the most horrible mindset ever #like hes just looking for an excuse to blow up or blow up others (hehehehehe....get it....) #like sure hes so cool with the walden and his network of information and secrets #but hes still a cowardly snake who hides and needs to be revealed. bc he cant reveal himself willingly and openly on his own #its the loss of humanity again but whereas pavia rejects it. FMN just lives within it. he just masks SO well #'but you cant simp for any manus vindictae character! theyre explicitly racists!' and re1999 is a game that CHOSE to replace #actual racial issues in history with their magic ppl vs normal ppl plot line with many many parallels to struggles poc like me lived throug #and then chose to be like 'hey theyre actually physically different and its xenophobia on a whole different species hahaaa bye' #so like. fuckin chew on that first before coming for me. if we're already suspending our belief for the sake of playing:dont cherry pick #tackle the WHOLE thing the game chose to portray. not just a single group within the whole game #sorry if that was heated but lmfao i saw ppl already trying to dictate who ppl can and cannot simp for on twitter #as if this wasnt another fictional anime gacha game at the end of the day

[good-evening-gromit]

Can I request a one-shot of how Medic realised he was in love with reader (who is nb)..? OwO

Mwehehehe >:)

Winter Soulmate (Medic x NB! Reader

On cold winter nights, when the air was thick with pelts of ice and sharp rain, Medic often found himself breaking off from the usual routine of keeping warm by the fire. The carpet in front of the hearth was always crowded with wrestling mercenaries anyhow, and he had much better ways to spend his time than to vie for what little space remained. Somewhere on the roof, looking up at the snow as it gently fell to the ground, was his one and only—his most beloved—all bundled up with a cup of hot tea betwixt their woolen mittens. 

Medic hadn’t always been a loving sort of man. He was more acquainted with the snideness and sarcasm that helped him get by without being a target in his day-to-day life. But when you had one day became a part of it, that all changed. Suddenly, he didn’t care so much about being the meanest or the most dismissive—over time, he warmed up to the idea of things like kindness, generosity, and even empathy. Medic stopped going out to the bars as much, stopped working so late, and stopped depriving himself of sleep and basic self care. His coworkers had even started to point out how much healthier he looked, teasing that it was probably all because of you. And they were right.

You were such a mystery to him. Everything from the way you laughed, your stare of concentration, to your tears seemed to douse his heart in a shade he had never seen before. What he loved most about you—love was a new term to him as well—was that you gave his happiness a purpose. You were a reason to smile, to laugh, to get out of bed in the mornings. You were a reason to comb his hair, to put on cologne, to tell a silly joke and put on a favorite record. You were a reason to sit on the roof in the snow and watch in silence as the night carried it away. He wanted to be with you every day in every moment—to never miss a thing.

Until now, Medic had never mustered up the courage to say his feelings aloud, for fear that his heart would be broken once and for all. There would be no going back from that—of that much, Medic was certain. But he could not keep living on like this, either; stoking the flames inside of him without a hope of releasing them and laying them bare. Day to day, he craved for a change. The change. The change that would ultimately decide his life or his death, all held within the palms of your hands.

He would tell you tonight. Of this, he had decided at last.

The concrete steps were slick, smooth, and shiny with a little shell of ice. He took care as he ascended to the rooftop, watching his breath disappear in the wind. He could see the soft, faint glow of a lantern guiding him to the top like the northern star.

Through the darkness, the light, and the heavenly winter, he saw you there, your eyes closed and your face turned up towards the sky. It was as if the bitter cold was melting away, like a pond on the first day of spring. You reached out your hand, calling him to you, and he nearly wept to see your smile again.

Your coats brushed together as he sat beside you, wrapping a heavy arm around you and burying his face into your hood. You had waited an eternity of winters for him to finally join you. Now the rooftop was silent, sweeping lovely sheets of comfort across your bodies as you smiled into his collar. He kept you warm, never afraid to take your hand into his own and kiss your knuckles.

It was time. He knew that a moment this perfect would never happen again. Medic looked out on the ground below for a moment more, taking a silent breath before he turned his head. Seeing you so contented, nearly asleep against his chest made him feel like the world was truly healing in ways he couldn’t explain. You opened your eyes, feeling the eclipse of a conversation between you. His voice was soft but his eyes were full of a shade you had never seen before.

“There’s something I must confess.”

#medic x reader #tf2 medic #x reader #nonbinary #nonbinary reader #love #soulmates #writing on tumblr #fanfiction #fanfic #request #team fortress two #team fortress 2

[faceofpoe]

My CX-2/CX-Tech contemplation ahead of 3.12 & beyond:

(i.e. fuck it, as others' hopes dwindle as we count down to the finale, Poe is doubling down)

(i.e. enjoy myriad ramblings that are somewhere between 'this is how I'd do it' and the perils of watching with confirmation bias/Winter Soldier-lover glasses on LOL)

the tl;dr is: ignoring things like "domicile" and whatnot - compare CX-2's behavior and attitude and ruthlessness at various stages: 1) upon arrival on Teth 2) after getting knocked into the wall and buried under all the rocks 3) the escalating rage while fighting Crosshair culminating in the nearly drowning him/possibly pausing/getting stunned and falling and 4) getting to and while on Pabu.

I think it's really interesting how the same operative who went "rogue" (twice), who recklessly endangered his target by shooting down her ship and firing chaotically into the group she was with, is so precise and controlled on Pabu.

I think it's really interesting how Scorch tells him to "eliminate" the others if they get in the way and the operative who killed most of Rex's cell on Teth conveniently manages to "neutralize" 2/3 of them without killing them (creative but "technical" interpretation of orders?). Somewhat notably perhaps, his orders upon activation to Teth are to "neutralize" the compromised operative, the intent to kill him before he can talk is not ambiguous. Cannot imagine he's under any delusions that Hunter & Wrecker are definitively dead at the time he reports them "neutralized."

I think it's really interesting how he places the final explosive on the Marauder right on the wing by the ramp where it might be noticed when he surely just needed to blow the engine. I think it's interesting that we've seen what a precise shot can do to ground a ship but the operative chooses instead to loudly announce what's coming.

I think it's really interesting how there were presumably three potential targets when the gunship was compromised - the pilot, the ship itself, and Hunter - and the operative went for what had to be the trickiest shot (through the window!) that took out his own guy and left Hunter alone in the water to make his way back to shore.

I think it's really interesting how he gets tunnel-vision feral on Crosshair in Extraction, that shit got personal, and doesn't react to having him right in his sights in Point of No Return. (I also think it's interesting that he's got some sort of facial recognition thing going on in ep11 but I don't know what to make of that). I think it's interesting that the thing that dooms them to losing Omega - being separated, where no one has any backup - is also the thing that saves the boys from going down in a final desperate stand to protect her and saves Pabu from being caught in the crossfire.

I think it's interesting that aside from the docks, we don't see Pabu meet the fate we all feared and he doesn't give the go-ahead to light it up until he's maneuvered them into a position where surrender is the only choice Omega will see left to her.

(if we find out in 3.12 that the stormtroopers razed Pabu before departing um... ignore this point/possibly this whole manifesto? lol)

I think it's interesting that the operative had no update for Hemlock until Hemlock called with his impatient/Disappointed-in-you voice and then had enough of an update to get him off his back. (also I really wish we had any gauge of the time lapse between any of these episodes) (Am curious about the allusion to Cid and "pulling" intel though that's dark implications lol; but makes for a curious juxtaposition against the careful way he approaches/avoids Phee on screen; which makes for a curious juxtaposition against the gives-no-fucks about collateral damage on Teth).

I think it's interesting that episode 3 is called Shadows of Tantiss and it's the first time (I think?) we see one of, as Rex&co call them, the "shadows" on Tantiss even though it's almost a parallel shot to the two glimpses Omega gets of Crosshair in the corridors during ep1. We're getting a very slow drawn-out reveal on the program, from the glimpses of Crosshair & co in ep1 to the shadow in ep 3 to the ruthlessness of the program in 6&7 to finally getting a glimpse of the lab in 10. What happens to CX-2 after he delivers Omega?

The ep titles this season are clever. The Return - to Pabu, to Barton IV, to the squad. Harbinger - hints of the mystery surrounding Omega, hints to what's coming for Pabu. Identity Crisis - Emerie but also the crisis of being identified as Force-sensitive.

Anyway, I think how you pull off a CX-Tech plot this late in the game is that every episode he's in (or whatever shadow we see in 3.3), the title is also about him. Infiltration makes sense; but Extraction... what is that pause, as Crosshair is about to drown?

What if this below is the extraction? From the river, from the prison his mind has been locked in? (shoutout once more to the (maybe twitter?) post I can not find (sorry!) comparing his slumping over on the river bank to the way Crosshair collapses after ordering the engines turned off on Bracca/probably the beginnings of the end for the chip)

The way he works with the reinforcements on Pabu vs the way he did not on Teth, at all - I think something started going haywire after the quick succession of 1) the explosion 2) getting thrown against the wall and 3) getting buried under the rocks. He then gets a tiny bit blown up again by Crosshair in the stairway, and then tumbles off a smaller waterfall before we see the absolute feral rage at Crosshair and "you had your chance/chose the wrong side."

All of this to say -

The way you pull off CX-Tech this late in the game is that he doesn't need freed from his conditioning anymore, he's already broken all or mostly free after all the getting blown up and being stunned and tumbling down a giant waterfall and almost drowning his brother; he just needs freed from Hemlock and his bio trackers and surveillance and whatever the hell else is keeping him trapped.

The way you pull off CX-Tech this late in the game is that he's now playing a game against himself, both working for Hemlock and figuring out how to take down Tantiss. (Tragic consideration here: operative can't bring a tracker back in Omega's pocket, but knowing/anticipating Crosshair, potentially was expecting/counting on a tracker making it onto the ship) (Though this hypothetical setback also sets up the crucial role we might now expect Emerie to fill in somehow enabling a rescue effort)

The way you pull off CX-Tech this late in the game is by building towards what's actually a sort of mirror of the buildup to Return to Kamino - you follow orders and capture the piece that will bring the cavalry to the rescue - of the clones and the children, not just Omega.

And then you make an epic trick shot and take off the mask and fuck up Hemlock's whole day. (Poor dude just wanted to be made Science Minister)

"Why have I been activated" remains such a curious introduction of this guy. Made all the more curious by Hemlock lamenting that he's got no other operatives ready to deploy. Maybe... this one wasn't quite fully cooked yet either.

(Side conspiracy theory: Crosshair knows it's him but thinks he's past saving.)

#anyway that's my absurd 'but I WANT IT dammit' conspiracy theory/AU fic premise LOL #tbb #the bad batch #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #CX-Tech #Poe's brain being left unattended with TBB #look I wouldn't be so fixated on this had the season itself not brought me to the dark side #I was perfectly content to let him be dead until eps 5-7 #and look I still cannot possibly fathom how he'd have survived in the first place #that is just straight up being handwaved at this point I don't even care