#I did not lose a leg in vietnam

[ollieofthebeholder]

I think I've told this before, but he came to my city once when I was a kid and my parents got to go see him. It was sometime in late November or early December, and a key part of the city's building code for downtown is that all buildings must have Christmas lights permanently installed and wired to a single central switch for the "Grand Illumination" to start off the holiday season, so of course when you come in to fly all the buildings are lit up.

Mom still talks about how he came out and opened his set:

"I like coming to your city, because you outline your buildings."

some dudes like to talk a big game about how comedy suffers when people are afraid to offend but man, Mitch Hedberg was a white dude working in the era of peak offensive edgelord and his shit holds the fuck up so while most comedians will never come up with anything as timeless as “if carrots got you drunk, rabbits would be fucked up” they could at least make an effort

[webslingingslasher]

I’ve never done a request before

I got my hair cut and the hairdresser messed up my bangs :((( people have been telling me it looks okay and not too bad but I can’t stop fixating on the fact she cut too much and the ends are choppy :(((

Can you make a post where Peter comforts reader after a bad haircut! Thx in advance

how did this get so long? bestie, you inspired me

Bangs are not a normal hot girl thing. 

Bangs are a sad, hot girl thing. 

And you were a hot girl, but you were not sad, but you still have bangs and now you understand why bangs and mental breakdowns are associated. Because you look like you’ve had a mental breakdown. 

“It’s not that bad, baby. I’m sure of it.” Peter’s laugh echoes through the phone, you wish it would make you feel better, normally his childlike giggles and optimism could beat out the harshest, negative thoughts, but tonight it almost makes you mad. 

“This is my vietnam, peter. We have to break up, you can’t see me like this.” 

A bubbling laugh, “it can’t be that bad, it’s just different.” 

You run your fingers though your new fringe, it tapers oddly at the ends, one side definitely longer than the other. It’s just hair but it’s making you cry. 

“Imagine you go into Terry’s for a trim and he gives you a buzz cut, what then?” 

Peter sucks in air, “I’d have to dump you, no one should ever see that.” 

“So, you understand.” 

Peter hums on the line like a game of jeopardy, “how about you let me be the judge. If it’s as bad as you say it is, I'll let you dump me.” 

You tsk and shake your head on your side, you hear a siren blow by on Peter’s end. “See, that’s what we need to avoid, you can’t see me, your last memory of me needs to be a good one.” 

Peter lets out a breath, it’s sarcastic sympathy. “Too late, let me in.” 

You gasp, you leap off your bed and press your forehead against your window. When you close one eye and tilt nearly halfway around you can see the front of your building, sure enough your boyfriend is waiting to be buzzed in. In a panic you move to slap your hand against the bangs, you’re not ready, it’s so bad. 

“Nuh uh. Go home, not happening.” 

It was useless, he’d be climbing up the fire escape in ten seconds. You run around your room trying to collect things to hide your bangs behind. 

“Don’t make me climb up there in daylight.” He’s pouty. 

“I’m not, you can come back in three to six weeks when I don’t have bangs anymore.” 

Peter ignores you, “twenty seconds and I’m climbing.” 

You hold your breath, pressing back up against the window, you look at him. His phone pressed against his ear, he’s leaning against the outside gates. His gaze set on his wristwatch, he’s literally counting the seconds. 

A snicker, “I can feel you watching me.” 

“Unfair advantage.” 

 “Still looking, down to five seconds, baby.” 

“I’m not doing it, we’re broken up, remember?” 

Peter’s wrist lowers, he pulls away to look up at your window, there’s no way he can see you but he knows you’re there, it looks like he’s making direct eye contact. 

“You’re gonna make me do this?” 

“I’m not making you do anything, this could be considered trespassing you know. And if I were to pile more things on…” You’re speaking and watching him walk over to the side of your building, he’s on a mission. “this could be considered harassment, cause I did say we were broken up, and now you’re not..” He’s listening but not giving you any reaction, he tests the bar, you start to lose your train of thought, you really thought he wouldn’t do it. “you’re not.. You’re not stopping, peter, why aren’t you stopping?” 

Peter pulls himself up with one hand, his feet resting on the bottom rung, one leg rises for the second step. You slap the glass, it makes him look up at your room. “I’ll let you in! I’ll do it!” 

He narrows his eyes, he won’t move until you do. A whine sent you running to the front door, repeatedly hitting the button to open the door. 

“Now was that so hard?” 

“Manipulative!” 

“See you in like, thirty seconds.” 

“What’s with you and seconds?” 

“Shush.” 

You looked at your front door with crossed arms, just because you let him into the building doesn’t mean you’ll let him into your apartment. The doorknob wriggles, he couldn’t have thought it would be that easy. 

“Honey, I’m home.” 

You speak around a chewed nail, “no solicitors.” 

“I had special permission to come up here.” 

“No habla inglés?” 

A chuckle, “you can do better than that.” 

You think, one comes to you. “Actually, I don’t think my parents would like a boy in their home when they’re not here. Especially my ex boyfriend.” 

A small thump against the door, either his forehead or a weak knock. 

“Stop saying that, I don’t like it.” 

Your heart tugs, you were just trying to be funny. 

You rip the door open, “oh petey, I’m sorry. I didn’t-” you stop when you see his grin, he knows how to get you to open the door, tug at your heart strings. 

“Evil.” You try to close the door, his hand catches it. 

You narrow your eyes, he gives you a glance, “I’ll win.” 

You grunt but let him in, quickly heading to your room where you can nuzzle yourself in between pillows. Peter’s just as quick, doing his best to catch up as soon as possible. “Let me-” He tugs at your arm, you shake it off, “no, you’re not seeing it.” 

Diving into your bedsheets you fix the hoodie on your head, Peter follows. 

“I’m gonna do it.” 

His hands pull your hood away, he frowns at the beanie you pulled over your hair. 

“Baby, it can’t be that bad.” 

Your eyes glimmer, “it’s too short, and it’s all choppy and I hate them so much.” Your lower lip wobbles, all he can think to do is cup your face and kiss your forehead. 

“Maybe I can fix it.” 

He’s good at fixing things. You can trust him when he says that. 

You perk up, “you can?” 

Peter gestures to your hat, “let’s see the damage.” 

You tug it off to reveal a pinned fringe, you unveiled it with shame. Peter shakes it out, you keep your eyes closed, you don’t want to see his reaction. Delicate fingers pulled at strands of hair, when he had it all placed he took an honest look at it, tried to see past his bias of you being the prettiest human in the world, and noticed you were right. 

Not that he’d think you were lying, but possibly a tad dramatic. They came to the middle of your eyebrows, one side longer than the other, it almost looked like a ‘C’ curve. But, they looked good. They fit your face well, they make it highlight other features he had taken for granted. They just needed a little help. 

“I can’t do anything about the length, but I can even it up for you.” 

You still refused to look at him, “is it bad? Be honest.” 

Peter moved his neck trying to catch your eyes, “they look really good, I love ‘em. I know it’s a little janky now but in two weeks they’ll be perfect.” 

You look up, searching for a lie in his eyes. He’s telling the truth. 

“It’s so short.” 

He rubbed a thumb over your eyebrow, “just keep your eyebrows raised, they’ll never know.” 

“Permanent botox.” 

Peter grinned, he got you to feel better. He’s done his job, and it feels damn good. 

He made a suggestive face, “wanna role play hairdresser?”

[lunarriviera]

Su Wan is supposed to come over the next night with takeout, but it’s the day when everything goes to hell. Su Wan goes and gets himself kidnapped, and Li Cu is losing his mind, pacing around his apartment and feeling like he’s going to rip something apart with his bare hands.

Wu Xie is first through the door.

“Are you okay,” says Wu Xie, looking shaken. Behind him are Wang Pangzi and a man Li Cu has never seen before, but he knows immediately it’s the mute one. Yaba Zhang, Hei Xiazi called him. He’s tall and slender in tight black jeans and a dark blue hoodie, and he should look ridiculous with a sword slung across his back but he doesn’t. His face and eyes are unnaturally calm and frankly, he looks terrifying. He also doesn’t look that much older than Li Cu. No wonder Wu Xie has boyfriend problems.

“I’m fine,” Li Cu tells him, and hates the way his voice wavers. “It’s Su Wan. They’ve got Su Wan.”

Wu Xie and the mute guy look at each other. Some complicated communication passes between them, and without a word the mute guy—Zhang Qiling—glides out of the room again.

“Did you call Xiazi?” Wu Xie asks. Li Cu sits down on his desk abruptly, nerveless.

“He’s out of the country. South Vietnam, Su Wan said. Like for a while now.”

Wu Xie sits down beside Li Cu and, after a moment’s hesitation, offers him a cigarette from the pack. Li Cu takes it, lets Wu Xie light it and takes a long shaky drag. Wang Pangzi crosses his arms and just stands there. “Okay, start from the beginning. Tell me what you know.”

In clipped sentences Li Cu gives him the gist: six men all in black, black masks, trained, armed, broad fucking daylight. Su Wan had been waiting for his car to pick him up and Li Cu was a few blocks away when he saw, and headed for them at a dead sprint, all but throwing his body towards them. Two black Range Rovers. They had the bag over Su Wan’s head and had muscled him into one of the cars and taken off before Li Cu could get anywhere near them. He’d bent over in the street, panting, trying not to throw up, mouth metallic with saliva, legs shaking.

Then he called Wu Xie.

“The Wangs haven’t had time to regroup,” Wu Xie says, looking at Pangzi. “We didn’t leave much.”

Li Cu sees it all over again: the explosions, the compound flying into pieces, chunks of rubble. Su Nan. Shen Qiong, her body rolling towards him in the fallen leaves, forehead streaked with blood. He closes his eyes, hard, then opens them again. He cannot, cannot think about her right now. He has to think about Su Wan.

“Maybe not,” he says, “but they were definitely Wangs. And they didn’t hurt him.” He looks at Wu Xie. “I think they want you.”

“I know,” says Wu Xie.

“It’s a trap,” Li Cu says.

“I know,” Wu Xie says again. “I happen to be pretty good at those.”

you bear the scars, you've done your time (10440 words) by lunarriviera chapters: 2/2 fandom: 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei, 沙海 | Tomb of the Sea (TV) rating: explicit warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings relationships: Li Cu/Wu Xie, Li Cu/Yang Hao, Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling characters: Li Cu, Su Wan, Yang Hao, Wu Xie, Wang Pangzi, Zhang Qiling tags: Post-Canon, Age Difference, Mob Widow Wu Xie, Mob Boss Wu Xie, Consensual Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Canon-Typical Violence, Background Relationships, Past Child Abuse, Dark Wu Xie series: Part 2 of all your perfectly delivered lines

[terrence-silver]

"I found freedom losing all hope was freedom" with Vietnam twig or old terry please! Love your work!!🥰

---

Everyone trained like this --- those select few chosen ones.

But on them, him and John, the routine was excessively hard deliberately.

Climbing the remote slopes of Jirisan at 1915m. above ground come early dawn, they were burdened with the load of their equipment strapped to their backs in makeshift burlap sacks serving as rucksacks. Inside them, weights. Gi's. Rope. Only one canteen of water each, basic medicine to treat any unexpected injuries --- it was much like their time in Vietnam and the military years prior with the sole exception that they were now in possession of a dictionary of Korean. Master Kim Sun-Yung made it very clear right from the get-go; to learn a Korean style of fighting it was imperative to learn the native language first and immerse oneself fully because English wasn't a tongue he desired to speak in his own country or anywhere else if he could help it. Show the dedication and the respect needed to earn the rank of a disciple and a true acolyte of the arts is what they had to do. He had no intention to give his time of day to a pair of two Americans, regardless if he formerly taught their commanding officer, if it meant they could only communicate with basic stuttering and half-baked phrases, like dogs. He wanted the real thing. Demanded it. They didn't have to like him, but they had to show grit. Those were the rules and the price of admission for his classes and lessons. His isolated, ancient family compound and dojang on one of the forested, hidden peaks; the only way on and off was to climb and make the effort of showing how badly they wanted to be taught and what they were willing to do to get to that privileged position.

So, climb they did.

Across the Spine of the peninsula.

In rain.

In mist.

Scorching heat.

The crisp first snows of winter.

When they needed provisions, because nobody would give it to them.

Terry going first and John following suit, watching over him, attached to the same rope, grabbing unto steep jagged rocks and cold stone slabs with gloved hands, skillfully avoiding tangled tree-roots and the occasional loose pebble there to throw off their rhythm. In the beginning, his nails used to tear off and bleed until they painfully blackened and grew anew, taking with the flesh and blood, marred by frostbite and the pain, bandages sticking into his wounds and chafing into the meat --- his grip still infuriatingly and uncharacteristically gentle, even after 'Nam. After a while, the skin there hardened and his fingers became calloused --- iron instead of glass. Somehow larger. Like he grew overnight on willpower and effort alone. The soles of his feet no longer blistered, the calves on his legs on longer in agony and burning --- the idea of hurt more of a vague background concept and after-taught rather than a hinderance. It is like the climb itself and the exposure to nature's elements was a form of training there to prepare them to break concrete training dummies, bricks and blocks. There was no pain in this dojang. No 'ow'. No 'it hurts'. Terry never lets Johnny see in how much physical struggle he was in either. Wanted to make him proud. Show him how much he's advanced since that scared kid in 'Nam. During the night, though, as they camp out on the mountain tops, taking a break before counting on foot, Terry is overtaken by the sheer ache and he lays on his side in a makeshift tent, gritted teeth, wishing he could rip the bones out of his body and throw them off the cliff, slithering around like a snake instead.

The pain is to be transformative, he reminds himself.

As will be this loss of hope. They will be an investment.

He will attain a new sense of self through them.

He will attain strength. Ultimate mastery.

The assurance he will never be caged again.

Freedom.

But, he must pay with a piece of himself first; nothing was for free.

[mudaship39]

Heart of Fire Dragon Soul of Flame Phoenix and Sea Fairy Ocean Blood.

A spoken word poetry anthology book I wrote about being a disabled native (autistic, neurodivergent, chronically ill, & mentally ill disabled), a displaced disconnected state side diaspora, being an Asian Native (as a Vietnamese Kinh, French, Chinese Hoa, & Polynesian Tahitian Indigenous Pasifika person of color), & about being a QTIPOC (queer and trans third gender Indigenous person of color).

Chapter 15: A Graveyard of Ghosts

Keeping culture language and stories alive

By being a culture keeper language keeper and storykeeper 

Chronicling and archiving every facet of our racial and cultural identity 

Through written and spoken word

Through art 

Of poetry, music, dance, theater, and stories 

How much did we lose

When they invaded our lands

When they silenced our elders, healers, and ancestors

When they erased our stories and songs

Keeping culture stories and language alive 

By archiving and chronicling 

Every facet of our identities 

That was the history 

Legacy and tradition 

Responsibility and obligation

Honor and privilege

Of my family

To be a bulwark against that storm outside

A storm caused by settler colonizer invaders

Of death

Of genocide 

Of violence

Of displacement 

Of erasure

Sky father 

You ask me why I don’t speak

You ask me why I don’t sing 

I have always spoken 

I have always sang

I have written stories 

Ever since I was a child

When I first etched stories 

With  parchment, ink, & scroll

I have spoken

I have sang 

Ever since I was a preteen 

When I first stood in front of an audience

Performing as an actor

Performing as a poet

When I first spoke

When I first sang

When I first weaved together stories and songs

It was the closest I have ever been 

To my kin and community

To my elders and ancestors 

To my family whanau and clan hapua 

To my nation iwi

To my sacred mountain or male ancestor

To my sacred river or female ancestor 

I felt your mana 

I felt it 

I heard it

I thought to myself

This is how a voice

Can move mountains 

This is how a story 

Can move people

This is how a song

Can end wars

This is how a melody 

Can even calm storms

I am a storykeeper 

I am a culture keeper 

I am a language keeper 

I am a storyteller 

I am an orator 

I am a storykeeper 

Its like I always had an inherent ability

To weave stories and songs

To capture the imagination of my audience 

With my voice and my song 

Culture keepers, 

language keepers, 

& storykeepers 

That was our kuleana 

Language keepers

Keeping our tongue alive 

Storykeepers

Keeping stories and songs alive 

By written and spoken word

Culture keepers 

Keeping traditions, culture, & customs alive 

By archiving every facet of our identity 

A dynasty of storykeepers, orators, and storytellers

That is my ancestral armor 

To tell stories 

To sing songs

To etch them forever

With our voices and our songs

That was the responsibility and obligation

Of my family

A dynasty of storykeepers orators and storytellers

Some etch stories with ink, parchment, and scroll

Others etch stories with traditional tattoos

Many etch stories with an earth voice and ocean song

I wonder other than colorful tattoos of koi fish, a Buddha, Qilin, white lotus flowers, & a tiger

I wonder other than colorful Indigenous Pasifika tattoos of sharks, turtles, rays, whales, & dolphins 

How much room I need on my body

For traditional Polynesian Indigenous Pasifika black and white tattoos in Tahitian style

For traditional Kinh Indigenous tattoos of Vietnam 

On my neck, chest, back, face, arms, and legs 

To tell the stories of myself, my family, my clan, & my nation 

Before genocide

Before displacement 

This was always destined to be my duty

To uphold the obligation and responsibility 

Of my family, clan, & nation 

To tell their stories 

To sing their songs

It was always what I was meant to do

My kuleana of my ancestors and elders 

Years ago when you the sky father, the earth mother, & ocean mother

Years ago when the fire dragon, the sea fairy, & flame phoenix

Gave me a gift

A voice of fire

An earth voice

Gave me a present

A song of flame

An ocean song

You didn't need to teach me how to speak

You didn't need to teach me how to sing

I have always known how to speak

I have always known how to sing

When I spoke 

When I sang

It was the closest I ever was

To my kin, my elders, & my ancestors 

I felt their mana 

Flowing through me 

Through my mind, heart, & soul

Through my bones and my roots

Voices and melodies

Stories and songs

From hundreds of storekeepers 

From hundreds of language keepers 

From hundreds of culture keepers

From hundreds of stories and songs

From thousands of voices and melodies

A thousand generations 

Of fury and rage 

Of pain and anguish 

Of hatred and loathing 

Of grief and mourning 

Of trauma 

Of sorrow and torment 

Of a thousand generations of defiance

Of resilience

Of resistance

A thousand generations of existence

Of a thousand generations 

Of healing 

Of calm and serenity 

Of hope 

Of joy and happiness 

I spoke my own stories 

I sang my own songs 

I spoke with my voice

I sang with my melody

It was what I was always meant to do 

What I would always chose to do

Carry on the legacy and history 

The privilege and honor

The tradition 

The responsibility and obligation of my family

Since my first ancestor first spoke sang and danced

First weaved story and song together

I remember how happy you were

I remember how proud you were

I remember I know how at peace you were

When I chose to be an elder and healer

When I chose to be a storykeeper, language keeper, and cultural keeper

At the promise that your child 

Your heir 

Your descendant 

Your scion

Would keep the sacred tradition alive

That was almost erased 

That was almost extinguished

That was almost killed

By erasure

By violence 

By displacement

By genocide

I know sky father

I know ocean mother

I know earth mother

My duty 

My responsibility and obligation 

I know my families kuleana

I remember how hurt you were 

I know how angry you were 

I know how sad you were 

I know how afraid you were

When I stopped speaking

When I stopped singing

When I stopped telling stories

When I stopped singing songs

With my voice 

With my melody

Cuz of abuse and trauma

Because of bigotry 

Because of violence

When they tried to erase me 

Just like they did my people 

Just like they did my culture

Just like they did my family 

Just like they did your children

You were afraid that it was happening again 

Having to witness their abuse of your children again 

Having to witness them silence their stories and songs

Having to witness them erase your children’s voices and melodies

Having to bury another child 

Having to grieve another descendant 

Sky father 

You ask me why I don’t speak 

You ask me why I don’t sing 

You ask me why I don’t use my voice

You ask me why I don’t use my song

You ask me why I no longer speak, whisper, sing, scream, or roar

You of all people should know the grief and trauma in silence

You know why I can not speak your tongue 

Ripped from my mind even before I was born

You know why I can’t remember the names of certain gods, goddesses, & demigods 

Ripped from my heart and my soul even before I was even born

Language is the sword 

Religion is the whip

Of the colonizer to the colonized

My mouth grieves 

My tongue mourns

A tongue it does not remember how to speak

When I speak English 

When I try to speak French 

Is it oppression 

When I speak Vietnamese or Tiếng Việt

When I try to speak Chinese or Hànyǔ (汉语)

When I try to speak Tahitian or te reo maohi 

Is it empowerment

I grieve

I mourn 

Stories and songs 

Our land and seas

Our own bodies

Our art, our dances, our food, our songs 

Our customs, traditions, & culture

Turned to spectacles for haole colonizer enjoyment! 

We are homeless and unhoused on our own fucking land!

I grieve words stolen from us

Robbed from us by those haole state sanctioned schools

Where we were beaten for daring to speak our Indigenous lingua franca 

I grieve and I mourn tattoos

Ripped from us by the ban of our culture

I lament names robbed from us

Robbed from us by missionaries through forced conversion

Gods and goddesses from across the Polynesian, Micronesian, & Melanesian diaspora

We your children used to sing your all of names in consecrated hymns

The names we were forced to forget 

Ripped by force from our minds, our hearts, & our souls

Stolen from us by missionaries and forced conversion

We now grieve your names in consecrated whispers

Afraid to say your names too loudly 

Or else they would steal your names from us too

Just like they did our tongue 

And they did…

In those haole settler sanctioned schools! 

When they beat us! 

For speaking your tongue

When they beat us! 

For praying to you 

This was never supposed to happen!

Any of this! 

Land and seas defiled!

Sacred land desecrated!

Language, tattoos, & spirituality banned!

Stories and songs erased!

Voices and melodies silenced!

I don’t know how to grieve this…

I cry with tears of ocean water 

I don’t know how to mourn any of this…

I weep with tears of celestial fire

I have no words

To explain the pain and anguish in my mind

To explain the grief and trauma in my aura

To explain the fury and rage in my heart

To explain the sorrow and torment in my soul 

Being a native of color surviving post genocide 

Being displaced diaspora

Dealing with cultural genocide 

Having no community, links, & bonds

Being rootless in occupied stolen land 

That was never supposed to be my home 

Picking up the broken pieces of a shattered legacy 

Cultural genocide has stolen a lot from me

Displacement has robbed a lot from me

Trauma and abuse has taken a lot from me

It has taken everything from me

More than it already has…

More than it ever could…

Including my voice

Including my song

Now when I speak

Now when I sing

All I hear is silence

There is grief and trauma is silence 

You should know that well

Sky father 

Do not ask me why I am silent

Do not ask me why I don’t speak

Do not ask me why I don’t sing

If I could mourn and grieve my sorrow and torment

About picking up the pieces of a broken legacy

Fixing up the pieces of a broken home

Finding meaning rootless without community 

To teach me how to be an elder and healer

To teach me how to be a storykeeper, orator, and storyteller

To teach me how to be a storykeeper, language keeper, & culture keeper 

I’d drown the fucking world in my grief and anguish!

If I could voice every feeling of pain, grief, sorrow, hatred, & rage 

I ever had about being a marginalized Asian Native Pasifika 

I’d deafen this entire fucking world!

I’m poor and disabled 

In an ideal world 

I would be taken care of

This world would be accessible to me 

In terms of transportation, housing, marriage, & career

I am autistic, neurodivergent, & mentally ill disabled

In an ideal world

The way I think differently would be appreciate

Im queer, trans, & polyam

In an ideal world

Community of family, clan, & nation would come to me for advice and consul 

But this world post genocide isn’t fucking ideal now is it?!

I’m tired 

I’m so fucking tired 

I’m tired of singing

I’m tired of speaking

In a world that constantly tries to erase my stories

In a world that constantly tries to erase my songs

Just like it did my elders who were language, culture, & storykeepers 

I’m tired of fighting 

In a world that constantly doesn’t want me to exist

That constantly tries to erase me

Just like it did my ancestors

That constantly tries to silence my voice

That constantly tries to silence my song

Just like it did my kin 

Tell me!

What is the point of any of this?! 

I weep ocean tears

I cry earth tears 

This world keeps hurting me…

Especially as someone disabled 

As someone queer trans and polyam 

As a native of color 

I survived out of hate 

I survived out of rage 

I survived out of pain 

I survived out of spite 

I lived as an act of self love

I lived as an act of defiance

I live as a choice after healing 

I live as an act of political warfare 

I live because of calm and serenity 

I live because of joy and happiness 

Because I heal rather than hurt

Because I create rather than destroy 

I am a elder and healer

I am a culture keeper, language keeper, & storykeeper 

There is power in silence 

Healing is defiance

Rest is resilience 

There is power in a voice

There is power in a song

I know this 

I repeat it to myself like a mantra 

A thousand times 

In my earth, ocean, & sky mind

In my fire dragon heart 

In my sea fae aura 

In my flame phoenix soul 

It wants to speak 

It wants to sing

It wants to whisper

It wants to scream and roar 

Yet I had to heal myself

Before I can heal anyone else 

As an third gender elder and healer

My elders 

My ancestors 

They used to speak through me

They used to sing through me

I felt so much joy and contentment 

This library 

This archive

Of my family’s legacy, birthright, & bequest

This archive

This library 

Was a place of celebration 

Was a place of remembrance 

Was a place of healing

Should be filled with sculptures, paintings, & photos 

It should be filled with a symphony of sound

Thousands of voices

Thousands of songs

From hundreds of storytellers

From hundreds of orators

When I speak

When I sing

I shouldn't only hear only my own voice

I shouldn't only hear only my own song

I should hear the echoes

Of a thousand stories!

Of a thousand songs!

From hundreds of voices!

From hundreds of melodies!

From my elders and my ancestors

Of a thousand generations of pain and anguish!

Of a thousand generations of grief and mourning! 

Of a thousand generations of fury and rage!

Of a thousand generations of hatred and loathing!

Of a thousand generations of sorrow and torment!

Of a thousand generations of healing!

Of a thousand generations of resilience, resistance, & defiance!

Of a thousand generations of joy and happiness!

Of a thousand generations of serenity and peace!

Of a thousand generations of hope!

Or a hundred thousand generations of existence! 

The full spectrum of a native of color

Displaced disconnected diaspora

Queer and trans third gender native of color experience! 

It was supposed to be a bulwark! 

A fortress against that storm outside! 

Of violence!

Settler colonizer violence

Of death!

Death of a culture 

Of language, spirituality, customs, & traditions 

Of disconnection!

As displaced disconnected diaspora 

Rootless in a land that wasn’t meant to be my home! 

Of pain and trauma! 

Of being a queer trans third gender native

Of being a disabled native 

Of being an Asian native pasifika 

In a post colonial world 

Yet now I only hear silence…

There is a void and emptiness in my mind, my heart, & my soul 

I feel a sense of hopelessness…

There is something wrong here…

I hear my silence

I hear their silence

I hear our silence  

Collective grief and mourning 

There is trauma in grief

There is grief in silence

I understand why silence is so traumatic for us

Why silence is so triggering for us

I know it comes after violence 

It is so loud

Deafening quiet

Thunderous silence

Silence I know too well 

Grief and trauma that mirrors my own

Language keepers

Keeping our tongue alive 

Storykeepers

Keeping stories and songs alive 

By written and spoken word

Culture keepers 

Keeping traditions, culture, & customs alive 

By archiving every facet of our identity 

How much did we lose when they silenced your voices and melodies

How much did we lose when they erased your stories and songs

My elders and ancestors

You asked me to speak te reo maohi to you 

My mind and my mouth can’t respond to their voices and melodies! 

Even if my heart and my soul understands their stories and songs! 

This archive 

It was a place of healing, celebration, & remembrance 

Now it is only a place of mourning and grief 

This isn’t a library or archive of stories and songs

This is a graveyard or mausoleum of a family’s legacy

When I left this place

I heard your voice begging me to come back

I remember your regret 

I remember your grief 

I remember your sorrow 

I remember your pain

I was sorry 

That I could not speak

That I could not sing 

That I could not tell stories

That i could not sing songs

With my voice 

With my melody 

But I could not stay here 

That there was too much pain and trauma here

That there was too much grief and mourning here

Not a bastion 

Not an archive

Not a library 

But ruins 

A graveyard

Full of spirits 

Full of ghosts 

Full of memories 

My family communicates with the dead 

We can see and speak with the paranormal spiritual and supernatural 

The spirits talk to me 

And I talk to them

Yet what is so loud 

What is all around us 

Is grief and trauma corroding itself into everything

Like poison eating away at everything we hold dear

A bastion now turned into crumbling ruins 

I had to leave

To heal myself

To heal us

To heal them

To learn how to be an elder and healer again

To learn how to be a storykeeper, culture keeper, & language keeper again 

Now that I have returned here

After a journey of healing 

After a journey of connecting and reconnecting 

Ancestors and elders 

I see you all around me

I feel your presence 

But I also feel your absence… 

I hear you speaking to me

But I also hear your silence…

I hear your stories and songs

Erased by grief and trauma 

I hear your voices and melodies 

Silenced by violence 

I know what silence means…

As a survivor of trauma and abuse

It’s grieving trauma and violence

I shouldn’t know what it means

I know what silence means though 

As a native of color

I know what silence means 

It’s a people of storykeepers, culture keepers, & language keepers 

Grieving being displaced diaspora 

Grieving surviving post genocide

I wish you were here 

I say weeping sea fairy tears 

Sharing with me your mana 

You should be here

My family or whanau 

My clan or hapua 

My nation or iwi

My elders and ancestors 

Teaching me 

How to uphold my duty of being a storykeeper, culture keeper, & storykeeper 

How to fulfill my legacy and birthright of being a orator and storyteller 

How to uphold my responsibility and obligation of being a third gender elder and healer 

You should be here 

My community 

Giving me solace and comfort 

Maybe that’s why it hurt so much 

Maybe that’s why it broke me

I don’t know how to grieve and mourn 

What was robbed and stolen from me 

I understand silence

My elders and my ancestors

They tell me that they taveled across land and sea to find me

I see them

I see their silent tears

They see mine

I hear them

I hear their silent screams 

They hear mine 

Their earth stories robbed from them

Their ocean songs stolen from them

My voice of fire robbed from me

My song of flame stolen from me 

We are reflections of each other 

So alike in our pain and trauma it’s like staring into a mirror 

I have always heard their earth voices

I have always heard their ocean songs

It gave me a sense of peace and serenity 

It gave me joy and happiness

To feel their mana

Now I only hear silence

They have always heard my voice of fire

They have always heard my song of flame

It gave them calm and serenity 

It gave them hope 

It healed them 

Knowing I uphold their responsibility and obligation 

Knowing I fulfill my legacy and birthright 

Knowing I carried on this sacred tradition 

Now they only hear my silence

I am tired of silence 

We are tired of silence

My sacred mountain or male ancestor 

My sacred river or female ancestor

Are both holding my hands

My tane/kane, wahine/vahine, & third gender partners are pressing their foreheads to mine

I see my ancestors from the beginning 

They see me as a storykeeper, orator, & storyteller

Some are putting their hands on my back

They are sharing my hatred and loathing

They are sharing my fury and rage

They are sharing my sorrow and torment

They are sharing my calm and serenity 

They are sharing my hope 

They are whispering in my ear

They are passing down to me

Their stories

Their songs

I speak my own story

I sing my own song

I see my descendants

To the end 

They see me as an elder and healer

Some are putting their hands on my chest

They are sharing my pain and anguish

They are sharing my grief and mourning

They are sharing my joy and happiness

They are sharing my resistance and defiance 

I pass on my stories to them

I pass on my songs to them 

Ethereal phoenix wing

Celestial dragon wings

A ghostly dragon tail

Airy dragon claws

Intangible phoenix talons

Appear on my body made of earth, ocean, & sky

Unworldly bones made out of jade

Roots made out of white lotus flowers and hibiscus plants

Appear in my body forged from fire, flame, & water

I think to myself

If I speak

If I sing

If I once again chose to tell stories

If I once again chose to sing songs

This place will soon be filled with my elders voices

This place will soon be filled with my ancestors songs

This place will one day be filled with my descendant’s stories

This place will one day be filled with my descendant’s songs

[thatseventiesbitch]

Behind The Scenes Pictures of That ‘90s Show Sets!

Seeing The Hub again warms my heart, hbu? 🥰

[blackbat05]

Close Contact

Frank Castle x Reader

A/N: Frank and Reader are partners in this! An interesting take in Bed sharing AU? Hope y’all will like it and feedback is always appreciated!

Genre: PG-13, Fluff and Angst.

Notes: Happy 1.2k followers @wint3r-h3art! Been truly blessed to have known you and thank you for the challenge!

2300hrs,

���Frank, slow down. My leg can’t keep up.’ You tell him for what you believe to be the umpteenth time.

Your partner merely grunts but he makes an effort to minimize his strides. You’re not an idiot. You know he’s pissed off. Perhaps if you were in his shoes, you would be too.

For months, the two of you were chasing every lead on the notorious Kingpin, pulling all stops to even get a whiff of his trace.

Finally, Frank had tracked him down to Macau with rumors of a booming drug trade that involved very dubious clientele.

Everything was going well. Too well.

Firefight happening in split seconds, you raced to rescue a young woman who was about to be caught in the rain of bullets being exchanged.

Pushing her out of the way, you lose sight of the enemy. That’s how you earned two bullets - one in your leg and one at your side.

Breathing heavily, you focus all your energy to stay conscious. It definitely helped to push the unpleasant emotions you had, even if it was just temporary.

Reaching the motel, Frank sets you down gently at the side of the staircase, gruffly instructing you to stay put while he gets a room.

Leaving you under the flickering lights, your mind is allowed to run freely, wondering what went wrong. You knew you were good at your job, so why did it feel like you were a nuisance?

As the rain starts to fall, so do your tears. You were sick of being at the receiving end of such injustice. Impulsiveness overtaking you, you push yourself up, hobbling away from the motel. No way you were going to be under the radar of Frank’s silent glares.

The neon lights from the signboard are about to blind your vision. It probably doesn’t matter as you walk aimlessly, with no destination in sight.

You don’t know how long you have been away from home carrying out multiple back to back missions. All you knew is that you were starting to become very tired.

Texas. Cuba. India. Vietnam. Macau.

You didn’t know it was possible to be ignored across continents.

Caught up in your thoughts, you fail to see an oncoming light from a car. Before you can react, a rough hand grabs you by the wrist, pulling you towards them.

Frank.

‘I told you to wait for me right? Why don’t you ever listen?’

That broke something in you. Pushing him away with your free hand, you gave him a hard stare.

‘Leave me alone Castle. Since that’s what you always do.’ Turning away, you attempt to continue walking but without much success.

A sharp pain attacks your side, throwing you off balance. The street starts to dissolve and the artificial lights fade into darkness.

The last thing you hear is Frank calling out for your name.

***

Regaining consciousness, the dull pain brings you back to your senses.

Craning your neck, you find yourself lying on a bed with Frank sleeping beside you on a sofa that looks way too small for him.

You try to move, hissing in pain. This wakes Frank up immediately as he’s by your side checking on the wounds.

‘I’ve managed to stop the bleeding but we’ll have to check on it every three hours.’ He tells you.

At a loss of what to do next, you simply nod as a gesture of thanks. The next few seconds are painfully silent, as the both of you are thinking of words to fill the air.

‘I’m sorry.’

You turn to face him, surprised that he took the initiative for the first time. Still, you didn’t want to cave in that easily.

‘For?’

Frank’s expression was unreadable. He rubs the bridge of his nose. ‘I didn’t mean to belittle you. You’re good at what you do.’

‘Then why do I feel that you hate me? That you think that I’m a liability?’ You challenged him.

‘I don’t-’

‘If you think that I was a burden to you, you should have just left me to bleed out.’

Frank freezes, hands clenched behind his back. He knew it was your accumulated anger speaking, so why did it pierce his heart so badly?

‘Please don’t say that.’ His voice comes out in a tremble.

‘What? Leaving me to die? If you think my death inconveniences you, don’t worry.’ You were mildly confused at his behavior despite your venomous tone.

‘Do you really think so little of me?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Whenever I’m with you, I lose all my rationality. I couldn’t afford that, so I tried to push you away.’ Frank sighs, trying to calm down. ‘But what happened back there… it scared the shit out of me. I realized that if anything bad happened to you, it’s as good as killing me twice.’

He doesn’t know how to continue. So Frank settles for awkwardly staring at his feet.

‘Come here.’ You beckon him to come closer. Moving yourself to the edge of the bed, you wrap your arms around him, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

Frank initially stiffens at contact, but your scent embraces him warmly, telling him that it’s ok to be vulnerable in your presence.

Reluctantly releasing him from your embrace, you finally address the elephant in the room.

‘Have you been sleeping on that couch?’

Frank shrugs nonchalantly. ‘There was only one bed but that’s alright. Been in much tougher places.’ He sees you crinkle your nose in worry and can’t help but to feel a warm sensation in his heart.

‘I’m better now,’ you move towards the other end of the tiny bed, patting the empty space beside you. ‘Sleep here.’

Before he can reject, you shoot down all his excuses, insisting that he needs to get a good night’s rest.

Settling into bed, Frank refuses to fall asleep first. He wants to make sure that your wounds aren’t disturbing your rest. Upon seeing the steady rise and fall of your chest, Frank carefully brings you closer into his body.

Looking at your peaceful form, Frank is glad that he can finally be around you as his true self.

Because being at such close contact means that he will be able to protect you freely for eternity.

[petits-pois-carcinogenic]

I'm by no mean a historian, let alone a journalist (Thank God). But at the risk of playing armchair analysts, I've noticed that ever since WW2, there are mainly three tropes of conflicts, in matter of duration, that is:

First case: 4 days-long wars. Those where the power balance between belligerent factions is so unequal that there is no point in resisting or fighting back. Outpost guards just watch powerlessly entire regiments cruise drive through their checkpoints. It's basically what happened with the American invasion of Grenada in 1983, or the Russian invasion of Georgia in 2008, or even Crimea in 2014. Those are wars that end up seeing very little material damage and few victims (Crimea's invasion is even called "The war without a single shot fired" in Russia, which is an image they like a lot btw. Krutchev claimed America would fall without them firing a single shot too, few decades back).

How many Central and South Americans does the CIA need to kill before you realize socialism is bad? - Charlie Kirk

Second case: 4 weeks-long wars. Or the Blitzkriegs. The power balance is a bit more reasonable, but through coordination and shock&awe tactics, one invader sends the enemy to the mat by wreaking havoc. Destroying comms, bombing roads, bridges, rail tracks, or shredding the airforce/navy before it even takes off. Within a month, the defending army is folded. This is essentially how most of the allies fell during WW2 (Poland, France, Norway), and in more recent examples, it is how went the American invasion of Iraq, or the NATO-backed coup in Libya (Iraq evolved into a case 3, but Saddam's army still got swept within 40 days, give or take).

The Onion did release some bangers during that time, so maybe the Invasion was worth it after all

The third type, the worst of all, either when the power balance is fair, or when the fighting tactics are too different to compare: the dragging to a stalemate. A lot of destruction, a lot of death, civilian & military alike, but no winner in the end. Yeah, some skirmishes here and there to be claimed, but the losses are so that it is pointless to call those victories. The textbook case of "Tactical VS Strategic victory". Examples are Vietnam to the US, Algeria to France, Afghanistan to the Soviets (for the record, those three were the strongest armies of the Cold war, with nuclear armament). And the most iconic: The Iran-Iraq war: 8 years of conflict, 300.000 deaths on each side, hundreds of billions worth of dollars thrown into the cogs of war. Yet the borders have not moved a centimetre nor did the people in power. Almost a million people died for, in the literal sense of the term, nothing.

"Hey you ever heard of Verdun? Hell on Earth, chemical artillery, fruitless bloodbath. Sounds horrible. Let's try that!" - some iraqi/iranian general, probably

Back in February, when I heard the news of war, I expected it to be a case 1, the way it happened in Crimea back in 2014. Zelensky would run tails between legs. Russian tanks arrive in Kiev without firing a single shot and Ukraine would fall back into Russian tutelage. The international community gets pissed, shakes their finger. Dogs bark and the caravan moves on.

But that did not happen, a month in and Ukraine was still holding. I then betted that Zelensky could come to terms with an armistice à la Finnish winter war (Both sides lose, but having saved enough dignity to call it a victory). The Donbass is demilitarized, Donestk becomes a Karelia 2.00 and falls into Russian territory and the Azov battalion is sold out on the sacrificial altar. Putin, having filled his "Special operation" objectives (demilitarization, denazification, protection of russophones), can now toot his horn back in Moscow. Meanwhile, Zelensky can come back to Kiev as a hero: he saved Ukraine from getting eaten whole by the second army in the World, like Finland did 80 years ago.

It is tomorrow the day 250 of the conflict. Russia has since mobilized its civilians because the meat grinder needs more flesh and Zelensky is getting more and more bold and aggressive in its pleas for assistance to the West: Ukraine is a hill Putin's Russia will die on, literally. And no Russian (that desires to keep living in Russia, that is) can back down either. If/when Russia loses, the Western powers appear hell-bent to make Russians pay for all the wrongdoings in Ukraine for the passing 10 generations. "Russia will be carved, its economy dismantled, its relevancy wiped out!". Well, this is what Russian media claims at least, but it's hard to fully deny it either; the US doesn't give tens of billions monthly to Ukraine as a charity: like everything, it's an investment, it expects a return and I don't really see a war-torn Ukraine bringing it.

But to Russians, this conflict either ends two ways: with Russia's annihilation and its fall back to square (199)1, or Russia forcing the way through Ukraine to have a chance at living a life like it used to be before the conflict. The peace talks are far gone. In fact, peace is a word neither Ukrainians nor Russians want to hear right now: This war is ending with the capitulation of Ukraine, or Russia's.

[yes-this-account-is-alive]

Cypher x a quiet/secretive reader (She/her)

Like maybe he was first interested in her because of how secretive she was even if it did frustrate the hell out of him. I don’t know, I just love your writings and there is very little cypher content out there. Thank you.

aww that's so sweet! i'm flattered ^^ if you really like cypher content ii highly suggest you check out @agentgumsh0e! she loves cypher and writes for him a lot too!

You weren't a new agent, people just knew so little about you that you were practically one. Sova, with a lot of difficulty managed to track you down and invite you to the protocol. You both used to work together you see, but after you parted ways he lost all contact. Thankfully, he remembered the one piece of information you let him have: every year, you would be in Kiruna watching the northern lights during September.

Safe to say that he was shocked that you, save for your face and physique, looked completely different from the last time he saw you. But, considering how you were he couldn't say that he wasn't expecting it. As you watched the colors in the sky dance that mid-September night, you felt a familiar hand place itself onto your shoulder. You greeted him warmly and offered him marshmallows you had been roasting. He accepted them with a smile and started to converse, recruiting you in the process.

When you first came in, Cypher was already on the case. Hell, he was on the case way before that but what had him drop it for a while was the distinct lack of information there was on you. Now that he had the subject in proximity, he could do a little field work.

He approached you as you were cooking brunch for Sova and yourself, potatoey goodness sizzling on the pan and freshly made ones sitting on the ivory plate beside the stove. He started to make small talk as he brewed some coffee, trying to see what he could get from you. Unfortunate for him, you answered in short phrases and most of your answers were generic.

"So what's your favorite food, [Agent Name]?"

"I like everything."

Then a minute of silence until he asks another question.

The air was so god damn dry and he was losing it. How can someone have nothing interesting to share about themselves? If you were lying, he couldn't even tell! Nothing gave it away and you were very focused on cooking those damn pancakes. A few moments passed before you waved the man goodbye and went to sit down with Sova in the dining room.

Seeing as you weren't answering much, he decided to have a chat with Sova after you left to train in the range instead. To his disappointment, the initiator didn't have much to say about you either other than you loved travelling and could deliver insane punches. He took note of that and went back to his workshop.

Weeks passed by of this variation of Vogue's 100 questions and to his surprise (and thankfully to cease his frustration), he got SOMETHING. It was after he had helped you fix your intricately designed prosthetic legs.

"How is it?"

"Good."

You paced around the room, testing them out. He looked on in interest as you stood up on your toes as a ballerina would and held your leg straight up. A needle.

"I used to do ballet when I lived in France, shame I can't dance like I used to."

You waved him goodbye and exited his workshop. It wasn't the intel he wanted, but it shifted his interest in you for the sake of knowing everything to slight curiosity as you would with meeting someone new.

The second time you said something about yourself, he was listening intently. The two of you were just lounging around on the soft sofas in the living room. Most of the other agents had returned to their quarters or were practicing in the range so it was empty, save for you both.

You were drinking your own blend of coffee, Aamir had not seen anybody else drinking the same so he decided to try his luck and ask about it.

"Oh, I worked at a fairly bougie roastery when I was in Vietnam. Coffee there was perfect in quality and ever since I had a taste, I couldn't drink normal coffee anymore! I've spoiled myself quite a bit, haha."

It was the longest you had spoken at a time that day, he was all ears and when he heard you laugh? His heart, for the first time in a while skipped with joy. He was so enraptured by the little emotion you let ooze through your voice that he was stunned for a few seconds, before giving a quip in response upon seeing your gaze staring into his.

With each following conversation, you unveiled more snipets of your life. The info broker was hooked on each word. And, with each smile and giggle you sent his way, he found himself wanting to see them more and burn it into his memory.

Safe to say, you captured this man's heart without even trying. He'd sit down next to you during break and you'd tell him about the wonders you've seen. Off-handedly, you said you'd take him to see some of your favorite spots and honestly you nearly killed the man. He was blushing under that mask so hard, even Raze's most vibrant red spray paint couldn't compete.

He was in love, very much so.

Extras!

Oh, and don't tell him this: but you definitely saw the stink eyes he gave Sova. You'd just be talking to the initiator, reminiscing the good times you both had and Cypher--jealousy written all over that mask of his--would burn holes through Sova's back. He'd then drag you away to his workshop to ask for your opinion on something he was working on.

Sova noticed his actions as well but decided he wouldn't interfere for a while. He and the sentinel don't have the best of relationships but he trusted your judgement in people so he let it be. Brother figure Sova is looking out for you. He'd definitely murk the man if he did anything bad to you.

[swtki]

Dancing Days - Edward Cullen x Reader Smut

Anonymous said: 19&24 on edward smut? love ur writing!

A/N: Thank you so much :) also I’m so happy everyone is h*rny for Eddy. I decided I want to explore more period times with Edward, changing his persona in a certain decade, but still ultimately being in the same universe as cannon. This will play into the readers character a tad bit.

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SWEARING, S*X, VAMPIRES, ORAL SEX (MALE RECIEVING), VIRGIN! EDWARD, NON VIRGIN READER, GENDER NEUTURAL READER, MENTIONS OF WAR AND DEATH. 

19: “Fuck me like you want people to know”.

24. “Thing is, I’m a virgin”. 

_______________________________________

I brushed my hair into its usual part, making sure I looked flawless. The year was 1976, I was a senior in Highschool. It was a wonderful time to be a teenager, no longer afraid that my friends would die in Vietnam. Even in my dinky little Washington town, the culture was becoming our own. 

The Led Zeppelin record playing on my record player stopped suddenly, alerting me that I was no longer alone in my room. I turned, my expression soft as I saw my boyfriend, Edward.

“Whats up with you and this album? Everytime I come in, its always House of Th Holy on repeat.” I rolled my eyes, lifted the record in question off of the tray, and put it back snuggly in its case. 

“I can’t help it, Ed. Robert just speaks to me. I’m sure you’re like that with Louis Armstrong.” I waved my hand, walking back to my mirror to finish getting ready. 

“Maybe, but the music you listen to it’s...” Edward paused for a moment, sitting on my bed. “It’s suggestive, Y/N.” I turned to him, my eyebrow raised.

“Suggestive? What’s that supposed to mean?” I placed my hands on my hips, and waited for him to explain.

“Well, for one that one song says ‘Sipping booze’, I quite think that is blatant alcohol reference.” I looked at him, dumbfounded. Then, I started to laugh, and I walked over to him. Instinctually, he pushed his head into my chest, enjoying the comfort it brought him. 

“I love you, but god are we from two different Mars.” He chuckled, sending a rumble through my chest.

At school, I was an average kid. Fair grades, many friends, many ex friends. When Edward was paired up with me in math, I got through his cold, stone skin. At first, he was annoyed when I would fuck off, leaving him to do the work himself. Understandable, and once I realized how rude I was, I stopped. I talked to him, prodded him truthfully. I would ask him once we started dating if he had noticed me previously, because I had never noticed him. 

“Yes, I noticed that you were the only one who didn’t acknowledge me. Ironic I guess.” 

A year into our relationship, I would never let him go unnoticed. We walked the halls, hand in hand. Our outlooks were so different when it came to life. He was modest, I was free spirited. Edward was different from my boyfriends previously, I didn’t want to fuck things up, and I refused to even risk it. 

School went slowly that day, possibly because my head was focused on what I would ask Edward, my boyfriend of one year, about sex. About us and sex. 

I hadn’t told him that I wasn’t a virgin, I was worried he would only want a virgin girl, after all they can never look at you disappointed and say “I’ve had better.” A definite plus. Many a nights I tried to imagine him, moaning completely under my control. I wanted him, but I didn’t know if he wanted me. Surely in 50 years he had found a good fuck. I worried that he would be into someone else, forever tied to a vampiress. 

The end of the school day couldn’t have come sooner, my anxiety rising as I got into Edwards car, starting a long silent car ride. I tried to keep my mind off of it, an attempt to avoid the conversation until we were at my house. I kept my mind busy with the lush scenery outside of the passenger side window. 

“So... I know you want to ask me, and I know the answers to what I would ask you.” He said blatantly, putting the car in park outside my front lawn. 

“I don’t wanna talk out here Ed, lets go inside.” I swung my bag onto my shoulder. Thats the thing with Edward, I never have to say anything, just as long as I think it. 

My house was empty, making it easy for Edward to follow me upstairs to my room. I shut my door behind us, then turned to him. Unsure of what to say, I breathed in deeply.

“How long have you known that I wasn’t...you know?” He smiled, sitting on my plush navy sheets. 

“Y/N, I knew before I met you what I was getting into. Your ex had a lot of thoughts about that one night where you guys-” 

“Oh my god okay ew.” A blush rose upon my face, and I saw Edward laugh as he watched my body fill with embarassment. “Well why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

“I figured if it needed to be brought up, it would be. You and I aren’t exactly a physical couple so I didn’t worry too much.” I walked over to my bed, taking a seat next to him.

“I see...I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal for me so if you want to...” I bit my lip at him, his gaze turned to the other direction.

“Thing is, I’m a virgin.” My expression went from a seductive look, to a puzzled one. I wondered if I had heard him correctly. “I’m old school, Y/N. It wasn’t like how it is now when I was human. People didn’t just have sex in highschool, unless they were married because the man was off to war. So, it hasn’t been on the menu for me. You’re the first girl I’ve dated in fifty years, you know. And no, there was no vampiress or anything.” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t wanna scare you or push it or anything. It’s just you know-” 

“You want to touch me, to be touched by me.” his eyes trailed back to mine, looking deep into my soul.

“Yes, I want you, Edward.” I pressed my lips to his, pulling away jut as it got intense. I could feel his disappointment. “I want to...but I can’t let you down. Tomorrow night. I’ll call you and we can talk about everything we want out of it, I’ll give you a fucking fairytale, my love” I chuckled.

I called him that night as I had said I would. We talked about my first time, and everything I liked, followed by what he had seen on video, what he wanted to try, and his fears.

“I don’t want to kill you, darling.” He said.

“Then don’t. I won’t let you.” He laughed at me, enjoying my lack of seriousness.

The next night rolled along with a quick pace. I looked at the clock and saw that it was time for me to start getting ready. 

I made myself look simple, a small bit of makeup and hair product, but otherwise just a tank top and jeans. Sometimes, dating an old fashioned guy was a pain in the ass. Always complaining about suggestive behavior. But other times, my shoulders counted as being half nude.

“You look stunning, as per usual.” Edward said, stepping into my room. He was tense and barely moved. “I don’t know what to do..what usually happens with it if I’m not the one doing everything.”

If he had any blood flow, he would have been blushing right about then.

“We don’t have to do anything you know. We can just lay down and watch a movie if you want to, I just want to make you happy, Edward.” I walked over to him and put a strand of his messy auburn hair behind his ear. Without hesitation, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“I want to, thats the part that’s been eating me away ever since I met you. I want to make you feel good, I just don’t know if I’ll lose it and-“ I cut him off with a kiss.

“Even if you break my pelvis into pieces, I’ll still be happy. I’m always happy when I’m with you.” we both smiled, and suddenly the thick tension that once filled the room vanished. “I’ll take care of you tonight, just as long as you’re doing it for you. I just need to know you’re doing this for you, and you need to be sure you wont roll over afterwards and hate me.” I said, my hand clasped in his marble one.

“I want you, Y/N. I have no doubts that I’ll want you afterwards, too.”

I pushed his head down, level to my own. Our kiss was deep, filled with a years worth of hunger. My hands tugged on his hair, making him whimper. Suddenly, I felt my feet lift off the ground as Edward carried me to my bed. With a soft thump, the plush sheets surrounded my body. It was a contrast of warmth on my back, and Edwards cool body on my top.

His hands were balled into fists, clutching my duvet as if his life depended on it. I pulled away, panting for air.

“Sorry, I forget you need air.” He smirked. I rolled my eyes in response.

“Well, its a shame you don’t. Because I intend on taking your breath away.” we both made small laughs at my remark.

“What now?” He looked at me for guidance.

“Get on your back.” I said.

We switched positions, he was now on the bottom. My legs straddled his torso, I sight he visably enjoyed. I slithered my hands up to his head, cupping his face as I kissed him again. My left hand left its post, reaching down to the buttons on his shirt.

I paused, looking up at him once I got to the last button.

“Does it...work like normal or...” He threw his head back and laughed.

“It doesn’t have spikes, I can assure you its just like a humans. But Emmet did tell me to pull out so...I’m kind of worried about the implications of that but-“ I leaned down to shut him up with a kiss.

His hands were still at his side, resting on the bed. I picked up his wrists, and placed them on the side of my thighs. He squeezed them lightly.

My hands roamed over his bare chest, cool to the touch. I lached my lips onto his neck, causing his back to arch below me. I could feel his excitement beneath me, it gave me a big self esteem boost. His hand reached along my waist, tugging at my shirt. His eyes lit up at the sight of my bare chest. He reached for me but I pulled away to slide down onto my knees.

He looked confused, like I had left him high and dry.

“Sit on the edge.” I said softly, my knees burning slightly due to the rough carpet underneath them.

He rid himself of the unbottoned shirt, slidding over to me once finished. My hands slowly stroked his thighs, he was desperate for some type of touch.

I smiled, tugging on his belt until it came undone. He stayed silent, looking at me like I was the only thing in the world. I unbottoned the trousers, tugging on them. He kicked them off and was left in his breifs.

“Is it okay if I..” I looked up at him and he nodded frantically. I palmed him over his underwear, feeling how hard he had gotten from kissing. My fingers latched onto the waist band, pulling them down to reveal a pale yet pink cock. It wasn’t too big, but deffinitley satisfactory. I ran my finger over the tip, earning a small groan from the vampire. My eyes trailed up to him, so I could see him when I took him in my mouth.

He let out a breathy moan, eyes focused on my mouth. His lips were parted ever so slightly. I bobbed my head, and grotesquely sexual sounds arose from my throat. I felt Edward move a strant of hair out of my face, he looked at me like I was a god.

“Fuck..Y/N if you keep doing that there wont be anything for you, dear” He said in a breathy moan. I pulled back, my mouth feeling sore and tired. “Do you still want to?” He asked, grasping his hands on my waist.

“Yes, I fucking need you.” I threw off my jeans, I would worry about finding them later, I needed him. He layed back down, propping his head up on my pillows. Our lips collided in another kiss as I leveled myself with him.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, stroking his hard member.

“I’m sure.” He pecked my lips again as I got ontop of his lean figure. I spat in my hand, lubing up my needy hole.

“How do you want me to do this? I mean like slow? What do-“ He said with genuine worry.

“Fuck me like you want people to know” I whispered, “ Fuck me like you want the entire neighborhood to know that I’m yours and yours only.”

“I can make that happen, love.” He flipped me over, now being back to where we first started. He lined up his cock with my hole, running it around the tight area. I put my fingers in his hair, making a slight tug as he pushed into my body.

Pleasure filled my body as he filled me up, his cock stretched my insides in the right ways. Without pausing, he started to push his hips into mine, making sure not to hurt me.

He reached down to suck on my neck, adding to the pornagraphic moans in the room. My hands travled to his back, scratching my nails down the cold stone like skin. His moans echoed in my ear.

“Y/N, I can’t be on top I’m going to crush you” I laughed at him, tapping his side so he fell onto the bed. I swung my legs over him, sitting on his perfect cock.

“Perfect, fucking amazing.” He said as I steady myself onto him. His face was in a euphoric expression, the most relaxed I had ever seen him.

I began to rock my hips, sliding him in and out of me. His hands grabbed onto my hips, guiding me. Everything was a euphoric experience. My gut filled with that wonderful sensation.

“Edward I’m gonna cum, oh my god” I moaned out, picking up my pace.

Suddenly, the world went still. My eyes went black and I saw stars as my orgasm washed over me. My moans echoed in the room as my body twitched. A few thrusts up into my body and Edward pulled out of me, rubbing his cum out onto his hand.

I layed there panting while he sped to the bathroom, and came back with a clean cloth, wiping down my body. He put the cloth down, pulling up his underwear and handing me mine. I slipped the fabric on, slipping under the covers.

“Get in here, I wanna kiss you”

He laughed, obeying and slipping beside me. Our lips reunited in a soft clash.

“I love you so much, dear.”

[oftextmessages-a]

this is like the dumbest thought that’s ever popped into my head but like. aperture interns just standing around not doing their jobs, and cave comes in and says ‘i’m not paying you kids to stand around all day’ and one intern says ‘you’re not paying us at all sir’ and cave says ‘like i said, i’m not paying you, so get back to work’

[gleekto]

Fic: Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You (11/?)

Short Summary: Blaine coming of age in 1969. Columbia University. Hippie!Kurt. Elliott and Sebastian as Blaine’s mentor-friends. Unironic use of ‘groovy’. Coming out and fitting in and falling in love.

Amazing Poster by @caramelcoffeeaddict

For @slayediest who gave an inspired prompt for this way back when.

Full Chapter 1 (up to day eight) is now on AO3! Read it there for easy reading (and commenting!)

Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five, Day 6, Day Seven, Day Eight, Day Nine, Day 10

Day Eleven: Wren (Kurt)

"Is there something wrong with me?" Kurt announces as he walks into their dorm common room where Rachel, Jesse, and Quinn are sitting and talking. Jesse has his guitar and he can see from their eyes that they've been smoking.

"Do you need a drag? I have some still fresh back in my room but-"

"Not in the mood," Kurt dismisses. "I'm serious. I just came back from the Homophile League meeting,"

"Oh right!" Rachel claps her hands. "How was it?"

"I think he's about to tell us, Rachel," Quinn shakes her head.

"Blaine was there-"

"Ooooooh," They all coo in interest. "So you do like him, right? The hot guy from Ohio in your music history class."

"I didn't at all," Kurt sighs, defeated. "I honestly would never have noticed him if he hadn't done the dorm rap. Pretty eyes and all. He just looked like everybody else. But I did notice him at the dorm rap. Like he's smart, and funny, and it turns out we have a lot in common. We've kind of become friends."

"That's what you hoped after the dorm rap!" Rachel is too enthusiastic.

"So back to my question - is there something wrong with me?"

"He doesn't like you back?" Jesse seems skeptical.

"Negative," Kurt shakes his head. "And he's not subtle about it either. He literally suggested that I might get lucky and meet someone new at the dance next week. I don't think he thinks of me like that. Maybe I'm too girly, or edgy or something."

Rachel, Quinn, and Jesse all exchange looks. "Have you tried to tell him?" Quinn asks.

"That's a bad idea," Kurt says flatly.

"What do you have to lose?" Jesse asks.

"Only my pride, I guess." Kurt sighs. It's so unfair. Especially because Blaine walked into his world and his life and made the connection. And now he's stuck with the crush.

...

After class the next day, Blaine asks Kurt to walk with him and grab a coffee. Again. What is Kurt supposed to think? Just that it's a beautiful spring day to enjoy the warm sun and the chirping wrens on a platonic walk with a friend? Talk about mixed messages.

Blaine is chatty and in a good mood. "You said the hippies just found you?"

"Quinn found me."

"Yeah, so I mean do you consider yourself a hippie, like part of the movement?" They're sitting on the grass under a tree in the middle of campus, sipping their coffees.

Kurt knocks his leg and smiles. "Why? You have a problem with hippies? Pro-war, pro-guns, anti-sex?"

"Definitely not," Blaine blushes. "We should definitely get out of Vietnam, have gun control, and well, I'm in favor of sex-" He looks at Kurt meaningfully though he's sure they're both about to burst out laughing. "As long as I'm included."

"The hippies would include us," Kurt realizes how that sounds. "I mean gay people. At least my hippies would-" He thinks about how his friends are trying to encourage him to have this. To tell Blaine. "So I guess I fit in. I've got the esthetic, you've got to admit."

"Definitely. Do you - you know," Blaine makes a gesture of smoking with his two fingers.

"Smoke weed?" Kurt nods. "When I feel like it. I have some in my backpack - do you want some?"

"Me? Oh no, I've never-"

"Happy to share if you want to try," Kurt says with no pressure. "I hadn't before I came here. It's fun. In moderation. You'll never catch me high in a class or sitting out on the steps in the middle of the day."

"So there's a conservative guy in you yet," Blaine teases.

"Is there a hippie guy in you?"

Blaine seems to contemplate for a moment. "Sure. Why not? First time for everything, right?"

Kurt lights the joint he has stashed at the bottom of his backpack pocket, takes a long drag, and passes it to Blaine. "Be careful not to-" But Blaine takes a big inhale and coughs and sputters. "It might burn?" Kurt says.

"Thanks," Blaine coughs but he gets the hang of it on the next drag. "I'm a natural."

"Don't get any ideas," Kurt shakes his head. "I won't be responsible for corrupting the nerd from my music history class."

"How do you know I'm a nerd?"

"I sit beside you and see your notes. And you introduced yourself to me by asking for homework questions. I'm a nerd too. I just hide it well."

"You do," Blaine nods. "Oh I'm feeling it," Blaine says, lying himself down on the grass. "So what's your type?" And that's a non-sequitur which Kurt blames on the weed. "In guys, I mean - is it a jock, or an intellectual or-"

"Not a jock," Kurt dismisses. He lies down beside Blaine so they can look at the now setting sun. "I've had enough bad experiences with football bullies to keep me away for a lifetime. I don't know, really. What about you?"

"I don't know," Blaine closes his eyes and then opens them again. Bloodshot but still pretty. "I've never really been anyone's boyfriend."

"Me neither," Kurt says quickly. I mean it shouldn't be a surprise. They're 19 year old gay kids from small town Ohio - not exactly San Francisco. "I think nerds can be kind of cute." Kurt says it knowing he's hinting. He hears his friends' advice in his head and somehow it seems safer while marijuana courses through their veins. It's an excuse in the morning if it doesn't go well.

"Nerds, huh?" Blaine turns his face to him. "You said I was a nerd." No shit sherlock. He feels Blaine's leg pressed against his. He wants to hold the moment.

"I did," Kurt takes a deep breath. "So I'm just wondering," He's sure this is a bad idea, "Is there a reason this," He gestures between them, "isn't happening? Me and you, I mean." He closes his eyes quickly from embarrassment. When he opens them Blaine is lying there looking shocked. Not repulsed, but entirely surprised. And a bit scared.

"Am I that clueless?" Is what Blaine says, almost to himself.

Ugh bad pot-induced decision.

...(Blaine)

Kurt did just say what Blaine thinks he said. He's high and cloudy but Kurt definitely suggested that this, that they, should be happening. Blaine's ears start ringing - some kind of an internal alarm bell. Kurt is literally saying everything Blaine has wanted to hear, and they're here lying on the grass in the sunset. And he's high. His head feels fuzzy, his hands feel tingly, and Kurt wants him. And he wants Kurt.

But ugh not right now. His judgment is clouded, Kurt's judgment is clouded - What if Kurt didn't really mean it? His heart is racing. Elliott told him Kurt liked him but he wouldn't let himself believe. And now Kurt is telling him plain and simple but they're not sober and Kurt deserves much better than his current mental state.

He sits up. "Kurt," He looks at him, defeated. "I really really care about you," and Kurt looks so disappointed, it's painful. "I'm high," He says as if Kurt will understand. "I just don't want to screw this up."

He knows he has already. Elliott warned him. But the dance is tomorrow, if Kurt can wait one more day. If he'll still talk to him. Tomorrow.

[cocakhoala-blog]

And just like that, I’m in the Philippines. After Deadbeats I was gone the entire next day. Luckily for me I was already packed. We spent Sunday morning at the swap meet and got some really good pork belly and rice. The mangoes were alright. Afterwards we went back home where I proceeded to sleep for the rest of the day. Looking back, I got to drive around 300 miles while we were running errands and it was a pretty great experience. Especially nice in an old daily. It’s nice that I fixed Kai’s subwoofer too.

Monday was smooth, we got up got Wendy’s and got a ride to the airport. Security was pretty easy, I thought I would have taken longer but it was okay. I did notice they were pulling a lot of people aside though. Apparently, this was one of Asiana’s first flights from Honolulu to Korea in over two years. They had me do a survey and gave me this extra hygiene bag that they give you for the flight. It had eye masks for sleeping, a comb, slippers, socks, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and some gels. It was pretty nice, there was barely anyone on the flight and I got to take up a whole middle row so I could stretch my legs and sleep. Eleven hours later, I was in Korea. I had to do another security check but it was pretty quick. Boarding for the second flight started at 6:00pm but we got off the plane at 6:30. Luckily, the flight was delayed but as soon as we got to the gate, we were boarding. This Asiana flight was way different compared to the first one, full of people and little space. This was a relatively short flight, at 4 hours, and just like that, we’re in the Philippines.

We landed at midnight and got off the plane relatively quickly but were then put into a room so that they could check our COVID information and that took a minute. The process was pretty alright, and since there were so many people, everyone was just focused on getting things moving. We immediately found our bags, they x rayed our carry on bags, and we were out into the wide world. It took one look forward and we saw Kai’s parents and a family friend. We stopped by a Jolibee where I bought two Jolly Hotdogs and a Coca Cola. We also stopped for the restroom. Also, relatively nice. Btw, Jolly Hotdogs aren’t sold in America anymore therefore I feel elite, eating Jolly Hotdogs in the motherland of Jolly Hotdogs. I slept on the four hour ride but not too well. I was sitting in the back of a minivan, and when I put the seat back, my head would hit the glass. Doesn’t promote good feelings when I see cars driving in Manila like I would drive a scooter in Vietnam. Some of the roads get narrow and so cars are supposed to drive in the middle of two lanes to let other cars pass. Very small boundaries. It was also raining and all these cars are humid as fuck looking like rainforests on the inside. So yeah. I’m not putting my head in the crumple zone. We get to the house at 4:30 and get settled in Kai’s old room. It’s a pretty nice house, I’ll have to take more pictures. There’s a lot of space too and even two gates (it seems they’re unhappy about the gates though). I take a poop, grab some water in a plastic pot and flush it down the toilet a few times, and I turn on the shower head. There’s no hot water but I’m guessing in a hot ass country like this, there’s no need for hot water. I’d say it’s as warm as my shower head at home when it’s starting to lose heat. Pretty nice and consistent I’d say. I end up staying up and Kai and I just hang out on our phones until breakfast at 7:30. It was pretty good, some sausages, salted egg, rice, and pan de sal. That’s when we decide to go outside an explore.

We got a tricycle ride to the city center. It’s walking distance, but—sun. We checked out a motorcycle parts shop because the shopping center wasn’t open yet and it didn’t really have anything promising. They didn’t let us look around and wander. They sold motorcycle helmets though so I might go look for one when I get my license here. More on that later. We went back to the shopping center and bought a mobile hotspot and two SIM cards. We walked back home and setting up the SIM cards was a pain. I’d rather not explain it. I’ve checked Canvas and so I’ll get to doing that… now.

I love mangoes

[missymurphy1985]

The Strip Club - Cillian Murphy X Female OC

A/N - Set in 2010, and I've used fictional names for his wife/children

A night out with his brother and closest friends doesn't end the way Cillian expects it to.

Warning - Smut

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone

"I'm really not up for this Pad, can't we just go for a beer at the Anchor instead?" Cillian complained to his younger brother.

"You haven't been out with us in months, Dermot has had this all planned out for ages Cill, come on!" He rolled his eyes, knowing he couldn't get out of it, no matter what he said. Pulling his boots on, the two of them left the house, getting into the waiting taxi outside.

Walking into the strip club via the VIP entrance at the back, Cillian kept his head low and his brother and friends close around him so as not to be seen. Last thing he needed was photos in the press of him coming here!

"We're here for The Secret Show? Booked under Padraig Murphy?" Paddy told the bouncer, who checked everyone's ID and led them through a curtained off section at the back of the club. No cameras, no members of the public, completely private.

The boys sat around the stage area, a waitress coming over to take their drinks order. Once she returned with them, the lights dimmed and the music from the movie Burlesque began to play through the speakers. A single spotlight on a stool on the stage.

Cillian could feel his cheeks burning, he genuinely had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He'd never been to a place like this, had always avoided them like the plague. The idea of a stripper had never appealed to him. Someone he'd never met, stripping to her underwear to please him and his drunk friends and even more cringe-worthy, his little brother, was not something he was remotely interested in.

The dancer came out, swaying her hips as she walked to the stool. Perching herself on it, legs crossed. Dressed in a black corset, short black skirt, fishnet stockings, black stiletto heels, and a black masquerade mask covering the top half of her face. Her long, silky brown hair flowing loosely down her back.

She was beautiful, there was no mistaking it. Cillian spotted Paddy nudging Dermot and whispering something in his ear and rolled his eyes. Probably something incredibly inappropriate about the young girl in front of them. He couldn't help feel sorry for her - lecherous old men creeping all over her as she danced for them, throwing money at her like she was a cheap prostitute...

The routine began. Cillian remained stoic, arms folded across his chest while the other lads cheered, louder each time an item of clothing was sexily removed from her lithe body. Her heels had been kicked off, her stockings slowly moving down her thighs, he couldn't watch any more. Standing, he made his way over to the bar to order another Guinness.

"I'd have thought you'd be over there enjoying the show with your friends?" A familiar voice from behind the bar startled him.

"Kate?"

"Long time no see," she smiled.

"Wow! Last person I expected to bump into tonight, how are you?"

"I'm okay, I see you're doing pretty well too." He nodded, his latest film, Inception, had been a box office smash. Professionally, at least, he could say he was doing well.

"Yeah, I guess so." His head lowered slightly, as Kate placed his pint in front of him.

"You guess? You okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, yeah I'm fine. Although, no disrespect? Kinda wish I was anywhere but here right now!" He chuckled. Kate smirked.

"I get off in 20minutes, fancy a walk?"

"You know what, I'll take you up on that Kate. I'll meet you outside?"

"Deal."

Thirty minutes later, after Cillian had made his excuses to his brother, he was smoking a cigarette walking along the canal with Kate at his side.

"Did you travel the world like you planned after school?" He asked, stubbing the cigarette out on the floor.

"I did, a full year of travelling before I went to university."

"Where did you go?" She told him about Australia, backpacking across Vietnam and Thailand, before heading to California for three months on a work visa.

"It was amazing. Truly wonderful. I met some great people over there. But all good things must come to an end, right?" She looked at him, and quickly looked away.

"I couldn't stand in the way of you living your dream Kate, you know that. We ended on grand terms though, right?" She linked her arm through his and squeezed it.

"We did. Promised we'd stay in touch though didn't we..."

"Yeah, I admit that was my fault. Tanya wasn't overly keen on you was she?" His ex wife. Or soon to be ex, anyway.

"I'm sorry about what happened Cill. Are you okay?"

"I'm getting there, you know? If she'd rather fuck her friend's husband instead of her own, then so be it," he smiled as much as he could.

"Well if it's any consolation, she's clearly lost her mind." She squeezed his arm again, and he found himself moving it so it was wrapped over her shoulders. He could feel her shivering and pulled her a little tighter against him.

They approached a small apartment block around 100yards further down the canal, and Kate dug her keys out of her handbag.

"Thanks for walking me home. It was good to see you again," she smiled, unhooking herself from him.

"Maybe I could - " he was interrupted by the door opening, and a younger girl stood in the doorway with a toddler in her arms.

"I'm so sorry Kate, I gave her Calpol an hour ago but I couldn't get her to settle..."

"Hey it's okay, I'll take her now. Get yourself home sis, I'll see you tomorrow yeah?" The young girl nodded, before nodding at Cillian and heading off down the street.

"Liane grew up!" Cillian laughed. The last time he'd seen her she'd still been in primary school. "And who's this little one?" He reached for the toddlers hand, grinning when she took his little finger and squeezed it.

"This is my daughter, Lily."

"Well Lily, you've certainly got your mama's eyes, haven't you?" Cillian glanced quickly at Kate's left hand.

"Her Dad isn't around Cill, I'm not married." He bent his head down. Busted.

"Then am I allowed in for a coffee at least?"

"If you don't mind sharing me with a teething baby, then yes, you can come in!" Kate led him through and fetched the teething granules from the cupboard and a teething ring from the freezer. Cillian offered to take Lily while she prepped a cup of warm milk for her.

Seeing him bounce her on his arm made her smile.

"Reminds me of Jack and Niamh when they were teething. Had to be moving around, constantly needed distraction. You okay if I take her a walk around after? See if I still have the magic touch?"

Kate nodded, and took her back to give her the nurofen, teething granules, followed by her sippy cup of warm milk. Once she'd finished, Cillian offered his arms out for her. She reached up for him, surprising Kate as she normally shied away from strangers, and off they went around the apartment. She watched from a distance as he took her around, showing her the ornaments on the window ledge, her reflection in the mirror, bouncing her up and down as she giggled lightly.

After around fifteen minutes, he made his way over to the radio in the kitchen, fiddling with the buttons before he found the station he was looking for. Soft, gentle classical music played through the speakers. He turned the volume down so it was barely audible, and leaned Lily into his shoulder, rocking her side to side gently. She nuzzled into his neck, Kate watching, smiling, as her baby's eyes grew heavier. She could feel past feelings coming back as she watched them. As much as she'd pretended losing him when he left University to pursue his acting career was fine and she had gotten over it, she never had. And now, bumping into him again all these years later, those feelings were coming back with some force.

Lily was snoring gently in his arms now, and Kate gently took her from him. Taking her into a small room at the back of the apartment. Coming out ten minutes later and closing the door as quietly as possible.

"I'd say you still have it Cill," she laughed, switching the baby monitor on in the corner of the living room where he sat on the sofa, two glasses of red wine in front of him. "You read my mind."

She sat next to him, clinking her glass with his.

"Did you meet her Dad while you were travelling?" He asked, after taking a sip.

"Yeah.. he erm.. he died not long ago. Cancer."

"Shit I'm sorry... Oh Kate that's awful..."

"No it's okay.. it was just a brief fling you know, we weren't together or anything. But it's sad for her. She'll never have that father figure. Just me and her against the world now." She felt his fingers brush her hair out of her face and gently down her cheek. Turning to him, she put her glass down on the table and turned to face him. He placed his down too, and moved closer.

Their faces centimetres apart, she could feel his warm breath against her own.

"I should probably go..."

"Again?" She whispered. She didn't want him to leave her again, as much as he had no intention of actually leaving. Their lips met, a kiss that was fifteen years overdue.

"I haven't spent a day not thinking about you, Kate..." He smiled, pulling away.

"You mean that, or are you just looking to get your end away?"

"Which is why I'm going to kiss you now, and go home. But I want to see you again. If I can?"

"And what if I don't want you to go home..." She kissed him again, this time straddling her legs over his thighs on the sofa. Even if this was a one night stand for him, she needed him, and he wasn't getting away this time.

"Then I'm not going home." His hips rose to meet hers, gyrating over his erection under his jeans, both of them removing each others clothes in record time until they were left in just their underwear.

"My god, you're incredible... Let me taste you..." He flipped her onto her back on the sofa, spreading her legs and placing gentle kisses along the inside of her thighs. His fingers teasing against her underwear, softly caressing her mound, before sliding a finger inside and groaning at how wet she was already.

"Cillian please...." She almost whimpered underneath him, her hips squirming against his lips and fingers. He pulled her underwear down her legs, and unceremoniously threw them across the room before moving his lips to her open slit, drawing his tongue slowly up and down her folds. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the cry of ecstacy within it so as not to wake Lily.

"You need to be quiet, you're not going to want me to stop once I've started Kate..." He smirked, before attacking her clit with his mouth, drawing it between his lips, rolling his tongue over it, increasing the pressure. His fingers pressing into her thighs, surely leaving bruises, as his mouth worked magic on her, her hips rocking against him.

"Oh god... That's so good, please don't stop..." Her words coming out in breathy little moans as her orgasm built quickly. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him where she needed him. Two fingers suddenly entered her, making her gasp as they found the small bundle of nerves deep inside her, pushing and rubbing against it hard, matching his motions against her clit. Suddenly his mouth was off her, his fingers pumping into her, the palm of his hand pressed against her clit now as he moved his body up, his lips now pressed to hers. The taste of herself on him turned her on further, and she could feel herself letting go.

"Cum for me..." He whispered in her ear, sending her over the edge with a small cry into his shoulder, her body writhing against him. His fingers removed, replaced with his now solid cock as it pushed inside her quickly, picking up the same pace his hands were, hard and fast thrusts as he hooked her leg up under his elbow, forcing himself deeper.

Her nails scraped over his shoulders as she buried her face into his neck, frantic thrusts against each other, fifteen years of buried feelings coming out of them with a force that took her breath away.

"Yes... God yes..." Her moans into his neck drove him wild, her walls contracting around him pushing him closer. He could feel another orgasm building inside her, and angled his thrusts to hit that magical spot inside her perfectly.

"I'm so close Kate... So fucking close, you feel so good around me..."

"Cum inside me Cillian, please..." He grunted against her ear, nibbling on it gently as his hips pounded into her relentlessly now. Reaching his high, he flooded her, spilling inside her with a deep groan into her neck, sending her into her second orgasm, her legs wrapping tightly around his back pulling him even deeper inside her as she felt his cock pulsate, emptying into her.

He rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting, smiles forming as they looked into each others eyes.

"You're on the pill, right?" He chuckled, coming back to his senses.

"No." He lifted his head quickly.

"What?" She started to giggle, grinning at him.

"I'm on the coil, you're fine, don't worry!" He rested his head back into her neck, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Good to hear. I think three kids between us is enough for now, don't you?"

"What do you mean, for now?"

"I made the biggest mistake of my life leaving you Kate, I'm not planning on doing it again," his lips gently kissed the side of her neck, running the tip of his nose along her jawline softly.

He pulled out of her with a groan, taking her hand and leading her into her bedroom - he'd clocked which one it was earlier that evening.

Kate smiled watching him grow hard again, knowing not much sleeping was going to be done once they got in there...

[terrence-silver]

I don’t really think people honestly comprehend how potentially awesome a Terry Silver ! Naga AU is.

- Terry wearing intricate masks and fabricating equally intricate personas for himself as a way to navigate the human world and hide himself in their midst, whether as a humble, kindly dojo owner, a supposedly mellowed out retired businessman, a corrupt, arrogant billionaire --- because even a morally decrepit person is better then being outed as an actual serpentine eldritch monster, right? At least the morally decrepit person is still human. What Terry Silver truly is isn’t.

- His pathological need for control and tendency to obsess over things takes on a new dimension. If Terry loses control of himself and his surroundings for all but a second, he might transform and reveal his tail, his eyes, his scales, his forked tongue, and someone who isn’t supposed to see might just see --- and Terry very acutely remembers the last time he was in a cage. He doesn’t intend to go back to one.

- Furthermore, John being the first and perhaps only human who knows. John being the one who knew since Vietnam and who accepted him anyway. Who saved him anyway. Who fought in his stead above a deadly pit. Terry, or rather, Twig, wouldn’t die even if he was defeated and cast into the viper’s den --- well, maybe he’d break a rib or an arm or a leg on the way tumbling down at best. He’d simply transform, in front of everyone, against his own will, heeding to the call of his nature in the close proximity of all of those snakes. Something worse then dying would happen to him. He’d be discovered for the freak that he is, in front his own fellow soldiers, commanding officer and in front of his enemies too.

- The devotion to John transcending all reason, not only because he saved him several times, but because he loved and considered him a life-long friend him in spite of himself and the fact that he was a Naga, which no human has ever done for him before. Maybe Ponytail did --- and then Ponytail died due to his clumsiness. He effectively killed one of two human friends who ever embraced him in his entirety. The psychological guilt of that was immeasurable.

- Cobra Kai being named after Terry as much as the snake pit.

- Even the whole vegan phase he had going can be explained off like an elaborate way to conceal himself and blend himself seamlessly into a society that would otherwise fear and shun him, by swearing off of a Naga’s primal natural dietary resource. Flesh.Go for the exact opposite of that, tactically, with little salads and tofu portions. Look at him. All human. All safe. The drunkenness (and the coke addiction of the 80′s) and the penchant for alcohol comes in when he starts requiring ways of numbing what is budding deep inside of him. That reminder he ain’t in fact, all human, and that he never will be. He’s a Cobra.The apex predator trying to domesticate and neuter itself. 

- Bonus points in Terry / Twig’s dad, post-war, wanting Terry to take over the family business (return to his Naga roots in equal measure) and leave this whole Karate, John Kreese, Vietnam, human nonsense behind. When Twig says he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to live a normal life again, shades of irony and doubly meaning are added, because his life was never normal from a human’s point of view anyway. In fact, it was anything but.

[superduckbatrebel]

He unfolded it gently, and what he had suspected was confirmed.

March 1980

Dear Dean,

Dean wanted to fold it back up, but it had bloomed in his hands. His fingers shook as he held it open, unable to stop reading.

I was thinking about shells today. I saw a woman with a shirt that had them, and I remembered the beach, and you, and this box. I went back and read through all the letters, and for the first time, in a long time, I wasn’t sad about it – not in the same way.

I’ve been so tired lately. I’m so tired of being angry, and sad, because that wasn’t the point. I’m sad because I’ll never get to tell you certain things again. I’m sad about that, but I’m not sad like I was when you left. I think I held onto that too long. I confused it with loving you, and those aren’t the same. Being sad about the things I miss isn’t loving you. It never was. Loving you was so much bigger than that. .

I don’t think I can stop loving you. I think it’s a part of me now, and it’s never leaving. It makes me who I am, and I used to think this crippled me, but I don’t think it does anymore. Loving you has given you back to me. I’ve missed you. The old you. You never really came home, and I understand that now, and I know it wasn’t your fault or mine or anyone’s. It was just circumstances we couldn’t avoid, but I’ve realized that just because we ended the way we did doesn’t define what we were before.

To have those memories back is such a precious thing. To have that part of you back with me – it’s unimaginable. I was thinking about shells, and I was thinking about that day at the beach and I can remember sitting on the blanket looking at the water, and you asked me what I was thinking.

I was thinking about how afraid I was that I was never going to love you as much as I did then. That the moment was going to get washed out, that I would never be able to experience what it was like to know that I loved you as much as I did again…

Cas’ words seemed to drop off the page before starting again.

I’m sorry that things didn’t work out the way we wanted them to. I’m sorry – I’m sorry we weren’t as equipped to deal with the hand we got. The fact that we didn’t get to do the little plans hurts more than the big ones, sometimes. It wouldn’t have mattered about a house or the island. Sometimes I stop myself at work and realize I’m never going to sit in Van’s noodle house with you, and I don’t know exactly – I’m so terrible at letters, Dean. I’m glad you never had to read them when you were in Vietnam, they were all so terrible and boring and wordy.

I think –

I think that, the point of it all, is that the moment at the beach? I had never really understood who I was until then. That’s who I am. That person, and there, right there, next to me, that was you. That’s who you are.

It’s so wonderful to know that I didn’t lose you. That we were always right where we were supposed to be the whole time. This whole time I thought I’d lost you, and there you were…

Memories are good that way. I can remember us, and I can keep living. I can keep going and always know right where to find you when I miss you.

I miss you all the time.

I want you to realize this someday. All of that about us. You don’t – you don’t have to be guilty, and I know you are, and I understand why everything happened the way it did. It just happened. We just – it just happened, Dean, and it’s alright. I’m alright.

I’ll be okay.

Once, you told me it didn’t seem right to say goodbye. Not really.

I thought I’d have to – I thought I’d have to let go of everything I loved about you, but I don’t, and you were right, and wouldn’t you be pleased with yourself to know.

The truth of it has never been clearer to me, my darling.

And you are, always, my darling.

Yours,

Cas

Dean read past this, to the very bottom, where Cas’ handwriting had changed slightly.

He read it and let the letter rest on his leg.

“See you then”

I was wondering if you guys wanted pain