#I would of been without a traced in this mofo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flanklurker · 3 years ago

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I'm not sure what characters you write for ahhh!! BUT HERE'S MY FAV 3! Could I ask for Chamber, Phoenix and Sova with a chubby, affectionate and touch starved reader? Maybe some fluffy hc on how they'd treat them, cuddle, etc. Y'know some fluffy stuff! (Sorry if it's only one character per ask ;A; )

Fhsfhjdksfhsdjk I friggin love physical affection you have no iDEA. This was so fun to write!! And no need to apologise lol, I write for everyone and am super happy w multiple characters. Delighted that I finally have an excuse to write for Phoenix tbh

Valorant Agents x Chubby, Affectionate, Touch-starved Reader

Chamber

Chamber is a compliment machine. Like he’s always noticing something new and delightful about you and literally cannot wait to tell you about it.

“Mon tresor, that new outfit looks so good on you, I would have thought we were going to a soiree this evening rather than a combat zone."

Also loves shopping sprees, so be prepared to be dragged out and dressed up for hours. This man will miss no opportunity to admire you and flirt pretty shamelessly. He bankrolls the whole affair, of course.

The few times you’ve been able to slink into the room without him noticing, your ears would be burning because this man is literally just telling anyone who’ll listen how cute you are. If you do finally clear your throat, the man goes absolutely pink before doubling down

Oml this man can get handsy. He’s obsessed with tracing your dimples and curves and just literally cannot get enough of you

He loves it when you do the same to him too. If you go to cup his cheek or trace his collarbone, he goes completely still and lowkey short circuits. It’s like he wants to focus on nothing but your hand and where it meets his skin

One of his favourite things to do is to have you sit on his lap facing him, maximising that physical contact and being able to see your startling eyes. He could stay that way for hours, just having someone so beautiful and precious so close to him, with such a warm smile

When he’s feeling a little low, he really loves to lay his head in your lap and just have you hold him. He’ll murmur conversation when he can, or maybe just fall asleep if you’re okay with it, but he’s realised that it’s the one thing that can calm him down

He’s someone who struggles to verbalise his insecurities, but having you there and being so close to you really helps him unwind and talk things through

Phoenix

Phoenix doesn’t give two flying fucks about what the rest of the protocol thinks when it comes to you. He reasons that if they wanted in, they should have tried to romance you sooner

Massive on the PDA. He’s a tall mofo, and so he absolutely loves coming up from behind when you’re in the middle of talking to someone, draping his arms over you and resting his chin on your head

Makes no move to address whatever the other person might be doing, he just grins and relishes the fact that he managed to score you and you’re right there in front of him

If Phoenix has had a good day, like clutched a mission for the protocol or hit the high score on the range, one of his favourite things to do is sidle up to you, wrap his arm around your waist and bring you in for a massive snog. He can’t help but make a beeline for you whenever he’s feeling great

Same if you’ve had a big win tbh, he just loves being able to celebrate things with you and get kisses

Legit, he’s been chastised by Brim for crowding the intercom on missions together, because he takes the opportunity to flirt shamelessly with you, crowing about how damn good you look on site. “Eyo, not to alarm the squad but we got a looka’ in hookah”

As serious as the disciplinary meeting afterwards is supposed to be, you’re definitely struggling to hide a grin. The winks your boyfriend keeps shooting you whenever Brim isn’t looking don’t exactly help either.

Loves to bury his head in your chest and wrap his arms around your midsection. Like he’ll hit you with the full puppy eyes from across the room, or spam your datapad if he can’t find you in person, because you’re his recharge point and he’s down bad.

Loves loves LOVES it when you snuggle up on his lap. He’ll run his hands through your hair and absent-mindedly trace these flame patterns across your forehead while he chats away about the recent mission

Phoenix also adores being big spoon—one of his favourite things on a lazy afternoon is to slink off to your room, press up real close against you and shape his body around yours. Bonus points when he does this in winter—the protocol can get bloody cold, and having his chest against your back is so nice and warm

Sova

Sova is such a beautiful and honest person that the entire protocol know exactly how smitten he is with you

He literally cannot keep his eyes off you when you’re in the room. Like he watches you with the warmest, softest smile and is always quietly padding over to you to put a gentle hand on the small of your back

He tries to be considerate of the protocol and will temper his PDA in public, but that doesn’t stop him from constantly finding his way close to you and just having one point of contact, whether it’s a hand holding yours or his chest brushing yours as he leans over you

When you’re alone or have a more secluded area, he’s a total cuddle bug. He’ll pad up to you and wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and huffing a contented sigh

Insane cuddle stamina too, like if you switch around to face him and go in for a hug he will take it in and hold you for maaaany minutes. You’ll often feel his arms lock in around yours and his heartbeat start to stabilise against chest. Occasionally you catch him mutter something softly in Russian

Loves it when you cup his face in your hands, and will just drink in the eye contact with a goofy smile. He doesn’t usually get giggly, but if you start peppering kisses on his nose and forehead he can’t help but let out a little chuckle (he definitely returns the favour)

Sova’s not the neediest person, but sometimes he genuinely needs to hold you after a particularly tough mission.

After the Fade mission, in fact, he turns up at your room looking gaunt and the frightened look in his eye almost breaks your heart right there and then.

You tug him into the room and just press your chest against his, arms wrapping around him. As you whisper ‘it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re okay now’, he finally lets himself start shivering as he returns your affections, burying his head into your shoulder and squeezing you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He leans into every movement you make, and you can tell then and there just how much he loves having you close. You’re not going anywhere.

#valorant x reader #valorant #valorant chamber #chamber x reader #valorant phoenix #phoenix x reader #valorant sova #sova x reader #valorant headcanons #lozcanons #chamber #phoenix #sova #honestly please keep these coming your reader is gorgeous and i love them and want to give them all the hugs

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hqcult · 4 years ago

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EYELINER ## suna rintarou

trying to apply his eyeliner would've been easy if only rintarou can keep his hands to himself.

. tw smut, dom suna, established relationship, fingering, oral f receiving, edging, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, mind break, unprotected sex, pwp . wc 4k

"ugh, he's gonna do it again." you mutter, eyeing suna's hand as it skims around your vanity desk for his favorite brand of eyeliner. for some reason everybody naturally finds themself drawn to suna rintarou, even if he was always so stoic and detached.

you hate how girls would flock around him in parties as they stare at his kohl-lined eyes or at the painted black nail polish whenever you disappear to get a drink, knowing full well what kind of thoughts are running in their heads because you, for sure, thought of him the same way. alright. we get it. your boyfriend can be a hot mofo if he wants to be and his idgaf attitude just adds to the whole appeal.

we get it.

because you love him more than the stars in the galaxy combined, sometimes you can't help but feel jealous when people get too close to him. you really didn't want to be that type of girlfriend but sometimes you just like the assurance that he's all yours and nothing's wrong about that, right? plus, suna seems to exceptionally love when he gets you jealous and feral. he may always pretend otherwise but he loves staking his claim on you just as much as you liked being claimed by him.

"are you done yet?" you say, staring at him from your bedroom door frame.

atsumu was throwing a party tonight and you were all dressed up and ready to go, just patiently waiting for your boyfriend.

suna replies a beat later, not bothering to meet your eyes. "just a minute."

you just want his attention all on you. you don't even want to go to this stupid party and see all these people shamelessly flirting with him even if you were right there by his side. you just want to have some alone time with suna rintarou.

and you may or may not have just come up with an idea to make that happen.

"where's the eyeliner? the one i always use?"

"it's not there? i know i left it there. wait, let me look."

you straighten up, walking towards him in your red leather mini skirt that can make any man's eyes sliver down to your ass.

suna is sitting on your swivel chair, leaning back in a man spread as he clicks his tongue impatiently. he looks good even in a plain shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, his athletic and tall build enough to make any outfit look good.

"are you sure it's not in the drawers?"

"yes, i already checked."

you pout, making a show of muttering "i swore i threw it in here," under your breath as you maneuver around his spread legs to stand in between them, bending forward as you rummage around where he's already looked twice.

you know he's staring at your ass. suna was never lowkey with how much he loves you in this leather mini-skirt. it's a miracle he hasn't landed a rough spank yet after getting a face full view of your ass.

"wait a minute, maybe it rolled under my vanity."

so you get down on your knees, making sure your butt grazes the front of his jeans and just like you predicted, suna was half-hard already.

it was truly such a stroke to your ego but you focus on the task at hand.

you arched your ass up as you bend down to look for the little tube of eyeliner, slightly shaking it side to side as you "struggle" to get the eyeliner out from underneath the table.

when your hands feel the cylindrical plastic, you retreat, sitting up straight again and proudly showing your boyfriend the eyeliner in your hands.

you made sure your eyes were as huge and innocent as they look, kneeling in between his legs, shins tucked in and hands in your lap like a good girl.

"i found it!"

you could've sworn you've seen his left eye twitch as he stared you down. you've been with him long enough to notice that look in his eyes. what are you playing at, huh?

you wait for him to speak but you can see all the gears turning in his head as he continues to stare at you.

you wait anxiously for what he's going to do next. maybe he'll make you suck him off, or he'll throw you on the bed, or spank your ass because you were clearly teasing him—

"why don't you put my eyeliner on for me?"

you stand up, opening the tube in as he shuts his eyes. you try not to let your disappointment show too much. fine. maybe you can just have a quickie later while drunk in one of the rooms in the frat house.

"why are you standing? come sit on my lap while you're doing it."

you were too busy removing the excess product off the brush to notice his eyes had taken a dark turn, contradicting the gentleness of his warm hands as it snakes around the back of your bare thighs pulling you closer.

"no, i'll mess this—"

"i said sit."

delicious shivers create goosebumps on your skin.

you know that tone. he only uses it when he's horny and he wants to bend you over. so maybe your game plan did work after all, yet you're staring at him dumbfounded with the eyeliner brush in midair.

"come sit. i won't repeat myself." he leans back against the chair, manspreading as he waits for you.

you scramble to straddle his strong thighs, muscles a manifestation of his hard work and dedication to volleyball. it was great to see him in action on the court but you'd rather he flexed those muscles when you ride his thighs.

you cup his face, getting all up in his personal space to apply the eyeliner.

you've long grown out of the honeymoon phase but why is your heart beating so damn fast right now?

your hands were shaking, perspiration was building up in your forehead, and you were holding your breath.

"are you nervous?"

"shut up, rin. 'm not."

when the brush first touches the lid of his eyes, a nimble finger traces the expanse of your whole slit over your panties.

you pull the brush away, hissing in surprise.

"rintarou—!"

"what?"

his sharp tone isn't what shut you up, it was the hand cupping your sex. the heel of his wrist slowly grazing against your sensitive clit. you drew a sharp breath. he smirks.

"go on. continue, doll."

you want to hate the teasing lilt in his voice but you know deep down you love it.

you held your breath, diving in once again to the task at hand whilst trying to ready yourself from his ministrations.

your hand slightly shakes as you start in the middle of his waterline, slowly tracing the bottom part of his eyes before making a small wing at the end.

you've seen him apply his own eyeliner so much you have this down to an art form. everything would've been easy if only he kept his hands to himself. you try to ignore the digit still feathering over your slit or the hand wrapping around you to bunch your skirt up around the waist.

for someone whose eyes are closed he's doing a damn good job navigating. but maybe that's how he shows you're his. he knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows what makes you tick, what makes you pant, what makes you moan in ecstasy.

"i can never resist when you dress up all pretty for me. you know that, right, doll?"

applying the eyeliner to his waterline had been fairly easy. the lash line, on the other hand, proved difficult. especially when suna's upgraded from tracing your pussy lips to dangerously toying with the elastics of your panties, slipping his finger under before stretching it to slap your skin.

as you try to connect the upper part of the eyeliner to the small wing you made from his waterline, you hissed.

"why don’t you pull them down?"

he chuckles at your impatience and you slightly pull the brush away as he finally shoves the fabric down. you gasp when the cold hits your wet cunt. the scent of your essence unmistakable and you know suna's holding back from teasing.

"as you wish, baby."

as suna grows bolder, the more your hands shook as you worked on his other eye.

just as the tip of the brush touched his left eye's waterline, he pushed two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls in a lazy manner that was so distinctly him. he curls his fingers when he fucks it in before dragging them against your walls when he pulls it out, slightly scissoring you. he uses his other hand to draw figure 8’s against your clit.

you swallow, trying your best to keep your hand still as a surgeon but you see the jagged little curves where your jolts of pleasure were too strong.

you never should've provoked him to shove your underthings down, at least then you wouldn't have to suffer through his fingers. they were just so long, so thick, and so experienced when it comes to pleasuring you that you can never touch yourself anymore without craving suna's own fingers instead.

you bit your lip, the hand that was cupping his jaw tightening as you try to fix the little mistakes here and there, hoping suna won't see them when he inspects your work in the mirror. it doesn't matter that he purposely set you up to fail. there'll be consequences if he isn't satisfied with what you did. may god have mercy on your horny little soul if rintarou thinks you were a bad girl.

"you just hate losing, don't you?" you hiss, jolting when you feel him slap your cunt. your knees nearly buckled and you almost fell off the chair if not for his sturdy hand on the small of your back.

"what are you talking about? i'm just fingering my girl like a winner."

just as you started outlining his left lash line, suna shoves a 3rd finger into your sopping cunt. loud squelching noises fill the room as your walls pulsate around his thick digits. the metal rings he wore brushing against your pussy lips as he fucks you knuckle-deep with three fingers. involuntarily, your own hips started moving to match his pace, shamelessly thrusting up everytime he shoves his fingers in.

he knows you so well. he doesn't even need to look at your face, he can feel you out by the noises you make. so good. so good. his fingers feel so good. fuck. fuck. fuck.

until he pulls them out of your sopping pussy.

"rin," you whine, folding into his shoulder as you struggle to balance your kneeling self on the chair. you blindly reach down for his hand, urging him to put his fingers back in. "rin, please don't stop. please please please—”

"i told you to put my eyeliner, not fuck yourself on my fingers," he leans back on the chair, eyes still shut close while licking his digits clean.

your lips press into a thin line, eyes dilated as a whine starts to threaten to pass your lips. you're sick of whatever game this is, you just want him to fuck you silly already! but as if sensing your thoughts, suna clicks his tongue and speaks. "hurry it up. we have a party to get to."

without his fingers to plug your cunny, your slick runs down the insides of your thighs. it's slow descent against your skin making goosebumps run up your arms, shivering as the cold hits your bare cunt.

suna must've known your anguish, he could feel his jeans getting soaked but he didn't care and you wish to punch that smug smirk off his pretty face.

your fingers stilled when you cupped his cheeks and leaned in to start applying a thin stroke of eyeliner to his water line. with a simple flick of the wrist you ended it with a little wing, just like how your boyfriend likes it. now, you just have to do his lash line and—

you let out an audible gasp when his fingers started feeling around your thighs, having an inkling idea of what he's tryna look for. true to what you expected, he traces the line of your dripping slick up your inner thighs until his fingers graze your nether lips, successfully collecting your essence.

you stare entranced when suna brings them up to his lips, eyebrows furrowed and almost moaning aloud because of your taste. the fact that his eyes are closed made you want him even more. his fingers pop out of his mouth, but you get the feeling it wasn't enough. he wants more. suna wants you under his mercy. he wants to taste and ruin you until you're fucked out and lying in a pretty mess on the bed sheets.

"so fucking sweet, my baby. you're this desperate for me? for my fingers?"

you snapped. you threw the makeup elsewhere in the room (though not before screwing it shut) before diving down to kiss him on the lips. all lust-filled and rough as you both channel the desires you have for each other. maybe suna was at his tipping point too, noting that he doesn't even bother to push you away.

with his strong arms he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his torso, never breaking the kiss before literally throwing you down on the bed, knocking the air out your lungs.

"rin!"

"whoops."

he's kneeling before the bed, the sheets ruffling when he pulls you to the edge by your calves, hot breath against your sex making you squirm.

"my pretty thing," the kitten lick against your pussy drove you crazy, desperately bucking your hips up and suna chuckles condescendingly. "but such a bad fuckin' girl, aren't ya?"

you yelp when he slaps the side of your thigh.

"who said you could kiss me?"

he pinches your clit hard as he enters your line of sight. suna has never seen you this pretty and desperate for him before. sweat making your skin glow, lips raw from your biting, eyes conveying your every lust-filled thought about him. the sight of you so riled up makes his dick ache and he wants so badly to fuck you already but bad girls don't get what they want just yet. you have to earn it.

"i asked you a question. who the fuck told you that you could fucking kiss me?" the acid in his voice contrasts the gentle way he caresses the spot on your thigh where he had hit you.

"no one."

you sob in pleasure when his hot tongue licks a stripe up your pussy before suckling on your clit. once. twice. sucking particularly hard on the third. before running his tongue swiftly over the bundle of nerves and kitten licking his way down your pussy lips. your thighs were shaking so hard he had to pin them down. he knows it's a sign that you're close, not that he's surprised, he's been stimulating your body for minutes now it was amazing you haven't cummed yet.

but then he stops.

a thread of your slick dribbling down his chin as those cat eyes of his stare you down. he watches, enchanted by how your chest rises and falls. another sweet release he snatched away from you.

"i thought so. what does that make you?"

amazing how he manages to sound so normal, conversational even while he's literally edging you like there's no tomorrow. what do you expect? it's his favorite punishment. he gets to see you sob and beg for him like there's nothing in your mind but his cock and he loves it so much. loves seeing you bend and break for him to please.

you sniffle, arm coming up to hide the frustrated tears in your eyes. "been… been a bad girl."

a hand slaps your thighs, brutal. eyes on rintarou when answering his questions. your eyes shoot up.

"and who's bad girl have you been?"

"yours."

this time he reaches forward to tweak your pebbled nipples. the sudden cold of the pads of his fingers making you gasp and spasm. your boyfriend straddles you and you shiver at the head of his glistening cock leaving trails on top of your thighs. but he doesn't make another move. when you sneakily try wiggling your hips for your sex to graze his dick, he slapped your thigh without holding back. you doubt it won't start leaving a handprint. you wait with bated breath when he grabs hold of his cock, the head angry and dripping, the only proof of his also growing desire for you.

when he directs the head for it to graze your nether lips, you almost cried another fresh batch of tears. his hand quickly brushes up to wipe it away, though not before feeling his dick twitch. you know how much he loves seeing you cry from the overwhelming pleasure he can give you.

"last time i checked, my name isn't yours. didn't i tell you to answer in full sentences when i'm fucki—"

"suna! suna rintarou! i've been sun-suna rintarou's bad girl!"

suna ducks to mark your neck and torso. he feels the goosebumps forming on your body. the heat enveloping the two of you as you both quickly shed any remaining pieces of clothing. he kisses you. sloppy. nothing but teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance as he cradles your face with his big hands, feeling the mushroom head of his cock grazing your thighs.

usually he'd appreciate you not cutting him off mid-sentence but he too has reached his own limits and right now all he can think about is drilling you to the mattress. "rin, please!" you sob, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"shh. yes, doll. i hear ya."

you were dripping wet enough that all it took is one deep thrust for him to bottom-out. usually you're quite hesitant when rintarou's rawing you but at this point right now, you doubt fucking with a condom would've felt this good. no thin plastic whatsoever that's separating you from him. when he starts to move, you both moan in ecstasy. the bed creaking under the weight of you both as he pistons his dick inside. "you feel so good, doll. so fucking wet and tight. look how wet you are. dripping for my cock, huh? this all for me? answer me!"

you hardly register his voice, the pleasure you've been craving since minutes ago now being crashed down upon you. it's overwhelming and you don't want it any other way.

"yes," you pant. the tears still leaking from your eyes as you claw at his biceps. "yes. all-all for you, r-rin! just for you!"

he stubbornly keeps hitting the spot that'll make you keen and whine, suna forcing your hips down and sitting up with his palms at the sides of your head. he wants to see you come undone, he'd love to grab his phone and make this memory permanent but he doubts his camera can capture the real deal. your moans and pleas reaching his ears, spurring him on, the beautiful way your back arches of the mattress, the way you physically shook in pleasure and you screamed and worshipped his name.

"rin! oh my god, rin! fuck. 'm close," your voice breaks, hiccuping from the onslaught of tears you can't hold back as blinding pleasure grips you in a tight vice.

suna comes down to snake his arms around you, pulling you infinitely closer as one of his hands supports your lower back, manually moving your hips to match his frantic thrusts. "why you crying? bad girls should be tough, right? aren't—shit—aren't you a bad girl? hmm? bad girls like you shouldn't be crying."

you shake your head, looking pretty and desperate as you meet his eyes. "no, i'm not a bad—"

"yes. you are," you groan, his thrusts particularly hard to shut you up and make a point. "you're a very, very bad girl. you don't listen to me at all. bad girls don't even deserve to cum."

"no! no! rin, please!" you say, a blubbering mess as you bury your forehead into his neck, licking and suckling at his skin to get in his good side. "i'll be good. i promise! please, let me cum. rin! please, i'll be good. i'll be good! only your good—ah."

"you fucking bet you're my good girl," he hissed, biting your shoulder before moaning, pitched and wanton as it threatens to snap the stretched cord inside of you. but not yet. you can't. not unless he says so. "it's me that's making you feel this good. this is my pussy. my plaything. repeat what i said—doll! repeat what i said."

you cried, screaming in frustration as his cock stills inside of you and you know he won't move until you oblige. "this is…" you hiccup. "rin-rintarou's pu-pussy. i'm rintarou's play-plaything."

"what was that?" he asks, hips starting to rut against you again in full force. the headboard violently hitting the walls. when your hands scramble to cling onto something, you accidentally shove something off the bed but you couldn't care less. "louder, doll. i want the whole fucking neighborhood to hear you."

"this is rintarou's pussy. i'm rintarou's plaything." you say in your normal speaking voice, albeit shaky and almost incomprehensible as he holds you firm against him, his cock embedding it's shape and size into your sopping walls.

"louder!"

he hoists you up into a sitting position, his hips fucking up towards you and you only realize he did it when you see the window situated meters behind you two. curtains-drawn, open for the night breeze to billow in. he wasn't kidding. suna rintarou wants the neighbors to hear how good you're getting rawed. he wasn't kidding. he was not kidding.

"go on," he whispers, breathy and teasing. "you'll do it. you're a good girl for me arentcha?"

fuck. "this is rintarou's pussy! i'm rintarou's plaything!"

he licks a stripe up your neck, hands coming around your neck as he whispers into your ear the words you've been dying to hear. "cum, baby."

and your orgasm surges through your whole body in violent jolts, thick ropes of cum squirting out your pussy as you distantly hear him groaning, your walls tightening and sucking him in with every aggressive thrust. rintarou quickly finishes after you, teeth embedding themselves into your shoulder as he groans. you knew bruises will form and you're going to be sore as a bitch but you don't fucking care.

"rin, i love you." you say, grabbing a hold of his face as you stare deep into his eyes. and you don't understand why there's doubt clouding in your head when he takes a beat later to answer, when really, he just can't help the sudden wave of emotions festering in his stomach as he meets the gravity of your gaze. the love and devotion in your eyes as he can only hope that he could translate his emotions through his eyes, too.

he smiles, leaning in to give you a kiss. it's sweet and gentle, completely unlike the one he gave you a few minutes ago when in the throes of pleasure. no. you feel every bit of his love for you in this one kiss and you don't know why you ever doubted yourself, doubted him. you've been together for so long and you're it for him.

"i love you, too."

but leave it to your darling rintarou to ruin the moment.

"but you'll never apply my eyeliner ever again."

. a/n » this was so self-indulgent im sorry lmao

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siphersaysstuff · 2 years ago

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I mean, lookit this mofo

"Discovered at an oil sands mine north of Fort McMurray, Alberta, the specimen is remarkable for being among the best-preserved dinosaur fossils of its size ever found. It preserved not only the armor (osteoderms) in their life positions, but also remains of their keratin sheaths, overlying skin, and stomach contents from the animal's last meal. Melanosomes were also found that indicate the animal had a reddish skin tone."

"While many small dinosaurs have been preserved with traces of soft tissues and skin, they are usually flattened and compressed during fossilization. Similar-looking hadrosaurid "mummies" have a shriveled, desiccated appearance due to their partial mummification prior to fossilization. The Suncor specimen, however, appears to have sunk upside-down onto the sea floor shortly after its death, causing the top half of the body to be quickly buried with minimal distortion. The result is a specimen that preserves the animal almost as it would have looked in life, without flattening or shriveling."

Yeah, we KNOW lotsa shit about what dinosaurs actually looked like.

I submit to you that the most iconic feature of any animal is either unlikely or impossible to fossilize.

If all we had of wolves were their bones we would never guess that they howl.

If all we had of elephants were fossils with no living related species, we might infer some kind of proboscis but we’d never come up with those ears.

If all we had of chickens were bones, we wouldn’t know about their combs and wattles, or that roosters crow.

We wouldn’t know that lions have manes, or that zebras have stripes, or that peacocks have trains, that howler monkeys yell, that cats purr, that deer shed the velvet from their antlers, that caterpillars become butterflies, that spiders make webs, that chickadees say their name, that Canada geese are assholes, that orangutans are ginger, that dolphins echolocate, or that squid even existed.

My point here is that we don’t know anything about dinosaurs. If we saw one we would not recognize it. As my evidence I submit the above, along with the fact that it took us two centuries to realize they’d been all around us the whole time.

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jtrbluv · 4 years ago

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shutterbug | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, unbearable but relatable tiger parents

request: Jungkook,, one shot,, 38 + 40 please 😊😊 @asiivnc

“you leave whenever you feel like it.” & “don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

A/N: sheesh, i have not posted in a hot minute! i’ve been trying to work on this single request throughout quarantine and it really only came down to these last few days where i literally had a spike of inspo and drive and well,, ideas LOL. i considered an alternate angstier ending but i am a self-indulgent mofo who doesn’t like to make myself cry even though i’m sure i cried while writing this at least once (maybe twice). there is so much jk content on my blog i wanna set aside more time to write for other members from now on until i’m satisfied! regardless, thank you @asiivnc for requesting this and sorry for the wait luv, hopefully this can make up for it !!

Jungkook was known to be heavily passionate and fully invested in whatever his life had revolved around at that moment. As a film/photography major, as well as a man that just had a strange knack for being naturally adept at whatever was thrown at him, he incessantly poured his utmost efforts into his works. You weren’t any different, as you held just as much significance in his life as the way his serotonin levels would skyrocket as soon as his fingertips touched his precious camera.

Not to be self-absorbed, but you always thought of yourself as his muse. Or befittingly for his sake, the subject of the photo that you would give the title ‘his lover’.

You were so indisputably sure that you loved the boy and even moreso that he felt the same. While being so accustomed to his own nurturing ways and devotion to you and the reciprocated energy on your part, the bone-crushing weight of college hindered all and didn’t give a single fuck about anyone or anything.

Carrying the begrudging burden of having to succeed because he didn’t take the traditional lawyer/doctor career route, was always at the forefront of his mind. Likewise, for fuck’s sake, he nearly got disowned by his own parents and it took him what seemed to be a lifetime’s worth of energy to convince him to just give him a chance. Jungkook was not planning on taking that chance for granted.

Jungkook, being the person he is, was excelling, and his name was beginning to become known in the community of photographers and videographers, and he was finally starting to feel at ease. His parents were even acknowledging his successes to the extent that they were helping him financially with school, which was a huge burden off of his shoulders. And then you suddenly crash-landed into his life and just made his life even more fulfilling and by all means, worth living in.

He knew it was a bad idea. Distancing himself from you was the last thing he wanted to do. All his parents were concerned about was the fact that you were the only thing hindering him from making it “big”, when turns out, you became the sole inspiration and muse for most of his recent works. So they gave him an ultimatum to either be cut off financially or break up with you. He didn’t understand, because his parents liked you so much and they loved the influence you had on his work. He didn’t understand. He hated it—the fact that he was basically hanging by puppet strings and didn’t have a say in what he did considering the age he was in now.

He also hated the fact that he knew they had good intentions, and were only doing this because they wanted him to be successful. Their idea of true success for his career could only be seen as the financial benefits of being a director or producer rather than being able to just pursue and learn more about the art form that he loves. There was no use of trying to persuade them, so likewise, he did not. But why get her involved into this mess too?

Jungkook tended to stray away from confrontation and hated immediate and unexpected change as much as he acted like it didn’t phase him. He figured the sooner he can gain benefit from his passion, the less dreadful this dilemma would be. Less mess. Less stress. More time to be with you. That was the intended plan.

His next course of action was to score a film internship and potential job at the rather famous, Fox Studios. By doing so, would have to win the statewide film contest— a much larger scale than he had ever involved himself in. The mere thought of him having to showcase his own self-produced work to critically acclaimed film critics made the bile in his system threaten to upchuck onto the lemon-pledge scented floors of his dorm room. Then he remembered and was reminded— by the help of you of course, that he was Jeon Jungkook, and everyone knows that Jeon Jungkook does not like to lose.

He presumed that keeping up his grades would give him more credibility to getting the internship as well, so he put more focus onto his schoolwork. The remainder of his time was dedicated to exploring his potential ideas and storyboarding out his options and what would be most effective and most consequently— worthy of winning first place.

During this very strenuous time for the poor man, you would most likely see him trudging down the halls, hair in a complete disarray or simply hidden by the fabric of his hood, his eyelids threatening to close shut almost as if it’s taking all his willpower to keep them open, chugging down another red bull with one hand while he grips the strap of his backpack with practically no energy.

I mean you thought it was kinda cute at first, but his apparent deteriorating state mostly caused you to be more concerned than anything else.

In hopes to not hinder his creative flow but still keep his health at par, you would stop by every so often to give him food and give him reassurance—he never needed it so much until now.

Jungkook never told you about the irrational ultimatum his parents had given him. He came to the conclusion that it’d be unnecessary as long as he was able to carry out his plans. Nonetheless, the pressure of the whole situation was getting to him. The love of his life, passion for working with a camera, his parents’ disapproval, and just the own personal dream to be able to tell everyone that “Fuck you, I told you I could do it, and I did,” enveloped his whole mind these days.

Time had proved to not work in Jungkook’s favor. Two weeks passed in a mere blink of an eye leaving him with only two more weeks to finish his film in time for the film contest. This time around, he decided to choose a topic that resonated more with his own personal life. The film revolves around the struggle to be able to conform to the standards and expectations that society implements onto young people, whether it’d be from mainstream media or direct connections, like family. Typically, he stuck a title onto his projects after fully completing it, but for some reason, this time, it had worked in reverse. The title itself suddenly popped into his mind one day and from there he was able to garner ideas from it. And so the title was ‘Moulded’.

A very risky step on Jungkook’s part was what you initially thought when he first told you the idea. He knew that too, which is why he did it. You knew him long enough to be aware of the influence his parents had on his life and their outdated beliefs. You also knew the potential the boy’s zeal could take him, and because of that, all traces of worry left you shortly afterward.

Two days. The film contest was in two days. Jungkook was just about finished at this point, constantly playing back frames and adding final touches, rewatching the same parts over and over again until he became satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh, eyes finally averting from the screen of his desktop to the clock on his bedside table.

“Only 9:15?” he muses, realizing these past four weeks had completely fucked over his sense of time, “At least I’m down, color correcting can be such a bit—”

A small jolt reverberates through his desk, interrupting his verbally spoken train of thought. His eyes beeline back to his phone, the contact picture of his mom flashing on his screen. Why would she be calling me at this time?

His brows knit together as he picks up his phone and swipes his thumb across the screen in uncertainty.

“Um, hi mom?” he greets, with the obvious tone of confusion in his voice.

He can practically hear her scoff over the line, “Jungkook-ah, how’s the film coming along?”

“It’s almost done-”

“Are you still with that girl?” she forcibly asks out of nowhere, leaving him dumbfounded to the point his mouth was hanging open in return.

A few seconds pass by as he processes what’s going on. He tightens his grip on the phone at the mention of you as he confesses through gritted teeth, “Yes mom.”

“We had a deal didn’t we?”

He retorted without waver in his voice, “Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Then give it back. The tuition money,” she affirms without hesitation, “Jungkook, me and your father have done our part. It’s about time you do yours.”

“I’ve done practically everything you’ve asked. I’m doing just fine,” he monotonously states, trying so hard not to implode on his own mother at this point, “Y/N has nothing to do with this.”

There was a short pause, leaving Jungkook in the same state of dejection per usual when he had to talk to his parents, “We just want you to be successful,” her voice softens, using the same line that somehow magically guilt-trips Jungkook every time the words travel to his ears.

He shakes his head in disbelief over hearing the stupid line that seemed to control every aspect of his life, “You say that every time.”

“And we mean it every time,” she interjects, a sigh audibly present over the line, “this discussion is over.”

She ends the call as Jungkook lets out a raspy and guttural groan, slamming his phone onto his desk in frustration with such strength it’d be surprising if the cheap glass screen protector he’s had on it didn’t suffer any damage.

“Kook,” a voice utters softly from the other side of his door, “is everything okay?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, considering you were just the subject of the conversation he just had with his mom that left him fuming with rage more than anything.

“Can you please leave Y/N, this isn’t a good time,” he objected, adjusting himself in his seat so he’d face away from the door. Even though you couldn’t see him you could still hear the small indication of irritation in his response.

It was more than apparent something was wrong with him, with only two days left until the film contest, you knew he couldn’t manage to keep his guard down, regardless of the stress and turmoil he’d been putting himself through for the past 4 weeks, “Just because you leave whenever you feel like it…” you enunciate, raising your voice loud enough for him to hear your intentions, “doesn’t mean I will.” Both of you knew the last 4 weeks had taken a toll on the relationship, it was only then that he realized how much he’d been putting it off.

The door began to emit tiny clicking noises as he slowly turned the doorknob. He slowly widens the area as he meekly steps to the side, letting you come in as you make your way toward his bed and plop down onto his sheets.

The tension had never been this thick between the two of you, to the extent where it felt absolutely suffocating and unbearable. You had never seen him in such a state of dejection as he simply sat there, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he nibbled on his lower lip, eyes diverting away from yours at all costs. The knit between his brows that would usually derive from confusion or frustration, seemed entirely different this time around. It was as if his mind was full of nothing but everything all at the same time.

You heave out a deep sigh as you finally break the ice, “Jungkook,” you begin, looking up to see him looking back at you to your surprise, “you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for making it seem that way.”

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it,” he mutters only to see the flash of hurt in your eyes that makes him divert his gaze back to the floor, “I know I’ve been acting so selfish lately. I’d understand if you felt that way.”

“I hate seeing you like this you know,” you confess quietly, “I know there’s something up.”

His eyes meet yours once again, mouth slightly parted as if he was about to say something, but the silences ensues and he closes the gap once again, resorting back to nibbling the skin off of his bottom lip until it starts to bleed. Your eyes soften as you observe the boy once more. The span of your relationship had naturally led to the two of you being able to open up to one another so easily. You were both able to tell when the other was feeling a certain way and why. It just came with time and getting to know the other person more throughout the relationship. And alongside that was the ability to know when the other was purposely keeping something under wraps—this was one of those times.

“Jungkook”, you whisper just loud enough to catch his attention, which works as he gazes back up at you with all doe-eyed glory, the knit between his brows gone surprisingly out of sight for the first time since you came over. You glance at his bed—emphasizing the void of space next to you on his bed by patting the fabric and peering at the cryptic man, hoping he would get the sign to sit next to you.

Fortunately, he does. He places his hands on the armrests as he timidly pushes himself up from his chair. The chair produces an obnoxiously loud squeaking noise almost emulating the sound of your dog’s dog shaped squeaky toy (counterintuitive I know, but it was a gift from Jungkook himself, the prick). The sound causes you to involuntarily snort as you look away in hopes to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. Too bad you missed the smug grin on his face at your lackluster attempt.

He carefully approaches you as he warily lowers himself onto his bed, making sure he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He shifts his body to turn towards you, propping his hands at his side. His eyes avoid yours once more, sparing glances at every inch of his own room as if he wasn’t already familiar with the enclosed space.

You pause and calculate your next move, eyes studying the boy’s body language. You outstretch your arm, gently grasping his wrist as you slide your fingers through his calloused palms and twine your fingers with his own, allowing your hands to rest on your knee. His eyes glaze over your connected hands, trailing back to finally meeting your own once again—they had this all too unfamiliar gloss to them, not the usual star-like specks you had been accustomed to looking at. As a few seconds had passed, you spotted the pool of tears starting to brim in the corner of his eyes. Taken aback, you retract your focus to his whole face and how his bottom lip started to tremble, hopeless. Hopelessness was what he was denoting, an emotion you had rarely if never seen coming from the man sitting in front of you.

Before you could formulate any words of comfort, he speaks up, voice brittle and wobbly, “Am I just a failure Y/N?”

“Wha— what? No, how could you ask that? Of course I don’t think you are,” you assert, unknowingly tightening the grip on his hand.

“It’s just,” he drawls out, pausing to think of a coherent way to voice his concerns, “maybe it just would’ve been easier if I complied with my parents in the first place y’know. I’ve been spending all my time and energy fighting it, maybe I’ve just been putting my energy into the wrong-”

“I don’t believe that,” you calmly interject, “I believe that whenever you put your energy into something, you have a reason behind it. You thought about it for a while, it obviously wasn’t something that just sprouted overnight,” you countered, staring off as your eyes land on his workspace, the flashing screen of his computer that reveal his last minute editing as well as the camera you seldom see the man without, “Working with a camera, creating art,” you say while clasping your free hand over the one that you were already holding, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the back of his hand, “that is what you love to do.”

“I love a lot of things Y/N,” he simply states.

“Hm?” you let out under your breath as you notice the single tear that falls onto his cheek, contradictory to the straightforward tone of his voice you had just heard seconds before. Your body stiffened at the sight of the fallen drop.

“Did you hear me on the phone before you came?” he questions, swiping away the tears that threatened to fall with his free hand.

You take a moment to recollect the moments that preceded until knocking on his door, “No, I just heard a loud bang. It sounded like you broke something.”

“Oh, that was my phone,” he shyly admits while scratching the back of his ear, “there is something I need to tell you.”

You perk up at his sudden willingness to tell you what was wrong. Your body language conveys the signal for him to continue, and he does.

“I got a call from my mom before you came,” he starts, “she was checking up on me, knowing the deadline is coming soon and what not.”

You nod slowly in understanding, “I see, what did she say?”

“You have the right to know,” he mutters under his breath while diverting his gaze back to your interlocked hands. He intentionally grazes your other hand before taking it into his own before flashing you a small grin of reassurance, “The farther I’m advancing, my parents just constantly feel the need to strip me of everything else. You probably knew that already. You also know that I tend to just rebel and find a loophole out of things most of the time. I don’t know, lately, it just seems like they solely care about success and money these days more than my own happiness and wellbeing, and it’s been like that for so long. Anyways, I’ve been prolonging and putting it aside for awhile now, but they threatened to cut me off financially if I didn’t break up with you Y/N.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. You’re at a loss for words and coherent thought. The only thing you muster to say is whatever decidedly popped up into your head first, “W-why haven’t you then?”

The brimming tears began to fall more frequently for you as well as from the eyes of the man in front of you. He releases both of his hands and slides his calloused palms up to your forearms pulling you closer in proximity, “I said it before, I love a lot of things Y/N,” he gingerly reiterates as he swipes away the tears from your eyes with the pad of his thumb before trailing his fingers to your fallen strands of hair, tucking them behind your ear.

“I love my parents, I love working with a camera, but I undoubtedly also am in love with you,” he tenderly professes while sliding down his hand to the crook of your neck, “I know my parents never meant harm, but they have to realize I don’t either. I owe it to myself and I realize that I am capable of obtaining and having everything I want in life,” he wholeheartedly declares despite the tears that continue to run down his face, “ And it wouldn’t be everything I want if you weren’t here with me.”

He renders you speechless, tears streaming freely as he continues to wipe them away. He was much more composed now, wiping away his own remaining tears with the back of his wrist. You, on the other hand, were practically sobbing into his palm, tears spilling all over his forearm.

“There’s a reason why I chose that particular subject for the film, “ he describes, hands sliding down to intertwine with yours once again, “It serves as a testament to my parents, to my peers, to you, but also to myself,” he beams, releasing the hold on your hands as he stands up from his bed, extending a hand out to you.

You unhurriedly grab his hand, as he tugs you to stand up from his bed, leading you to sit in his own seat. He swivels the chair for it to face his computer, stepping aside so you could sit down.

“I wasn’t planning on giving any sneak peeks, but it just seems right to show you this now,” he explains, clicking through the frames until he arrives at his destination and clicks play.

It starts off with the emulation of a glitching tv screen, the audio sounds as if someone was inserting a tape into a DVR. The ‘no signal’ screen fades into the familiar setting of the beach in his hometown. Hues of blue fading into muted shades of oranges and yellows flash across the screen, accompanied by the soft crashing of the waves washing ashore on the fine sand. The camera quickly shifts his focus to what seems to appear as Jungkook being fully enveloped and underneath the sand, his head being the only thing that isn’t submerged. Flashing his signature grin, his arm emerges from the sand as he gives a thumbs-up to the camera, making the person behind it erupt into a fit of giggles. That person was you.

The scene transitions into the city streets of the suburb that was close to the college. You were walking down the sidewalk, enamored by the bustle of the people who lived there as well as the twinkling lights that were draped from building to building. Clips ranging from his family, his friends, him working, and more are compiled and presented as he talks over it. His voice begins to say, “As individuals living in a society where opportunities seem to just be knocking left and right, we all have dreams and desires. Whether they are attainable or not, that’s what makes them all the more worthwhile and exhilarating to find out for ourselves. Society, whether we like it or not, is filled with certain conjectures that they believe can assure us of these dreams and desires, what they’ve made us believe as the path to success. They mould us from the beginning. As kids, we are told to behave well, listen to our elders, go to school, get good grades, and get into a good college. As adults, we deem success as having a stable job that pays the bills, buying a house and settling down, finding the love of your life, having kids, and working tirelessly until we become worn out and old. We have these presumptions about what’s better and what’s not, what is easier and what isn’t. Regardless of how much we get told that we can achieve anything we want to in life, we grow older and life unexpectedly throws more curveballs at you to make you think that it’s not actually the case. Well, as cliche as it may sound, I’m here to tell you that it’s just not true. Do what you want. Do what you love. Be with the ones you love. Cherish these moments. Film them as keepsakes to look back on. So… what’s your story? What are your dreams and desires? What sparks pure joy within you and keeps you on your feet? Break those moulds that have been holding you down. Reach for the moon and the stars. And maybe someday with the right amount of determination, and a little bit of luck, you can get there.”

The video ends right then and there, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was his best work to date albeit only seeing a snippet of it. A smile graces your lips as you turn your head to look at the creator of it all. He looks back at you with the familiar star-like specks in his eyes, making you feel rest assured that within all the chaos, you would both get through it all.

MASTERLIST

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ultravioletsoul · 5 years ago

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Maybe an unpopular opinion regarding Makarov/Character Analysis (part 1)

Sometimes I read comments of CoD fans saying that Vladimir always was an asshole for apparently no reason, that he was the typical Russian cliché villain doing cliché bad things (such an original concept, I know). And while I do agree that for the most part the games didn’t do a very good job at giving him any significant depth (and he acts like a jerk, it’s true), I also have to say that he’s probably one of the most misunderstood characters in the series. Not because I think he was some poor innocent man who did nothing wrong, but because his villainous portrayal tends to take the spotlight every time he’s onscreen and we literally cannot see anything else beyond that. Which, of course, makes him look very one-dimensional since the game always has to remind you in oh-not-so-subtle ways how evil he is.

The story of MW never goes into full detail as to what drove him to do the horrible things he did. And it’s not clear unless one bothers to analyze some obscure information hidden in the loading cutscene of No Russian and does a little research on the side. In all honesty, I wish his story would have been better explained and developed by other means than just a slideshow of newspaper articles and an overview of his dossier. I would have been content with a special trailer that actually explained his background, rather than have him say some pseudo Sun Tzu lines in a few teasers and let that be the entirety of his character development but okay… I guess this was as far as Infinity Ward’s story-telling capabilities went back then.

Sure, you may think: who the hell cares about his motivations? He was an evil mofo and needed to be put down. Well, unfortunately for these people, I exist and I do care because Vladimir is one of my faves— perhaps my most favorite character in the entire MW universe. And though I like him because he’s an unapologetic baddie, that’s not the only reason.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t think Vladimir is this super complex character that nobody else gets, but there are definitely some elements that give him a few extra layers and they’re worthy of being analyzed.

Beware, this is going to be a long post and will contain a few historical references. This isn’t a comprehensive breakdown, and I’ll probably make a lot mistakes along the way because I’m not a history buff by any means (please, don’t yell at me ;A;), but it should be a rough explanation of what I think led Vladimir to such extremist views and why I think he’s a good antagonist in Call of Duty. Also it could be a helpful reference for anyone who wishes to write a story about him.

I’m not claiming this is the most accurate interpretation of Vladimir, or that it’s the only valid one, but if any of this information comes in handy or offers a different insight into his character then I’ll consider my mission accomplished.

Without further ado, here we go!

Tagging @sunset-and-periwinkle and @renegad3spectre because they may be interested in this post :v

1. No Russian

So one of the first recollections that come to mind when thinking about MW2 is the infamous mission of No Russian. This kind of content was so violent and crude for its time that it caused quite the controversy and it still divides the opinion between people who think videogames should push boundaries and people who believe there are things that shouldn’t be portrayed in such an offhanded way. Whether including that level in MW2 was a good or terrible choice is not the point of this post. However, I’ll share my personal experience.

Me, back when I played this mission I didn’t give it much thought. I mean… it didn’t have this serious impact on me as I’m guessing the developers intended, from what I’ve read, but that’s mainly because I wasn’t mature enough to make a proper assessment of the story-line and to me CoD games weren’t about deep narratives either. Keep in mind that I was an immature kid and I just wanted to play a game that my brother enjoyed. So yes, without much thought I breezed through No Russian, accomplished the objectives and it wasn’t until the end of the mission that I realized I’d been played like a damn fiddle.

And my first reaction to seeing Makarov killing me was “bro, I thought we were allies”. Never mind the carnage that had ensued moments ago, never mind that I had participated in it. I was more offended by this unexpected 'betrayal' and well... imagine how stupid I was for thinking Vladimir could be my friend. The fact that Allen was a CIA agent completely eluded me and I didn’t understand a freaking thing of what was going on but that was on me. I shouldn’t have been playing those games at my young age because evidently I wasn't ready to handle adult themes like that.

Replaying this mission now that I’m older made me realize how messed up it was, and maybe not for the most obvious reasons. Yeah, innocent people die all around us and that's something we cannot stop from happening, no matter what we do. However, it’s not really necessary for us to hurt civilians to complete the level (we’re not punished for not doing it) so we can be simple witnesses to the brutality ensuing in front of us, which is as equally messed up perhaps. You can even skip the whole mission altogether if you want to, so no biggie: you’re spared the nightmare fuel and you can happily head to Brazil to capture Alejandro Rojas. Heck, you’re even rewarded a glimpse of Ghost ready to torture Alejandro’s assistant and all is back to normal, yay!

However, when you think about it, from the perspective of the story, Allen wasn’t given the option to skip anything. He was pushed to commit a vile deed and ordered to follow Makarov’s lead no matter how morally questionable those actions turned out to be in the end. Shepherd told him that this mission would cost him a piece of himself and he was right about it. Had Allen survived, I’m pretty sure he would have been scarred for life after what he did. I don’t know how he could have lived with himself knowing that he slaughtered all those innocent people. Vladimir killing him off was kind of… an act of mercy in a way, though of course we know he had completely different intentions for doing so.

So people may wonder, why the heck Vladimir carried out that massacre? Some common opinions I read is because he’s an asshole, because he’s crazy, because he wants to make a statement, because he enjoys being a psychopath and hurting others. All these may be true to some extent, we’ll never know for sure, but it’d be very simplistic to just leave it at that without taking into consideration other elements of the story that were left implicit.

I’m going to say that, from my perspective, I didn’t get the impression Makarov enjoyed killing those civilians (but hear me out, neither did he regret it!). It would have been pretty easy to make him this psycho that slaughters people with a smile on his face, but that’s not what we see in No Russian… and perhaps it’s even more terrifying when you realize how casual he is about the whole affair. You really get the impression that he’s a man on a mission and he carries it out in a very no-nonsense manner, does it all with a straight face, without batting an eyelash, without any trace of doubt about what he’s doing, not even a hitch in his voice, absolutely no emotion whatsoever. His actions, his words, his whole demeanor, all scream about being a professional at what he does for better or for worse.

He didn’t know these people, he had no quarrel with them, and yet he killed them all in cold blood. Why? Because they were stepping stones to his goals and there was a very established purpose for that op. To the rest of the world, yea, it may seem like there’s no logical reason for what he did other than he’s nuts but, honestly, Vladimir could care less about that. The only thing that matters to him are the results.

Even if the whole world thinks that he’s insane, in his mind this was the most reasonable course of action. To him it had to be done, there was no other way, and he didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger when the time came because he was truly convinced it was the right thing to do. The fact that he (a criminal who’s wanted by the entire world and probably cannot afford to leave himself out in the open) participated in that brutal event shows the utmost importance it had to his plans. Vladimir personally oversaw and carried out the operation, he didn’t leave anyone else in charge because of the very special meaning it had for him. He says “for Zakhaev” before engaging FSB units because this incident would mark the beginning of a new chapter in Russian history, a chapter Vladimir would write in honor of the man who was his friend and mentor— the man who started it all, who gave him a cause to believe in and fight for.

He definitely had his reasons for what he did. They were the wrong reasons of course, but Vladimir didn’t act on a whim nor did he waste his time on matters that didn’t advance his agenda. He didn’t start a war nor massacred hundreds of people at that airport for simple fun and without a solid motive (though this isn’t by any means a justification, it still was a pretty shitty thing to do). We all know that it was a false flag operation, as he wanted to put the blame on the US for the attack. His intention was sparking a war between Russia and America and he was willing to achieve that by any means necessary, even if thousands of his countrymen had to die, even if he had to make common cause with Shepherd (we don’t know under which circumstances and terms), a man who by all accounts should have been his worst enemy— a man who had set up an entire task force for the sole purpose of hunting Vladimir down. And don’t get me wrong, they weren’t buddies, they still hated each other’s guts and would kill the other in a heartbeat, but they were willing to work together towards the same goal because none of them would succeed on their own.

So, ultimately, Vladimir’s objective was riling up the public opinion to push for an invasion of America and provide the Russian government a ‘legitimate’ reason to do it. Does this have 9/11 commentary undertones? Well, I’m not gonna be the judge of that but it could be a possibility.

However, to understand this moment, we’ll have to go much further back in time.

2. His Childhood

This is going to be a huge oversimplification of Soviet history, I’m afraid, so my apologies in advance. Don’t take my word as the absolute truth, this is barely scratching the surface.

According to the information seen in No Russian, and Return to Sender, little Volodya was born on April 10th (not sure how reliable is the wiki since I was convinced he was born on October 4th *shrugs*) of 1970 in Ivanovo, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic. Or for those who, like me, don’t like those long names, better known as Soviet Russia.

As a curious fact, Ivanovo is known as the City of Brides because it was a very important center of textile industries in the Soviet Union that attracted many young women seeking work. It also has an important historical significance as hotbed for revolutionary activity in czarist Russia and was the city where supposedly the first Bolshevik assembly took place (earning the nickname of City of the First Soviet). During the Second War it proved invaluable as a front city, located close to enemy lines, receiving refuges and injured soldiers of the Red Army that treated their wounds in the many hospitals that were set up for that purpose. Also, in addition to producing armament and fighting in the war, the citizens made good use of their industries and donated huge quantities of fabric to make millions of uniforms.

Back to the topic, next thing we have to wonder is what Vladimir’s life was like as a child born in the 70s. We don’t know much about it and it’s never even mentioned anywhere in the game but, if we had to hazard a guess, he most likely had a relatively happy childhood— raised like any average Soviet kid at the time. His parents were maybe workers, maybe doctors, maybe engineers, maybe teachers, maybe in the military, but they surely weren’t bad people and they wanted their son to be a decent member of society. They didn’t raise him to be a criminal, they didn’t shape him into a monster. If Vladimir had at least one grandfather alive, then he would have served during the Great Patriotic War (a term used in Russia and other former Soviet republics to refer to the conflict in the Eastern Front during WWII). And as a kid, Volodya probably grew up in a typical khrushchyovka apartment with his family. It wasn’t very luxurious but, you know, it wasn’t so bad either and it was home sweet home for them.

Now you gotta imagine what growing up in the Soviet Union was like. Education was heavily influenced by the Communist party and children swam in a sea of propaganda. No, no matter what western propaganda says, they didn’t teach him to hate the west as a kid. Vladimir didn’t want to wipe out Americans from the face of the Earth or skin them alive as you probably imagined at some point, but from a young age he was taught to be proud of being born in the greatest country in the whole world and he pitied the ‘oppressed’ American workers for their lack of Soviet blessings, for being unable to stand up to their imperialist overlords. Heck, this was a popular song in the 80s, when he was about ten years old and probably every Soviet kid sang it at school, including him.

Speaking about that, at school he must have been in contact with several ethnic groups— remember that the industries attracted a lot of people to Ivanovo, particularly women, from many places all over the Soviet Union and, even to this day, Ivanovo is a multi-cultural city with over a hundred nationalities. It’s safe to say that Vladimir would have never given it much thought if someone wasn’t an ethnic Russian nor would he have cared. There weren’t nationalities or differences back then. Everyone was a Soviet citizen and everyone was equal or so it would seem at least, if you ignore the multiple genocides, mass killings, deportations and other horrors of the Stalin era before the Soviet Union adopted a more moderate domestic policy and started a process of de-stalinization after his death— eliminating his cult of personality and other institutions that allowed him to hold autocratic power.

This was also known as the Khrushchev Thaw period, and it was during this time that repression and censorship began to become more lax thanks to Nikita Khrushchev’s policies, and millions of prisoners were released from the gulags. It also opened up the Soviet Union to some economic reforms, trade with other countries, as well as educational and cultural exchanges in the form of foreign uncensored books and movies, music, dances, fashion, and new forms of entertainment in national television. So all this would seem a shift towards a more positive outlook for the Soviet citizens.

Our little Volodya shared and played with other kids in his neighborhood in the playgrounds of the apartment buildings, maybe fell off those Soviet swings and whacked his head a few times but that was okay, he still had fun and laughed and cried like any other child. He grew up listening to old pop music, synth (because people just didn’t listen to patriotic music all the time) and watching Bollywood movies which were all the rage at the time in the USSR as an alternative to western cinema. He had friends, a family that loved him. He spent weekends at the dacha (cottages outside the city) working the land with his family, growing fresh produce. He probably had an affectionate babushka that looked after him, told him many stories, and cooked hearty meals for him because she was a genius at handling finances and feeding the family. She surely was a god-believing woman despite the widespread atheism in a society where the word of Marx and Lenin had an almost religious significance, who took no shit from anyone, and who would chew Vladimir’s head off if he so much went out under-dressed in a breezy day. Even as a grown ass man, she would still intimidate him because you don’t mess with babushkas!

Like a good Soviet kid he was taught to never lie, to help his parents and respect the work of others, to have good manners and not be a spoiled brat, to be considerate and kind to his elders, encouraged to be resourceful, to do things by himself and not expect others to come to his aid, to improve his culture and intellect, to study hard and become someone who would help build the future of socialist paradise. He probably collected silly trinkets like many kids do, he spent his time learning to carve wood and other crafts, reading about the great war heroes and the communist leaders. Year after year he played zarnitsa, a war game for kids and a very popular activity in the Young Pioneers (the Soviet ‘Boy Scouts’, so to speak) that trained young generations for military life, compulsory for every man, cultivating their love for the USSR and preparing them to defend the homeland from the enemy.

Life back then could be tough at times, true, but he must have been quite happy and there was joy to be had. He was raised to be patriotic, a good communist, living in what he believed was a place of peace where all were equals and all were comrades. Having little contact with western influences, he grew up listening to a carefully woven narrative and was told of the decadence of warmonger capitalists that feared the spread of communism so much that they would wage countless wars to stop it and destroy other peace-loving nations. So much could be argued regarding this statement, sure, but this is what he was told and it was during a time when Operation Condor (the US-backed campaign of state terrorism and wave of right-wing dictatorships in Latin America during the 70s-80s) was in full swing to eradicate communism and any Soviet influence from South America. Not to mention the many proxy wars waged throughout these decades, as well.

“For years the western hypocrisy has made the world a battlefield.”

Little Octobrists and Young Pioneers were a thing and the Communist ideology was still going strong even if some started to quietly question it. Not that many did, at any rate, since the dreaded KGB kept a close eye on everyone so dissidents wouldn’t spread the wrong ideas in the Soviet society. Well, at that time maybe you wouldn’t be sent to a gulag just for saying bad things but someone would ‘talk’ some reason into you and there would be subtle threats to tone your attitude down or else your life and that of your relatives could be screwed. Don’t say this, don’t do that, the walls have ears and you’re being watched.

You have to keep in mind that he also grew up under the constant threat of nuclear annihilation. And much like American kids, Vladimir would have been greatly concerned about nuclear armageddon and be familiarized with procedures to follow in case such a terrible event came to pass.

The US and Russia pointed nukes at each other for many years and the NATO military exercises of Able Archer— at the peak of Cold War hysteria— didn’t help matters. These were annual exercises but that year of 1983, new elements never seen before had been introduced, and then there was the menace of the new Pershing II nuclear missiles that had been recently deployed in Western Europe. If launched, these would be able to reach their target in less than ten minutes (faster than any other missile known until then), landing with high accuracy and virtually no warning.

Until then the only thing stopping a nuclear war was the threat of mutually assured destruction, but these missiles tipped off the scales in favor of the west, since the Soviets would have no way to retaliate if their command centers or even their own missile launch facilities were targeted. So the Soviet Politburo was very concerned about this situation, in a time when president Reagan poured great efforts to fight the Brezhnev Doctrine (which established the legitimization of military interventions in Eastern bloc states, or any country that became a threat to international socialism) and show the world that the USSR wasn’t indestructible.

The increase in realism of these exercises, the strained relationship with the US under the Reagan administration, previous psychological operations, participation of heads of government in the exercise, and recent deployment of these new ballistic missiles, made the Soviet military believe that the US and NATO were preparing for a preemptive strike and that the exercise was nothing but a ruse. In response, the Soviets readied their nukes, air forces in East Germany and Poland were put on high alert to any funny business, and Soviet intelligence monitored the situation closely for signs of an impeding attack.

After nine days, the exercises came to an end and that was probably the time both countries were the closest to nuclear annihilation since the Cuban missile crisis of 1962.

So in those years, Vladimir was living under the administration of Leonid Brezhnev famously known for his era of stagnation and also for his passionate kisses (the famous socialist fraternal kiss, you guys :v). Though it’s worthy of being mentioned that in the early 70s the Soviet Union had reached the peak of international power and prestige.

Nikita Khrushchev, Brezhnev’s predecessor, had promised that by the 80s communism would be a reality and maybe that wasn’t so hard to believe at the time. The economy was growing at a rate of about 3% annually and things had started off relatively well in the mid 60s when Brezhnev assumed office. There was full employment, even minimal wage was sufficient to afford basic necessities, healthcare was a given, education in all levels was free and once you finished university or a vocational course, there was a job waiting for you. Things were pretty much settled for everyone. There wasn’t a lot to worry about, not many uncertainties. It was a pleasant predictive life for the most part. Not perfect, by any means, and it had its difficulties but Vladimir’s family felt protected and safe and they had great hopes for the future.

What went wrong then?

To be continued in part 2

#vladimir makarov #call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 #i'm sorry for the typos and grammar mistakes #it's midnight here #and i should be going to bed ;A;

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awed-frog · 6 years ago

Note

About your griffin post, about it being Protoceratops... It's not true. Mark Witton did an in-depth discussion about it.

Yes, about that - as I said in the notes, I’m grateful to the person who posted the link because I’d never heard of any of that, and the more diverse perspectives on stuff, the better. That said, a few things about his rebuttal (and yours):

1. When it comes to religion, mythology and folklore studies, there’s no such thing as ‘true’ and ‘not true’. You can categorize theories with other words, such as ‘likely’, ‘probable’, ‘possible’ and ‘utter troll dung’, but those are not exact sciences, so while it’s possible to follow a rigorous and scientific approach, it’s difficult (or even impossible) to prove anything in a definite way.

2. Adrienne Mayor’s book had an interdisciplinary approach. Mark Witton’s article did not. Now, this is more to Mayor’s credit than to Witton’s demerit, because you’re not going to contact fifteen colleagues for a blog post, but it’s worth noting that the lack of interdisciplinary research is a huge problem in academia, and it’s especially noticeable in ancient history (or maybe I notice it more because it’s my field, I don’t know). Since people tend to be either word-minded or numbers-minded, what you get is a series of extremely well-prepared specialists looking at stuff - while being completely ignorant of 98% of the world they’re examining. An ancient Greek scholar, for instance, will know a lot about linguistic shifts but squat about bread making, and that’s a bad way to understand a whole culture. Mayor, who’s more on the word side of the equation, made an effort to consult with science-oriented colleagues; Witton didn’t do that (although, as I said, that’s perfectly normal for the writing format he was using) and it shows.

3. About his first argument, ie that griffins are found in Near Eastern art: who cares? What you need to do here is not look at how you see the world, but at how a Greek person would see the world. Near Eastern griffins are not relevant - not because they don’t exist (they do) or because they’re not objectively fascinating (they are). They’re not relevant because they’re not mentioned in this context by Greek texts. None of the authors Mayor discusses made a connection between the Central Asia griffins and the Persian griffins. Maybe they didn��t know about the other ones, maybe they saw them as different animals - I honestly don’t know. But if they didn’t draw a connection between the two thing, then neither should we. I know mythology books tend to have categories on ‘monsters’ and offer enthralling images of ‘sirens’, ‘giants’ and ‘demons’ from around the world, but the fact is, how a specific culture understands that monster is likely to differ a lot from what their neighbours think of them. Sphinxes are a good example. There’s the Egyptian sphinx and the Greek sphinx - those are never discussed in the same papers because, despite the fact they do have superficial similarities, they’re very different creatures in what concerns their role in their respective societies’ religious and conceptual landscapes.

4. About his second argument, ie that protoceratops bones are not as widespread as she suggests, and one wouldn’t trip on skulls every two seconds - again, so what? As long as those fossils can be placed in that area at the right time, I’m good. This is not a scientific experiment the Scythians are carrying out: one skull is enough to suggest a story behind it, one trader sharing that story in his travels is enough to make it grow, and one bartender telling Herodotus about it is enough to validate it. The Amazons are a very good example of how that works. The idea of a tribe of women warriors had fascinated the Greek for centuries (they’re mentioned in the Iliad) before Herodotus wrote about them confirming they were real people doing real stuff. Western scholars have been scoffing at him ever since - and they kept scoffing until Soviet archaeologists started finding graves of women who’d been buried with weapons. Now - did archaeologists ever find a cemetery that was 100% badass female warriors? No. Did they find a cemetery that was 50% female warriors? Also no. To the best of our current knowledge, some of those Siberian-based tribes had - occasionally - warrior queens, or high-status women who used weapons. They were not Amazons in the traditional sense of the word, but it’s not that hard to imagine what must have happened there: one foreign delegation headed by an armed queen would have been enough to make any Greek go wtf and ooooohh, because that would have been so exotic - Greek women didn’t use weapons (and neither did Persian women, or Egyptian women - cultures some Greeks would have been familiar with) - so the sight of that must have left quite a deep mark. And since that’s how humans work, one warrior queen can become ‘a whole race of man-hating badass women’ in two seconds flat. I mean, we know that’s how storytelling works, and what happens with dubious or spotty record keeping, but also - how many times has that happened to you? You meet one Korean guy, he’s the only Korean you know and he’s an asshole - before you know it, you start to assume that’s what all Koreans are like. It’s just how we’re wired, and I guess it was supposed to be about protecting us from poisonous plants (‘Sure, that other red berry almost killed my brother, but what about this one?’ - that would have seen us extinct in no time), but it’s also something we need to keep in check, because no - people are not ‘all the same’ just because they belong to the same ‘tribe’.

5. Another argument he makes is that Central Asia to Greece is rather a long distance for Chinese whispers and legend swapping, and that’s so wrong I don’t even know what to say. This is exactly what I meant when I said people can be experts in their field (in Witton’s case, paleontology) while being pretty ignorant about others, because the ancient world was way more connected than what we imagine it to be. We know that even in prehistoric times, there were crowded trade routes moving from the Baltics to Greece, that people travelled hundreds of miles to go to some sanctuary on a Scottish island, and that yeah - ideas and legends did travel with goods, sometimes in a very lasting way. The traces of Buddhist doctrine, for instance, are all over Greek philosophy. This is a subject that’s only recently been explored because people like to believe Greek culture was born fully-formed without any foreign influences, but the studies on the exchanges between India and Greece - well before Alexander’s times - are fascinating. So no, I’m not disturbed in the slightest by the fact news about ‘griffin skulls’ seem to have travelled from the Gobi to Athens. That stuff happened, and as I mentioned above, all you need is one person - one guy who’s well-spoken enough, convincing enough, or convinced enough - one guy who doesn’t want Greek traders anywhere near his gold-stuffed mountains - talking to a second person. Today we’ve only got about 10% of Greek literature, but Greeks were an inquisitive bunch, and the country was littered with self-styled historians, geographers and anthropologists who spent their time either traveling around or paying drinks to whomever seemed foreign enough to be interesting. That method has limits, by the way - I myself once invented a fair bit of my town’s history because I was sixteen and bored and those tourists had seen me with my Latin textbook and asked me if I knew anything about Roman settlements in the area, so. I mean - half of a Greek historian’s paragraph start with ‘A man in Samos told me’ - God knows who they were even talking to. A local priest keen to increase tourism, the village idiot - anything’s possible.

6. Finally, something else that’s just uh is how Witton says, why single out griffins? What about other monsters? And, well, that’s the whole point of Mayor’s book. We know for sure ancient people found fossils; what we’re trying to figure out is what impact (if any) that had on their worldview. For instance, fossils did not suggest the idea of evolution, but they did mess with (or confirm) some of their religious beliefs. I’m hoping to summarize other chapters of Mayor’s book in more detail, but just a couple of examples: the Greeks, like many other ancient people, believed their ancestors to have been much taller and stronger than themselves -

(This, by the way, it’s another tantalizing way the outside world may - or may not - have influenced thought and belief: did the Greeks believe that because of the monumental architecture older cultures had left behind, or did those staggering things confirm an idea that had sprung from a different source? Like, humans tend to be pessimistic mofos, so it’s plenty possible you’d assume people are becoming smaller and weaker just because, and next the finding of a Daedalic temple just confirms that for you, because how the hell could anyone built that and Jesus Christ? Or maybe you find that temple first, and adjust your theology accordingly. We just don’t know. Hell - we’re struggling to explain contemporary religious phenomena - everything and anything from ISIS to spontaneous lynchings in India to cults - we have zero chance of fully understanding Greek religion in a way that allows us to say, ‘that’s right’ or ‘that’s wrong’.)

- and they also believed in monstrous giants dying in riverbeds (many Greek rivers are named after giants). Both things are probably related to the giant-ass femurs which kept cropping up in fields and - well - riverbeds, so no - griffins are not the lone exception. We know of people finding stuff they assume to be giant bones, divine cattle, cyclops - if you can think of it, there’s probably a fossil for it.

Ultimately, I just want to say: Mayor does offer some rather sweeping statements, but, then again, her book is aimed at a general audience. Too many conditionals and no one’s buying it (or understanding it). On the other hand, she also never pretends to hold any Universal Truth over the subject she’s exploring, because that’s how (good) academia works: you expect (and encourage) rebuttals, corrections, discussions. That’s how we progress.

Personally, what attracts me to these theories is that they’re part of a movement that’s arising - bloody finally - acknowledging man is not the centre of the known and unknown universe.

Until very recently, we were told the physical world has zero influence on what we think and how we feel - because we’re a superior animal, that is, so that stuff doesn’t touch us in the same way it does other (lower) beasts. And while that is true to an extent - if there’s an inconvenient river, we move it - saying that the world around us has no impact on our souls, brains and way of life - that’s just laughably pretentious. We now know something as banal as the weather can completely transform our mood and our decision-making, even on the long term - that trees make us smarter, that urban landscapes are likely to give migraines - there are studies in experimental archaeology in how landscape influences thought (like, you bury someone in a fetal position because the ground is too hard, you make yourself feel better by imagining he’s like a baby in the mother’s womb and will one day be reborn), and a lot of new ideas about folklore and religion. This line of studies on fossils is one example of that; another is how geography impacts theology - I don’t remember who it was, but I know someone suggested the reason human sacrifice is more common in tropical cultures is because in a jungle, death will immediately (and very visibly) feed new life, whereas in colder climates the relation is not that apparent. And again, it may never be possible to prove right and wrong there. Even if we had a time machine, these things are tricky to understand. People think of faith and belief in different ways, approach their religion through their own filter, will pretend to go along with stuff for personal gain. Who knows. The only thing we can be sure of is that those fossils would have been understood differently by different people. To some, that would have been proof of mythical monsters. To others, a way to strengthen their flock’s faith and thus cement social cohesion. And to others still, it was probably just a way to make money - a temple displaying a ‘griffin skull’ would have led to people selling griffin statues and opening griffin-themed restaurants, same as you see today in places like Lourdes or Fatima. Humans are messy. History is messy. That’s what’s beautiful (and infuriating) about both.

#ask #griffins #mythology #greek mythology #religion #mark witton #sorry i'm not including links #i'm late for a job #gaaaaaah #i hope this made sense?#but i'm open to discuss this of course #witton's perspective was genuinely interesting

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whatzappening · 6 years ago

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Week Two

Hi! Week two of operation brain zap is go. Had some very restorative time at home Thursday - Tuesday morning. Fulfilled my dream of cooking a chicken and veggie stir fry, served with a mix of brown and white rice (thanks Patricia for that neat trick!) Decompressed. Felt powerful and safe. Saw some friends and found it hard to be seen and held. Saw some more friends the next day, and being used to it, felt great about being seen and held. Was honest about my bitter, salty anger and hatred for many things. Let the wind blow it away from my body. Performed in Castlemaine Idyll a song about confusion and abuse, made it through without a vom or losing my shit in front of my entire home town. Felt proud and let loose a bit having a boogie to so many excellent courageous performances. Had a work meeting where I tapped in to the love story of an excellent couple and floated home. Saw some live music which filled my cup to the brim. Had a day alone with little dude and drank him in. Dropped him off at day care Tuesday morning and cried my face off once I got outside because I won’t see him til Thursday afternoon.

So. On the drive in to Melbourne I let go of my tears and then I felt myself harden again. So nervous about being hurt again. So worried about not being believed. Trace and I had discussed the night before that we had done absolutely everything we possibly could to make things positive, comfortable, safe.

I’m staying with a dear old friend and it’s comfy AF and close to everything I need.

I have support people lined up for all three appointments.

We have things set up at home so dinner and cleaning and child care is as easy as possible at Tracey’s end.

Nonetheless I agonised for two days over packing my bag. I got angry when I spilled a drink. I’m anxious. So far I haven’t forgotten anything I needed. I ubered in to Collins Street from Chapel Street, South Yarra where I’m staying (perilously close to Burch and Purchese fancy dessert bar) and sat at a cafe next door to the TMS place and my dear friend and celebrant colleague Sarah rocked up. We discussed the hand signal I would do if I’ve disassociated and gone to outer space and can’t speak. So good to see her. So good to not be alone. So good to not feel unsafe even though I’m not with my beloved.

We went upstairs and met another person who would be administering the zappadydoodahs and guess what? IT WENT SO WELL.

She didn’t pressure me to increase my percentage of zappy, she recommended going slower, and we reached my optimum level of 62% without me even noticing. In about 10 minutes. WHAT?! AMAZING.

When she was repositioning the thingo on my head a few times and asked me if it was comfortable and I lied and said yes because I erroneously felt guilty for wasting her time, Sarah said “IS IT?” and I could then say “..... no”. Love her. So good. It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t scary. I was listened to. I wasn’t told that what I was saying was wrong when I described what was happening. I AM SO RELIEVED.

Yesterday’s music was Bic Runga’s phenomenal album Birds. It was really lovely to have some time with that art, to really sink into it and enjoy every note and phrase. I felt like I was sitting with her listening to her tell me how life was (in 2005 when it came out).

I was relaxed and when the treatment was happening I felt that wonderful happy nerves feeling all up and down my arms and legs. Guys, I’m hopeful. Never again in Mornington with that muppet.

Hopped in an Uber with a very angry man who had two episodes of road rage (one as I was getting in the car with him) so that was annoying. Two star rating, mofo. Booked a Shebah for today’s trip in.

Came home to my gay husband Adam and sat on the very comfy couch, chatted for a bit, then we discussed dinner and Adam popped next door to the supermarket and on the couch I remained in his beautiful, tidy, spacious apartment watching Foxtel (omg so fun) as he cooked us dinner. Put my jammies on at some point and we had the most delicious dinner, smashed some Lindt chocolate I brought along and I was in bed around 9:30. Slept beautifully and woke up feeling ENERGISED. WHAT THE FUCK?

Toyed with the idea of going for a walk (which I felt like doing!) but didn’t bring proper shoes (dur) so worked for a while while watching a Facebook live chat with Charlie Goldsmith, that healer dude. Not sure what I think of all that but I like him and what he has to say. Reminded me that food is important for wellness. Having said that I’m sitting here at 10:30 having been awake for three hours and only had a coffee thus far. I’ll get there. Dots are joining.

Might bring my bathers and shoes next time and follow those impulses to do some movement. My body wants it. I want it. Imagine if I could manage it every day? Holy crap.

Another two treatments this week so we’ll see what happens. I have the same person as yesterday on Thursday but not sure who today. It depends so much on the person. I have residual fury about last week but not useful to zero in on that so trying to move on with things.

I’ve got some pretty big fibro pain going on alongside all this. Lots of driving yesterday, lots of picking up a very strong squirmy toddler who does not WANT his poopy nappy changed thank you. My arms and shoulders are made of fire. What else is new?!

Thanks for reading xx

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babyleclerc · 7 years ago

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Favorites

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Style: One-Shot

Warnings: Language and implications of sex. Otherwise it’s just pure, fun fluff.

Word Count: 1,364

Summary: Tom asks you a few Marvel questions, which leads to an interesting revelation about his coworkers.

A/N: Soft!Tom destroys me in this piece. I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. ;) Also please don’t come @ me for the thoughts on Hulk/Banner. It’s all in good fun. As usual, gif isn’t mine!

Though it had been a few hours, the smell of sex still lingered in the warm air of your bedroom. Tom lay shirtless on his back, book in hand, while you sat next to him - one leg bent underneath you, the other sprawled across his stomach, hunched over your phone. Tom’s free hand rested on your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing your soft skin in circles. You were lounging in panties and one of Tom’s old shirts, just the way he liked you to be. Spotify’s Relax playlist played softly on your Amazon Echo, filling the comfortable silence.

“Babe?” You ask, as your thumb swipes up your Instagram feed lazily.

“Hmm?” He replied, eyes never leaving his book as he turned the page.

“If you couldn’t play Loki, who would you want to be?” You double tapped a picture of Seb in sunglasses.

“Thor.” He responded quickly, eyes still locked on his book.

“And if you couldn’t play Thor?”

“Loki.”

You grinned, hitting his chest lightly. “Cheater.” You say, still Insta swiping, while Tom cracked a smile.

“I am the god of mischief.” He retorted, winking at you. After a few minutes of silence, he reached towards his nightstand, grabbing his bookmark and placing it inside his book, snapping it shut.

“Now you’ve intrigued me.” He says, letting his right hand fall to your hip, tugging at you gently.

“About what?” You glance up from your phone.

“First - mercy. Please.”

You sighed dramatically. ‘Mercy’ had become a very popular word in your relationship over the past few years. It was to be used when the other person wanted something - such as putting a phone away for undivided attention, calling a truce in a tickle war, pressing pause on a fight, etc. In this instance, he was asking you to put down your beloved iPhone.

You tossed your phone to the side of the bed in compliance, physically turning your body to face him but keeping one leg tucked under you and the other across his torso.

“Alright, phone has been mercy’d to oblivion. How can I help you, sir?”

Tom chuckled at your pet name that was usually reserved for the bedroom. “I have questions for you.” He began, his left hand wandering down your thigh slowly.

“Hit me.” You say, grinning. Time with Thomas alone was a rarity these days. Between filming Infinity War, rehearsing for theatre productions, and your career - you hardly at time together anymore. It was a constant mix of varying levels of effort, exhaustion, and commitment to keep your relationship thriving and happy. So intimate, uninterrupted conversations like these were the most precious to you. You had once equated them to having the significance of an infinity stone, which had made Tom laugh and tease you unceasingly.

“Who is your least favorite superhero?” He finally asked.

You crinkled your nose, “In the Marvel universe?”

“Hmm.” Tom affirmed, still letting his hand wander.

“Ugh, I was hoping you wouldn’t say that. Superman is the fucking worst.” Tom laughed in response, “Uhmmmmm, I guess Hulk?”

“What?! Why?” He asks you, bewildered.

“Ugh, I don’t know. There’s just something about Bruce Banner that gets under my skin. Like he was basically trying to become Cap but obviously turned out to be a way suckier version ‘cause he fucked with the gamma rays and now he’s screwed as Hulk. And he’s always whining about not being able to control it but like, dude, you literally did this to yourself, so, why don’t you try taking Tony’s advice and learn how to actually manage your green situation?!”

Tom’s bewildered laugh echoed across the room. Eyes closed, mouth half open, his hand gripping your leg as he struggled to control his breathing.

“Darling, you are not allowed on set. Ever.”

“What!” You shout, outraged, but laughing. “I cannot be the only person with this opinion.”

“I’m fairly certain that almost no one else agrees with you on this one. No sane person anyway.”

You scowled at him, folding your arms across your chest. “I guess that’s why they call it an opinion.”

“Yes, right,” Tom chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Let’s hear more of these wild so-called opinions. Favorite superhero in Marvel?”

“That’s such an unfair question,” you groan, falling over onto your left side, opposite Tom.

“It’s not a test, darling.”

You glared at him, “I can’t pick. I love them all for separate reasons.”

“Just pick one.”

“Nooooo.” You whine, taking your right hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Alright then, narrow it down for me. Who are your top three?”

“Cap, Thor, Bucky.” You respond immediately.

“Ahh. This makes sense now.” Tom murmured in response, fiddling with your hand in his. “Arguably the three most attractive men in the MCU, eh?”

You blushed, and instantly began to protest. “That’s not why!”

“But you don’t deny it!” He laughs, “After all these years, the truth finally comes out: my seemingly devoted wife has the hots for my coworkers.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” You huff, though your scarlet cheeks give you away. He pokes your side in teasing adoration. It’s not that you found them sexually attractive (you were hopelessly devoted to your lover with unwavering certainty) but they weren’t exactly ugly, either...

“So all those months of me begging, pleading with you to go out with me, really I was just vying for your attention over Chris and Sebastian?” Tom teased, pinching your waist lightly. “I would hate to have seen the outcome if Hemsworth hadn’t been married.”

“I’m starting to think I picked unwisely.” You say dryly, glaring at him and swatting his hand away.

“Oh come now, darling. It’s only a bit of fun.” He catches your hand and placed a gentle kiss on your wrist. “Besides, what fun would life be if I didn’t tease you a little?”

“A more pleasant one.” You mumble, while Tom laughs against your wrist, lips still hovering over your veins.

“Come here.” He commands, sitting up so that he can pull you onto his lap. You obliged, scooting over his stomach, straddling him, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. Your hair sloppily falls to the sides of your face as you peer down at him, still frowning from the topic of conversation. He smiles up at you, causing your insides to turn in all different directions. All it took was that look to make you forget how insufferable he could be at times.

“You know, you didn’t ask me the most important question of all.” You say softly, tracing your fingers on his chest. Tom’s right hand rested on your waist, while his left gently curled a lock of hair between his long fingers.

“And what question is that, my love?” He asked huskily, eyes lost in drinking you in.

“Who my favorite Marvel actor is.”

Tom smiled, slipping his right hand underneath your shirt and gently rubbing along your low back. “And who might that be?” He played along, meeting your gaze.

You raise both hands to cup his face, lightly tracing a finger over his stubble. You whisper softly, “Thomas William Hiddleston.” Before pulling him into a slow, meaningful kiss. You sigh happily into his mouth as he reciprocates, allowing all of your muscles to relax into him.

His arms wrap around your frame, squeezing you gently as he breaks the kiss to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck.

“Have I told you recently that I love you?” He asked, kissing you softly.

You smile, shaking your head. “Not enough.”

“Hmmm, we should fix that.” He murmured against your skin, placing another kiss just below your collarbone. “I love you.” A kiss on your shoulder. “Je t’aime.” A kiss on your arm. “Te amo.” His nose nuzzled your soft skin, before raising his head to look into your beautiful eyes once more. The woman he could not live without; the woman who gave his life meaning and purpose. Who made the sun rise and the stars shine across the sky. “Se agapó.” He whispers finally in Greek, before he pulls you in for another night of slow, passionate, lovemaking.

Fin.

Tag List: @markusstraya, @punkin-pie-mofo, @hazohazahazbro, @irishprincess9, @jedionironthrone.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

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liaragaming · 7 years ago

Text

OC Interview Meme

I was tagged by @tel-abelas-mofo. I really liked how they put the questions in the form of an interview and decided to do the same. Much more fun that way. I’ve never written Sera before. Not sure I captured her right.

1. Pick an original character! 2. Fill in the questions/statements as if you were being interviewed for an article and you were the character/muse 3. Tag people to do the same: @accidental-apostate @imaridraws @rosenrotxiii @cherryblossomaxire @thecopperkidd @just-dread-wolfing @apostatehobolife @dammit--solas @inquisitor-julia (Don’t feel obligated. I just tagged people I thought might have fun with it. Do let me know if you’ve already done it!)

“A chronicler from the Chantry would like to interview you,” Josephine explains.

“Interview me?” asks Inan. “Why?”

“With everything that was lost from Inquisitor Ameridan, the hope is having an official record by the Chantry would prevent such an occurrence happening again.”

The way the Chantry views elves, it seems very likely to her it may one day conveniently lose such a record. After disbanding the Inquisition, she thought she might finally be free of the gesturing and posturing of politics. She gives a bitter laugh at her naivete.

“Josephine, can't I–?” She's tired. It's been a long week. On top of the Exalted Counsel and the Qunari threat, she lost half an arm, and Solas is… well…

“I would not ask if I did not believe it important.” Her eyes simmer with the unspoken apology.

She gives a heavy sigh. “Fine. But I want you to be there.”

“Of course.”

“And… and Cassandra.”

“I will make her aware.”

“And Sera.”

Josephine blanches. “S-Sera?”

Inan stares at her. She doesn't have the energy to explain that if she's going to make it through this, she'll need some damned humor.

“I… as you wish, My Lady.”

They sit in corner a row of bunches outside the Winter Palace. The open air relaxes Inan. She thought she'd be locked in some stuffy room with no means of escape. She feels safer here, like she could run if wanted, though she wouldn't. She wonders if the chronicler chose this location or if Josephine talked him into it.

1. What is your name?

“Inan Lavellan.”

2. No seriously, what is your name?

“I...” Inan pauses, confused. To her left, Sera gives a laugh. “Oh, sure. She has other names. Inky, for one. Tadwinks, for another. She has all kinds of pet names.”

Josephine's eyes widen in horror from where she sits next to the chronicler as she watches him scratch a few notes on Sera's words. But she notices Inan's smile, and bites her tongue.

3. Do you know why you were called that?

“Well, inan is the elven words for 'eyes,' or more aptly translated as 'windows to the soul.' My eye color is unusual, so… that was the name I was given.”

4. Are you single or taken?

Inan's chest constricts at the question. She has no simple answer to this.

Sera lays a finger on her chin, turning her face. “Or she's taken, aren't you, Tadwinks?” Sera stares into her face like a lover, scooting closer, running her finger down her neck to trace her collar bone.

Inan smiles, fighting hard against the laughter that rolls up inside her.

Josephine stamps her foot. “Strike it out!” she tells the chronicler, who is scribbling.

“But this is important!” he protests. “Ameridan's lady mage was all but forgotten–”

“There will be no record of and no further questions involving the Inquisitor's romantic life.”

“But–”

“Strike it out or this interview is over.”

The chronicler sighs and does what she asks.

5. Do you have any abilities or powers?

“Well, I'm a mage. I… had a Mark on my hand that…” She trails off, her mind goes once again to Solas, to his confession, how he'd kissed her and taken the Anchor away…

Cassandra nudges her shoulder, breaking her from her thoughts.

“Uh…” She rubs her stump of an elbow. “I trained as a Knight Enchanter.” She has no desire to address the topic further.

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

Josephine glares at the chronicler, who raises his hands in defense. “It's on their list of questions!”

“Strike it out.”

7. What is your eye color?

Inan stares at the chronicler. “I'm sitting right in front of you.”

“The Chantry requests that I record your direct answers to avoid any misinformation.”

Inan sighs. “They're blue. But they deepen to purple around the iris. That's what makes them unusual.”

8. How about your hair color?

Another sigh. “Blonde.”

9. Have you any family members?

“My clan is my family.” Who she hasn't seen in three damn years because of this job.

The realization crushes her, and she's grateful that the chronicler doesn't seem to notice and moves on to the next question.

10. I see… what about pets?

“I… uh…” She finds it odd she never thought about having a pet before.

“Me!” says Sera, laying her head in Inan's lap and smiling up at her.

Inan bites her tongue to keep from laughing and strokes Sera's hair.

There is no sound of scratching from the chronicler. Either he's taken Josephine's advice not to record such things, or he's decided to ignore Sera all together.

11. Tell me about something you don’t like.

“Punchy noble piss,” Sera mutters.

“Interviews,” Inan says.

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

She has to think. “Reading… and practicing. Magic or combat.”

“Combat?” asks the chronicler.

Inan holds out her hand, pulling energy from the Fade to form a magical sword within it.

“Ah,” he says.

13. Ever hurt someone before?

Josephine stares at him. “We are – were the Inquisition. What is that question meant to imply?”

The chronicler shakes his head and scratches the question out.

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

Josephine glares.

“Right,” says the chronicler, scratching with his pen. “Right.”

15. What kind of animal are you?

The chronicler gives a nervous laugh. “I'm sure that got mistranslated somewhere.”

“I'm an elf,” she says. “A Dalish elf. Maybe I should state that officially.”

16. Name one of your worst habits.

Inan hesitates and looks to her friends.

“She can care so much about others,” says Cassandra. “Her friends and the strangers we meet, that she forgets to take care of herself.”

“She can get so serious,” says Sera. “She needs reminding how to relax and have fun.”

“In high stress situations, she can be… rash.” Josephine brings her hand to mouth, uttering a soft “oh” and glancing to the Inquisitor.

Inan smiles back. “All of those sound accurate.”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Inan thinks for a moment. “Everyone. My traveling companions and my advisors. They all have their own strengths, and I wouldn't be sitting here let alone having lea the Inquisition or defeated Coryephus without them. I'm sorry that's not more specific.”

18. Sexual orientation?

Sera breaks into a fit of high pitched giggles.

“Men,” Inan says simply. “I prefer men.”

19. Do you go to school?

“I was taught by my clan in the ways of magic and Dalish history. When I came to the Inquisition, there was an extensive library to learn more about politics, the arcane, history, and other areas. Josephine could live you a more detailed list if you require it.”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids someday?

“… Maybe?”

21. What are you most afraid of?

The question hits her like a punch to the chest. Inan gasps for air.

She thinks of Solas, of what he's doing, of where his path might lead him, dark roads it terrifies her think about. She takes a shaking breath, a single tear rolling down her face.

“Spiders,” says Sera. “She's afraid of spiders.”

Cassandra grips Inan's shoulder. “Next question.”

22. What do you usually wear?

“Not this,” she tugs at the stuffy Inquisition uniform. “Something simple, casual, low maintenance, with pockets.”

23. Do you love someone?

“Next question,” says Josephine hurriedly.

24. What class are you?

“Um… common? I guess?”

25. How many friends do you have?

“You need a specific number? I had nine regular travel companions and three advisors if you need that for your records. I can give you their names.”

26. Thoughts on pie?

“Pies are delicious… although I prefer cake, chocolate.”

27. Favorite drink?

Dorian Pavus always has excellent recommendations. He left me a Tevinter ale that I have to admit is quite good.

28. What’s your favorite place?

“Skyhold. I'm… going to miss it.”

29. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“A lake. Saltwater burns my face.”

30. Are you interested in anyone?

“No romantic questions!” Josephine reprimands.

31. What’s your bra size?

Josephine gasps. Cassandra's eyes widen. Sera giggles.

Inan tries to keep a straight face. “I don't wear one.”

Sera laughs so hard she falls off the bench.

32. Well, what’s your type?

“No,” says Josephine.

33. And what attracts you?

“I'll just…” says the Chronicler. “Forget that one.”

34. Any fetishes?

Sera gasps with delight.

“No,” says Inan.

“Oh, come on!” Sera pleads. “You'll laugh! You will!”

35. Seme or uke? Top or bottom? Dominant or submissive?

“No,” Inan says again to Sera's insistence.

“Is this really necessary?” Josephine asks.

The chronicler consults their list of questions, skipping to the end.

36. Camping indoor or outdoors?

Inan laughs. “I'm Dalish.”

37. Are you wanting the quiz to end?

“Thank goodness.” She stands from the bench, heading for the stairs and hoping Josephine will forgive her for leaving her to take care of the pleasantries.

#dragon age #inan #post trespasser #asks

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theygotmewhipped · 6 years ago

Text

Skin - 8. Tattoo

Word Count: 4 765

“Do we really have to do this?” Kyungsoo came out of Chanyeol’s room in shorts, crop top and wig, wearing make-up.

“Yope.” I grinned. Jongin, Yixing, Junmyeon and Minseok entered the living room dressed in sexy and revealing clothing, and stood next to Kyungsoo in front of the rest of us. We started laughing out loud at them, enjoying the sight.

“Really funny, guys.” Minseok rolled his eyes annoyed.

“Thank god we won.” Sehun was laughing so much, his eyes were barely visible.

“Are you done?” Kyungsoo waited for us to stop laughing.

“Okay, okay.” I giggled. “But I gotta say, I’m actually kinda mad right now. Why does Junmyeon’s legs look better than mine in those dress? That’s unfair! And Jongin, how the hell do I get a waist like that?! Seriously, I’m never wearing a crop top again because of you.” How can boys look better wearing skirts and shit than most of the girls?! I’m offended.

“We do look quite good, don’t we?” Yixing posed for us with a smile.

“What are you talking about, Yumi? I haven’t seen anyone look better than you in a dress or a crop top.” Chanyeol said completely serious, receiving a shocked silence and stares from all of us.

“E-?” I stared at him with wide eyes and opened mouth. When Chanyeol noticed our surprise, he panicked and his face flushed red.

“Uh-ah-what I meant to say…um…was…eh…that-that you look better…cause, you know, they are guys and…you are not…and…” He stumbled on his words.

“Stop trying, dude. We all know what you really wanted to say.” Baekhyun tried to end his suffering with a bit of mocking, putting an arm around his back. Chanyeol just hung down his head in defeat.

“Let’s go celebrate!” Jongdae yelled and jumped up of the couch. Sweet god, please help me.

“I kinda feel sorry for you, guys.” I said as we sat in a bar. Our “spice girls” were receiving a lot of lustful and horny looks since we arrived and they sat hunched, trying to cover themselves as much as possible.

“No, you don’t.” Minseok replied, not believing me for a single second.

“Ah, you’re right. The taste of victory is was too sweet and you get to taste what it feels like to be a woman at least for one night so that’s another win for me.” I smugly shrugged with and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Chanyeol immediately turned at me, cutting of his conversation with Sehun.

“To get a drink.” I picked up my empty glass as a proof, knitting my eyebrows at his intrusiveness.

“I’ll go with you.” He immediately started to stand up like someone poked him in the butt.

“No need.” I frowned feeling like he was invading more than usual. “Moreover, the princesses here need someone to protect them from big bad wolves that are lurking around these woods, so you should totally stay and be their hero.” I suggested to him to let me go alone in an obscure way.

“But…” Even then, he tried to protest.

“I said stay!” I put it bluntly this time. He closed his mouth and sat back down. Thank God, I really need at least few minutes without them. For fucks sake, I’ve spent an entire day with these crazy mofos from another planet. Feels like an eternity. My life force has literally been drained from me. I don’t even know how I am still standing.

“Um, hi. Could you please give me vodka with orange juice? Oh, and make it double, please.” I addressed the bartender. I just need to drown the stress so I can survive.

“Coming up right.” The bartender turned to the bottles behind him.

“Must have been a tough day if such a pretty young lady is drinking alone at the bar.” Some weird dude approached me. I ignored him and kept looking over the bar. I’m not in a mood for some douchy dumbass who thinks he’s charming. “Playing hard to get, huh?” He kept speaking. Yep, total asshole. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” He said angrily after I ignored him again. Can’t he take a hint? Seriously, dude, you ain’t getting none, fuck off. Why do men like this try to cure their inferiority complexes and blue balls by hitting on some girl at a bar and then getting angry if she’s not interested? Isn’t it more embarrassing then just letting go after the first sentence without response?

“Here’s your drink, miss.” The bartender handed me a glass and I gave him money.

“Thanks.” I took the glass and left.

“Bitch, are you just going to ignore me?!” He strolled after me. This guy seems to be especially persistent. Better get to the table before he tries anything. I picked up the pace a little. Who would have thought that those nine fools would become a safe space?

“What do you think you’re doing?” A deep cold voice was audible behind me. Chanyeol? I turned around with wide eyes. Chanyeol was tightly grabbing onto that asshole’s arm that was reaching in my direction, glaring daggers into him. I hadn’t even noticed he was about to touch me. My breath became erratic.

“No-nothing, man.” The guy looked kinda baffled. “I didn’t know she was here with someone.” He tried to explain himself.

“Even if she wasn’t, that doesn’t give you a right to harass her.” Chanyeol was even more pissed off than the time I belittled and slandered his charity days at hospital. “Get lost! Now!” He let go of his arm and glared at him until he left. I stood there in astonishment not knowing what to do. “Seems like one princess needed saving after all.” Chanyeol smirked at me, his anger disappearing without a trace.

“I…Thank you.” I was still getting over what just happened.

All of sudden, all the others boys hurriedly approached us. This time even Chanyeol looked perplexed, not just me.

“Uhm, I think we should leave.” Junmyeon was in distress. Well, not just him, they all looked like someone was after them.

“Like, now!” Sehun said in urgency.

“Wha-why?” I asked.

“Long story short. Jongin punched someone near the restrooms so we better leave before anyone finds out.” Jongdae quickly explained. We looked at Jongin who just apologetically smiled and shrugged.

“Oh God.” I sighed and drank the whole glass at once.

“Damn, girl!” Baekhyun commented as everyone stared at me with wide eyes.

“Kay, let’s go!” Chanyeol ushered us out. We got out and ran down the street and around the corner.

“Ever loving Michelle Obama.” I was hyperventilating. “There is not a single minute of peace and quiet when you lunatics are around.” I can’t feel my lungs. Or maybe I feel them too much? Oh how I hate running.

“You’ll have all the peace and quiet you need when you’re dead.” Kyungsoo countered. “At least that’s what they told me.” He shrugged seemingly unaffected by the run.

“Heh?” I squinted at him through my heavy breaths.

“Let’s just go home. I think we’ve had enough for one day.” Jongin suggested.

“You think?” All of us said in unison staring at him in disbelief.

After we got home Kyungsoo and Minseok went to change.

“Aren’t you going to change as well?” Chanyeol asked Yixing, Junmyeon and Jongin.

“You know, it’s actually quite comfortable.” Junmyeon wiggled in the dress.

“Yeah, the amount of space down there is…liberating.” Yixing plopped down on the couch.

“Eww, at least close your legs, man. I don’t wanna look at your junk.” Baekhyun scrunched his nose on the other side of the sitting space.

“We all know you’re enjoying it so why the hell you lying?” I teased him.

“I sure would enjoy it if it was you sitting there.” He replied with a smug face. Junmyeon who was about to sit down next to him just smacked him across his head making me giggle.

“Sorry, but my shop has strict anti-losers policy, loser.” I smirked at him.

“At least we know why Chanyeol didn’t get in.” Sehun said not looking up from his phone. We all started chuckling like an idiots.

“What’s so funny?” Minseok entered the room now wearing sweatpants and a tank top.

“Well I’m done with you all today. Good night, losers.” I took my stuff and made an escape to my room.

I was about to get comfortable and finally relax when there was a knock on my door. “What?!” I opened the door, revealing Chanyeol carrying pillow and blanket in baggy shorts and white shirt with holes, giving me a sad puppy eyes. I let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not gonna like this, am I?”

“Can I please sleep in your room?”

“No.” I answered sternly.

“But…”

“No.”

“Yumi, let me explain…” He pleaded with me.

“No.”

“I kinda miscalculated.” He proceeded anyway.

“No.”

“And now there is only eight…”

“No.” I kept repeating myself while he was trying to explain the situation.

“…and I forgot to…”

“No.”

“…include myself.”

“No.”

“That’s why I need…”

“No.”

“…a place to sleep.”

“Ugh, fine.” I gave up. “But you sleep on the floor.”

“Thanks, Yumi. You’re a real life savior.” He brightly smiled at me and entered the room.

“Tell me something I don’t know. I should’ve just let you sleep on those cold kitchen floor tiles or something.” I closed the door behind him and climbed into my bed while he made his on the floor.

After watching few episodes of Punisher I checked up on Chanyeol. “Hey, Yeol.” I called out to him. No answer. “Are you asleep?” Still no response. Cool, I’m taking my leave then. I took my wallet and keys, then checked up on Chanyeol once again.

He looks like a cute giant baby when he’s sleeping and that peaceful silence. It’s an unbelievable sight to see him not spitting out words one after another longer than ten seconds for once. I kneeled down in front of his face.

Looks squishy. Must touch. My brain completely shut down letting my instincts take over. My hand moved with a mind of its own and poked his cheek. After receiving no reaction I reached out again and carefully put my fingers on his face softly caressing his cheek. I don’t know if it’s because he’s asleep or because I’m the one initiating the touch but I don’t feel the usual anxiety. It’s still burning a little but it’s not that bad. He’s so soft. I am barely touching him but still…

Suddenly he exhaled sharply through his nose. “Shit.” I pulled my arm back. Maybe he’s just dreaming since he doesn’t seem to be waking up. Nevertheless, what the heck was I just doing?! That was unbelievably stupid! Aaand the brain power is back on. Time to leave.

I left the apartment and entered the first opened pub I found.

“The strongest drink you’ve got, please.” I ordered. After today, it’s not gonna be enough anyway. I’m not sure if light drugs would be enough at this point.

“Are you sure, miss?” The bartender raised an eyebrow at me.

“Yep.” Dude, if you had to survive a day with nine guys with minds of ten years old, you would want some too. I know what I’m talking about.

“Can I see your ID, please?” You gotta be kidding me. I’m not twelve. I took out my ID and handed it over to him. He suspiciously checked it out for almost a whole minute then returned it like he never asked.

“I’ll have Bacardi, please.” Familiar voice next to me ordered.

“Did you follow me, you skank?” I turned to look at Chanyeol. Wasn’t he sleeping?

“Yeah, kinda. I heard you leave so I got worried since it’s middle of the night and I…” He admitted.

“Geez, okay, just shut up.” There goes my alone time. I already miss his sleeping self. Wait…Fuck. I hope he wasn’t up, when I touched him!! Shit, what am I gonna do if he knows?! I looked at him trying to hide my panic. Well, he’s not saying anything about it and doesn’t look flustered or confused. And he doesn’t seem to be deep in thoughts, although he never does. Geez, I’m so stupid. But he’s quiet so I guess my dignity remains without a harm.

After the bartender handed us our orders, we sat at the bar looking at our glasses like two losers.

“I have an idea.” Chanyeol lifted his head up looking like he just solved how to end the global warming.

“No.” I dismissed him immediately.

“You don’t even know what it is.” He complained.

“Knowing you, it’s definitely something that’s gonna make me regret ever leaving my bed. So no.” That’s the most probable outcome to anything that comes out of Chanyeol’s head.

“No, it’s not.” He was persuading me.

“Gosh, fine. What is it?” I rolled my eyes. He would go on and on until I would let him speak and I’m too tired for that right now.

“Why don’t we play ‘two truths one lie’ while we drink?” Chanyeol laid out his grand idea.

“No.” I replied as usual knowing all too well it would be bite me in the ass in the end if I went along with it.

“Why ‘no’?”

“Why yes? Why do you want to play?” I didn’t understand why he was so adamant about it.

“Cos I want to get to know you better.” He had an amiable smile plastered on his face.

“Why would you want that? There’s nothing interesting to know about me.” I didn’t want to accept his motives.

“Because we are friends. I want to know even the boring stuff although I doubt there is some.” He chuckled to himself.

“Even if you say so, you are still mistaken at one thing. You may consider me your friend but you are not mine.” I reminded him and coldly looked at him. He furrowed his brows and frowned for a second then smiled.

“If you say so.” Why the heck is he smiling? “Despite that, I still want to play.” I just told him he is basically no one to me and yet here he is smiling acting like nothing happened. What’s going on in his head?

“Fine, whatever, if it makes you happy I don’t care as long as I get to drink. Let’s go sit elsewhere though.” I stood up. Chanyeol took the glasses and followed me to one of the tables.

“Cheers to us!” He handed me a glass.

“Cheers I suppose.” We drank the content. “Bleh, what the…this is not my drink!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah…I know.” Chanyeol said with a twisted face. “Why did you order something so strong?”

“You exchanged them on purpose, didn’t you?” I regarded him with blank expression. Why am I not surprised?

“Yep.” He regretted drinking the stronger shot.

“Why?” I was displeased.

“Cos I didn’t want you to get drunk and then feel sick.” He gave me pleading eyes.

“First of all, I can handle my liquor and second, don’t be so overprotective over everything I do. Seriously, dude, I’m not made of sugar and you are not my mom.” I was serious.

“I can see that now.” He stood up. “If you excuse me, I’m gonna get myself some water.” What a baby.

“You know how to play, right?” He asked when he got back.

“It’s not quantum physics, of course, I do.” I rolled my eyes.

“Okay, okay. So who goes first?” He is way too excited to play this game for kids.

“I don’t really care, you can go first if you want to.” I laid my head on my hand nonchalantly staring at him.

“Alright. So…I have a sister. I can play piano. And I hate romantic movies.” He counted the statements on his fingers.

“The second one is a lie. You play guitar, not piano.” I answered without hesitation.

“Wrong. I actually play piano, guitar and drums. The third was a lie. I kinda like romantic movies.” I wasn’t paying much attention to the game nor was I planning to but he had me intrigued from the beginning. How does one even master so many instruments?

“I should have known that since you’re such a softie and all.” I looked down at the empty glass hiding my amazement. “I have a new rule, if you don’t mind.” I looked up at him.

“Okay?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Every time we get it wrong we drink a shot. What do you say? Something light of course so we won’t be fuck faced after two rounds.” I suggested. Mainly because I wanted to get drunk. But I kinda wanted to see if Chanyeol’s personality would change under the influence. Maybe his innocent act will finely fall off.

“Um, okay, sure, we can do that.” He agreed. I got us the drinks and immediately gulped one down.

“My turn. So, I have a sister as well.” Obvious truth, since he met her. “I work as a waitress. And I want to visit New York.” It’s actually kinda hard to think of a lie for it to sound like it’s the truth.

“The second is definitely a lie. You hate interacting with people way too much to work as a waitress.” He replied confidently and I grinned.

“Well, drink up, boy, cos you got it wrong. The New York one was a lie.” I smiled victoriously.

“Why don’t you want to visit New York?” He turned a glass down.

“Because it’s just an overhyped concrete jungle with too many people and nothing special. Who cares about copper lady and what used to be the tallest building.” I know it’s an unpopular opinion, but it’s what I think. I’d rather explore Amazon Forest than visit New York.

“Uhm, okay.” Chanyeol didn’t comment it further with an unreadable expression. Then he proceeded to play the game instead. “First, I haven’t had a relationship. When I have kids. I want them to be a boy and a girl in that order. And the last, I like broccoli.” He smirked at me, being sure I would get this wrong.

“Oh well, the second is oddly specific, but I think that’s a truth.” I studied Chanyeol’s face for clues. “There’s a lot of people who like broccoli, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve been single your whole life, which leads us back to the small tree. The third is a lie.” I was convinced. Chanyeol just chuckled.

“I like your thinking but no. I really do like broccoli.” He amusedly smiled giving me a chance to correct myself.

“Then you don’t want to have kids in that order or not at all or what?” I just shoot at the possibilities of the second statement.

“No, that was the truth as well. The first was a lie.” He snorted, somewhat upset that I didn’t consider that option at all. I frowned.

“You’ve had a relationship? Like dating somebody? Really?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

“Is it really that surprising?” Chanyeol snorted again.

“Well, yeah.” I emptied another glass.

“Am I so horrible for you to think that I never dated anyone?” He was frowning. Is he hurt by that idea?

“No, actually you’re what most of the girls would call boyfriend material or goals or some shit like that.” His frown disappeared after I said that. Instead a small smile appeared on his face. “I just don’t understand how haven’t you kissed or fucked anyone if you’ve been in a relationship.” I explained what led me to my conclusion.

“Relationships aren’t just about that. And at that time I didn’t feel ready, I didn’t needed it. I was happy just to hold her and have her by my side. Although, she apparently wasn’t since she was sleeping with some other guy behind my back. But that doesn’t change anything about the fact that physical contact isn’t the only thing that makes relationship a relationship.” Says a guy who literally looked for a cuddly buddy. …although it is true that he didn’t requested cuddling for quite some time now. …did he stop asking for them because he had found out about my fear? Or even before that? I have no idea how the timeline goes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” I hung my head down. I can sympathize with him. One bad partner can mess up your whole life. Some may even never get over what’s been done to them.

“It’s alright. How could you, right?” He tried to brighten up a little.

“I think, we should flush it down with a drink.” I suggested. Let the alcohol wash away all the resurfacing memories.

“Kay, then it’s your turn.” He lifted a glass. We looked at each other smiling over the pain and drank the content of our glasses.

“Fine.” I took a while to think. “I used to have sugar gliders as pets. I hate you. I would sell my soul to meet with Ryan Reynolds.” I felt the alcohol finally kicking in.

“That’s easy.” Chanyeol smirked. “Second one is a lie. You don’t really hate me even though you say you do. A lot, and often.” He snickered.

“How did you know?” I didn’t expect him to get it right. I mean I do say that I hate him pretty often.

“I just know. Your actions speak for you even if you don’t realize it.” He was happily smiling.

“What are you talking about?” I raised an eyebrow at him. What actions? I’m not aware of anything I did that could let him think otherwise.

“Nothing, it’s my turn.” He dismissed it.

“We really don-now anything about each otha, do we?” Chanyeol jumbled his words. After a few more rounds we were completely trashed, now trying to get home.

“Well, we know each other just a few weeks so it’s not that supr-rprising.” I got stuck on the last word.

“I saw Baekhyun naked after three days.” He said seriously.

“Now that, is not a surprise at all.” We laughed at that. “But! I did see you naked already as well.” I pointed out, trying to implicate that it has nothing to do with actually knowing each other. Chanyeol’s ears turned red, now matching his cheeks red from alcohol.

“Haha, yeah.” He was embarrassed.

Somehow we ended up in a park few blocks away. We sat down on the grass and looked in to the night. Everything seemed so peaceful without people rushing around. It was just us and the dark sky above us.

“Thank you.” I said out of nowhere. My mouth worked quicker than my brain could process.

“Huh? What for?” He looked at me for clarification.

“For being you.” I looked into his lost eyes. I think I’m gonna regret this tomorrow but I’m drunk and feeling weirdly content right now so let this be a new reason for anxiety of my future self instead of present.

“I must say I don’t understand right now.” He said completely serious looking like all the alcohol has drained from him for a moment.

“Thank you for being the way you are. For being so patient and considerate with me. I really appreciate it even though it might not look like it. And thank you for making me feel alive again after what feels like an eternity.” I expressed my feelings honestly. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the fact that I’m exhausted that I let this slip out of my mouth but I couldn’t careless at the moment. I wasn’t feeling on the edge for the first time in a while and everything just seemed so calm. This was where I was supposed to be at the moment and I wanted to savor it.

“My pleasure.” He sincerely smiled at me.

“Geez, I’m making this beautiful night so serious.” I fell back and lied down on the grass not wanting to continue this emotional skydiving.

“Can I ask you something?” He turned around leaning over me.

“Sure.” I shrugged.

“What made you like this? What happened to you that it makes you panic when you’re touched by someone?” He got a bit closer but still kept his distance. And there goes the peace of the night. My face froze in an angry expression.

“None of your business.” I growled. Chanyeol moved away from me with baffled expression and turn his face away from me.

“I shouldn’t have asked. My bad, I’m sorry.” His pained voice forced me to calm down making me realize that I lashed out at him for nothing.

“No, I’m sorry.” I sat back up. “I just really don’t want to think about that right now. They’re not exactly pleasant memories and it’s better to not bring them up.” I explained ashamed by my reaction.

“It’s okay. I understand. You don’t have to push yourself.” He smiled reassuringly.

“Thanks.” I gratefully smiled at him. All of a sudden a chill ran through me making me shiver. Chanyeol must have noticed because he took off his hoodie and handed it to me.

“Here, put this on. It’s quite cold outside.” I accepted his offer and reached for his hoodie.

“Huh?” I halted when I noticed a familiar picture on his arm. “Is that…? How did you…?” I stared at his arm mind blown. Is it real? How long does he have it and why haven’t I noticed till now?

“Oh, the tattoo?” He twisted his arm more so it would be more visible. “I really liked your drawing so I took it and had it tattooed. Looks awesome, doesn’t it?” He brightly smiled.

“Why would you do that?” I asked quietly, completely shocked. It was just a useless sketch inspired by his guitar. It wasn’t even completely finished. Just piece of trash that was supposed to end up in junkyard or be recycled into a toilette paper. Instead he made it into an eternal piece of art. On his body nevertheless.

“Because it spoke to me. When I saw the unique style in which you draw the guitar I just couldn’t help it. I wanted the feeling I had while looking at it to last forever.” He caressed the tattoo with a fond smile.

“I…I don’t know what to say.” It was so unexpected to see my drawing immortalized on someone’s body. I never imagined something like this to happen. I can’t say it didn’t make me happy though. Something I did, I created, was good enough for someone. My work held a meaning in someone else’s mind. I wonder when he took it though. I hadn’t even noticed him taking it home from the hospital.

“Just put on the hoodie before you freeze to death.” He warmly looked at me and changed the subject. I put on the hoodie and looked at the horizon above the buildings, thankful that he didn’t elaborate any further. I had mixed feelings about this whole situation.

“It’s already dawn?! Let’s go home before your friends wake up.” I stood up and brushed off my butt in a stupid attempt to escape this night that turned into an emotional turmoil.

“Minseok is probably already up.” Chanyeol said thinking looking at his watch.

“Wha-? I’m not even asking. He gives me creeps anyway.” I shook my head. Chanyeol just giggled. Who in their right mind wakes up so early in the morning? One day, there’ll be news on the TV about some crazy serial killer with some weird habits and carving initials into their victims and then there’ll be Minseok’s picture shown and I won’t even get shocked because who else than serial killer would wake up at this ungodly hour.

“Oh, and they are your friends as well now. There is no escaping us anymore. With me, you basically signed up for the whole squad.” He grinned. So I’m basically next body in the ditch somewhere, is that it? Either I kill myself because I won’t be able to handle their presence or I’ll be Minseok’s next victim. The end of the month was never this far away.

“You gotta be kidding me, right? Even having you around is too much for my poor soul of eighty year old granny.” I complained. I won’t survive for another week if Chanyeol makes me spend time with them again.

“No.” He happily skipped around me. “And when I win our bet, you’ll never get rid of us.” He laughed.

“Good thing that I’m winning then.” I scoffed.

First Chapter——–Previous Chapter——–Next Chapter

Bonus:

I just love this boy and his tattoos..

#chanyeol #park chanyeol #exo #exo au #exo fanfiction #exo fluff #slice of life #fluff #not a love story #fanfiction #fanfic #ff #own writing #own work #ao3 #archive of our own #Wattpad

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mrmedia · 8 years ago

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464 Guillermo Diaz, actor, "Weeds," "Mercy," "Scandal"

Today's Guest: Guillermo Diaz, actor, "Weeds," "Mercy," "Scandal"

Actor Guillermo Diaz, star of "Weeds," "Mercy" and "Scandal"

I’m gonna be honest with you—I’m far more interested in talking with Guillermo Diaz about his last role—as, curiously, “Guillermo”—in “Weeds,” in which he played Mary Louise Parker’s drug dealer, teacher, friend, antagonist, protector—hey, it was complicated. That Guillermo was one scary mofo. This Guillermo is starring as Nurse Angel Lopez on the new NBC drama “Mercy,” which airs Wednesdays at 8 p.m. It’s funny and awkward at times—just like “Weeds,” in some ways—but I think this show demonstrates how much range Diaz actually has.

From the Season 3 premiere of "Scandal," it's actor Guillermo Diaz. (ABC/Eric McCandless)

GUILLERMO DIAZ podcast excerpt: "I would hope that Guillermo would really like Angel and have a little bit of a snicker with him... I'm coming back to 'Weeds.' It's gonna work out; it's going to be interesting to see what they do with me."

He came to national attention after starring as Scarface in the cult film Half Baked, opposite Dave Chappelle and Jim Breuer. He joined Academy Award winners Tom Hanks and Catherine Zeta-Jones in The Terminal for renowned director/producer Steven Spielberg. His varied resume also includes feature roles in indie hits such as Party Girl opposite Parker Posey, Stonewall, I'm Not Rappaport with Walter Matthau, 200 Cigarettes with Christina Ricci, High School High and Chelsea Walls, directed by Ethan Hawke. In addition to his feature film credits, Diaz is known for his three seasons on the award-winning Showtime series “Weeds” where he plays Guillermo, Mary Louise Parker's drug dealer. He has also been seen in “ER,” “Law & Order” “Chappelle’s Show,” “The Shield,” “Without a Trace” and “The Closer.” Diaz most recently wrapped the indie feature Peep World with Rainn Wilson and Sarah Silverman and the USA series “Royal Pains.” He will next be seen opposite Bruce Willis and Tracy Morgan in Kevin Smith’s feature A Couple of Dicks.

Guillermo Diaz Twitter • Scandal • Queerty • Wikipedia • IMDB

youtube

Kicking Through the Ashes: My Life As A Stand-up in the 1980s Comedy Boom by Ritch Shydner. Order your copy today by clicking on the book cover above!

The Party Authority in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland!

Check out this episode!

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babyleclerc · 7 years ago

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My Favorite Things

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Style: One-Shot

Requested by?: Anon: “i don't celebrate anything during the holiday season, but i think it would be cute to have a fluffy not necessarily christmas winter fic!”

Warnings: Language, sexual references. Mostly just fluff. :)

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Just a cold, wintery night with our favorite Tom Hiddleston, complete with blanket fort and dinner next to the fire. Fluff, fluff, fluff.

A/N: Welcome to Day 2 of my 1K challenge! This was partially inspired by anon, but then brought all the way home by my lovely @dolangram who is just a wonderful, mushy, adorable marshmallow whom I love and adore. Dedicated to you, anon, and my zaroo! Enjoy! (Not my gif)

The smell of chocolate chip muffins and the smooth sound of Adam Levine’s voice carried through the house, as you swayed your hips along to their most recent hit, What Lovers Do.

“Darling, you’ve got to stop listening to this record.” Tom’s voice interrupted you from the living room, eyes peering over at you from atop his book. You scowled at him.

“It’s a good album.” You fire back, scraping the spatula along the side of the bowl.

“You’ve listened to it at least six times in the past two days.”

“Your point, Mr. Hiddleston?”

Tom grinned, drinking in the sight of you mixing batter in the kitchen; hair pulled back into a messy bun, mascara slightly smeared just underneath your lower eyelids, wearing nothing but panties and one of Tom’s old shirt. Blue, to be specific – his favorite color on you.

“My point, my love,” He began, resting his book on top of the coffee table and rising from the couch to walk towards you, “Is that there are so many better things you could be listening to.”

“Like Will Smith’s Miami?” You ask sarcastically, brows raised.

This elicits a hearty laugh from Tom, who understands your reference and shakes his head. “I need to have all those videos burned.”

“I don’t think so,” you say, grinning, beginning to put the muffin liners into the tin pan.

“You don’t?” He asks, finally reaching you from behind. You feel his breath against your neck before his arms wrap around your waist gently.

“I don’t.” You affirm, setting the liners down and mixing the batter once more before beginning to scoop them into the pan.

“And why’s that?” He murmurs against your neck, sucking gently. You squirm just slightly beneath his touch, unable to suppress the smile spreading across your face.

“Because they’re hilarious.” You say, turning quickly within his grasp so that you’re facing him. You quickly swipe his cheek with your finger, laced with batter, giggling. Tom feigns shock, laughing as he leans his body into yours, pressing you against the counter gently.

“You’re going to pay for that.” He says grinning, as he, too, reaches behind you for the batter.

“No!” You say between giggles, wiggling to get out of his reach. But Tom is too strong and you fail, stuck there between his warm body and the cool counter. Tom manages to get batter on his fingers and quickly wipes it across your neck, just above your collarbone. “Hey!” You squeal as the cool batter touches your neck, making you shiver. Tom grins boyishly at you as he wipes batter one more time across your chest, just above your cleavage.

“Oops.” He says, that devilish grin still peering down at you. “I guess I’ll have to just lick that off, hmm?” He asks, as he lowers himself to your neck once again.

The contrast of Tom’s hot breath against your neck, licking up the cold batter, sends shivers down your spine. Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses down your neck, working his way towards your cleavage, where the batter was now dripping slowly just between your breasts. He takes an agonizingly slow pace, allowing his tongue to work its way slowly down the center of your chest, and licking off every drop.

He glances up at you, grinning, as if that had been his plan all along; reveling in how easy it is for you to come undone. You take a deep breath to steady your breathing, now painfully away of how short of breath you were, curtesy of the man towering over you.

“You’re cruel.” You say, with no trace of malice to the statement whatsoever. Tom laughs again, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Only to you, my sweet.”

You grin, but gently push him away from you. “Go take a shower, these will be done soon and then we can have dinner.”

“But darling,” Tom pouts, dragging out the ‘g’, arms still loosely clinging to your waist.

“No buts.” You say firmly, pushing him away with your behind. “Go clean yourself up.”

Tom sighs heavily but obliges, working his way out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. It’s only a few minutes before you hear the sound of water hitting the shower walls, and Tom’s gentle hums emanating from the room.

By the time Tom changed into his pajamas and rejoined you in the living room, he finds you in the center of the room, grinning like an idiot next to your blanket fort and small fire in the fireplace. You had managed to hang twinkle lights above the fireplace also, just as a festive touch.

“What’s all this?” Tom asks with a smile, drinking in the sight of you and the blanket fort (held up by chairs and various house objects) to your right.

You shrugged sheepishly, “I thought we could have a sort of movie night… since it’s too cold to be outside, we could do it here, under the lights.” You enunciate the word, nodding your head to the lights above the fireplace.

Tom’s smile cracked into a grin, closing the space between you and pulling you into a hug. You sighed into his chest, the smell of soap and sandalwood filling your nose, his body still emitting heat from his warm shower, his soft hair still slightly damp. “It’s perfect, love.” He murmurs, giving the top of your head a quick kiss.

You stand there for a moment, loving the feeling of being in his arms, before reluctantly breaking apart, grabbing his hand and pulling him under the blanket, food already served onto plates.

“What movie is on the agenda for tonight?” Tom asks, settling into a crisscross position and lifting his plate of spaghetti from the floor.

“I thought you could pick.” You offer, doing the same with your plate and hitting the space bar on the laptop to bring it back to life.

“Me?” Tom asks, brows raised in disbelief.

You swat his leg, rolling your eyes. “Yes, you. Don’t act like that’s so hard to believe.”

“It is hard to believe considering that every time I recommend a movie; I get shot down in spades.” He fires back at you, twirling spaghetti on his knife delicately.

“That is not true. I whole-heartedly watch any movie with you in it, don’t I?”

“That’s because seeing me on the big screen is a huge turn on for you.” Tom states flatly. You blush at his words, scowling slightly as he winks at you, opening his mouth to take a big bite of the warm meal you had cooked for him. “This is delicious, darling, thank you.” He mumbles with his mouth full, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Hit me with the movie options, love.”

“Okay!” You say excitedly, happy to have the attention off you and your hots for Tom in literally any movie. “And you’re welcome for dinner.” You grin, kissing his cheek quickly. “Options are: Frozen, Moana, or Zootopia.”

Tom groans, leaning his head back, still chewing. “All Disney movies?”

“Yup.” You say with a grin, popping the ‘p’. “Your favorite.”

“See, this is why I was so surprised when you said I could pick the movie. Really you’re just letting me pick from three pre-chosen movies that you’re alright with watching.”

“…And? Your point?” You ask, taking another bite of spaghetti.

“My point, love, is what about what I want to watch?”

“Your opinion doesn’t exist in this household.” You say blatantly, grinning.

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” He asks, eyebrows raised, a smile playing at his beautifully curled lips.

“That’s how it is.” You say matter-of-factly, “You know, we could have been halfway through the movie by now if you had just quit your whining and picked something.”

“Whining?” Tom asks in disbelief, setting down his fork onto his plate, “I think you need to be taught a lesson in manners, young lady.”

Your heart pounded in your ears as you raised your head to look at him. He was grinning at you, a devilish gleam in his eye.

“No, I don’t.” You say far too quickly – knowing what was coming your way, you tried to rush to your feet but Tom was too fast, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him, tickling you without mercy.

Your screams and laughter filled your makeshift tent, as you tried to use your feet to kick him off you – but it was to no avail, Tom was faster and much stronger than you.

“Admit defeat and I’ll stop.” He yelled over your squeals, you giggled louder, trying to push his forearms with your hands.

“Never!” You screamed, laughing hysterically as tears began welling at the corner of your eyes.

“You’re going to be trapped here for a while, then.” Tom said, laughing as your body squirmed and writhed underneath his hands, loving the look of wild, untamed happiness in your eyes.

“Okay, okay,” You finally breathed, tears falling down your face as you struggled to regain your breath, “I admit defeat! Mercy! Mercy!”

Tom grinned, slowing his hands to let you catch your breath. “Just as I suspected.” He said, kissing your nose quickly.

Fin.

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