#they met in their mid twenties. chill)

[cultivatingyourfuture]

after hearing the pitch on your main blog, and scrolling far enough to see the tags you were putting on some posts, i am very intrigued about the everything that is going on (especially with emily) so could i get a brief rundown of the everything pls n thanks you

i spent forever trying to figure out how to tell a "brief" version of this story and this is how i settled on doing it. keep in mind this is the brief version and if you want in depth explanations/analysis on specific parts of the story i IMPLORE you to ask me about it because there is just no way for me to say everything i want to here and I STILL had to omit some details for brevitys sake. ok

content warnings: death. physical abuse. emotional abuse. verbal abuse. violence. implications of sexism. implications of misogyny. body horror. child death. child endangerment. talk of drug addiction. talk of alcoholism. obsession. stalking. kidnapping.

two fucked up siblings [paige jensen, pierre jensen] make a company (regrowth) and make cyborgs about it. first one they make runs away but the data they're still getting from it reveals their tech works like.. extraordinarily well with plant life? they build a tech empire off of this idea. they continue making cyborgs as well but the brother has so much guilt about the first go round he refuses any part in it (but still allows it to happen. his sister is the only reason he has any semblance of power, after all.) the sister continues running new experiments regarding combat and medicine and anti-aging and etc etc with her technology on a variety of subjects-- some willing, some unwilling, some already dead before they could say something either way. notable cases include toni finnigan, a terminally ill woman who engages with the project as a last resort and considers herself indebted to the siblings as a result; neil marshall, a young boy who accidentally saw the siblings first attempt to procure that first subject which went horribly ary and got the wrong guy (who was neils father); emily jyung, the scientist overseeing much of the cyborg testing at paiges discretion who decides she can't live with what she's done and seen and submits herself to the process in order to find atonement; holly pendleton, a girl who signed up for a very simple consumer test, took a wrong turn, and found paige jensen elbow deep in some poor guys chest cavity; and vallen rosamel, an addict and thief who makes the great decision of trying to hit on pierre jensen on absolutely the wrong night. pierres inferiority complex keeps him where he is in his position of power even though the weight of the cyborg project and his involvement is slowly crushing him and paiges fear of failure has her spending more and more time on it in a desperate attempt to make something of herself since pierre (charismatic. likeable. dude) gets all the credit for her (brash. awkward. woman) innovations.

meanwhile in like........ summer 2000 that first runaway cyborg falls into the backyard of this scientist with a really bad caretaker complex named francesca (i never call her francesca/frankie tbh i call her fizzle) who sees this thing with cracked glowing eyes and vines crawling out of its arms and goes oh. okay. and takes it in and starts fixing it up-- culling the plant that's affixed itself to this person's core and repairing the technology and finally fitting a voicebox onto it because it can't speak. this person(?) then relays that it has no idea who it is or where they came from, just that there were two people and this impending sense that they needed to leave, now. because of their lack of memories, they decide on a new name for them and they choosd Cherry, after the type of plant thats now in their systems. cherry uses he/she/they pronouns because fizzle (trans woman) asks him about it and she's like Oh. Um. Good question. Let's... find out? and so they use all pronouns and then never change that because those work well enough.

cherry adjusts well enough but they're really frustrated with their lack of memories because they don't even know if they consented to the process or not, they don't know if they had a family, they don't know what they left behind and what's waiting for them or who's looking (side note-- the only thing that feels any bit of familar are songs. something something foreshadowing something something playlist thats a work in progress). it doesn't help that the time they spent between escaping and coming across fizzle consisted of a lot of people being terrified of them and looking to hurt them (one guy literally shoots them like?? two days before they find fizzle????) so she's got this crushing sense that she's missing a fundamental part of herself that makes her able to be """human"""-- or, at least, accepted by humans. and she decides that whatever that is was probably lost along with her memories. so that really bothers them.

anyways a good bit of time passes and then they start picking up this high pitched frequency and fizzle can't fix it nor figure out the source of it so cherry just has to deal with Robot Tinnitus for a little bit. but they figure out that the frequency changes depending on how far / close they get to... whatever the hell the source is. so they wait till dark and they go out and Follow It, and it lands them at this dingy little nightclub juuust in time to watch someone stagger into the alleyway holding their head like they're in pain. or maybe hearing something very very loud. so cherry slowly approaches as the frequency gets louder and louder and more painful and boop! connection found.

the person she's founds name is vallen rosamel and shit has been WEIRD for him as of late. his hair started growing in a different color about four months ago the plants do that just roll with it, all of the substances he was taking just quit working one day, and theyre having longer and longer gaps in their memory every day. and now there's this SCREAMING in their EARS and oh my god. who the fuck are YOU. so after a lot of confusion and a lot of gentle explaining they figure out that vallens the same thing cherry is. which begs a LOT of fucking questions like What's up with that frequency. Who is making them. How is he just out and about. which are all very very important questions but cherry is so excited to FINALLY FIND SOMEONE LIKE THEM that they forget that for a little bit lmao. but cherry convinces vallen to let their friend do a couple of tests (which are very limited. bc the kind of plant vallens got is a citrus fruit and fizzle has a citrus allergy lmao) and what they figure out is that while cherrys got... like... a fourth of a human brain and LED eyes and cybernetic legs and a cybernetic arm and no digestive system and oh yeah NO MEMORIES, vallens got like. some brain, eye, and digestive modifications. and that's about it. the only thing he can't remember are those aforementioned memory gaps as well as however they came about being a cyborg too. sorry cherry but you haven't exactly found someone like you :( and vallen is like okay I want nothing to do with this. no ones gonna fuckin believe me so i may as well just try to live my life the way i have been (spoilers: that life's not good!) and cherry kind of talks to him for a bit. says she understands how confusing and frustrating it all is. but is also like Man you are my ONE HOPE of figuring out what happened to me can you even just CONSIDER sticking around just long enough for me to know you can't tell me anything new. and vallens like ff. fine. anyways that turns into 1 to three years I haven't decided yet. vallen and cherry (and fizzle) are kind of gay about it. it's fine don't worry about that.

anyways eventually Shit Goes Down. vallen gets activated by some other force, stops responding whatsoever, knocks cherry the fuck out and takes fizzle down too when she tries to stop them. all three of them end up in regrowth. uh oh.

cherry gets confronted by paige who has this whole speech but the basics of it are:

-she purposefully sent vallen out into the world in an attempt to find cherry. was going to just kill them originally but decided to let them linger in case she could ever Use Them for her own purposes and apparently that time has come

-never took direct control of vallen-- any connections they've made with him are more than likely genuine because paige can't handle social manipulation like her brother can-- but she was certainly keeping tabs and certainly knows a couple of things even if she doesn't say it directly (like the fact she's calling cherry 'cherry' and not. whatever his name was before. hm.)

-apparently paige has discovered some shit about pierre that 1. she thinks will DEFINITELY bring cherry onto her side and 2. has made her decide that pierre has to go NOW

-"you can either help me or ill just kill you/wipe your memories and return you to testing" and "you can either get revenge on one of us or lose to both of us" as her main points

cherry is having none of this. breaks the fuck out of her containment and runs rampant through the facility, breaking shit, knocking people out, runs into pierre at one point who just stares at her and calls him a name that........... isnt "Cherry" before she just sprints the hell away, up until he 1. locks himself in an old lab, 2. modifies her cybernetic arm by hand to attach a blaster weapon onto it (painful), and 3. escapes into a vent and finds himself in all the backparts of the facility. ends up seeing more cyborgs during testing and is like Holy shit how many people have they done this to. these people need to go home.

keeping this part brief bc the rest of this will also.... not be. I promise I'm telling the brief version here. cherry finds vallen (has to fight him. doesn't want to. does it anyway.) and gets him out of paiges control via dropping a fucking light fixture on him and shortcircuting him a bit. they find fizzle. they go from the lower parts of the facility where the projects been held up to the company building bc they figure out the servers are there and if Cherry can get into those she can find the other bots' memories (and hopefully enough info to incriminate regrowth?), free those, and get them out of there. they get up there and the buildings been evacuated which makes finding the servers much easier. cherry parses the information and also figures out her memories aren't there + her file is mostly redacted. but theres that name again! the one pierre called him!! and if the memories aren't there then. where are they.

sorry no time to dwell on that bc more cyborgs attack! cherry, fizzle, vallen get them their memories back which overwrites their protocols. good news; thats all the active cyborgs left in the building (gonna give u names right quick-- holly (foxglove), mara (hellebore), enzo (chestnut) ) cherry is like we gotta find you guys an exit. as they do so cherry comes across pierres office and is like......... hey. yall go ahead. i need to. check something. fizzle and vallen are like 🤨 but they're like okay. please be careful. and they Go.

this is the part of the story where I advise you to look at the content warnings up above very carefully

so cherry goes into pierres office and starts rummaging around, looking under placemats and taking apart photo frames n stuff, looking to the password to his computer. she finds some stuff-- other passwords, checks, an image of a girl?, but eventually she just says "fuck it," plugs into it, breaks through the password screen, looks through the files and THATS where she finds her memories. finally. after all this time.

so cherry hides under the desk and downloads all of it. all at once. don't worry about that too much right now but this is a disorienting, horrifying experience for cherry to say the least. and as if the memories themselves aren't bad enough cherry is like... why did he know that name but paige didn't. why were they on his computer. why... was a picture of me... behind one of the photo frames.... on his desk .......

and then the door creaks. and pierre sees them. and explains his side of things. we'll revisit that in a bit. so cherry is horrified and is very much ready to murder pierre. and she, uh. does. she chases him down the hall (because of course he runs. of course.), points her blaster at his head, and fires. she just kills him.

and then, because he's still pissed and terrified, he goes to find paige. paige deploys another cyborg (kudzu; dead body that paige essentially pilots and therefore not considered an "active" cyborg). cherry kills that too (lot easier when youre not trying to keep them alive). cherry finds paige. they talk. they fight. beat the shit out of each other. cherry aims and is ready to kill but realizes that's what paige wants. says she'd rather her be alive for every moment people realize what she's done. lets her go. paige watches him walk away, then gathers juuust enough strength to enter a few more commands into her main console, then collapses.

cherry, while trying to leave the building, is then confronted by a previously "retired" (see: shut down and locked up for years) cyborg, neil (lemon). cherry is horrified to see him-- so horrified, in fact, that she doesn't do anything when he approaches and impales her through the stomach with a blade built into his arms. she drops, and he walks away.

cherry then crawls her way back to the regrowth server room, plugs herself into the system, and uploads her consciousness in a last desperate bid to stay alive. they are found by fizzle and vallen later. reporters and police swarm the building, and they retrieve lemon, having found him curled up in an alcove in the wall of the main trial area for the cyborg project. paige jensen is arrested, cherrys body is retrieved to be repaired by fizzle, and regrowth is no more.

... so. ok. let's take several steps back and fill in some gaps here.

eveline ethel woode grew up in the same town paige and pierre jensen moved to when pierre was about 2 and paige was 10. daughter of a textile ceo and an ex movie starlet, she was very much under her parents thumb. her mother blamed eveline for ruining her career, since she wouldn't have had to have left the business had she never gotten pregnant, and her father's anger at the most likely heir to his company being a woman combined with his own alcoholism led to a lot of physical abuse that left eveline with a permanent limp and a broken nose. this treatment broke eveline woode to her very core. which went almost entirely unnoticed (or at least uncared for) by everyone except for one pierre jensen. because pierre-- pierre was not only perceptive (how else are you going to figure out what makes people like you?), but he was going through something similar to eveline. do you know how comforting that can be, to know you're not the only one? to see someone suffering the same way you are? neither of them deserved that. neither of them deserved to be alone in this. pierre, slowly, fixates on the idea of getting eveline out of her situation-- on saving them both. and maybe, just maybe, he'd finally find someone he wouldn't have to pretend for anymore. maybe he'd finally have a solution to how fucking alone he was, maybe he'd,

and then eveline Leaves. at the age of 16, she pulls the strings to get herself a cheap little rented home for the next year in a town far the hell away that has enough of a reputation of being where no one wants to go, and she leaves. and this... isnt how things were supposed to go for pierre. she was supposed to leave with him. she was supposed to be HIS escape, not her own. this isn't the way things were supposed to go, just who the hell does she think she is, taking his ONE CHANCE of happiness away? it's like she doesn't even care what--

eveline woode lands in a foggy little town in georgia and things are okay. she always loved flowers, and there's enough actual air in the sky here to let them grow. she's as alone and isolated as she's always been, and that emptiness never quite goes away, but at least she's safe now.

anyways, whatever funds she was able to scramble together from her parents isnt going to last forever, so she picks up some odd jobs and through that ends up meeting this guy named scott. scott is a father of two and he's been through some similar shit to eveline so he Notices The Behaviors (and she's about the same age as his daughter which makes him worry about her MORE) (also Why is a seventeen year old living on her own in this shitty town thats worrisome on its own) and slowly eveline starts to become a good family friend of theirs. she babysits his son, housesits, shes invited to things-- anything to make her feel welcomed and loved. which is... not anything eveline is used to. she tries to not think about it, considers it as just doing her job and doing what's right but like. she loves the marshalls. and they consider her as much of family as they can. mason, scotts daughter, fills her in on pop culture and his wife gives her gardening and baking tips and he shows her music he loves from his record collection (and she starts a small one of her own, too!) and theyre Happy. eveline woode is happy.

anyways meanwhile paige jensen is relaying to her brother about her New Ideas for cybernetically enhanced people and how hard it's going to be to find a volunteer willing or otherwise and pierres like ".... otherwise??" and paige is like Oh. I mean. we couldn't do that. i mean, it'd have to be somebody NO ONE cared about that NO ONE ever notices that has NO CONNECTIONS and NO and pierre sees an Opportunity here. and he suggests a target. because she can't be doing that well for herself anyways, right? not without him there. paige has already perfected memory transfers; all he'd have to do is modify them a little and then everything would be the way it was supposed to be. maybe it's a little grotesque, maybe it's immoral, maybe it's too far, but it'd be worth it in the long run. it'd be fine. it'd be fine. it'd be f

pierre finds eveline, follows her for a few weeks, figures out a path she takes at a certain time in the night that's just secluded enough for him to grab her and leave (besides. bad town. lotsa police reports go unchecked. this Can't Go Wrong)

it goes wrong. someone rounds the corner and pierre goes to hit them over the head and realizes it's a man. but the guy gets spooked and falls ass backwards and impales himself on a fence which was NOTTHEFUCKINGPLANHOLYSHIT. and to make matters worse, the guys son rounds the corner too and at 12 years old neil marshall watches his father scott die and gets a good look at pierre jensens face in the process.

so. scott dies. eveline thinks of it as some divine punishment for anything good happening to her. returns to her self isolating ways. the marshalls never see her again. December 18th 1999 pierre jensen goes to her home directly, knocks her out, and drags her away. it's not until december 24th that anyone realizes she's gone and by then there's not many leads besides some missing items, a broken window in the door, and her own blood.

so when subject 0 runs away and pierre is also faced with an ultimatum of kill a 12 year old or submit him to the same fate as his sister that's kind of when he realizes that umm. uh. maybe this was a bad idea actually. because the ONE THING he was in it for is gone and, as far as he knows, dead. but his face is on magazines and he's catapulted into popularity and he has a company to run, doesn't he? and after so long of feeling powerless, of feeling like nothing, can he really bear to give that power up?

so. additional things. neil marshall gets his memories back and ends up spending a lot of time waiting for cherry to get repaired and wake up because he needs to tell eveline he's sorry and that he misses her and also that he's sorry. fizzle and vallen kind of get the fill about eveline from neil bc the poor kids gotta talk through this shit good god. cherry gets repaired and is functional, hypothetically, but she still doesn't wake up.

so from the database he's still in, cherry is the one sending out information about the story. there's this desperation to understand why they're here and how things ended up like this and to make people know what happened to them. what happened to eveline. because cherry has lived their own life with their own experiences that have shaped her own ideologies and attitudes and shes.... not.... eveline. not anymore, anyway. and this crushes them in so many ways because things were getting so much better for eveline for such a long while there and SHES the one who deserves the friends and the family and the revenge and the peace of mind but she DOESNT GET IT. she'll never get it, because cherrys the one who gets it. because eveline woode died on december 18th 1999 and cherry is what has grown through the gaps like an infection and how much of her is even left there, really? something something commentary about haunting the narrative and being considered less of a character and more as a motivation when you always deserved better from the narrative you were stuck into.

anyways. cherry does eventually get back into their body, reconciles with the fact that eveline is not her humanity and that maybe he never was human and that's okay because it's him and that's all that matters, continues to have turmoil about it but it's. fine. rough reconciliation with the marshalls because he's not eveline but they deserve to see eveline alive again so here he is. cherry pushes on and values the life he has and can only hope that that can in some way grant evelines memory peace.

anyways cherry would be 43 years old today and i think he owns a record/head shop and still goes to therapy once a week send fucking tweet

#AUGH. ok. #sorrhy i didnt get a lot of emily in there she kind of. deserves her own post. hope this answers your question! 👍 #asks #rosanqro #story tag #meta tag #horror tag #um. things i forgor #pierre doesnt modify evies memories out of guilt but still keeps them bc hes a freak #vallen is an exception to pierres 'i want no part in this' thing bc he was a spur of the moment decision made after a pretty- #bad fucking fight between him and paige so. vallen was. an apology specimen. which should tell you everything you need to know- #about paige and pierres dynamic #cherrys last name is shears because he only has songs to go off of and shears is taken from Sgt. Peppers / With A Little Help by tha beaduls #neils sisters name is mason his moms names amy. evies parents names are warren and ethyl. i have never named the jensens parent(s) #vallen has csb / hypersexuality disorder because some Shit Happened To Him which led them down the path theyre on #vallen uses he/they. eveline dies at 19 and cherrys either 27 or 29 when they storm regrowth (vallens three years younger than them. #they met in their mid twenties. chill) #pierre and evie/cherry are the same age (evie born in late 80 pierre in early 81) #emily is their most senior employee who was literally their very first hire ever #cherrys blaster arm can turn back to a normal arm at will + their right arm is exposed cybernetics while their left arm is completely human #cherrys also got exposed cybernetics on their left calf but its basically just a prosthetic that isnt supposed to come off #neil is taken in at 13 and then around the time hes 15 hes shut down and put up and just Stays Like That for 5+ years #so the last time he saw evie she was 19 and when he meets cherry theyre about 29. to give you an idea of how jarring this all is for it

[everythingne]

marketing ploy - LN4 / ch. 3

a little (drunken) insight to Olivia and Oscar's relationship. Plus, a conversation she’s definitely not supposed to overhear, and one she finds makes her start to regret everything.

piastri!oc x lando norris / fake dating, brothers best friend trope

warnings/notes: alcohol/drunkness, language, like two jokes about sex, i named oscars sisters bc i couldn't find anything after two minutes of searching and also its cute ok

prev | next

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06 APRIL 2023 — MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA ↴

“Oscar!” I shout, the clock striking midnight. At my mother's house in Melbourne, we’re already all terribly drunk in the pool with only our eldest sister Ophelia's half sober boyfriend to make sure we all don’t drown while the 'middle' sister Oaklynn is in control of the aux so our extended family can't ruin the mood with what we call 'divorced dad rock.' It's an average Piastri birthday party, booze, music, and sopping wet bodies across the pool deck in the mid Autumn chill.

“Ollie?” Oscar says, turning around and slipping on the wet deck, splashing vodka all over the ground beneath him. Lily giggles into the back of her hand, steadying herself on his arm, and I snort as Oscar makes a face at the spilled drink.

We were so not going to have a good flight back to England tomorrow night.

“Happy birthday to my twin brother because its now midnight, baby!” I shout, being met with loud cheers as my mother guides me across the pool deck so I don't fall in. As Lily takes the now half empty glass from Oscar, I'm handing him what is probably the biggest shot of the night. He grins, arm wrapping around my shoulder as we clink our glasses in toast, tap them on our lifting knees and then take the shots with no chasers. The Fireball washes down my throat fine, but Lily’s shrill laugh lets me know Oscar’s not faring so well as our family claps at our celebratory shots.

“Come on, Ossie!” I laugh, leaning into him as I giggle and he laughs in turn, hiding his face in my hair as he groans and slumps against me. Luckily, Lily is smart enough to slip the shot glasses out of our hands.

“Why do I always let you pick Fireball? It burns every time I drink it.” He complains into my hair before stepping back, I grin up at him as a polaroid flashes.

“Twenty two slaps!” someone shouts before I can respond to Oscar. I scream, running to be out of the way of the barrage of backhands from our sisters when I trip. Oscar tries to catch me, bless him, and we both end up screaming as we tumble into the pool with a loud splash.

“Good lord—" Josh, Ophelia's boyfriend laughs, and he and Lily help us all back to the deck with plenty of half-wet towels to try and dry us off. I giggle and sit up once the parties attention is shifted elsewhere, some song playing that takes the heat off of us for a moment. I peek up to look at Oscar and he smiles at me, poking my nose.

“Thanks for this party." He says and I shrug, going to say its no big deal as I always do when he continues talking,

"Lando’s stress is rubbing off on me. With him being next in line for the best racer position, McLaren's pushing me and Bia up as quick as they can. I think they're expecting someone to try and buy Lando out from them.” he murmurs and in my head, the rest of the party fizzles out. My attention is solely on the man born a few minutes before me. His arm wraps around mine as he pulls me to his side. I slot there, where I belong, a comforting embrace of an older brother of the same womb.

"Lando's contract goes to 2026, and lets not worry about F1 right now." I poke his thigh where a bruise from a minor crash in training months back was finally finishing its healing stages, "Ossie, you, and everyone here, come before anything or anyone else. I would rather throw you a big party than fly back to England to chase around statistics with Red Bull for a few days."

I close my eyes as the world spins around me and I feel Oscar shift. His body heat vanishing around my shoulders, the air seemingly changes as some sort of breeze rolls across the pool deck. It makes me shiver, and I glance up at Oscar to see him staring into the light reflections of the glowsticks deep in the water our legs dip into.

“Ossie?” I whisper. He's in his head again, and this time I'm concerned it's my fault for some reason. His tongue pokes out, a sharp breath coming through his nose before he turns to me.

“What’s happening with you and Lando?"

Oh for the love of god--

"I know, I know, okay, older brother don’t let him hurt you speech bullshit blah blah but… is there something there?” Oscar blurts out with the upmmost care in his tone. I'm taken aback by how genuinely worried he seems about it.

“It’s nothing serious.” I deflect, hand coming to squeeze his wrist just above the watch he wears (that is definitely ruined now), “Just some flirting, some gifts… it’s like testing the waters.”

“Is he… kind to you?” Oscar's tone is far too accusing for my liking, almost like he's expecting me to say no, but despite that I nod.

“Too kind.” I find a small giggle escapes my lips. I have the urge to tell him everything, to say it’s all for media, but something makes me stop myself other than knowing it would kinda ruin the whole secrecy of it. Oscar watches my face, and I can see him sense there’s a lie, but he doesn’t push.

“Okay.” he sighs, taking my hand and squeezing it, “as long as he’s good to you.”

OLIVIAPIASTRI MADE A NEW POST ↴

tagged: oscarpiastri, oaklynnpiastri, opheliapiastri

liked by redbullracing, mclarenracing, landonorris, and 896k others...

oliviapiastri: to ossie,

happy birthday to the only guy worthy of sharing a girls night wine bottle with. thank u for always being our biggest supporter in the darkest days and a ray of sunshine on our good ones. papaya looks wonderful on u and we cannot wait to see you grow into such a confident person (thank u @ landonorris for that)

ur a good man, charlie brown. much love from oakie, ophie, and ollie (and lily, josh, momma, and dad) 🧡🧡

landonorris: happy birthday to the only guy who is allowed to pick me up from the club atp

⤷ oscarpiastri: u would be dead without me

⤷ landonorris: actually.

maxverstappen1: ayyy happy birthday man !

lovepiastris: AAAA BABY OSCAR!!!

oscarpiastri: watch me literally sob into this chardonnay.

mclaren: easily the best looking siblings 💪🏻😮‍💨

10 APRIL 2023 — MILTON KEYNES, UK ↴

"I'm bored." Oscar whines over the phone, making me laugh as I settle down at my desk in Red Bull's home base. There's about sixteen hours worth of things I need to cram into the next eight, considering my statistics for the next grand prix are due in like... twenty six hours?

"Aren't you supposed to be training?" I hum, reading through files and highlighting important notes I know I'll need to bring up with my team during our meeting tonight.

"Lando's going right now, and I kinda almost puked after endurance so I’m taking a break.” He makes a mock gagging noise and I recoil and groan and his soft laughter comes through my headphones.

"Christ, Ossie." I lean back in my chair, staring at the list of notes of things we need to improve by Azerbaijan, "Augh, this is gonna be the death of me. Max's numbers keep changing so he keeps skewing the data, at least Perez is pretty consistent."

"How many sensors do you guys have for Azerbaijan?"

"I'm not doing that work today, thats Kylie's job. Most of my work right now is just making sure that the car isn’t literally falling apart in Max’s hands since he’s been pushing it so hard this year.” I run my hand through my hair, feeling the grease along my hairline and cringing. I need a self-care day soon.

"Oh and Kylie’s pretty much running real time analytics herself this race so I might be able to hang around you at McLaren for a while if Christian's not breathing down my neck."

“Sick. I need to introduce you to the new social media photographer. Lando convinced her to a do a whole section on film.” Oscar giggles and my eyes widen--film photography was one of my passions in secondary school, and I can't imagine trying to shoot F1 on it.

“This poor girl.” I laugh as I adjust my seating and open the sensors scan from the left tire of Max's car, noting any abnormalties that haven't already been flagged. In the silent lull in the conversation, there’s a click and a creak on Oscar’s end of the call.

“Oscar—“ Lando’s talking is muffled for half a second before I hear something fall and a chair squeak, “what were you trying to ask me about earlier?”

My did my heart flutter when I heard Lando talk?

Nope. No. No, thank you. No.

I did not like Lando Norris.

“Oh—hold on Ollie—I’m going to attempt to mute.” I hear Oscar laugh as he taps his phone-screen, and like many times I’ve been on the phone with him I have to pause to see if he actually managed to mute the call.

Oscar seemed to always miss the important buttons, like hanging up or muting himself. Over the years, I’ve heard quite a few things I wasn’t supposed to.

Like Oscar’s next question—

“If I don’t just say it I’m never gonna ask, because it’s such a cliche thing but—what exactly are you trying to do with my sister..?”

I nearly die as my cheeks flush bright red as I scramble to pick my phone up.

Okay, super overdramatic reaction, but hearing this conversation happen in real time is not something I can feel like I would be able to physically handle. So, I’m quick to turn my volume all the way down and take off my headphones as soon as Lando’s laugh makes my cheeks dust pink.

Oscar was never particularly protective over me, in fact it had always been opposite. Even as the youngest Piastri I was constantly protecting my older siblings with my whole heart, like when Oaklynn was being bullied by her pole vaulting captain and I hit that guy so hard I broke his nose, or when Ophelia first got her heart broken and I drove all the way from Melbourne to Sydney in one go to pick her and her stuff up from his house. Oscar and I had many moments like that, considering our sisters were a bit older than us, it was always Oscar and I together. I had moved to England with him when he chose to pursue racing, he had been there every late night I spent studying to get into analytics as early as I had.

And I knew one day Oscar would have this conversation with the man I would marry, someone who took my entire heart in his hands and held it so gently I felt safer than I ever had.

But, Lando was not that guy. Not as far as I was aware.

Maybe ten minutes later, figuring the conversation is long done, I turn up the volume and just catch the end of it. Oscar's laughing, theres a soft thwack of someones arm being hit as Lando keeps talking, his voice fading into my headphones.

"...Ollie's just... I could stare at her all day and never get bored."

"You are--" Oscar laughs, and I hear him hit Lando's arm again, "so so goddamn cheesy, mate!"

"Sorry!" Lando laughs, and I try to ignore the way I bring a hand to my mouth as I stand up and pace around a little, shaking my hands and arms out a I try to suppress the giggles that bubble to my chest.

10 APRIL 2023 — IMESSAGE ↴

OLIVIAPIASTRI MADE A NEW POST ↴

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 978k others..

oliviapiastri: ‘can i come pick u up from work?’ and then we end up at a car meet AND i get to sleep over?? win win.

⤷ maxverstappen1: @ charlesleclerc shovel talk?

⤷ charlesleclerc: yep.

⤷ oliviapiastri: oscar has already been yelling at me for like five hrs pls i swear nothing happened

redbullracing: lets just not tell christian you were out of the sunroof of a drift car.

mc481: lando and olivia spotted together... olivia suddenly has a new bf...

oaklynnpiastri: BABY SISTER HAS A BOYYYY AAAAAAAA

letsgolando: OH MY GOD THE FLOWERS?

18 APRIL 2023 - AZERBAIJAN GP PADDOCKS ↴

"Olivia Piastri."

"Max Verstappen."

"Olivia Louise Rae Piastri."

"Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc."

"Shit, she remembered."

I snort as I set my bag down as Max and Charles hover at my desk in the Azerbaijan paddocks. I'm starting to think the Ferrari driver might be having a contract change soon if his team is so lax with him basically living with us in Red Bull.

"What?" I ask, crossing my arms as the fabric of one of Lando's plain black leather jackets he'd lent me rubs the fabric of the sweatshirt I'd stolen from him underneath.

"How was your drift date?" Max grins and I roll my eyes as I plop down in my chair. Charles takes his spot in one of the side chairs as Max sits on the edge of my desk.

"He showed up to Red Bull, brought me flowers, we stopped to get takeout food and then went to the car show. He knew one of the guys drifting so we got to ride in his car and then he invited me over to watch a movie and we both fell asleep halfway through." I lean forward, "does that satisfy you?"

"Sleep?" Charles prods and I take a pen off my desk and throw it at him.

"Yes, sleep." I huff and before Max and Charles can continue their barrage of idiotic comments and questions, three knocks sound to the creak of the hinges as Christian steps into my office with Ada right behind him.

"Morning Chris, Ada." I nod and Max and Charles stand, greeting them both with firm handshakes.

"Ferrari might need their driver back, Leclerc, and Max--you need to get dressed." Christian waves them off without as much as a hello, before Ada shuts and locks my office door.

"What?" I find myself asking again as Ada grins to me.

"Sales are up 70%." She says, "We've made around... 28 thousand pounds so far."

"Holy shit." Is all I can say. 28 thousand pounds in revenue because Lando and I were pretending to date?

"You guys are doing swimmingly, we just have one more stipulation. You've already done the soft launch, Lando will be doing his tonight. The next thing you guys need to do, other than the paparazzi date but Astrid is working with Lando on that right now, is the celebration." Ada clasps her hands, Christian nods, keeping his back to the door that leads into the office and for some reason it feels suffocating.

"Great Britain. Hopefully Lando will podium, its his home race, a nice little kiss, it'll be cute."

We have to kiss in front of everyone. How could I fucking forget? The GB prix isnt for a while, two months if I remember right, but my mouth goes dry at the thought of kissing Lando Norris.

I don't remember agreeing and bidding goodbye to the two, all I know is my stomach ache doesn't go away for the rest of the night. Even when I ball the fabric of Lando's jacket--still smelling like him, over my face and scream into it.

LANDONORRIS MADE A NEW POST

liked by oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and 987k others

landonorris: made a pretty good pinkie promise a while ago.

oscarpiastri: good man

mclaren: we love to see our racers winning 🥹

mercedeeznnn: this has to be olivia. IT HAS TO BE.

maxfewtrell: don't fuck it up norris

⤷ landonorris: trying

rbfansunite: so we're all thinking the same thing right?

papapa.ya: LANDO AND OLIVIA !!!! WE WIN !!!!

#formula one #f1 #formula 1 #lando norris fic #lando norris x oc #lando norris #ln4 fic #ln4

[winterchimez]

Summer Night City | Lee Sangyeon

SUMMARY: you were convinced that you were going to spend the rest of your uneventful summer all on your own like usual, that is until a man named Lee Sangyeon shows up in your life.

PAIRING: non-idol Sangyeon x f!reader

GENRE: strangers to lovers au, suggestive

WARNINGS: alcohol, kissing, dirty talk, pet-names (babygirl, sweetie, etc.), sangyeon is such a flirt in this one, and he is umm topless in a pool, there's a pool make-out scene, y'all the sexual tension in this one is smth else 🤡

WORD COUNT: 2,674

A/N: i proudly present to you my submission for deoboyznet's summer on you event! i recently watched the mamma mia musical in London, so this is inspired by the song voulez vous & summer night city! a special a huge shoutout to my beloved @daisyvisions for giving me ideas (and fuelling my delusions 🤡)

“Are you alone tonight?” 

That familiar scent filled the air in the room, and sure enough, you turned your back to see the person you had been expecting for the night. 

You met Sangyeon right here in this particular nightclub a few weeks prior, where you’ve actually accompanied your roommate since she was determined to get a summer fling to keep her vacations booked and busy. It’s not like you have never been to a club before, you just usually wouldn’t have agreed since you were definitely much more of a homebody chilling in bed with some chips and beer as you put your favourite movies on the mini projector you owned. 

But it was your best friend, your ride-or-die soulmate since elementary school. Of course, you couldn’t have refused. 

As you first stepped foot into the club, there was this sense of expectation hanging in the air that whoever decided to come tonight was expected to get laid or at least hook up with someone.

Sure enough, your roommate eventually found a pretty attractive male who seemed to be in his early or mid-twenties, and the spark they had between them was immediate. Not wanting to witness the ooey-gooey things they were about to do, you excused yourself and reassured your roommate that you wouldn’t be far. 

As you made your way around the club, you settled yourself down at the bar and went for a drink to ease the slight tension you have felt since you arrived. 

Which was also when you encountered the infamous male himself. 

He was standing across the room, and his beautiful eyes glowed in the dark. Immediately, you felt something within you, and the male eventually approached you, starting a conversation. 

He was goddamn attractive, to say the least. You have come across a handful of good-looking men that night, but none of them ever came close to this man who stood in front of you with a glass of vodka soda, looking straight into your eyes. 

Sangyeon was smitten with you as he first laid his eyes upon you, and surprisingly, you both hit off pretty well from the get-go. Because of this particularly fond experience, coming to the nightclub with your roommate has since become a weekly routine. Every encounter you’ve had has always been pleasant—something about the guy attracted you even though you have only met a couple of times. 

And you wanted to know more. 

Hence, you decided to put on the best alluring fashion you could possibly find from the depths of your closet. You went for your maroon maxi dress with an opening behind your back. You decided to go for a sexy yet sophisticated look, where you were trying your best to impress the man of interest for the night. 

Your efforts were not wasted because Sangyeon immediately noticed your presence right when you entered the club and ordered your favourite drink at the bar. Knowing you couldn’t refuse, you approached him, pushing through the crowd to get to where he was. It was also when he decided to do a little hide-and-seek situation, where he would want to surprise you from behind when you arrived. 

“It seems as if you meant business, making your way so quickly towards me. Did you miss me that much?” He teased. 

“I would never say no towards a free drink. Don’t get so high and mighty, young man.” You scoffed as you took in your first sip of alcohol for the night. 

“I’d like to think that this particular dress was meant for me.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. “What makes you say that, Sangyeon?”

“Oh baby, I know it when I see it in your eyes. You want me, don’t you?” 

“Bold of you to assume I’d find a summer fling like my roommate. I’m not in the same boat as she is.” You crossed your arms while you took a step closer towards him as if trying to provoke him while wanting him to take in the scent of the perfume you had put on for the night.

“You intrigue me, sweetie.” He then takes one strand of your hair and starts twirling around it, all while moving closer to you so that both of your faces are now inches apart.

“Say, why don’t we go somewhere more private? Have a little you-and-me time?” 

You raised an eyebrow. “And what do I get in return?” 

“Something that’s worth your time.” 

The both of you hit the road as Sangyeon brought you into his convertible and offered you a little night drive around the city. You were only a few minutes into the drive and are now praising yourself internally for agreeing.

The city was beautiful at night—quiet yet somehow captivating with all of the different city lights surrounding the area. There was something just so peaceful yet appealing about a night drive around the city, something that you’d never once had the thought of doing before you met Sangyeon. 

You were so glad you decided to hop on for the ride tonight.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other leaning against his now-opened window, he takes the chance of catching a few glances at you—smiling throughout the ride as you stuck your head out to take it all the breeze. You were literally just insanely attractive to him, and in no way did he want to put an end to all of these soon. 

“Thought we’d go for a little drive and get to know each other better. It was never easy having to talk as if we’re both screaming at the top of our lungs back down at the nightclub.” 

“Definitely agree on the latter.” You teased, and oh, how much you enjoyed these little moments where your wits would slightly take Sangyeon aback—you really liked when his eyes widened ever so slightly and then reciprocated as he shot you back with his flirty comments. 

You definitely love it a little too much when he flirts with you. And in return, you loved teasing him as much as you could.

“Hey, maybe consider taking a picture. I promise you I’ll last longer in this dress you have been ogling on for hours.” You joked, clearly noticing how he had not taken his eyes away from you since you both hit the road—or rather, ever since you met up at the nightclub earlier. 

“Aren’t you being a little too overconfident in your outfit today, babygirl?”

“If it were for your eyes only, I would gladly dress like this whenever we meet.” 

“Tempting.” Sangyeon smacked his lips and is now staring at you harder than ever since your last comment. 

At this point, you already came with the mindset of wanting to proceed further in this situationship you both were clearly having and enjoying with one another. You knew that after a few encounters you had with him—hell, even when you both first met, there was something so mysterious yet mesmerising about him.

It was as if you were hypnotised by him, constantly wanting to hit him up and spend more time with him. With the way he was always being so flirty with you, you have never once rejected them—in fact, you have always enjoyed retorting back with the little teases here and there. 

At this point, you figured that admitting that you purposely chose this specific outfit for the night was done just for him would give this whole situationship a little push. 

And it turns out you were right. 

While enjoying a few minutes of silence and Sangyeon seemingly constantly driving through the city, he finally makes a turn into a junction which leads up towards a hill. 

“Say, why don’t you come over to my place? I can guarantee you that you will get a better night view of Seoul from there.” 

Damn. We’re going a little bit too fast now, aren’t we? 

From the back of your mind, so many alarms were setting off. You have constantly told yourself how you were different from your roommate—you were never a party girl, let alone have a thing with someone, because you never really socialise much outside of your peer group. You have just so happened to encounter an attractive male whom you did not know much about at the nightclub, which then proceeded to you wanting to meet up with him weekly since that first encounter. 

It was insane that you actually agreed to go for a car ride with a stranger (well, he somehow is), and now to the comforts of his home? 

Without much hesitation, you immediately blurted out a response that would put the biggest smile on his face. 

“Show me what you’ve got then.”

It didn’t take too long to arrive at this apartment. You didn’t expect him to reside in one of the top and luxurious ones that were literally the talk of Seoul at the moment. A stranger would have never been able to step foot even through the security implemented here. Obviously, the residents here are from the upper-class level. 

As he parked his vehicle in the basement of the parking lot, he guided you upstairs towards the fourteenth floor, where his apartment was located. You were certainly flabbergasted when you stepped foot into his home—the quality and quantities of his furniture were on a whole other level, and you could tell how this was truly a living space for a wealthy individual.

He took you on a little house tour, which was when you expected him to invite you in for a little movie with some drinks.

But you were completely wrong.

“You know what the best part of living in this apartment is? The rooftop pool is shared with all residents here. I’m pretty sure there isn’t anyone up there during this time. It's definitely a great opportunity for us to go for a little swim and get that final stunning view of the city that I promised you about.” 

Sangyeon decided to give you some time to yourself as you said you needed to use the bathroom for a bit while he got ready and headed up to the pool to reserve the spot for you both. 

Slamming the door shut on his bathroom door, you looked at yourself in the mirror and truly questioned yourself on what snapped within you for the night. 

Who is this Y/N? Why have you potentially agreed to do all of this? 

But did you hate this new version of yourself? Absolutely not.

After a good ten minutes of getting yourself ready physically and mentally, you have decided to head up to the rooftop pool with the spare card key Sangyeon left behind on the kitchen countertop. 

As the elevator door dings open, you approach the automatic sliding doors, which open up to the infamous outdoor pool Sangyeon was raving about earlier. Sure enough, you noticed how the male was already in the waters, his bare back facing you as he first took in the sight of the city. 

Your presence did not go unnoticed as he immediately hears your footsteps approaching the pool and turns around to face you.

You were glad that it was already nighttime and there weren’t enough lights around the pool to show your now red-flushed-tomato-like face towards him. 

Holy. This man is truly something else.

It was how he was so well-built, and his muscles were so well-defined that they would definitely have all of the women squeal if they ever looked at them. And with his now damp dark hair pushed back, your stomach was basically doing somersaults at this point. 

And how badly you wanted to join him in the pool now.

“You’re finally here, Y/N.” 

You did not need the man to say himself to invite you into the pool because his eyes have already said so. Hence, you slowly and gently took off the bathrobe you were wearing, which then revealed you in only your undergarments.

Sangyeon approached you and extended both hands to support you as you bent down to dip yourself into the pool. Gently pulling you as he brings you back to his previous spot, he turns you so that you are now met with the beautiful sight he has meant to show you. 

The rumours were true after all. The night view from this apartment rooftop was incomparable with the night drive you both had before this. You were basically able to take in the entire city of Seoul from above, and this view was something that will forever be imprinted in your mind. 

Immediately, you began to feel a whelm of emotions build up within you, and you couldn’t help but shed a little tear. “Thank you, Sangyeon, for doing this for me. It reminds me of how I’ve always taken this beautiful city for granted.” 

“Not at all, Y/N. I’m beyond grateful that you actually accepted my offer in the first place.” 

Unbeknown to you both, you have naturally linked your hands together under the water while you laid your head to rest against his shoulder as you both take a moment of silence to take in the whole stunning view truly. It was how his hands slowly moved up to your shoulder, pushing you towards him to give you more room to rest. 

“Maybe you aren’t a bad person after all, sir Lee Sangyeon.” You broke off the silence between you both. 

“I will take that as a compliment.”

Just then, he lifts your head up and turns you so that you face him as he lays his hands on your waist. In return, you decided to wrap both of your arms around his neck. 

“You know what, Y/N? You are absolutely beautiful and truly one of a kind.”

“Well, are we back to the flirting game now, mister know-it-all? Don’t tell me this is how you treat all the other girls you have encountered before.” 

“What if I told you that that has never happened before and this is only for you, babygirl?” 

“Prove it then.” A sly smile is now plastered across your face. 

His gaze now falls onto your plump lips, and the look on his face shows how badly he wants to have them all to himself. 

“My impatience is slowly creeping, Y/N. I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m afraid I can’t hold it in anymore.” 

“Nobody is stopping you, Sangyeon. It’s all yours to take.” You proudly admitted. 

It was as if they say—when the night comes there is action, and so did it all happen in a blink of an eye. Sangyeon closed the gap between you two and crashed his lips onto yours. The kiss was slow and sensual, and the man surely took his time taking in all of it. As both of your bodies were now pressed against each other, there was basically little to no escape. Both of your tongues were now intertwined with one another, leaving no room for either of you to gasp for air.

Sangyeon’s hands were slowly travelling up to your bare back, and your hands were now tangling in his hair, both begging for more. Something has turned you on, and somehow, you can’t resist this strange attraction you have felt towards him. 

God. His kiss. It was as if it was pure nectar, it was so sickly sweet that it made you crave for more. 

You have no intention of stopping anytime soon, and neither did he. 

“I could kiss you all day, baby.”

Finally, after several minutes of that steamy kiss under the moonlight, you both finally broke it apart, and Sangyeon began to leave his trail of kisses down to your neck. With that, your nails began to dig a little deep into his skin as they fell from his hair to his bare back. 

“I bet you’re up for round two, babygirl.” He responded with a low chuckle. 

Oh, how your eventful summer has just finally begun. 

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu @jaerisdiction

#deoboyznet #kvanity #k-labels #kflixnet #k-films #dbn: summer on you #the boyz #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz x imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #tbz scenarios #sangyeon #lee sangyeon #sangyeon x reader #lee sangyeon x reader #sangyeon imagines #sangyeon scenarios #the boyz suggestive #sangyeon suggestive

[levispersonalslave]

Book warnings ~ Levi x Reader, modern AU, swearing, blood, obsessive love, mentions of alcohol, violence, mentions of sexual assault.

Chapter one warning ~ Levi x Reader, modern AU, swearing.

Note ~ Ajaksj something for my wife @lymsfm SHE GAVE ME THE IDEA FOR THE PLOT AND STORYLINE, ALL CREDITS GO TO HER.

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

Obsession and love. A thin line divides those two feelings. Anything could happen in that situation, where a person steps over the line. Onto obsession.

What does it take to cross the line between love, and obsession?

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

It was a rather innocent meeting. She had been in her last year of college at the time. She had decided to study at her favorite café, a five minute walk from her campus.

She had been sitting by herself in the corner, staring at the boringly white screen of the open laptop in front of her. A half-eaten strawberry shortcake that she had ordered sat near her hand, along with a cup of tea. She had taken two bites of the shortcake before she was already full. Her cheek rested on the palm of her hand, her finger tapping against the wooden table out of boredom. Click click click. Her eyes momentarily scanned the café, before her gaze settled on a certain man. He had been sitting by himself in the corner as well, as far away from everyone as possible.

She stared at him for a moment, admiring his features. He seemed to be in his twenties, with dark inky hair, styled into a neat undercut. His bangs fell over his grey-blue eyes, which seemed to be permanently set into a cold, unforgiving gaze. He was wearing a black button-down, a suit jacket draped over the backrest of his chair. The sleeves of his button-down were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular and scarred forearms. The setting sun seeped in through the large windows of the rustic café, giving his pale skin a soft golden glow.

He was sipping from a white porcelain teacup. He held it in a rather... strange way, which made her raise a brow and chuckle lightly. He was holding it by the edge, his slim fingers looked like a spider's legs around the rim of the teacup.

He seemed to be staring around the café as well, people-watching. His eyes met hers for half a second, before she quickly, instinctively, looked back at her laptop screen.

By the time the sun had set, and the moon had begun to rise, she snapped her laptop shut and stood up. She glanced around one last time. The man was leaving as well, heading towards the door of the café. It was just now that she realized, he was quite short compared to most average men. He looked to be under one-hundred and seventy centimeters.

Still handsome, though.

She followed him out, to which he politely held the door open for her to leave first. She shot him a brief smile and a quiet “Thank you”, before stepping out into the chilling night. An impenetrable fog had fell upon the city, restricting the view ahead of her. This wasn't strange, however, it was mid-October, of course it would be cold and foggy. It was a dense rush-hour tonight, with hundreds, maybe thousands, of cars rushing past in blurs. Blinding red and golden lights, deafening and persistent beeping and honking shattering the stillness and solitude of the night. She allowed a tired sigh escape her lungs as she began heading back towards her dorm room. She took one last glance over her shoulder, to perhaps catch a glimpse of that man one more time, only to find that he was already gone.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Around a week later, she returned to the café. Another study session. Her eyes scanned the room for the mysterious man from the last week, but to no avail. He wasn't there that day, which was quite a shame.

She let a soft sigh release from her lips before she sat on the red leather sofa, putting her laptop down on the table in front of her. She raised the screen and typed in her password, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. She watched the screen load for half a second before the blank page, of what was supposed to be the essay due in two days, popped up. She stared at the blinking cursor, her mind abruptly going blank while she tried to think of what to write. She groaned and tapped her finger against the table, a look of aggravation on her face. She instinctively glanced up as she heard the soft jingling sound of a bell when the door opened.

The man had returned, later than usual. She watched him as he ordered black tea, and sat down in one of the tables near her, awaiting his drink. She quickly looked back at her laptop screen when she realized she was staring.

Her manicured nail absentmindedly tapped against the space bar of her keyboard, staring at the blinking cursor in front of her.

“What's it about?”

A Male voice reached her from her left. She flinched, startled by the sudden noise near her, and looked to see who it belonged to. It was the man sitting near her. She stared at him for a moment, while he stared back.

“I'm assuming you're deaf then?”

Her staring had earned her a snarky remark. She quickly pulled herself back together and spoke.

“No, you just scared me for a second.”

He cocked a brow at her in response, “You get startled that easily, huh? I'm not that scary.”

“No, you just--” She huffed, “Don't flatter yourself. You just caught me off guard.”

“Uh-huh,” The man spoke once more, completely ignoring her response, “Did you hear what I said? What's the assignment about?”

“Oh, politics.” She turned her head back to bright screen sitting in front of her. She heard the man let out a small, “Ugh,” sound, which she felt in her heart and soul. She never liked politics either, nor enjoyed writing about them. He paused in the middle of their conversation to take his drink from the waitress, nodding in a silent, “Thank you,”

She watched him as he brought the cup up to his lips and took a sip of his tea. She sighed and tried to think of what to add to her essay once more.

Her laptop crashed.

She wasn't sure where it had come from or what she had done to cause it, but either way, it happened. She stared at her laptop in shock as the screen went pitch-black, a small circular icon coming up while spinning lazily in a circle with a title under it that read, restarting.

Her jaw slipped open, a small “Oh, shit,” leaving her lips.

She had finally managed to write a few paragraphs during these past few hours of sitting around at the café, and now, it's simply gone. All because of some slip up that caused her laptop to crash, or maybe her laptop just decided to be a bitch that day. Who knows?

“No, no, no,” She whispered under her breath as she grabbed the sides of her computer screen. She had saved it, right? It had to be somewhere for sure. Right?

She glanced up. She couldn't ask for help from any of the people who were in the café, who were either peacefully sipping their tea while reading or on cute little coffee dates. She would have to deal with it herself. How? She didn't know yet. Surely there should be some solution? Surely all her work hadn't been for nothing? She looked back at her laptop. It had started up once more, as she entered her password and frantically searched for the folder her assignment might be in. No trace of it.

Shit. Her essay was due tomorrow, and she had just lost the file she was supposed to hand out to the professor.

“Oi, how's that assignment coming?”

Oh, the man's timing couldn't possibly be better. She turned in her seat. He was leaning back against the red leather sofa near her, flipping through the pages of a book that she hadn't noticed he had taken out. “I... Mm...”

He looked up. He must have noticed how panicked she looked, as he spoke once more, “Now what?”

She felt ridiculously embarrassed as she uttered, “My laptop crashed.”

“And?”

“And the file's not where I thought I'd saved it...”

“You've tried the search function?”

“Uh-huh,”

His scowl worsened as he rose from his seat, walking up behind her and leaning forward. “Shit like this happens a lot,” He said bluntly, his hand clicked and scrolled through her files.

“Do you have a backup drive?” He asked her.

That was when she remembered that she did, in fact, have a backup drive in case something like this happened to her. She was always prepared for these types of situations. She quickly nodded to answer his inquiry. He hummed in response.

He was leaning closer to her than most would expect a stranger to do so, their faces only centimeters apart. She felt his hand on her shoulder, and his fingers lightly brush against her collarbone.

“Relax,” He murmured, his thumb kneading into her already tense shoulder blade. She wasn't quite sure whether he was talking about her assignment or his hand on her shoulder. Either way, she couldn't relax.

“Here,” He said, his grasp on her shoulder loosening, “Is this it?”

“Oh, yeah. Thank you, uhm...”

“Levi.”

“Thank you, Levi.”

They both stayed silent for the next few moments as he skimmed over what she had written so far. “God damn, all this? You're going to make your professor read all this?”

“Well that's--”

“That's your rough draft, isn't it?”

“Yeah, why? What's it to you?” She frowned.

“It's too long. Did you never learn how to summarize a paragraph?”

“Well why do you care in the first place? No one asked for your opinion,”

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the chair, looking at him with a scowl on her face. She was ready to take back the gratitude she had given him. She stole a swift glance at his hand, which had kept its place on her shoulder.

“Fine, don't come crying to me when you get a failing grade.” He pulled his hand back from her shoulder, standing up straight once more. Just to get the last lick, she spoke once more, despite not really knowing what it is that she was saying, “We'll see who comes crying.”

She watched him as she grabbed his book off the table and made sure to clean the area a little, perhaps it was to help the waiters, or maybe he just didn't like leaving places looking messy. He took his coat and left the café, closing the door behind him with a jingle of the bell. She turned her eyes back to the screen, rereading what she had written. “It's not too long at all.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Later on, over the course of the next perhaps four or five months, they had multiple encounters, and hung out often at the same café. Perhaps you could even call them friends.

Best friends.

He was a man of few words, hard to understand if you don't know him; his constant sarcasm and harsh degradation making it a challenge for those who try to get close to him.

Yet she had managed to achieve the seemingly impossible task of befriending him.

They slowly grew closer and closer, their friendship blooming into something more within their hearts. You know how it goes. One thing leads to another, the man, who she had learned was named Levi Ackerman, had confessed to her, she had told him she felt the same, and they lived happily ever after. The end. That's how it's supposed to go, right? Mm-mm. Not this time.

1,926 words, 7800+ characters

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #levi x reader #aot #levi #levi aot #levi ackerman x reader #shingeki no kyojin #snk #captain levi #levi headcanon #levi attack on titan #levi x y/n #levi fluff #shingeki no kyoujin levi #snk levi #levi fanart #Bittersweet #obsessed!levi #obsessive love #aot modern au #modern au

[phoenixyfriend]

Modern AU. We look at a relationship that has two very common elements:

Greying older man (seemingly late forties), attractive younger woman (mid-thirties, so not that big of a difference)

Wildly successful celebrity, seemingly trophy spouse

Except, of course, the version going on here is that the attractive younger woman is the wildly successful celebrity (she's an athlete initially, but her fame and money came from a transition into modeling, where her musculature and vitiligo were key elements to her popularity), and the seemingly normal trophy spouse is silver fox Rex who... well, he's an honorably discharged veteran who had a non-commissioned rank, but that's about it. He's also less than a decade older than her, but he aged a bit fast (military stress) and definitely looks like a silver fox instead of just Some Dude.

Every time someone refers to him as "Mister Fett," Ahsoka corrects them with Captain.

Basically they are tabloid fodder and in-universe tumblr is having constant hissing cat fights about who's taking advantage of whom, but they're just like. A chill married couple.

In this case, I imagine they technically met when she was a teenager, and he was just one of Anakin's friends, but then he left for the army, and she started her own career, and they didn't actually start dating until Ahsoka was in her mid/late-twenties (they ran into each other again at the twin's birthday party).

I want to push for a sliiiightly bigger age difference than I usually go for, since this is inspired by Rebels instead of TCW (I generally place Rex as either halfway between Anakin and Ahsoka, or on par with Anakin), and Rebels has them as... I think thirty-three and physically fifty-eight, respectively?

I don't want to go for a full on twenty-five year age difference based on Rebels, because that hits an entirely different set of narrative complications, but I think a solid nine year gap or so is fine. Rex being three years older than Anakin is probably reasonable.

(TBH I don't even mind having it be a slightly bigger age difference, but "he looks older than he is" has more potential for shenanigans. M. If one party was a legal adult before the other was born, it's a hard sell.)

#rexsoka #star wars #captain rex #ahsoka tano #the clone wars #sw rebels #modern au #phoenix posts #tbh my openness for fictional age gaps usually maxes out around twenty #If one party was a legal adult before the other was born it's a hard sell #not impossible... but not likely

[cielcius]

based on golden hour by jvke

idol!katsuki who started as a model for his parents fashion business, eventually growing into the music industry. they tried putting him in a group, they really tried but complications arose and katsuki made it just fine as a solo rapper.

he was used to an audience, being by himself on stage until he met his band as his music style gradually wavered back and forth. little did he know that they’d become his life-long friends because after going on multiple tours together, it was impossible to not get caught up in the fun.

as much as katsuki loves to play the drums, sero does a pretty damn good job. with kirishima on bass and kaminari on guitar, they were amazing. world tours, crowds of fans, and multiple forms of merch to the point where it was borderline embarrassing. katsuki couldn’t think of anything that’d make him happier.

a few years later, katsuki’s in his early twenties now, at the top of the world when he meets you. you know who he is, maybe you don’t listen to his music as often but you can acknowledge his talent. then eventually, his feelings for you.

growing into his mid-twenties, he’s having to hold himself back from announcing you as his spouse to the world, claiming your heart his and his yours. stupid pr team.

but he comes out with a single. he’s released singles before, no problem, but his fans can tell something’s changed. there’s no hard bass, whining of electric guitars, or insults vaguely directed at anyone and everyone.

it’s soft, gentle, sweet even, and everyone loves it. of course, katsuki has his personal elements—rap—that makes it his song, but never has he sung in a song.

and it’s beautiful.

fans go crazy hearing it in concerts, the chorus bringing chills down on the crowds and they can’t get enough of it. though despite the love for the single, there’s still the question of why. obviously, it’s a love song about someone, so it doesn’t take fans two and two to put together to realize that he’s in love.

there’s another tour, another one that you’re unable to travel along with due to work. though he does wish you could come along on one of his tours one day, he respects your personal life but be warned, he’ll call you multiple times through the day.

and when you don’t respond, you’re waking up to texts and voicemails of him talking about stuff that happened at his concert, stuff he did with his friends, and most of all, how much he misses and loves you. even in the voicemails he leaves, you can hear how much love he has for you and it’s falling in love with him all over again.

but one day on tour, he calls you after feeling like he just had the worst show of his life. his timing was off, his voice cracked way too many times, and his body felt stiff the entire time. when you pick up, he realizes that you’re probably still at work.

he tries to speak up, starting to ask how you were doing when you cut him off. he did call to hear your voice, but this time you left him feeling worse as you brushed him off. you were busy with work, he understood that, and he called at a bad time, but katsuki didn’t feel like picking up the next time you called. or the one after that, and after that.

it’s been two days since he called you. he looks at his phone as he’s getting his makeup done but he can’t bring himself to call you. he feels terrible, not only for ignoring you but for doing so without an explanation even though you had every right. he just wants to go home.

he gets on stage and goes through his sets, time passing slower than usual until it’s time for the last set. the song—his song—that he wrote for you.

he’s standing center stage, pianist and violinist hidden in the shadows as a single spotlight shines on him. his chest hurts. he can barely keep himself standing. he’s tired.

he missed you.

so he sings your song, voice so raw with emotion that it leaves the entire arena silent, in awe. he’s never felt this before. so vulnerable, hurt, heartbroken.

a tear rolls down his cheek before he knows it, eyes closed right as he sings the chorus from his chest, his heart. he puts all of his emotions, his frustrations, his love, until he’s being turned around in his spot.

his eyes are still closed, knowing that when he opens them, he’ll end up crying. he feels something warm on his cheek, eventually cradling his face, a thumb wiping the tracks of tears left behind.

he has to be dreaming.

you’re standing in front of him, center stage under the spotlight, in front of thousands of people. you smile, almost sadly, at him and lean your forehead against his. you close your eyes for a moment, taking him in before opening then again.

“are you okay?” you ask softly.

the dam breaks as he nods, his hands coming to cradle your face. “i am now.” he feels you under his touch, relishing in your presence. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, his forehead still pressed to yours. “i—“ you cut him off with a small kiss.

there’s a stream of tears lining his eyes as you smile and shake your head. “don’t worry about that right now. i missed you.” katsuki nods, letting a few more tears fall before asking to kiss you. you nod, and katsuki can barely hear the screams and shouts of fans in the background as his lips meet yours.

#tea stained letters 🍵 #vi’s scribbles #unedited #kinda ooc ktski but the song is ugh u have to listen to it it’s so freaking beautiful #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑬𝑿𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑺𝑶𝑫𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑿

A few things to keep in mind; after the fallout with Tommy instead of heading to Boston Joel heads to the woods to escape it all, and the 20-year time jump doesn't happen. Which means, for now, no Tess, no Ellie. Joel is 32-33 here (since in the prologue he's around that age) and reader is in her mid-twenties

**for full series summary please check masterlist

chapter summary: when in the forest, you and joel come across three hunters. Subtle confessions are made.

pairing: joel miller x ofc!june | written in reader format, no body descriptions but does have a personality

word count: 5.2k

genre: dark cottagecore, horror, angst, explicit smut, hybrid au, minors dni

warnings: canon typical violence, blood, you get shot, mentions of reader having body hair, piv, oral (receiving and giving), emotional sex, possessive kink, praise kink, mild dirty talking, soft!joel, vaginal fingering

SERIES MLIST || PREV CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Snow crunches under your boots and the wind chills your skin. Except for the pines, most trees are left bare, thick snow covering their branches. Ever since the infection you don’t feel that cold anymore. A simple jacket is all you need, unlike Joel, who seems as if he’s wearing a dozen sweaters underneath his coat. 

He walks ahead, rifle hanging on his back. 

After knowing one another, it was hard to truly part ways. The first week after he shattered the only joy you had left in your life, you two steered away from each other; both of you angry, both of you bitter. 

But you two danced around each other like butterflies. One day, you met his gaze and he nodded. The next day you told him about the extra fish you managed to catch, and that you wouldn’t mind sharing. He seemed hesitant at first, but accepted your offer when his stomach ratted him out with a loud growl. 

Neither of you talked about the incident. You swept the camera away, tucked the box of photographs under your bed. You didn’t enjoy looking at them anymore.

You watch his back, the way his coat seems tight around his shoulders, the dip from the rifle pronouncing his shoulder blades. He always walks in front. No matter what the situation might be, you find yourself staring at his broad back and beautiful neck. He doesn’t talk much anymore, and when he does, it’s in the form of short sentences. 

You on the other hand, do whatever you can to fill the silence. 

You don’t dive much into your past, but you tell him about your hobbies, what it’s been like being alone, and how you adapted to your new antlers and ears. 

Then one day, as you were telling him the things you were afraid of most, he turned to you slowly, his one eyebrow raised and slack-jawed. 

“Don’t you think you tell me too much about yourself?” he had asked and you were caught by surprise. 

“Uh… no? Am I annoying you?” 

“Not annoying—Well, maybe a bit, but I can live with that— you’re too… trusting. Aren’t you afraid?” 

You shrugged, “I feel like if you wanted to kill me, I’d be dead already. No use in dwelling on something I can never be sure of.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Fine then, what do you mean? Do you want me to be afraid of you?” 

He didn’t answer and you were grateful for it. The thought of reopening the wounds he caused you wasn’t something you particularly wanted to do. 

You’re abruptly drawn away from the whispers of the past with a sting spreading from your nose to your forehead, you groan and stumble back, your hand immediately going up to touch your nose. 

Your vision is blurry, but you see Joel standing as still as a tree in front of you. His one hand is raised to his side, fingers forming a fist. The command is silent but it reaches you loud and clear. You pull out your pistol, finger nestled against the trigger as your ears raise. You hear steps that you missed before, too entranced by your thoughts to hear them. A faint murmuring reaches your ears. 

You take a slow breath to steady yourself and take a step closer to Joel. 

“Three people,” you whisper. “They sound obnoxious and dangerous,” 

He scoffs, “How can you tell they’re obnoxious all the way from here?” 

“I just can. We should go,” 

“No,” he says, fingers curling around your wrist just as you attempt to turn. “We should check who— or what— they are,” 

“And after that?” 

“We take care of it.” 

There’s a stillness in the air and for the first time, you feel the sting of cold. You don’t share Joel’s coldness towards killing. Even killing the Infected is hard for you ever since you also became one by extension. You much rather let the threat simmer until it boiled and threatened to burn you. 

Joel ignores your hesitation and releases his hold. “They’re close aren’t they? If I was able to hear them even a little they must be. Lead the way,” 

“Joel…” 

“Waiting around will get you killed,” he answers, his tone calm and collected. “You’re either with me or with them,” 

“That’s cruel.” 

“Is that your answer?” 

Leaning slightly forward, he forcefully meets your gaze. He doesn’t blink and it feels as if he’s staring into your soul, which is ironic considering Joel probably doesn’t believe in such things. Closing your eyes you face the sky, the tips of your ears burn and your heart skips a beat. You already know what your answer is, and he knows it too. 

“I’m with you.” 

“Then lead the way, Bambi.” 

It’s not a long walk. You’re surprised that they’re so close, so surprised in fact you shudder with each step. You’re not a fan of confrontation. Every nerve in your body screams at you to run. But you feel Joel’s presence near you, his ghost chokes out the screams, only litter whimpers left that are easier to ignore. 

You and Joel take cover behind the thick trunk of a pine tree. Your guess is that the small group are hunters. They carry guns and they look the part. Your eyes move to Joel, his own gaze slowly turning to you. He pushes a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. The three men talk about the tourists and the Domestics they managed to get a hold of, you bite back a whimper. 

Joel leans in, the curve of his lips barely touching your ear. He doesn’t have to do that, you could’ve heard him just fine, but some habits are hard to break. 

“I’ll take them out,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath prompting you to close your eyes. “You stay on lookout, shoot the ones that try to kill me.” 

You nod. There isn’t much you can add to his plan anyway. 

Joel moves out. As he slowly approaches the first one, you move, your steps feather-light. You find the best position to spot all three of them and crouch down, the snow melts under your knee and wets the fabric. 

With one eye closed and finger on the trigger, you realize you’ve never actually seen Joel attacking another. You’ve seen him hunt, but that was as far as the violence went. Briefly, you admire his contrast to the white snow. His coat a dark green, stained, and his hair mussed. 

His every move is calculated. He walks around the first target, wraps his arm around the man’s neck and pulls him away from the others until he faints. You expect him to fixate his gaze on the others, but instead, he raises his foot and slams it down with no shred of hesitation. Blood sprays against the snow, melting and hissing at the warmth of blood. A drop of red lands on Joel’s cuffs. 

You let out a scream, clapping both hands over your mouth before you can stop yourself.

But it’s too late, the other two are already running toward Joel.

“Shit,” Joel hisses, eyes finding yours amidst the chaos. “Get out!” 

You’re a deer in headlights, both literally and figuratively. The two men crowd Joel, one pressing a knife to the neck you admired many times while the other sets his gaze on you. 

You hear the bullet first, and your body moves before you can process it. Joel manages to kick the man heading towards you in the back of the knee. He falls face first with a grunt. You hear the knife against Joel’s neck cutting skin. 

You don’t blink when you raise the pistol and shoot your shot, the bullet sinks right between his eyebrows. He falls promptly. The other one still groans on top of the snow. Joel takes the knife that was still stained with his own blood and stabs the last of them in the heart. You collapse to the ground, pistol falling to the side as you cover your mouth. 

Warm tears roll down your cheeks, eyes squeezing shut as your fingers tremble. You see black dots hovering across your vision. You feel incredibly sick. Your mind replays the scene over and over again until you feel his touch on your cheek. 

You were aware of the violence growing in the world. Seen bits of it whenever you left the comfort of the forest. But you haven’t been aware of how bad it had gotten. How desperate everyone became to hurt others for the means of survival. 

Bile rises up your throat and burns your tongue.

“Calm down— Calm down,” Joel cradles your face, thumbs moving over your cheekbones. “You’re good. We’re safe. You did it,” 

“Did what exactly?” you snap, pushing him away and falling back. “Joel you—you kicked in his skull! You—You—” your voice breaks and you finally open your eyes accompanied by a deep breath. He looks broken and for the first time you truly understand what that means. “What the fuck, Joel?” 

His eyes flit around your face. He slowly takes in every detail —the way you shudder, the way your ears are flat against your head, the way your breathing is uneven— but he doesn’t know what to make of it. Your words have underlined fear, uncertainty. You look at him as if it’s the first time you’re seeing him. 

Joel’s gaze moves from your face to your shoulder, he reaches his hand out.

You jerk away without meaning to, his look softens, the tips of his fingers only an inch away from your shoulder. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he drawls, voice dropping, barely a whisper. “You’re bleeding.” 

You look to the side, too tired to actually panic about it. Now that you were seeing the blood, you start to feel the sting of the bullet still being inside. You wince and Joel catches it. 

“Your cabin is close by right? Let me patch you up.” 

You’re strikingly aware that you won’t be saying no to him, not now and probably not ever, “Sure.” 

Joel is surprisingly gentle. 

He helps you out of your blood-soaked shirt, leaving you only in your bra. The chair creaks under your weight. You ignore the vulnerability of the situation. It’s been months since another person saw you bare, you didn’t have the means to groom yourself properly. The hairs on your arms and legs growing with time— Even though you’re blatantly aware of how stupid it is, you still wonder if he notices, or what he might think. 

Joel returns with the first-aid kit and you refuse to look at him, turning your cheek when he kneels to your side. He dabs the cotton in alcohol, cleaning it first before taking the tweezers out of the box. You hear him sigh. 

“I know you want nothin’ to do with me right now but you might want to bite down on something. It’s gonna hurt, Bambi.” 

Hearing the nickname makes you feel lightheaded. Turning around, your gaze drops to Joel but he’s not looking up at you, instead, he’s staring at the wound caked with blood. 

“Give me my shirt, I’ll bite into that.” 

Joel nods and hands you your shirt. You take it begrudgingly, balling it up in your hands and biting down on the fabric. The pain is excruciating, sweat beads on your forehead. You close your eyes, trying to focus on anything but the searing agony in your shoulder.

Joel's gaze is fixed on you as he works, pulling out the bullet with steady hands. You try to focus on anything but the pain, your gaze drifting to the window. You see that it's started to snow, the flakes swirling in the air. You wince, the pain making it hard to think.

Joel's gentle touch brings you back to the present. His fingers are light and careful as he works, pulling out the bullet and cleaning the wound. You can hear the soft sound of his breathing, the occasional sigh or murmur as he focuses on the task at hand.

“You’re bleeding too,” you state, pointing to his neck. “We should get it cleaned,” 

His fingers brush above the shallow wound, not even a small wince crossing his face. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.” 

“I’m assuming you won’t tell me about those memories even if I asked,” you whisper, and his hands go still, fingertips feeling like hot iron against your skin. “I’m not even sure I want to know.” 

“Believe me, you don’t.” 

And that’s the most you get out of him. A tiny crumb of his past. His one hand slides down to your upper arm, fingers pressing into the muscle as if you’re a ghost that has just materialized in front of him. Briefly, you see scenes much more violent compared to the one you witnessed flashing before your eyes; a desperate Joel trying to survive, losing himself to the darkened world. His grief still consumes him, you can see it clearly now. 

With a soft sigh, you cover his hand with your own. The moment is still, neither of you knowing what to say. He seems surprised by the fact you’re touching him, his eyes slowly lifting and meeting yours. You swallow, the sound of blood loud in your ears. 

When you look into his eyes, his soft gaze is briefly replaced by the memory of rage-filled ones you saw outside. You don’t think you will ever be able to forget that look. You won’t be able to forget the way violence clutches at his heart. His need to protect himself and those around him clouds his better judgment— Or rather, he doesn’t care about what happens to others for the sake of his own people. 

You know that this should most likely scare you, or that you should perceive him as something ugly and tainted. 

But it doesn’t. In fact, you think it does the opposite. It’s like a moth to a flame. You’re drawn to him and his tainted light. You see him as nothing short of beautiful. 

His breath hitches while yours stops completely. It warms the fresh wound, then you feel his lips, scarred yet soft, a soft kiss as an answer to your pain. The touch of his tongue forces a shiver up your spine, a soft sting blossoming across your shoulder. 

Joel continues, mouth moving over the slope of your shoulder and to your neck. His patchy beard is a harsh contrast against your skin but you enjoy it all the same. He closes his mouth and presses his lips into the column of your neck. Your lips part with a soft moan. He kisses your neck again and again as if it’s a means to survive. With every press of his mouth, he becomes more sure of himself, the softness is accompanied with the sharpness of his teeth, goosebumps coat your skin. 

Your hand hovers an inch away from his head, too afraid to dive your fingers in just in case he’ll turn into another ghost that your cruel imagination often creates. 

Joel moves back, only an inch between your faces. There’s a new emotion you see that crosses his face but you can’t place what it is. He feels your hand at the back of his head, his eyes flutter closed and he lets out a deep, long breath. Joel’s fingers gingerly curl around your wrist, pushing your hand flush against his head. 

“Touch me,” he says, his southern drawl deep. “I want to feel you.” 

It’s like an experiment almost. Your fingers are touching new soil, getting used to the feeling of soft locks and the bumps of his scalp. You allow your fingers to explore, nails raking his skin. A soft hum rattles his throat and you look back down. You spot the vein meandering down his neck and with wide eyes your hand moves down his head, feels the warmth of his neck, and traces the thick vein. His jaw is locked tight, nostrils flaring with every touch. 

“Joel, I—” 

“Don’t.” his voice breaks, eyes falling away from your own. “Don’t. I don’t wanna hear anything of the sort, not now, not ever.” 

“Tell me what you want to hear then,” 

“The sound of your breathing is enough.” 

Your body reacts before you do, forcing out the breath that was caught in your throat. An eternity later his lips move against yours. His tongue brushes the seam of your lips, your heart flares, your lips parting with the silent command. 

How many times have you thought of Joel touching you like this? Kissing you like this? 

He’ll never know what his mere presence means to you. How the sole image of him brought you back from the brink of not wanting to wake to such a daunting world again and again. Even before he knew what your name was, before you knew his, he was the only one keeping you company—Accompanying you during your every move. A phantom man, following you around and wrapping its arms around you whenever you needed. 

Your body reawakens, his lips and tongue pulling you from somewhere dark. His large hands cup your cheeks, tilting your head as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You moan openly, your hands coming up to hold his wrists. 

Words you want to whisper burn the tip of your tongue. His words echoing loud in your mind whenever they bubble to the surface. 

The sound of your breathing is enough. 

You have trouble swallowing them down, tears gathering in your lashlines, but Joel makes quick work of them, licking into your mouth forcefully as if he’s trying to erase the entire English vocabulary from your mind. 

Your hands drop down from his wrist and awkwardly try to reach his belt. Joel smiles into your lips, calloused fingertips stilling your hands. 

“Easy there, sweetheart. Show me to your bedroom,” 

You give him a confused look, “You already know where my bedroom is,” 

“I prefer this being the first time you lead me to your room.” 

It’s been long since you moved the box of photographs and cleaned the broken pieces of your camera. The ache of your heart is hard to ignore but you do. You nod, also preferring for this to be the first time he’s seeing your room. 

Neither of you touch the other until you’re confined into the smaller area. It’s much colder compared to the kitchen. Joel shivers, a puff of steam dancing from his lips. 

Not wanting this moment to end, you close the distance. Your fingers find their way into his hair, tugging as his hands find your waist. He squeezes and pulls your hips close, forcing a grinding motion. The pleasure you feel is real. It’s overwhelming. Your whines are needy, made with short breaths and the sudden lack of air. 

Joel swallows them all, he sucks your tongue, unbuttons your pants. Arousal pools between your legs, heat licks the bottom of your spine. Your entire world starts spinning when he gets on his knees, pulling down your pants along with him. Your eyes follow, another shudder overtaking you as his fingers move between your legs. 

“J-Joel…” 

“So wet already. Pretty thing,” your heart leaps at the way his eyes move up from your sex to your face. “I haven’t tasted a woman for so long.” 

“Then go ahead,” you mutter, burying your anxiety deep into your heart. 

Everything moves as if it’s in slow motion. The snow outside, the fading light, the way Joel tugs down your underwear. Pupils dilated, he licks his lips at the sight of your slick sticking to the net of your underwear. His thumb moves over your mound, nestling between the soft curls that reside. You suck in a sharp breath. 

The sound is loud enough to prompt him to look up. “Most beautiful cunt I’ve ever seen.” Cupping himself over his dark jeans, a groan slips from his mouth. 

Joel's tongue glides over your skin, you let out a soft moan. His lips velvet against your sensitive flesh. You grip his hair tighter as he expertly works his way over your aching clit. The fading light filters through the dusty window, casting a warm glow over your skin and creating shadows on Joel's face as he buries himself between your legs. His palms skim the back of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine. You let out a breathy moan as Joel's tongue delves deeper. He takes his time, the sharp edges of his face soften, the perpetual crease between his brows fading.  

He must’ve looked beautiful before all was taken away from him. Joel never speaks about it, but you know. You have seen the same expression of grief in your eyes many times. You wonder if you two could’ve met if none of this had happened; the infection, the violence, the change. Another wave of pleasure washes over you with the swipe of Joel’s tongue. You moan and he mimics the sound, the reverberations making you curl over him, your arms wrapped around his head. 

Every cloud has a silver lining, you don’t know who came up with the phrase but you find it cruel, haunting—yet also to be true. 

Haunting is a perfect way to describe the moment. Hauntingly beautiful. A soft hue of light lingering in the darkness dances over your skin. 

Any second can be your last, that’s what makes this moment truly memorable. It can be your last, and you choose to spend it together. 

His gaze finds yours amidst the darkness, lips moving and tongue swirling around your clit. He sucks on it, watching you with a heavy gaze as your whine joins the sounds his tortuous tongue. Joel pulls away and your first instinct is to pull him back, chase the feeling of his skin against yours. His fingers squeezes the back of your thighs, soothing you like a scared animal. You feel his lips moving slowly over your mound, kissing the sensitive skin. 

“I want you on the bed,” he says voice honeyed in a long drawl. “I’m gonna eat this pretty pussy out until you’re drunk on me. Then I’m going to feel the way you squeeze my cock—But I need you to get all nice and wet for me first,” 

Your thighs clench together and he lays another kiss, hands roaming over your ass one more time before pulling you to the bed. He falls on top of you, his heavy presence proving not to be a figment of your imagination. Your entire body rings for him. You feel his breath fanning your face, he stares at you, you see the traces of regret and your stomach sinks. 

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” 

The apology takes you by surprise, you stare, unblinking, and swallow. His hand moves between your leg, two fingers slipping inside you with ease as his palm cups your sex. 

“You still do,” you gasp before you can think. “But I would rather have you broken and bruised than be alone. Something inside me—A heart, a soul…it’s been seeking you out, Joel.” his fingers deftly move with a sharp thrust. Your back archs, body pressing into his touch. You close your eyes but you still feel his eyes boring into you. “You terrify me Joel. But not only because of the reasons you might be thinking.” 

“What other reason is there?” he asks, curling his fingers and grinding the heel of his palm against your clit. You clench your teeth, swallowing down your moans. 

You’re a whirlwind of emotions. His sadness, his grief…all of it resonates deep inside you, it joining the pleasure that builds up, your arousal thick around his fingers. 

You feel the brush of his hand on your ear, your eyes open with surprise, remembering the first time he had attempted to touch you—The Infected part of you. He had ignored it ever since he learned your name. 

Joel leans in and presses his lips, the fur soft against his mouth. Your heart leaps as you flinch, your ear twitching uncontrollably. 

“Tell me,” he says as you moan. “Tell me the other ways I frighten you.” 

“I fear the way you make me feel alive.” 

He curls his fingers, a shout rips from your throat. “Go on,” he prompts you. 

“I’m scared that you’ll leave. That you’ll leave, and that you’ll become a ghost again.” 

“Again?” 

“Forget I said that,” 

He hums, “I can’t promise you that I won’t ever leave. But right now, I'm here. You feel me, don’t you? I ain’t no ghost,” 

To emphasize what he said, he circles your clit with his wet fingers, tongue moving down your neck. He draws your stiff nipple into his mouth, teeth sharp and pleasurable. You feel the wet streaks across your skin when he slides his other hand up your waist, he pries your mouth open by pressing his fingers into the hallows of your cheeks. He sneaks in two fingers, forcing you to taste yourself. 

“I think I need to fuck you now, think you can take me, my little doe?” 

You’re highly aware that the words are spoken without much thought. However, the endearment crackles across your skin, lighting a fire in your stomach, your body jerks, slick wetting your thighs and sheets. He holds your tongue with his fingers, feeling the way it moves with the muffled sounds you make. His mouth moves up the swell of your breast. 

“You like it when I call you mine?” he groans out, breath wet and warm. 

Joel pulls out his fingers so you can speak, his cock lays heavy between your legs. 

Your chest heaves, “Yes.” you gasp, the pressure building starting to become overwhelming. “Say it again, please,” 

“You’re mine,” he replies, sounding as if he’s just stating a fact. “Nothing will hurt you. No one will touch you…” the words sink into your skin, your hips stutter forward, searching for the stretch of his cock. Your breathing becomes heavy, shallow. “And since you’re mine, you’ll take whatever I have to give…won’t you?” 

You hear the uncertainty that follows his hardened tone. Nodding, you catch yourself murmuring back, "I'm yours, and only yours."

Joel doesn’t give you any indication that he hears you, he presses forward, notching the head of his cock against your entrance. Your cunt flutters around him, begging him to move. He’s nothing like your vivid dreams; he takes his time, making you feel every inch. Your breath is caught in your throat, your lungs convulsing. The sudden regret of not touching him beforehand resonates inside, you wanted to feel how heavy and warm he was under your palm, wanted to hear his whimpers—if he makes any, that is. 

“So damn tight,” he grunts. “So wet—fuck,” 

He moves his hips forward then back, thrusting against the dampness that coats your entrance. A moan escapes your lips as he moves faster, each thrust pushing deeper than the last. Your hands grip the sheets as your body trembles. You gasp and bite your lip, the heavy drag of his cock sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel him, hard and thick, and it feels incredible. 

Tears gather in your eyes when his lips find yours in the fog of pleasure. Sweat and sex clings to your skin, body on fire, he shoves his tongue into your mouth. The muffled sounds you both make seeps into the other’s lips. You’re both hungry to devour one another, both touch-starved. He parts away with a string of saliva following, he kisses the tear streaks, kisses your eyes. 

You're left chanting his name like a prayer, his hands slide down, cup your ass and lift you from the bed. 

His thrusts quicken, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You cling to him, your hands gripping his back, your nails digging into his skin. His warm breath tickles your neck, and your head spins. Every movement sounds wetter than the last, he splits you in half, cock moving all the way out before he slams into you again and again and again—

Your body shatters around him, pleasure bursting across your very being. The feeling pours into your veins, leaving a simmer and buzz in the pits of your stomach. Joel fucks himself deeper into you until you’re begging him to stop, your body overwhelmed both physically and emotionally. 

“Where do you want me?” he asks, pulling out and fisting himself with little care. 

The fog clouding your mind briefly lifts and you manage to push yourself up the bed. You push his hand away and wrap your numb fingers around his length. He’s so wet, glistening with your slick. Joel watches you as you lean down, wrapping your lips around his cock. His hand touches the back of your head, pushing you further. 

Arousal pools between your legs once more, your tongue warm and wet as you eagerly lick down his shaft, feeling the soft curls tickling your nose, you swallow. Joel’s head falls back, exposing his tanned neck and small scars littered like a starry sky. A loud groan emits from the depths of his lungs, choked out and raspy. Your eyes roll back when he thrusts his hips, the head of his cock touching the back of your throat. 

Your insides clench painfully, begging for more. 

Your lips pop off, tender skin left wet and swollen. “Come down my throat,” you say, before swallowing him down again. Your tongue slides underneath his shaft, tracing the thick veins as you move up. 

Joel’s nails bite into your skin, a string of curse words falling from his lips. Heat flares under your skin. He pushes and pulls, guiding you as you swallow around him again and again. 

There’s something about the way his nails softly bite into your skin that makes your toes curl. It’s been a while since you sucked cock, and he’s showing you how to do it— 

“Doing so good, little doe— Can you take me deeper?” 

You moan your approval, your hand moving between your legs. Your fingers trace around your puffy clit, still sensitive, yet aching to be touched. He doesn’t seem to notice that you start to touch yourself, he holds your head between his palms, fucking your mouth until he feels his shaft begin to pulse before spilling into the warmth of your mouth. 

You swallow every drop. He tastes bitter and you reel at the way the taste of him burns your throat. He keeps his cock buried in your throat as he rides out his orgasm. You run your fingers up the span of his stomach, feeling the dents and marks painted over his skin. 

Joel is left breathless, his chest heaving and cock now soft. You tenderly pepper his skin with kisses, moving all the way up until you press one hurriedly onto his lips. Your fingers rub over the sweat-slick skin of his forehead. And as you move away he grips you by the shoulders and pulls you back, tasting himself on your tongue. 

He licks the inside of your mouth and teases your bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Why do you want me around?” he cups your jaw and rubs two thumbs down your cheeks. “I’m such a fucking mess. I’m not going to trick you into thinking that I’m something that I ain’t. I’m not a good man, June.” 

“I said it earlier,” you say with a soft smile. “I would rather have you broken and bruised than be alone.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x ofc #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #hbo the last of us #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[seawardboundsammy]

what about hate and heartbreak for an oc of your choice? :]

okay ive done a lot of sidesteps (though i could totally talk about Pelican) im gonna do this one about Marcel Fiala, Mercenary for Hire and tattoo artist

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

this ones easy peasy. the two pillars of their mind and self are Honesty, they always tell the truth (though they can obfuscate and omit) and Blood, it is precious and should not be spilled without reason. (you may note that these are. super contradictory to being a mercenary. the mental gymnastics on this person are OLYMPIC). i often throw them into situation like "what if x character(s) from media met them" and there's a pretty standard beat in which they are accused of being a liar/not keeping and oath (A BIG PART OF THE HONESTY IS OATHS) and they get. Very Mad about it. if its particularly egregious (or you are an oathbreaker) they will straight up kill that person. theyre very chill but very intense.

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

this is actually one of the key big things from their backstory! they were best friends with a girl named Lilac from a very young age (family friends, they were orphaned and raised by their uncle so they spent a lot of time over at her house) and they had a tattooing shop together called Violets and Lilacs (referencing both of their names, fiala means violet). marcy first kill (at age 16) was killing the guy who had hurt lils (their nickname for her) by smothering him in his own bed. when i say intense, i mean intense. but as the years went on in their mid twenties their relationship soured (maybe cause of the murder marcy was doing? but not really) and they had a big blowout argument and marcy, as they do, kept level in opposition to lils big reactions and ended things off and said goodbye and left. they lived in the same city for years after but never saw each other again. theyre. man. they make me really sad.

but everything's okay now cause marcy's shacked up with the worst super villain the world has ever seen who kills and tortures for fun!

#marcel fiala you are so. your crazy. #sammy speaks #asks #i dont have a marcy tag

[readyforthegarden]

Can you pleaseeee do “can you teach me?” and “you're gonna have to guide me through this'' with Jake for the first kiss prompts. If you’re still doing them😚

Sorry this took a hot minute!! Get ready for some fluffy Jake!!

(I couldn’t resist this pic for this!!!)

You stormed your way out of the living room where the party has been congregating. You couldn’t believe your best friend, or as of now, former best friend, would reveal something so embarrassing and personal in front of everyone.

“She’s never even kissed anyone!!” your friend Amber shrieked, more than tipsy as you’d been in conversation with a few other party-goers, laughing at a dirty joke. Your friend had thrown her arm around your shoulders, her entire weight on you, making you stagger under her as she asked why you were laughing, before blurting out your business.

You closed the door of what you thought was the bathroom and leaned against it, fighting the urge to cry.

“Uh, can I help you?” Your eyes snapped open, and they darted around the room, taking in posters, records and a full sized bed where a young man was laying, propped up by pillows, flipping through a magazine. He stared at you with a raised eyebrow, but amused smile on his face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” you scrambled for the door handle. “I thought this was the bathroom, I just needed to get away from the party.”

“It’s cool.” the young man said with a nod. “You can chill here if you want. It sounds like it’s getting crazy out there.” He reached next to him, picking up a small glass of amber liquid and taking a sip.

“O-oh, thank you.” You wrung your hands together as you looked around again, this time not in a panic. “Yeah, it’s a little too loud for me.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to enjoy a party when someone has loudly revealed you’ve never been kissed and you’re in your mid-twenties.” your head snapped to him, seeing a smirk grace his features.

“You know what, fuck off.” you huffed. “It’s not that uncommon.”

“What did you do in high school?” you narrows your eyes. You were starting to recognize him now. Jake Kiszka. You’d met him through a your best friend’s social circle a few times, merely passing hellos at parties or gatherings. From what you knew, he liked to play the field, keeping his options open for the next pretty thing to walk through the door.

“I was busy. I was advanced placement and I played two sports on top of being in choir and the co-captain of the dance team. I had other things going on.”

“Sounds like it.” Jake hummed. He went back to thumbing through the pages of his magazine, and you fixed your eyes on a poster with a bands name in it, letting your eyes read through the tour dates for something to do. “You like them?”

“Never heard of ‘em.” You answered, glancing over at Jake. He nodded, accepting your answer as it was. “You play guitar, right?” you asked him, looking around.

“I dabble.” Jake answered your question with the same nonchalance you had given him. Looking him over, an idea popped into your head.

“Can you teach me?” you asked. Jake looked up at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Guitar?” he asked, continuing before you could respond. “I usually only do that on a third date but-“

“No, not guitar.” You cut him off, sitting on the corner of his bed. “Can you…teach me to kiss?” Jake stared at you in silence for a few moments.

“I-I guess I could…” he shut the magazine and set it on his nightstand. “Are you uh, are you sure you want to, though?”

“No time like the present.” you replied, rolling your shoulders back.

“No, I mean,” he scooted closer to you in the bed, taking your hand and making you look at him. “Are you sure you’re okay, that you want this to be your first kiss?”

“I know we’re practically strangers, but the fact you asked that makes me have some trust in you.” You nodded. “You’re gonna have to guide me through this.” Jake licked his bottom lip and chewed it briefly, making up his mind.

“Okay.” he shook his hair out of his face bringing his free hand up, and tucking a strand behind your ear. His eyes never left your face, studying every freckle, every pore as if he was committing it to memory. The mood between the two of you shifted, your stomach fluttered as he gently dragged his fingertips down your cheek, to your chin. “I can’t believe nobody has kissed you before. Your lips look so soft.”

“T-they do?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper. The corner of Jake’s mouth tugged into a soft smirk as he ran his thumb over you bottom lip.

“They do.” he nodded. “I bet you didn’t even realize how many guys would’ve fallen over themselves to kiss you all these years.” His face was inching closer to yours, and your breath was caught in your throat, making it impossible to respond to his improbable thought. “How many guys were too nervous to talk to you whenever they saw you, so pretty and perfect, like you’d ever give them a chance.”

“Jake-“

“Shh,” his lips grazed yours, effectively quieting your protest. Seconds passed that felt like hours before he pressed his lips against yours, simply keeping them there for a few moments, letting you take the lead when you pulled away slightly, but brought your lips back to his almost instantly. His hand moved back towards your ear, fingers massaging your scalp as he continued kissing you, guiding your lips with his until his tongue swept over your bottom lip. You opened your mouth timidly, feeling him smile against your lips and swiping again, this time the tip of his tongue meeting yours. He tasted like amber liquor and the ghost of a sweet mint toothpaste. You hoped that the taste of your strawberry wine cooler was equally as intoxicating to him as he was to you.

Jake pulled back, slowly keeping his face close, still cradling your head in his hand as he waited for some sort of response. All you could do was catch your breath, and he chuckled and smiled.

“I’ve thought about doing that since I first saw you at one of Amber’s parties.” he admitted, a soft look in his eyes.

“You have?” your cheeks tinged with a fiery blush. Jake smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, of course.” he nudged your nose with his. “You seemed so sweet and shy. I didn’t think you’d go for a guy like me.”

“There was only one way to find out.” you whispered, giving him a small smile. He grinned back, nodding. He let go of you, leaning back in his bed and looking up at you.

“So, how was your first kiss?” you bit your lip, thinking about how to explain it.

“It was…Jake, it was better than I’d ever imagined it.” you confessed with a slight, embarrassed laugh.

“You’re a natural.” Jake told you, giving you a wink. “Now you can proudly rejoin the party and tell everyone Amber was wrong.” Your smile fell a bit, and Jake noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, I was wondering…” you started, looking at him. “I mean, that was only one kiss. I know you said I was a natural, but I could use some practice. Some conditioning.”

“Is that so?” Jake smirked, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

“It is.” you gave him a matching smirk. “Besides, you still have to ask me out, you know, now that you’ve admitted your yearning for me.”

“I never said I yearned!” Jake protested with a laugh, tossing a pillow at you. You caught it and tossed it back.

“You didn’t have to, it was in your eyes!” you giggled. Jake tossed the pillow to the side and lunged at you, grabbing your sides and tickling you, making you laugh. “Okay okay! I give in!” Jake immediately stopped tickling, grinning down at you from above. He brushed the hair out of your face, and looked over your face again, a twinge of something, apparently not yearning, in his eyes.

“Enough talking, let’s get to practicing.”

#writing prompt blurb #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet #greta van fluff

[witch-manor]

Riding the Roller Coaster and Learning to Chill

The year 2023 was a wild ride for me, packed with all kinds of emotions, weaving together joy and fear, calmness and anxiety. It's been a complex mix of paradoxical experiences that have led me to ponder what life's really about, you know?

Last year, halfway through, it hit me. I had spent the prime years of my adulthood burdened by self-imposed pressures, fretting over trivialities, and getting all worked up trying to hit some big goal. But then, I met this person who was my antithesis—or perhaps my perfect complement—in these respects. I started to chill out from my always-stressed, about-to-freak-out self to someone who’s cool with life’s mess. I learned to enjoy the ride, not just obsess over the destination. So what if I mess up? Or things don’t go as planned? Life goes on. I’m not saying it’s all smooth sailing now, but as I’m waving goodbye to my twenties and hitting my thirties, I’m working on seeing things differently – ditching all those what-ifs and might-have-beens.

I stopped making gratitude lists back in my mid-twenties. Life kept throwing curveballs, barely letting me catch a breath. On the surface, I appeared content, surrounded by material comforts, loved ones, and caring friends. That should've made a pretty sweet gratitude list, right? But I just stopped doing it.

Now, I choose not to compile a list of external gratitudes—a list of all the cool stuff and people in my life. Instead, I turn the gratitude inward, I'm giving a shoutout to myself! I commend myself for keeping my head above water, for staying sane in this chaotic world, for healing my own scars, and for treating myself right with good food, great company, regular exercise, and indulging in things that bring me joy without regret.

To wrap up, I wanna thank me (shoutout to Snoop Dogg for the inspo), and here’s a happy new year for all of us. May the odds be in our favor!

"P.S. A special shout-out to Deborah Levy for her semi-memoir 'Things I Don't Want to Know,' which got me reflecting upon my own struggles with life and contributed greatly to the creation of this post.

P.S. 2: I will soon be writing about her book."

#dark acadamia aesthetic #studyspo #studyblr #english literature #christmas #holiday #new year #new years resolution #happy new year #writing #writeblr

[jamie4370]

First Post

I didn't want this to be a depressing one but here I am, with my thoughts. I am hopelessly, romantically in love with a girl that left the town I so desperately wanted to move back to. 7 years ago I had met this girl working at the same place as me. I always thought she was SO hot. I had a girlfriend at the time so I tried my best to stay out of trouble. I never cheated, but I did eventually break up with my then partner to be with this girl. I'm getting tired of calling her girl, so lets call her A.

A and I immediately slept with each other after she had spent an afternoon at one of my college house parties. I would have never guessed that they were into me and my craziness. A had long brown curly hair that always had hints of whatever shampoo and conditioner treatment she was on, I still remember slightly what it smelt like: it smelt like fresh laundry and it reminded me of sunshine. She has the coolest blue eyes with a green fringe around the center. A has a voice that has a previous smokers rasp, but the sweetest, melting, feminine voice that comes through that gave me chills. For the next three months we had sex, explored each others personalities and kinks. We watched seasons of Bob's Burgers from cover to cover all day in bed in between our classes and work. We had kept it from all of our coworkers because I was a manager and she was a level below me. We drank and partied together. We woke up together. It was the best time that I've had with anyone. Ever. I still remember what it was like to be next to each other under my cheesy camouflaged bedsheets that I had in college. We were in love but we didn't know how to say it to each other.

One July night, when I was alone: I had a knock at my door from my ex-girlfriend (she lived about 3 hours away so it was really weird that she was there). She confessed that she had missed me and professed their love for me right there. She said that she had wanted to have make-up sex. Me and my weak, mid-twenties, stupid, horny, self accepted. I thought that A would never go for me and what we had was plutonic, she wasn't telling me she wanted to be exclusive. What a god damn mistake.

I told A the next day. In tears and sitting on my bed for what felt like the last time, A confessed that she loved me and that she wanted to be with me. My heart immediately sank and I felt like I had unknowingly betrayed what she was trying to say this whole time. I was lost. I tried to break up with my ex-girlfriend again after two months in hopes that A would take me back. I tried to see it through with my ex. A said she did not have the time to deal with her emotions in time for us to be okay again. I never would have done what I did to have a shot with A and over the next 7 years we would have the skinniest of loves two people could ever have.

We constantly stalked each others social media pages. We made contact every now and again but it never felt like anything of substance. At a certain point when I had broken up with the partner that I had been seeing for five years, I would try to text A. No reply. I don't know why these feelings are so intense when we had only been together for 3 months. It felt natural for me to want to talk to her.

I felt even more hopeless and depressed. My life felt like I had spent the last 7 years waiting on something that had almost no chance of ever happening again. I always thought that if the universe gave me a sign to be with someone, it was with A. I hated myself. I hated who I was and I was never happy with anything that I did. Everywhere I went A came with me. I don't know what kind of mental instability this was but I found myself in the bathroom crying at parties and always feeling depressed at work. I was an empty vessel, drifting in space.

One day, I decided to sum up the courage to text A and see how they were doing for the last time. I thought I was going to text A and finally begin my journey on getting through all of this madness. I didn't think she was going to ever respond.

The next day she did text me back. It was like my dream came true, and at the last straw. I was bound for a happy relationship with the person I SO desperately longed for. We talked and decided to meet at a bar that we regularly go to. We talked and you could tell that we both were nervous. I tried to dress up a little and put on my favorite fragrance. We met and it was perfect.... Except the part where she said she was moving more than 8 hours away. I didn't care. I wanted to be with her. Even if it was for a few months. We kissed at the end and she admitted that she didn't want to let me go in that cold weather of February. I was in bliss on the hour car drive back to my old apartment.

For the next few months we started right where we had left off. A had looked a little different since the last time we had seen each other and they were a little self conscious. I didn't care. The person I love is back together with me. I was trying to focus on the present and the fact that we had what we wanted and it was beautiful. We learned our everchanging kinks and talked about what we had been doing the past few years. She said that she had worked at another bar that I would regular at. She then quit and became a nanny for this couple that payed her ok money. I told her that I had moved away to pursue an engineering career but that I'm moving back because I loved the city (kind-of true). It wouldn't be until later that I could get an apartment lined up for the time being, so it was an hour drive from where I was.

I could be myself around her and her to me. When the date of A's departure was rapidly approaching she kept making comments about moving and the plans that she had when she moved. Every time those words came out I would immediately turn to anger and resentment. I would say that A never cared about me and that she wanted to move away so that she could get away from our relationship. I had this blow-up reaction a few times until one day she asked me if what this was, was 'too much for me?'. I broke down and said yes. Of course I didn't want her to move. I fucking love her SO much. We had another mud fight of an argument that we said nasty things to each other. Finally, we had had enough. We stopped talking to each other April of this year. I tried calling A once more because I has having serious thoughts about cu**ing myself. No reply, so..... Who could have stopped me? I'm in my thirties and I still manage to bring up the high school days.

I think its getting better but I'm constantly surrounded by negativity in my life. My brother hates me, I can't see my dogs because I lashed out at the ex-girlfriend I am sharing them with, my grandmother and mother are having a serious conflict, I can't sleep, I cry constantly, I have a drinking problem, a nicotine problem, my bestfriend slept with my last girlfriend at my other bestfriends wedding, and on top of all that, I am transitioning genders. My hormones have not done me any favors over the past few months.

I talk to my therapist constantly about A still. I seem to think I'm being annoying by how much I talk about her. It's hard to rummage through all of the memories and try to think of the good when all it feels like some times is loss. Spectacular, unadulterated, fantastic loss. I miss her dearly. I don't know if she feels the same. I told here that she may not find me the way she left me. "My heart is big, but not big enough for the convenience of others." or some stupid quote like that.

I don't do much right now. I play video games, watch football, read, draw, blog, etc. I'm out of love to give right now. I have had my heart stomped on this past year, yet, I have accomplished so much. I bought my first house, I started a new job, I got medicated for depression and anxiety, I've been on hormones for 6 months now, I got my roof redone, and I won an award for one of the projects I've done! It all feels overshadowed by this lingering darkness that feels oddly familiar.

I feel very alone right now...

Maybe A will read this one day and move back to this town and take me off my feet.

Maybe I'm, getting ahead of myself.

#relationship #partnership #breakup #heartbreak #heartbroken #lovelost #the one that got away #lovers #i love her #i miss her #come back #transgender #transgirl #transisbeautiful #trans positivity

[deathbydarkelves]

Ask and YE SHALL RECEIVE, @lynxfrost13

Sing-Sing's fun because he can change size at will. Mishi, Lorewalker Cho's cloud serpent, can do this and I decided that's a natural (though rare) genetic trait they can sometimes have. They're clearly very dependent on magic to fly, I'm sure their close tie to magic can have some other effects as well.

Anyway. When Cathala was stranded on Pandaria, the pandaren who taught her the language and helped her find her feet was a chill scribe named Paolun. She lived with him for a few years in a little (homebrew) village called Lake of Lilies in the same general vicinity as the Arboretum. Cathala understandably felt super out of place among the pandaren, even in such a small village, so after she learned the language and whatnot she found a little house on the very outskirts of town and lived there for a while, only going into town to buy food and other necessities. Paolun was one of a handful of people who visited her regularly, since they were really good friends by this point. Kind of an uncle-niece dynamic, I guess? Even though Cathala was older than him lmao.

Eventually she decided she wanted to do something with herself and went to study at Tian Monastery for a few more years. After she was done there, she came back for a bit to reconnect before she left for the Temple of the White Tiger to complete her training. Paolun, being a scribe, frequented the Arboretum. This also meant he had some friends in the Order of the Cloud Serpent, so as a parting gift, he gave her the freshly-hatched Sing-Sing to keep her company up on the mountain. I don't want to do the math right now but she was there for at least fifteen-ish years and he matured into an adult over that time.

Paolun died of old age not long after the siege of Orgrimmar (she met him when he was in his mid-twenties and she was on Pandaria for about fifty years), so Sing-Sing's all Cathala has left of him. He makes a great companion though. He's, uh… a little dumb and also very skittish but he loves his person and neither would ever do anything to put the other in danger <3

Behold some drawings I have made of him:

Some day I'll draw him full size… some day.

Also, a numbered list of extra Sing-Sing factoids:

1.) He's TERRIFIED of Tarinne's hippogryph, Storm, even though Sing-Sing is like three times Storm's size when he's big. 2.) Tarinne tried to ride Sing-Sing exactly once and immediately bailed to go barf somewhere. 3.) Cathala DID try to train him to be a fighting cloud serpent. She tried. It did not work, he has no aggressive instincts at all. 4.) He’s good at carrying her around though, and he can be a really fast flier when he wants to be. 5.) He makes little chirping and purring sounds when he’s happy :)

#cathala #sing-sing

[roryjfk]

there was a distinct chill that fell over the outskirts of the small town of stars hollow. ribbons of thick fog looped around pockets in the atmosphere, nearly kissing the ground. the dark, navy blue sky met with the distilled bright light of a full moon. in the dead of night, there was little of a whisper that caught wind of the surrounding buildings that had been built way before the man’s time. there jess mariano laid. resting — if one could even call it so — in the same position he started in. he was embraced by the soft and comforting touch of thin, ivory bed linens while the hours melted idly by. a heavy exhausted exhale slipped through tight borders, stubble lined lips pursing into a thin, expressionless line. silence was golden, some might say. in the confines of his trackless mind it was a recipe for aimless rumination. thankfully, an abridged whine of his ringtone scattered through the air like mist, awakening him fully to the sights and sounds of what he was about to press ACCEPT to. golden irises travelled to the screen of his cell phone, the name rory gilmore streaked across it. “rory?” he hushed out, his free palm rubbing the sleep out of the inner corners of his orbs. background noise was filled with an infant’s cries, immediately perking the man up while attempting to to decipher the desperation of his ex girlfriend’s tone.

she in fact needn’t say another word before the raven haired male understood the situation. “hey, hey no. don’t go apologizing. i’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he drifted, blurring himself as he plucked any pair of shoes he could find, shuffling through his half shelled closet to slip his leather jacket over his shoulders. trotting down the stairs, the man clutched his keys in one hand while jetting himself out the door. while jess wasn’t logan’s biggest fan, it felt wrong to express any sort of disparaging off the cuff insult at a time as this. though the thoughts never transpired into actual words, the most he could muster was as much support to rory as he could. finally pulling into the gilmore house driveway, jess pulsed a ring cladded rotund hand through his tussled mop of hair. emerging out of the vehicle and onto the front porch, a balled fist racked on the door, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was bottling up as a brisk cloud of air could be seen as evidence of his breath in the cold. awaiting with patience, both hands then stuck themselves into each pocket of his jeans, his weight shifting and rolling to the balls of his feet.

she's not sure how her mother did it at sixteen. hell, rory can barely do it in her thirties. god, by the time lorelai gilmore was in her thirties she already had a teenager, an adult by her mid thirties. it was so insane to think about. how they were at such different places at the same age. her mother, getting ready to send her daughter to an ivy. rory, on the edge of a nervous break down with a colicky baby. there was no shame in asking for help and her loved ones made that explicitly clear. she knew that. how lucky was she that she had such wonderful people in her life that would help her out. a lot of women didn't and she did. it wasn't lost on her. however, she wanted to prove to herself that she was capable of doing something by herself. that she didn't need to depend on help all the time. and if that meant dealing with a colicky baby in the dead of night on her own, then well. logan wanted them to be a family in london. london, who the hell did she have in london? no one. her support system was here. he was still in love with her, but she was in love with jess. someone she knew she could count on wholeheartedly. not that she would ever tell jess that though, that she was in love with him. there was bigger issues at hand than who rory gilmore had feelings for. the sound of a knock at her door snapping her out of her train of thought. the baby in her arms still visibly upset as she made her way to the door, a hand moving to open the door. her heart picking up at the sight of him. it always did that when she saw him. "hi, thank you so much for coming," the brunette offered an apologetic smile as she moved out of the way to let him in out of the crisp february cold. she's about to apologize again for calling so late, but remembers he hates when she does that. it's out of habit. "poor baby's just very colicky and i'm kind of losing my mind at moment," she explained, her attention tuning back to her son for a moment. "look, honey, it's jess," rory cooed to the infant who immediately took interest in the man, "we love jess, don't we?" the baby, definitely just the baby.

#and if my wishes came true it would've been you.

[motherkatereloyshipper]

The first chapter of my entry to the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2022.

Beta'd beautifully by @jonesfandomfanatic

There will be actually good art later.

Chapter One 

“So, you’ve been with my former lover and my son, is that right?” Milah pursed her lips.

Emma hadn’t been prepared for this, “Huh” was all she could say.

Rumplestilstkin smirked, “I’m sure we’re gonna laugh ourselves sick about this one day."

Milah filed behind Rumple and to Emma in a low voice conspired, “But not until he’s buggered off and we can get a drink.”

Emma smiled, this was an odd place, and that was Neal’s grin. The one she'd fallen for, the one full of mischief and promise. And there was the woman of fire Killian had spoken of. The one so strong that he still wanted to save. She saw herself there and smiled at the thought that she and Killian had fallen in love with the same grin.

They walked through the town, Rumple studiously ignored the soft talk between the two women.

Milah asked, "Did Bae still love to draw, when you were together I mean?"

Emma gave her a tight-lipped smile, "We were on the run, his art form was lock picks."

Milah smiled a vagabond smile, "There's a romance to that, what was he like, as a teenager?"

Emma shrugged, "I wouldn't know, he was in his mid-twenties, well, he looked mid-twenties, apparently he was closer to 300 by then, fucking Neverland."

Milah looked confused, "Rumple said… oh... oh gods no," she put her hand on Emma's shoulder, halting them in place. "Why did you have your baby in prison Emma?"

Emma looked at Milah with tired eyes, "It's a long story," she glanced at Rumple. "Let's just say, in some things he took after his father, but Milah, when he was brave, when he was a hero, he wore your smile."

"You've a kind heart, I can tell you’re trying to hide the hurt of it," Milah swallowed and glared at Rumple who was staring at his watch.

Rumple glared back, "I don't care if Hades puts in an extra few licks on your Pirate ladies, but I assume you do."

Emma looked up in confusion "The way in is here? So, what, the gates of hell are in my house?"

Rumple smirked, "As was the stone of Excalibur. The Pirate has a knack for targeting real estate with hidden value."

Milah whispered to Emma with a waggle of her brows that made Emma’s heart ache. "He's a marvel with finding treasure.”  

Emma sighed, her eyes caressing the dusting toys and empty crib, “Basement door?”

Rumple nodded, “Basement door”

Emma walked up to the door and unlocked it. Trying to push through the seal on the door flashed and repelled her, “It's a barrier, all right. So what is she going to do?” 

Rumple sneered at Emma, even now he couldn’t keep his disdain from his face, “Joining hands will be fine.” He reached out both his hands and, however unwillingly, the women took them.

Walking forward together they passed through the barrier as if it had never existed, Emma and Milah dropped Rumple’s hands and again strangely in synch, wiped their hands on the back of their trousers.

Emma spoke softly, the relief evident, “It worked.” 

Rumple’s cold tone held more chill even than usual, “Indeed. One step closer to Hell. The spell's gone. We'll be able to pass through on our own now. Thank you, Milah. You can run back to protecting the dead children.”

Emma held up a hand to Rumple “Hang on.” Emma met Milah’s eyes intensely, “Milah... thank you so much. And... there's something you should know. Your son, Neal, Baelfire... when I was on my way down here on the River, I had sort of a vision of him. I think he talked to me.”

Milah took in a soft breath “What did he say?”

“He said that he moved on. And that he was happy. Whatever he had to resolve... he did it." The words seemed to escape Emma in a low hiss. 

Milah smiled warmly, her posture softening, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Emma nodded, all business again, “I hear water this way.”

Milah agreed, “That would be the River of Lost Souls. We can take it to where Hades will have Killian.”

Rumple interjected, “I'm sorry, uh, "we" can take it? If you think you can get the pirate back, I doubt he's gonna swap the blonde one for the dead one.”

Milah and Emma rolled their eyes in stereo, Milah faced her former husband with a sneer. “You might be dark, but sometimes you're still an idiot, Rumple.” Milah turned away from him dismissively, addressing her statement to the other woman, “I have my reasons. Let me come with you.”

Emma assented, heading toward the door with a simple, “Okay.”

Rumple stomped off to find some transport, “I’ll leave you ladies to get acquainted.”

“Dick,” Emma muttered under her breath.

Milah smirked, “You’re a woman of few words, Emma.”

Emma smiled sadly, “Killian’s the one with all the good words, I’m more of an action girl.”

“I can tell. What made you follow him into the underworld?” Milah asked softly.

Emma swallowed, “He sacrificed himself to end the dark one’s curse, I had to run him through with Excaliber.” Milah gasped but otherwise held her tongue. “When we found out that Rumple stolen that sacrifice, that he had taken back the power of the dark one, well... I had to do something, I had to try. My parents share a heart, if I give him half of my heart, then he can come home, we can have the life we planned.”

Milah blinked, “I didn’t know that was a thing that could be done.” Her face was a riot of mixed emotion.

Emma wrapped her arms around herself, “No one did until my parents did it, and they are the poster children for true love so…” Emma was staring at the ground. “Wait, I didn’t mean, I mean he would have if he could, he loves you so much Milah, honestly, he does. Gold was being a dick, but honestly, I don’t think it’d be an easy… and I wouldn’t I mean, if…”

Milah shook her head, “Breathe Emma, you love like Killian does, I’m glad he found you, that you found each other.” She grinned that vagabond smile and raised an eyebrow, “I don’t see why he’d have to choose.” 

Emma felt the laughter burst out of her mouth without giving it conscious thought, “Did he learn the innuendo as a defence mechanism thing from you, or did you learn it from him?”

Milah’s smile was bright and clear, “I think you’ll find Killian Jones learned a lot from me.” She gave Emma a wink, that reminded Emma of soft skin and hot nights and Emma blushed.

Rumple returned with the boat, “You really are cut from the same cloth.” His voice made it clear he didn’t see that as a good thing.

“Rumple, I think that is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” retorted Milah, checking over the boat before setting herself at the rudder. “Like I’d trust him to steer.”

Emma stepped on board gingerly, “I hope this boat you found doesn't spring a leak.” 

Rumple was blithe, “This boat is the best thing we could have hoped to find. After we pick up the pirate, it will take us all the way home.”

Milah laughed, “The Jolly has spoiled you.”

A shadow passed over Emma’s face at the thought of the last time she and Killian were aboard the Jolly, “She’s very special, Killian’s so happy to have her back.”

Milah’s brows rose, “Back?”

Emma sighed, “It’s a..”

Milah cut her off, “A long story? Sounds like there’s a few of those.”

Rumple laughed darkly, “Don’t you want Milah to know how the Pirate gave up his ship for you, chased you across the realms and attempted True Loves kiss? She was always fond of the great romances, perhaps she’d enjoy knowing how easily he moved on.”

Emma scowled, “Seriously, Gold? Killian mourned Milah every day for hundreds of years, he still calls for her in the night sometimes. He hunted you and gave up everything trying to avenge her. Why are you still trying to hurt her with this? You moved on, you have Belle, your own true love, you’ve re-married.”

Rumple snarled, “Because she did this to me, I was a good man.”

Milah stood, rocking the boat, “You were a useless coward and our lives were unbearable, you had one job, to watch Bae and you failed even at that.”

“I didn’t want to kill the man for the cure for Milah, I didn’t want to be a murderer, so I made a deal,” Rumple’s voice was ragged.

Milah sat down, “I was already pregnant when you made that deal Rumple, when you sold our child and the rest of my life. That’s why I was so lost and angry that day, so desperate... I was silent about it. Thought if I kept the child from you I could pass them elsewhere through the midwife; or run. In the end it didn’t matter, our second-born didn’t live through her first night”

Rumple face was a picture of pain and confusion, “I had a daughter, I didn’t know, how didn’t I know?”

“I’d frozen you out by then, bade you sleep in with Bae, kept my aprons loose and wore my shawl,” Milah shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now, none of it does.” A cold silence held the boat, the only interruption the susurration of the water beneath the boat.

Emma stood suddenly, “This is it. He's down there. I feel it.”

Rumple sat at his place, his voice fraught, “I'm not leaving the boat. It's too valuable. You're capable of getting the Pirate on your own, I'm sure. And don't even think about using magic. Hades would notice anything this close to his home base.” 

Milah placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder, “If he's not moving, I'm not, either. If he tries to steal this thing, I'll give a shout. I think he and I should talk this out, give him a kiss for me aye?”

Emma smiled and nodded, tearing off up the stairs.

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

Milah tried to break the tension,”So... you're married now. That's real?”

Rumple’s voice was harsh and raw, “Look, about your, uh, unfinished business... if it's love for the Pirate, then it's definitely off the table.” 

Milah sighed, “My unfinished business was never Killian.” 

Rumple looked confused, “Then why…” 

“It's Baelfire. Our son.” Milah’s voice was low and sad. “I should have been there for him. Not... punished him because, well you know why now I suppose. I was selfish. I thought if I could... change that, do something generous... maybe I could finish what I need to." 

Rumple stated softly, “So you want to move on.” 

Milah nodded, “Yes. So I can... see him, and I can... say to him, 'Son, I'm... I'm sorry for... everything.'” 

Rumpled actually smiled, "He'll forgive you. I betrayed him as well. As a grown man, he re-entered my life, and he forgave me. He'll do the same for you.”

Milah looked askance, “That's a nice thought. It's just... I really want to see him again.”

“You will,” Rumple assured her. “And when you do... tell him hello from his papa.”

“So,” Milah carried on in the same vein. "Tell me about our grandson."

Rumple shook his head, “He’s something else, he’s a smart boy, he has the best of Bae in him.”

“One thing I don’t understand,” Milah asked. “Why do you hate her so much? Is it just because of Killian?”

Rumple shook his head, “I don’t hate her, I hate the choices she makes. I hate that she brought me here, that she got to see Bae. That despite everything she can just continue, and I hate that losing Bae didn’t break her the way losing the Pirate did, she’s infuriating.”

Milah sighed, “She was really a teenager?”

“That I can’t account for,” Rumple shrugged. “I think something about Neverland holds more than your physical self in stasis. Look at the Pirate. He was there for hundreds of years fixating on killing me, a handful of years here with outside influences and suddenly he is ready to forget everything that went before. And for what, a sniff of the saviour’s knickers?”

Milah objected, “That’s disgusting Rumple, she’s literally battling her way through hell for him. I think we can assume it’s pretty serious.”

Rumple sighed, “I could tell you that she was a mass murderer and he ate puppies and you’d still defend them. But not our boy? He knew she’d follow him so he made sure she got caught, simple.”

“Wait,” Milah asked in surprise, “He set her up? For pity’s sake Rumple, she wouldn’t even speak ill of him to me, and you think I’m seeing the worst in him? Perhaps we should just sit here quietly.”

Time passed slowly. Rumple checked his watch, “They should be back here by now.”

Milah seemed lost in the flickering from the river, “They all seem so lost.”

Rumple agreed, “Yes, yes they do.”

A flash of blue light signalled the entrance of a sleekly suited pale man with slicked hair and an air of insouciance. “You ridiculous woman, you couldn’t have kept your mouth shut for an hour more, I could have threatened the child of the woman he actually loves and had the dark one over a barrel. Well now you can join him in his torture, I have Fendrake’s title, which means I have this,” he holds up a tiny glass bottle with a flickering glimmer inside it. “This, dearies, is your daughter, her soul anyway, freely signed away by her father.”

“NO!” Milah screamed, reaching toward the vial.

“I’ll make it quick, Gold,” the dark god snarled, flickering his hair alight. ”You’ve been one of my best suppliers so I’ll offer you a deal. Deal with her and make sure they all stay where they belong and I’ll keep second chance number one and send you back to the new Mrs Dark-one and the new second chance, screw it up and I’ll let the Mrs know about your poor innocent baby you’ve allowed me to torture forever.”

Rumple dragged his hand through his hair, “Milah will tell them anyway.”

Hades sneered, “That sounds like a you problem,” and disappeared.

Rumple faced Milah with a hand over his face, she asked, “Rumple, what are you going to do?”

Rumple shook his head, “What you always told me to Milah; I’m going to take what I need.”

Milah’s eyes widened as she began to soar backward, hefted by Rumplestiltskin’s dark magic, flailing helplessly toward the damning mellifluousness.

The dark one’s ears echoed with a sound of the past as he could swear he heard the echo of Killian Jones screaming for her just as he had the first time he killed her.

There was a shimmer around Milah as Emma’s light magic grabbed her just before she hit the water and gently cradled her to the river bank.

“Milah! Milah? Milah!” gasped the bloodied and battered pirate, half sprinting, half falling down the stairs toward his long-lost love.

“Killian, I’m alright, I’m dead, but still dead, not more dead, thanks to your brilliant Emma,” Milah babbled. “You look like you’ve been through hell,” she smiled at her own joke.

Over their heads, Emma appeared to be trying to hold Rumple in place with sparkling white bands of light that he flicked away as if they were catkins on my coat. “Stop this Ms Swan, I have to get back. He’s threatening Belle and her very alive baby, just because it looks like the Pirate is choosing the dead one doesn’t mean I will.”

Milah looked up at Killian, “Hades has the soul of my baby, my lost daughter.”

Killian pulled himself to his feet, “Crocodile, a very wise mermaid once told me that villains never get their happy endings because villains always go about getting them the wrong way. We’d have helped you, you didn’t have to do this, how many times do you have to make the same bloody mistake?”

Rumplestiltskin screamed, a shriek filled with rage and hate, “How dare you Pirate," he snarled. "I was a good man before I met you: Before you destroyed my life.”

“I didn’t take a mallet to your foot you whimpering bastard,” Killian thundered, moving toward the prow of the boat. "Blame your father, blame your position in life, but stop blaming me for wanting to get her out from under your yoke. I only wish we’d taken Bae too and maybe he’d have had a chance to be a better man.”

With an ear-piercing shriek, Rumplestiltskin leapt toward the beleaguered Killian, aiming his dagger at his heart.

With a smooth parry, Killian disarmed him and faced him with the point of the blade. “This didn't end well for me last time and I’d rather not see what happens if I do this here. Step back old man, it’s over. I’ll help Belle for her own sake, not yours, and find a way to free yours and Milah’s babe too.”

Killian stepped back, shoving the dagger in the back of his belt, Rumple leapt for him again to be met by both Milah’s hand and Emma’s magic, flying backward his footing and his will lost, he sank into the shimmering waters, his hand reaching upward.

Killian grabbed the dagger and stared in disbelief as the name on it unravelled and disappeared. He put his hook to his chest, and stared wildly at both of the great loves of his life, willing no new word to appear, the dagger stayed blank, smooth, it felt different now, no whisper, no roar.

His knees buckled beneath him and two pairs of small, work-worn hands grabbed him before he crumpled. “He’s never really gone? It’s too much to hope,” Killian whispered, more to himself than anything else.

“Let’s not borrow trouble love,” Milah said.

Just as Emma said, “It’ll do for now, let’s go home, clearly, Hades, knew we were here so, shortcut?”

Milah looked at Emma with a half-smile, “I don’t know what that means, but sure.”

#Captain Swan #fanfic #CSSS2022

[vomitpukey]

I'm super new to this, but here's my OCs, I guess.

Most of them dont... have like... up to date ref sheets. Doodles will probably be posted sometime, maybe? Possibly? Prolly not.

Lots of weird shit covered in here. Don't press the read more if you're not wanting to see.. like... almost every uncomfortable thing imaginable. Like one of these poor souls is a human pet.

Yeah.

Jeremy Jones, simply referred to as Pet by a lot of people, is unfortunately dead to the public eye. He got surprise adopted by Ville when he was 12, and he has been raised perfectly normally since. Yep. Totally.

Jeremy usually wears nothing but a dog collar. Even after he gets out of Ville's clutches, he wears a choker for an odd sort of comfort.

Ville couldn't decide if he wanted a pet or a child, so Jeremy is both. Blud just kinda engrains that into his brain until it sticks. Jeremy is like.... early to mid-twenty something whenever i write about him being in Ville's care. I imagine by the time he's escaped Ville and gets help at the hospital he's in his late 20s, by the time he's well enough to be a functioning member of society again he's probably in his early 30s. I don't have a set age for him if you couldn't tell. /s

Jeremy respects his mother figure, Nessie, greatly. He tries his best to respect her boundaries once he's back into society, but he'd be lying if he said he doesn't miss the closest thing he's ever had to a real parent.

Ville Valentine is a being as old as time. He's a purple rabbit fuck that causes misery for seemingly everyone he's ever been around. He's, somehow, had multiple partners. Him and Nessie were married for a while, Nessie not realizing the literal torture her husband's child has been through to get so nice and obedient. She quickly divorces Ville once she realizes how truly he's wrecked Jeremy's psyche and regrets not taking the man with her when she left just about every day.

Ville's current partner is.... Mike. Ew.

Micheal Coxs is an absolute leech. He only truly likes one person: Ville Valentine. Any other relationships or connections he may attempt to have usually fall through because Mike... attempts to sacrifice them to Ville.

Mike is a self-proclaimed prophet of the rabbitman, the tiny little rat of a man doing his best to spread the gospel of his God.

Mike has... far too many things wrong with him. This fucker is quite literally jealous of Jeremy because he wants to be Ville's pet. Absolutely vile individual.

Vincent Valentine is Ville's brother. He doesn't use his powers to fuck with people and is generally chill. That's... about it, honestly. He and Nessie are like the only normal-ish people here istg.

Lockness Rivera is a farmer. She lives far too close to the dump than what should reasonably be allowed. Usually, she illegally grows her crops in said dump due to the soil there being surprisingly good. She used to live out in the country with her parents on their farm but decided to move when she met Ville. She was absolutely starstruck with the man, as was Ville with her, and her parents were happy she'd finally found the one.

And then everything went to shit.

Nessie has assumed, due to his rather childish way of speaking and his overall short appearance, that Jeremy really was a child. She had found the collar extremely weird, as well as the fact that her husband's kid was apparently named Pet... I wish the poor gal would've seen the blindingly red flags sooner. Ville always treated Jeremy nicer when Nessie was around. Sigh. She divorced him the second she'd walked in on Jeremy getting punished for God knows what, Nessie unable to take Jeremy with her due to a Jeremy Valentine not existing anywhere in any records.

#ocs #original character #oc info #dark fic #angst #jeremy jones #ville valentine #vincent valentine #Micheal Coxs #Jeremy #Ville #Vincent #Mike #lockness rivera #nessie #oc stuff

[restorativemeal]

Menu Four

Menu Four from Bishop and Carruthers' "The Vegetarian Adventure Cookbook"

Chilled Watermelon and Cucumber Soup:  Watermelon, cucumber, orange juice, natural yoghurt, mint leaves. 

Savoury Cheese Charlotte: wholemeal bread, butter, tasty cheddar cheese, eggs, mustard, milk, onion, salt, pepper. 

Avocado and Citrus Salad: iceberg lettuce, orange, avocado, lemon juice, salt, pepper. 

Grilled Tomatoes with Herbs: tomatoes, italian herbs, parmesan, salt, pepper. 

The week began with canceled plans, which was immediately unfortunate for it was my birthday week. In the culinary space, it was Week Eleven, I’d already covered Menu Eleven in Week Five, and covered Menu Five in Week Four. To finally address Bishop and Carruthers’ fourth menu felt like tying up a loose string and sewing up the final stitch of my 23rd year. Menu Four, the one I had skipped in September “due to seasonal reasons” was now a concrete example of the fact that it was November and the season was different and time was changing. Returning to one of the earlier menus should have seen the return of the experimental nature of the early days, unfortunately you can’t erase the knowledge of the way things are by taking people back to a section of a cookbook when things weren’t that way. 

Seasonal swindled watermelon.

I was working the late shift at work this week, so I walked over to the fruit store close to my home on Tuesday morning to pick up a watermelon. I accidentally swindled the lady at the checkout because she misread the $8.99 price tag as $3.99 and I didn’t say anything. After work I completed the grocery shop and then met with the friend who had canceled on me the night before for dinner. It was the first Tuesday since starting the cookbook that I’d left the house on a Tuesday to engage in an activity void of relevance to the menu that week. It was also the first week I hadn’t done my grocery shopping on Monday. Things really were changing. 

Chilled Watermelon and Cucumber Soup pre chilling and Mademoiselle Charlotte.

There were either going to be three or four guests on Wednesday night and it was the day before I officially entered my mid-twenties. I was starting to think about my cortisol levels, even though cooking the menus didn’t stress me out the same way that they did in weeks one, two, and three. I no longer timeline the cooking process and instead go by natural intuition. The Chilled Watermelon and Cucumber Soup was the first thing I prepared because I wanted it hidden in order to surprise my guests upon serving it. I blended it together in two batches, which proved difficult because the measurements varied across the batches. It was only in theory that the two mixtures I poured together in the silver bowl were the same mixture. It wasn’t as bright as I would have liked, more like the colour of pale skin. The Savoury Cheese Charlotte was easy to assemble but required a 45 minute baking time, it went into the oven at 7 50 and the oven shut down as it often does at around 8 25 when I went to put the tomatoes with herbs and parmesan inside of it for a grill. I had to push dinner time back to 9 PM. The oven switched back on after 15 minutes and the heat surged again, around this time I remembered I had forgotten to put the mustard in the egg mixture for the charlotte. I assembled the Avocado and Citrus Salad and plated the soup, garnishing it with mint leaves. My fourth guest canceled. Dinner was quiet with just three guests and myself and I loathed the Chilled Watermelon and Cucumber Soup. I unwrapped a present from a guest, a beautiful hand painting from the Sunday Market wrapped with ribbon and wrapping paper that said “Are You Happy??”. Two of the guests loved the Chilled Watermelon and Cucumber soup. There was a comment that I hadn’t shredded the lettuce small enough. I hadn’t. 

Dinner served and a "big" shred of lettuce.

I had promised myself in January that I would rise like a phoenix from the ashes for my 24th year. I likened the new age to a wave, a baptism almost. I wanted to go to a beach over the weekend to dive into a wave, but I didn’t do that. I wanted to pray to my rosary, but I didn’t do that either. 

#home cooking #vegetarian #recipes #self discovery #foodpics #cooking #foodblogger