#I’ve always been a little behind in life as far as other people my age so I’m not terribly torn up about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missmatchablossom · 10 months ago

Text

summary: a 2am confession between you and your childhood best friend, gojo satoru

a.n.: cursing, a slightly steamy/suggestive kiss scene, little angsty but mostly fluff. This idea randomly popped into my head last night so I hope you enjoy :)

“Do you think we’ll work out?” he asked softly, tentatively. Completely uncharacteristic for the confident, forthright person people knew Satoru Gojo to be.

Your best friend had always been larger than life, so focused on becoming the incredibly powerful sorcerer he is today that he never nurtured any of the lingering hope you kept around that he’d return your feelings. But Gojo was your sun, your moon, your stars - you were content to share the same sky as him.

But something was changing between the two of you. You saw it in the goodbye hugs that started to last a second longer than they should’ve. You noticed it in sharpness of his eyes anytime anyone else so much as looked in your direction. Felt it in the softness of a smile he only showed to you.

Tonight, that small spark of hope you’d been keeping alight was growing dangerously. You tried your best to smother it, telling yourself you’d been friends for years and he never saw you that way, so why would that suddenly change?

But do people who are just friends slip out at 2am to go stargazing at the top of a hill? Do they lay beside each other on an old blanket, close enough to feel the heat of each other’s skin, but barely far enough that they aren’t touching?

Do they look at each other the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the real wonder to be beheld when just above you, the moon and stars are shining brilliantly?

“We always have. Why would that change?” you replied, turning your head back up to the constellations. Your heartbeat was sickening in your own ears, amplified by the silence left untouched as neither of you spoke.

The blanket shuffled as he sat up, his face barely out of your periphery. You copied his movements, propping yourself up on your elbows as you struggled to understand the look on his face.

“Because I’m in love with you. I’m tired of being friends,” he said calmly, though you the way his hands fisted betrayed his uncertainty.

You froze for a second, wondering if this entire night had been a dream. Gojo Satoru, your best friend and unrequited love for years, liked you - no, loved you? You had to be dreaming.

A poke against your cheek broke you away from your thoughts.

“Please say something, or I’m gonna freak out,” your best friend said, looking more flustered than you’d ever seen him. His porcelain skin was dusted with pink, his gorgeous eyes frantically searching yours.

You burst into laughter. The kind that had you gasping for air and wiping tears away.

“What the hell is so funny?” he asked, and your laughter continued to bubble out of you at the adorable furrow between his brows.

You sat up to face him, wiping away a tear as your laughter died off.

“Sorry, it’s just hard for me to believe this is happening right now. Especially because I’ve been desperately in love with you since we were kids,” you admitted, indulging yourself in the way his lips parted in shock, the way he looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“You…you’ve been in love with me this whole time?” he said, so quietly it hurt your heart.

“Yup. Pretty much everyone knew too, I thought it was common knowledge?” you joked, leaning your head against your knee as you watched Gojo go through the 8 stages of grief.

“The hell it wasn’t. Why hasn’t anyone said anything to me? Why haven’t you ever said anything to me?” he said, pupils wide as he searched your face.

You leaned back down, crossing your arms behind your head.

“We all assumed you would’ve made a move ages ago if you liked me back. I was content to just be in your life at all - plus, no offense, but I’m like the only solid friend you have in your life. I promised you I always would be, I couldn’t let my own feelings change that.” you said, feeling the weight fly off your chest as you finally told him.

You felt a whoosh of cool air as Gojo leaned down beside you once more, mirroring your position as you laid on your back and looked up at the sky.

“I…I’m sorry, I’m a fucking idiot,” he said. You let out a laugh in disbelief.

“You really didn’t know, not even the thought crossed your mind?”

“Nope,” he replied, almost sounding anguished.

You turned to your side, propping up your head with the heel of your palm.

“What changed?” you asked genuinely, feeling your nerves traverse throughout your entire body as he mirrored your position, your faces barely a few inches apart.

“I realized it when we had to be apart for a while because of that mission. I was miserable, because I was accustomed to seeing your smile everyday. Hearing the random overdetailed recounting of your day. Your laughter. Fuck, I was even searching perfume stores to see if any of them came close to the way you smell,” he admitted, eliciting a furious blush from your cheeks.

You reached up to brush some of the hair out of his eyes, admiring how his pearlescent locks seemed to glow under the moonlight.

“You have it that bad, huh?” you teased, watching his face relax ever so slightly as he rolled his eyes.

It was so fast you barely registered what happened, the way Gojo flipped you on top of him so you had no choice but to lay flush against him. You were stunned to silence as he wrapped his arms around your waist, catching you off guard with that brilliant, victorious smile of his.

“Oh, I absolutely do. But look who’s talking eh? You are sooo into me,” he said, smiling happily to himself.

You buried your face into his chest to hide both your embarrassment and your painfully-wide smile.

“Okay, okay, I am,” you admitted, feeling simultaneously shy and elated as Gojo tugged you even closer to him, burying his face in your hair.

“So, what now?” you asked.

You gasped as Gojo flipped you once more so you were pinned under him.

“Hm, well if I’m in love with you, and you’re in love with me, I think we should kiss,” he said, his smile evident in his words. You’d been around him long enough to hear the tease in his voice, and you knew he was messing with you.

“Just kidding. We can take it sl-”

His words came to a halt as you lifted up to press your lips against his ever so slightly, pulling back to rest your forehead against his.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Fuck taking it slow, kiss me right now,” you all but demanded. You admired his grin for a split second before his lips were moving against yours, full and soft and sweet.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he said breathlessly.

“Not longer than me,” you said between kisses.

His deep laugh resonated throughout your body, distracting you from the way his slender fingers were digging into your hips.

“You’re right. Let me make it up to you,” he said, pulling back long enough for you to look at him. His eyes were dark with desire, contrasting the flush that somehow made him look hotter.

He sat up, and his absence left you feeling chilled. It didn’t last long though, because he grabbed your hips once more and lifted you on top of him so you were straddled in his lap.

You smiled coyly as he positioned your arms around his neck, tugging you flush against him as he grinned at you proudly.

“You really like throwing me around huh?” you teased, though it came out more soft and gaspy than you intended as he began trailing kisses along your jaw.

“You have no idea,” he said, and you felt him smile against your skin as you tipped your head back to give him more access.

“Forget about sleeping tonight.”

744 notes · View notes

asktheritochampion · 1 month ago

Note

Psst, Rahlin. Teba said Ravioli has a new diary with some pretty endeering entrys. Hit us up on the sly?

[Text]

Sometimes it feels as though each of the other Champions has settled into their new lives in this futuristic world so much more effectively than I, and it leaves me feeling…inadequate. I’m unsure why I am having such a difficult time assimilating. I should surely feel thankful for this miracle second chance at life; however I often find myself so overcome with grief and sorrow that I cannot lift myself from my hammock. Isn’t that pathetic? I am supposed to be the Rito Champion. The people of this age look up to me. I must make a good impression, and lazing around in bed simply isn’t good enough.

It seems terribly childish to admit; but I miss my home. I miss my possessions. I miss the warriors I grew up with and trained besides. Perhaps I never had the type of relationships most people would consider friendships, however there is comfort in familiarity. I simply cannot stop thinking of all the people I have left behind. Nothing but dust in the ground now.

Did anybody mourn me as I am mourning them? I do not have a grave. I suppose they never recovered my body.

Things are not all doom and gloom despite my pitiful mood, however.

I have been staying temporarily with the newly appointed Village Elder and his family until a space opens up in the Village for me to reclaim my own roost. Its strange, but I feel like I have met him before, in the strange tangle of my memories of the Calamity. He is a fine warrior with impressive skills, I suspect he could almost match me in archery actually. Almost.

The family behaves as if I have lived with them all my life. I expected to feel frustrated being in such close quarters with such social people; however I am finding myself increasingly endeared by them. The wife, Saki, insists that I join them for meals every day, and admittedly it has been useful in forcing me out of my periods of wallowing. Her cooking is pleasant. The child, Tulin, seems to have some control over the wind such as I do. Even if he is just a boy, it has been fascinating to share conversation with him about it, I look forward to taking him on as an apprentice and teach him everything I know.

Perhaps things will be okay once I’ve had a little more time to adjust.

Yesterday I visited Zora’s Domain. It certainly has changed in the past hundred years – however perhaps not as much as Rito Village has. It was pleasant to see some familiar faces, even if many of them are now far older than they were during the Calamity.

Mipha requested my aid in fighting a Lynel on Ploymus Mountain. I suspect she only asked because she has some wayward concern for my wellbeing being the only one of us revived without a living family, considering the fact that she is perfectly capable of tackling such a foe alone. Regardless, she did invite me to join her for dinner afterwards, which is always a pleasant affair. I do enjoy Zora cuisine, and Mipha had many interesting stories to share. Her tiny brother is enormous now, it’s bizarre to see.

To avoid flying in the dark I stayed the night, and the two of us stayed up late consuming an unhealthy amount of sugary foods and taking turns reading aloud from a frankly hysterical Zora romance novel that seemed as if it had been written by someone with no concept of anatomy, and laughing until we felt unwell. It was…nice. It reminded me of old times.

Last night was the first time since awaking that I havn’t dreamt of Windblight.

Perhaps I could visit the Domain more often. In case they need my aid again.

There was a ceremony at the Castle this evening to honour the Champions of old by the sides of the ‘Sages’ who fought in the second coming of the Calamity. I’ve never enjoyed the pomp and grandeur of these types of events.

Admittedly I had intended not to attend initially. My reasoning to Teba had been that I was simply too busy for such unnecessary affairs, however in truth I…feel like a failure. How mortifying it seems to have failed my one task in aiding to stop the Calamity, and for a ten year old child to accomplish everything that I couldn’t a hundred years on.

Tulin is a good kid, I feel nothing but pride for his achievements. I simply feel such a deep sense of shame over it all. The very idea of standing in front of the entirety of Hyrule, all of the people I let down – it left me feeling sick to my stomach.

Teba had insisted I attend, if not to join in with the celebration then at least to support Tulin, and eventually I gave in. I’m glad I did.

Pointless as the ceremony was, it was pleasant to see the other Champions again. I do not visit them as often as I should; though I have been making an effort to send more missives. Furthermore, while it was an uncomfortable experience as expected; Tulin did appear to have a wonderful time of it, and it was pleasant to see the boy receive the praise he deserves for all of his hard work.

The Princess invited us to stay the night at the castle. Well, I suppose she is the Queen, now, though it seems strange to think of her as such. I spent most of the evening training in the royal gardens with Urbosa, and it was refreshing to be challenged again.

Before retiring to bed, I passed by Zelda in the royal library and we shared a nice discussion about the works of Frequius Edgal. I always enjoy hearing her enthuse about books; she used to be so crippled by stress before the Calamity and it seems as though now we are finally seeing her true face. She has invited me back to join her in a few weeks’ time to discuss another few tomes in a sort of book club; apparently Daruk shall be there too – though I never took the pebble brain for much of a reader.

My archery skills are still far superior to those of anyone in the Village, even a hundred years on it seems. While Teba’s skills are impressive, the old man is still too slow to quite match my unbeatable heights. Yet, I still yearn to become better.

Today I paid Daruk a visit in Goron City. The heat there does not agree with me; even when covering every feather on my body in bottles and bottles of fire proof elixir. However it was enjoyable to spend a day training in a different environment.

Daruk challenged me to some Goron tradition called a ‘gut check challenge’, which thankfully did not involve eating rocks, but rather climbing up a sheer cliff face on a time limit. Rito aren’t really built to climb, however I have never been one to back down from a challenge.

I failed miserably. Slipped and fell about seven times, definitely bruised a few ribs and twisted my ankle, and by the time I made it to the top I had passed the time limit by a number of hours. I was practically the laughing stock of half of Goron City.

Perhaps it should have been a humiliating experience, however instead I found it a delightful thrill. Something about Daruk’s positive attitude about everything makes it rather difficult to feel ashamed, and despite my utter failure to excel at his challenge, he did nothing but rejoice over my making it to the top in the end after so many attempts, commending my determination and bravery. I left feeling almost rather proud of myself – which is utterly ridiculous; I don’t know how he did that.

I intend to practise climbing over the next few weeks in the privacy of the Hebra mountains and then come back to give his challenge another try. The look on his face when I show up and beat every Goron in the City’s time with my superior skills shall be wonderful.

I havn’t had a panic attack in two weeks now. I think the medicine Saki gave me is helping. I’ve been eating more regularly again too.

Link came to visit the Village again this week to assist with setting up for the winter festival, I think Teba requested it of him. The helpful little brat can never turn down the opportunity to help someone.

I can’t seem to stop myself from spitting insults into the boys face at every opportunity I get. At first it had been from a place of indignation and frustration over his silence and refusal to recognise my skills; however as we’ve gotten to know one another I no longer hold that same sense of anger towards him. If anything, I almost rather enjoy his company these days. The knight is an excellent listener, and a worthy challenger to battle. I don’t know why I feel so compelled to treat him with malice.

There is a possibility I am perhaps experiencing something akin to a schoolboy crush. How mortifying. Perhaps my frustration is coming from a place of knowing the obnoxious little hero is in the eye of both the Princess of Zora’s Domain and the new Queen of Hyrule. Inevitably, he’ll end up a king some way or another, and that thought pains me. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about the ridiculous blond runt. I hate that there is no conceivable timeline in which he even graces a single thought in his oversized head on me; a Rito with no political standing whatsoever who failed at his one task in the Calamity.

Perhaps I bully him because I’m so desperate for him to believe I am still worthy of his attention. It seems so utterly below me.

I am attempting to be better about this. Tonight, I refrained from calling him a disgusting glutton when he had a third portion of Saki’s cooking. I informed him that his hair wasn’t a complete mess while we were preparing for bed. I even offered him a space in my hammock when he complained of the chill of the night air. None of these things come very naturally to me, but I am trying. The fool doesn’t deserve to be insulted due to my own insecurities.

Tomorrow morning I am to join him in an activity he called ‘shield surfing’. For tonight, I am allowing him to sleep beneath my wing. He is very pretty when he sleeps. Perhaps with some practise, I’ll be able to tell him that someday.

I got into another fight with Teba.

Sometimes I think I miss the Calamity, but I suspect what I really miss is the person I was back then. I tell myself that I was brave, flawless, near unstoppable. Retrospectively; perhaps I was merely naive and what I really miss is truly believing that I could do anything.

I was displaying my impeccable flight and shooting skills for the fledglings the other day and messed up my ascent. I doubt anyone even noticed in truth, I managed to catch myself after being thrown by the updrafts pull and the fledglings seemed to think it was part of the performance. Still, it mortified me that I could make such a pathetic mistake even after all of these years. Sometimes it feels as though no matter how much I refine my skills, I shall simply never be good enough.

As it happens, Teba had been watching from near by and later on attempted to commend me on my flight skills, even going as far as saying he was proud of me for everything I have managed to accomplish at such a young age. Perhaps I was still frustrated with myself because I took his compliment with great offence and practically tore the man a new one, spitting insults at him for daring to patronise me.

After several minutes of a back and forth lashing with the man, I began to feel that familiar tug of panic in my chest again and retreated to Medoh. This time I stayed with her for days. Something about her silent company seems to soothe my frantic mind, and I appreciate her lack of judgement over my episodes of patheticness.

The funny thing is, deep down I know the Elder’s compliments had come from a genuine place, and I believe a part of me so desperately wanted to believe them. I don’t believe anyone has ever told me that they were proud of me before, and patronising as it might seem, a childish part of me deep inside yearns for it. My lashing out at him comes from my own insecurities; I simply feel as though I don’t deserve his pride. I havn’t earned it yet. I still need to be better.

When I returned to the Village, Teba apologised for patronising me, and I apologised for calling him a worthless, pathetic failure of a warrior with two left feet and a fledgling level of skill with a bow. It seemed a mutual affair of forgiveness and moving on, however I have continued to feel guilt over my outburst.

For all my vocabulary exceeds most in size; sometimes I find words…difficult. I made him a new quiver for his arrows since his old one was a tattered mess, and left it with his things. I hope that is enough to convey my remorse.

These people are the closest thing I have to family or friends in the Village in this day and age. Why can’t I stop pushing people away the moment they get too close?

#Rahlins gifts #if he wants my loyalty he needs to start paying me #revali #age of calamity #breath of the wild #tears of the kingdom #legends of zelda #revalink #mipha #link #daruk #urbosa #zelda #rito village #rito #teba #tulin #saki

78 notes · View notes

captn-trex · 2 months ago

Text

fall of an empire

Rex [no pairing]

word count: 1.4k

description: Rex never knew what truly became of his General, but when he finds out as the Empire are driven from power, his galaxy becomes a little bit smaller.

warnings/tags: angst basically, mainly just Rex's internal monologue

a/n: okay. I’ve had this idea for ages and basically held off because I didn't think I'd do it justice (idk that I have), but I guess I just bit the bullet lol. This is really more of a little think piece ? than anything. aaah i get nervy talking about Anakin because I know people have strong opinions about him (me included) so I hope this doesn't tread on any toes lol. For the sake of this, Rex and Luke are kinda familiar with each other

masterlist | join my taglist

23 years.

It had been 23 years, almost to the day.

Rex had made his peace with it a long time ago, he had accepted the death of his General, he had done his grieving. He had grieved his friend, the Jedi, the Republic; in many ways, he had grieved himself. Yet here he was, with his General, a Jedi, and the promise of a new Republic to rise and take the place of the Empire.

There was an undeniable sense of accomplishment in the air, a thick blanket of hard-won peace that settled over the rebels and lifted their spirits. Everyone was more at peace than they had been, maybe ever. Rex felt it too, he had been fighting the Empire too long to not recognise the significance of the day's events. Though now, the feeling was bittersweet, overtaken by a melancholy that Rex was sure might never leave him, at least not in the life he still had left in him.

Stood in front of the pyre, watching the fire climb higher and higher and reaching up into the night sky, Rex couldn’t help but feel conflicted. The man that was laid out before him, body engulfed in flames, was both someone he had once known, and someone he hoped he would never meet. Now faced with the truth of who he was, both sentiments still rang true.

He was disturbed at worst, confused at best, more by his own state of mind than the turn of events. He had held such contempt for the creature that enacted the Emperor's will, but he had such love and respect for his General, even long after his assumed death. It left him in a strange place, where the recent triumph no longer felt so triumphant.

It was simply unfathomable that they were the same person, that his friend had fallen so far, turned towards such evil. When he had been told that his General had not only survived the Jedi purge, but enacted it, and gone on to rule at the side of the Emperor, his first instinct had been to deny it. It was out of the question.

He tried to cast his mind back to the war, to find threads of that evil sewn into the memories that he held close to his chest, but he couldn't find it. While the war was certainly not all sunshine and rainbows, it wasn’t so unendingly awful that he would have missed the lick of icy dread that ran through his veins when in close quarters to dark side users. Without even considering that, it seemed out of the question.

General Skywalker was caring, if not a little absurd in his approach to battle, and despite how it could drive him to distraction, Rex wouldn't have changed anything about him. He knew him to be a man of simple ingenuity and fierce courage, and occasionally foolish bravado, but that was nothing like the animal that had come to spread fear and terror across the galaxy.

Rex watched the dying flames, flickers of memories contained in the way they danced with the wind whipping at them. His hands clenched into fists, not in anger, but because he felt the need to ground himself in this moment. He needed to focus on what was real, what he knew to he true, and put unfulfilled notions of futures that could have been behind him. What was done was done. It couldn't be undone, and that was something he would have to come to understand.

Rex had always felt the need for justice, that people should be dealt back what they put into the galaxy, and the finality of watching Vader's body burn in front of him seemed like an obstruction of that. In spite of that, he mourned the man beneath the suit. He would take back every evil thing he did to the galaxy, but selfishly he'd take it back just to spend one more day with his friend, with the man he was before he became twisted by darkness.

The pyre had burned almost fully, leaving smouldering wood and ashes spread around the base. It was a fitting end, perhaps. The Empire had been reduced to ashes, and Vader with it. The memory of their atrocities lingered in the air, like the smoke clinging to his clothes and anything else it could reach.

A hand on Rex's shoulder drew him from the deep pit of his thoughts, and he turned to look into the eyes of the Jedi. They were his eyes, undeniably. Deep blue and shining with wisdom, hope and confidence. Rex had never believed they were qualities that could be passed down by way of genes, but with those eyes watching him carefully, he couldn't see anything else.

“I hope you can find some peace, friend” he spoke with a startling sincerity, a small noble bow of his head accompanying his words.

Rex managed a ‘thank you’ before the young Skywalker patted his shoulder, walking away from the smouldering pile of wood and leaving him alone.

That's how he felt; alone.

Everything he had ever known in his life had been lost to the Empire. His brothers, the Republic, the Jedi, and now he had come to know the truth that his General had been seduced and corrupted by the dark side. It was alienating. He'd always just tried to take everything in stride and hold his head high as he moved on, but the sheer weight of everything that had happened to him throughout his life was crushing.

His days as a cadet, the early days of the war, the immediate aftermath of order 66, fighting to free his brothers from Imperial imprisonment; it was all so tinged by something sinister, immoral. The clones were created for war, so it wasn't a surprise that he didn't know anything else, but a life lead just to die wasn't one that he wanted to live anymore.

Rex realised then that his life had always belonged to Skywalker in some way. First, as his commanding officer, then as a tyrant of the Empire, the reigning power that forced clones into subservience. Though now, he was free of him completely. He was a free man, no question about it, and it was refreshing to acknowledge.

He had never felt like a prisoner under Skywalker's leadership, even looking back after he had come to understand that the clones were essentially slaves to the Republic. Anakin could have ordered him to do anything, and he would have. Rex recognised that was an immense power to have over someone, but even if he could be headstrong sometimes, his general would never have ordered him to do anything outrageous.

Perhaps that's what was the most confusing about having watched his mutated form burn before him. Skywalker was generous, but all he had known of Vader was how much he took from people; their lives, their children. It scared him, but it also proved to him how truly evil the Emperor must have been to be able to twist someone so caring into a monster like that.

He was then overwhelmed by sympathy. Vaders actions were inexcusable, and Rex didn't know that he'd ever fully come to accept the truth of who he was, but he knew that whatever Anakin had gone through to end up so twisted and removed from himself, was most likely more abhorrent than he could imagine.

For that reason, putting him to rest like this felt cathartic, and despite the shock of his true identity, it felt like closure. Really, he was putting two grievances to bed. His General was finally at peace, and the creature that had wreaked havoc on the galaxy could do so no longer.

Rex breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the cool night air as he looked to the sky. He was free. His life was his own, no longer at the mercy of Skywalker, Vader, the Empire or anyone else. He was still conflicted, and it would probably take him another lifetime to fully process everything, but looking into the ashes that once made up the form of his friend and oppressor, he could already feel a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak

#omg characterising Luke was so tough even though he only says 1 thing lmao #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #clone troopers #captain rex x reader #clones #star wars the clone wars #clone captain rex #captain rex #captain rex fanfiction #rebels rex #divider by saradika

63 notes · View notes

inlovewithgreta · 2 years ago

Text

Lovers — Larissa Weems x Morticia Addams x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Synopsis: You get caught pleasuring yourself alone without telling the two women in your life, and in return, you get a punishment that is full of pleasure.

Warnings: Praise, degradation, mommy kink, spanking, edging, squirting, marking, cunnilingus, fingering, overstimulation, etc…

Word Count: 4.6k

a/n: if you would like to be part of my taglist, do let me know! I’m so excited to post this oneshot, I’ve never done anything with three people before so this is a first for me. I hope you lovelies enjoy and have an amazing day! ♡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Today was a quiet day in the mansion. Staff was gone for the weekend, Larissa was at work, Morticia was reading in the library, and you were in the bedroom. You had told Morticia you were lying down for a nap, but that was not the case whatsoever.

Your mind had been having dirty thoughts. Dirtier than usual. The two women in your life have been doing other things, leaving you completely touch starved. It had been what felt like ages since either of them had laid a finger on you, and the heat rising between your legs was far too much to ignore any longer.

Grabbing the small bullet from your nightstand, you rested your head back against the silk pillowcase as you dragged the now vibrating toy down your naked body.

First, you toyed with your erect nipples, circling the buzzing toy across your chest, allowing each vibration to go straight to your core. You were already a moaning mess before you even reached your center.

Your legs were spread as far open as possible, the cold air along your dampened cunt creating goosebumps along your bare skin. Small whimpers were quick to fly out of your mouth, the sweet touch from the bullet sending you straight into complete bliss.

You were too focused on the pleasure to realize how loud your moans actually became. She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but the more intently she listened, the faster it was for her to figure out what it was.

You.

Moaning her name.

Morticia set her book aside, marking her spot for a later read, and lifted a high brow when she heard you moan once more. She quietly walked down the hallway, keeping her movements slow and steady to avoid the loud clicking from her heels.

As she reached the doorway, her eyes dilated at the unexpected sight before her. She eyed your naked body sprawled out in the middle of the grand bed. Legs were spread, back was arched, and a little black bullet sat between your legs.

"What a naughty little thing," She folded her arms across her chest. A loud gasp left your mouth at her sudden words, heat rushing straight to your cheeks from embarrassment. You weren't expecting Morticia to catch you in the act.

"Couldn't even bother to tell me? Tsk tsk." She clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly, taking the few steps towards the bed.

You attempted to pull the toy from between your legs but Morticia had other plans, stopping your wrist with a stern grip.

"Don't go shy on me now, y/n. Finish. After all, you couldn't wait for me." She let go, placing both hands on her hips and gazing down at you with dark eyes. "Go on." She flicked her eyes to between your thighs.

You gulped, turning the toy back on and placing it back between your legs with a quiet whimper. As you began to pleasure yourself, Morticia slid her hands behind her back, slowly pulling the zipper from her dress down her back. The fabric dropped softly to the floor, revealing a black laced lingerie set that hugged her hourglass figure perfectly.

"I can't—" You shook your head, the pressure from her heated gaze making it harder for you to find your release. Under any other circumstance, it would take a mere second for you to finish, but Morticia was always the one doing it for you, not just watching you intently with a stoic face.

"You can. You will." She kicked her heels off.

"Please," You pleaded, salty tears steadily falling down your cheeks. You needed her. Needed her touch. "I-I can't!" You whimpered once more.

"So pathetic. My needy slut is desperate enough to touch herself but not enough to come."

Morticia crawled onto the bed, immediately taking the small bullet from your hands and holding it tightly in her own. She flipped her long raven locks behind her back before dipping her face between your thighs.

"Can't even finish yourself off without me," The toy presses roughly against your clit, causing your breath to hitch, "We're going to have to work on that one." Her dark eyes look up at yours before flicking down to your glistening cunt.

"It's too bad, you know," She lowered her upper body down to the mattress, arching her back, and forcing her barely clothed ass into the air. "Now mommy is going to have to destroy this little pussy of yours until I have you begging for mercy."

Her lips attached to your inner thighs, before trailing towards your center and licking a strip up your folds. Moans were quick to escape your throat as she pleasures you by both her mouth and the toy pressing against your sensitive bud.

"F-fuck!" Your chest heaved at a familiar knot forming in your abdomen. Hands gripped at the emerald green duvet below you, knuckles turning white at your rough grip. Morticia could feel you trembling, your body quivering at your close release.

"That's it. Come for me." The raven haired woman edged you on, peppering your inner thigh with kisses before nibbling on the soft flesh, leaving fresh love bites in their wake.

With a skillful flick to your cunt, Morticia had you spiraling almost instantaneously.

"Oh, 'Tish!" Her name flew out of your mouth just as she turned the toy off and carelessly tossing it aside.

You thought she was just helping ride out your high by removing the toy, but boy were you wrong.

Morticia wasn't done just yet.

You had touched yourself without her, and couldn't even finish yourself off at her command which was unacceptable. She had taken note of how often you've listened to Larissa's demands compared to her own, and part of her grew jealous. Should she have been? No. But was she? Oh, she most definitely was.

"Oh, you thought I was stopping right there?" Her hand sternly held you down by your inner thigh at your attempts to close your legs around her. "Tsk tsk," She scoffed, "I'm not even close to being done with you yet. And when 'Riss gets home, it'll be her turn. If you want to act like a slut, you'll certainly get treated like one."

The raven-haired beauty between your legs refused to slow her movements. Her tongue ravaged your clit while she easily thrusted two fingers into your cunt.

Small whimpers echoed off the walls at the curl of her slender fingers that hit you in just the right spot, making had your brain go empty.

"What's the matter, baby? No more screaming my name? We can't have that, now can we?" Her thrusts only grew faster as she watched your every move from just her pleasuring you.

The two of you were too lost in your sex world to hear the front door open and close at the entrance of your luxurious home. Larissa arrived earlier than expected, work going by quicker than she anticipated.

You crying out from your second orgasm had caught Larissa's attention when she took her coat off, her head snapping towards the opened bedroom door on the second floor.

"There it is." Morticia smirked, "I love it when my little whore screams for me. Don't go silent on me now." Tears fell down your face, coating the pillowcase beneath your head when her movements refused to slow.

"Please—" You pleaded, voice barely above a whisper.

Her hand ached from the constant thrusting, but she refused to let it show. She was one to always keep to her word. She wanted to see you like this. She loved to see you like this. Weak before her, begging for her.

"I can't take anymore!" The pressure only kept building and building inside you, the uncomfortableness from your third orgasm slowly creeping up on you. "Tish I—" A throaty moan forced its way out when the older woman slid a third finger inside you, completely stretching out your walls.

"Your moans say otherwise, dearie." Morticia raised a high brow at the arching of your back.

Larissa had heard every moan, every word leaving both yours and Morticia's mouth as she made her way up the grand stairs and down the hallway leading to your shared chambers.

She had swiftly unclasped her tight updo, letting her long platinum hair fall down her back. Buttons flew to the ground as she grew too impatient to undo each hole of her blouse.

Larissa lowly hummed at the sight before her blue eyes. She was quick to drop her blouse to the floor, along with tugging at her skirt to slide it down past her thick legs to fall to the floor.

She wouldn't dare miss this opportunity to join in on your festivities. After all, Larissa thrived off being the completely opposite of Morticia in bed. While the raven haired woman was the more dirty-talking and dominant one, Larissa liked to be the praising one that kept you on edge and begging deliciously.

Her eyes flew from your naked figure whose legs were spread with your hand toying with your breast, to Morticia's perfectly rounded ass that hung in the air, her arousal prominently dampening the thin fabric covering her center.

"Don't worry, my love. Mommy's here." Your eyes snapped towards the tall blonde who strutted into the room unexpectedly.

Larissa didn't hesitate to join in, her hand gliding to Morticia's ass, up her spine, and into her long black locks. Fingers tucked into her hair, grabbing a small handful and gently pulling, eliciting a low moan from Morticia.

"Rissa—" You attempted to call out before a whimper cut off your words. The blonde's eyes were drawn to yours, her lips instantly making contact with your cheeks, kissing away each wet drop on your tear-stained cheek.

"You're doing so good, sweet thing. Just one more and you can take a little breather, hmm? We can't have you tiring so fast."

You nodded your head frantically, toes curling and back arching off the duvet as you came for the third time. Vision went blurry and legs shook as the blonde woman guided you through your orgasm with a gentle hand along your cheek.

"That's my good girl," Larissa cooed, wiping your hair from your sweaty forehead and giving you a sweet but passionate kiss to distract you from the twitching of your thighs.

You whimpered into the kiss when Morticia slid her fingers from you, instantly sliding them into her mouth to suck them clean with a small hum.

"Mmm, sweet indeed," The dark haired woman added, releasing her fingers with a pop, dark eyes trained on Larissa's bright blue hues. "Here, have a taste." Morticia insisted, bringing her fingers to the blonde's mouth, who accepted them without hesitation.

Larissa hummed, her left hand finding your hand and giving it an appreciative squeeze. Your eyes were trained on the two half naked women sitting in front of you. Morticia had inched towards Larissa, her hand leaving the woman's mouth to sneak between her legs.

You propped yourself on your elbows as you tried to calm your breathing, but failing to do so when Morticia gave you a knowing glance, smirking wickedly when an idea came to her head.

"You've been here not even a minute and you're already soaked through?" Morticia chuckled lowly, eyes glancing back at the blonde. "How about we put on a show for our slu—"

"Sweet girl," Larissa cut her off with a finger to her lips. "Our sweet sweet girl. . ." She trailed off, losing her train of thought when Morticia snuck a hand inside her panties. Larissa instantly moaned at the slender fingers circling her clit.

Her pale hand left yours to grab Morticia's freshly manicured hand, guiding her movements at her favorite pace.

At this godly sight, you were instantly wet once more. An almost painful heat instantly starting again.

The sight ahead of you made you seem nearly forgotten, but the heat between your legs was very much prominent. Just as you started to snake your hand towards your dripping cunt, Morticia's free hand gripped your wrist, her eyes never straying from the blonde in front of her.

"Tish, please." You begged, but your pleas never worked on her. Her grip only remained stern, keeping your hand in place, not allowing you to please yourself at the sight of her pleasuring Larissa.

The blonde quietly moaned before pulling Morticia's hand away from her cunt. "Somebody feels left out, Tish. Let her join. I want a taste of her anyways."

Reluctantly, Morticia retracted both of her hands, but a biting smirk returned to her face as she saw the plans Larissa had in store for you, lingering in her eyes.

"Don't be too easy on her Riss, this is after all a punishment."

"Ah, so that's why you two started without me." A dangerous smirk came to Larissa's face, one you know well. "So our little angel hasn't been so good today. . . What has she done?" Larissa asked the other woman, eyes curiously scanning your face.

"Was touching herself all by her lonesome. Didn't even bother to tell me. Heard her from the other room moaning like a whore."

Larissa shook her head, clicking her tongue in a disapproving manner, "You know better, darling." Larissa maneuvered her way around Morticia to switch places with her, making herself at home between your thighs.

Her body sat in the same position Morticia was just in, legs beneath her, upper body hovering over the duvet with her porcelain colored ass waving in the air.

Although your view of the woman was enough to have your arousal dripping onto the plush mattress, Morticia had the best view of all. Dark eyes wandered over the blondes smooth skin.

Larissa toyed with your thighs, pecking and nibbling at the soft flesh while Morticia traced a hand along the blonde's back, sliding a finger down her spine.

Morticia felt every inch and curve of Larissa's lower body, admiring the fine specimen that sat before her. Her lips made contact with the woman's hips, sending sweet kisses along her stretch marks that Larissa was once insecure about until the three of you got together.

You treated her like a goddess, after all, that's what she was to you. Everything about her was perfect. She was perfect, inside and out. And she appreciated every compliment, and especially every kiss to her most sacred spots.

"Rissa please," Your hips slightly bucked towards her face, begging for her to soothe the growing ache between your thighs.

"Patience, my love. You're going to need it." Larissa smirked, eyes dancing with amusement.

She knew just how much you were about to beg for her, and excitement was already coursing through her veins. Of course she was going to be more gentle than Morticia, but she was still going to give you the punishment you deserved for leaving them out of your activities.

Larissa flattened her tongue along your glistening cunt, slowly savoring every sweet taste of you. You shivered under her cool touch, hips being forced down against the mattress to avoid your overly sensitive bucking.

"Such a sweet little pussy, and all for me-" Larissa's words were cut off with a suppressed moan when Morticia slapped the blonde's ass with a piercing smack.

"Us." The raven haired woman corrected her, before soothing the immediate reddened area along Larissa's porcelain cheek.

Larissa tongue delved deep into you, bright blue eyes watching the growing tension between your knitted brows and the everlasting 'o' shape of your mouth as sounds refused to come out.

"Fuck, Rissa!" Your hand flew to her head, tugging at her long curly locks.

"Look at you, already a screaming little mess in just a mere second." Morticia teased you, fingers tucking under Larissa's panties and slowly gliding them down her thick legs to get a better view of the growing mess between the blonde's thighs. "Let's make it even louder for me, shall we? I want to hear how loud you both can be."

Morticia slid two fingers past Larissa's entrance with ease, pleasuring the tall goddess while she devoured you. Larissa's moans blended in with your own, putting a mischievous smirk along Morticia's face.

"Just like that." Her free hand rubbed the soft skin along Larissa's ass, preparing for her next move, "My two needy whores, complete moaning messes. Keep the noises coming."

Smack

Morticia used her free hand to send another sharp spank to Larissa's ass, and admiring the prominent jiggle that elicited from her smack.

You felt your release building and building, moans growing closer and closer together, giving Larissa just enough time to remove her tongue from your cunt. A whimper took place of a moan at the sudden loss of contact, and Larissa couldn't help the smirk that grew on her face.

"Didn't think I'd let you finish that easy, now did you?" She toyed, breath hitching in her throat when Morticia chuckled, suddenly curling her fingers inside the blonde.

She hit Larissa's most craved spot with each thrust, and all you could do was watch as Larissa became undone from Morticia, neediness growing more prominent now that your orgasm faded away.

"Come for me, Rissa." Morticia encouraged the blonde on just as Larissa brought her mouth back to your clit.

Moans of ecstasy got muffled as Larissa coated the other woman's fingers with her juices, her wetness dripping down Morticia's hand. Larissa's grip along your hips tightened, fingernails digging into your sensitive skin and leaving crescent shaped marks in their wake.

Morticia didn't dare stop her movements, wanting you to watch as Larissa came over and over again while you were being edged by the blonde for your punishment.

"Taking it like such a good girl," Larissa cooed, removing her tongue and replacing her pleasuring with her fingers, matching the same movements Morticia had been doing to her.

"Please—" You begged, "Let me come! I promise I won't touch myself again without you."

"I don't know, Tish. What do you think?" Larissa stopped her movements once she felt your walls tightening around her fingers. Small whimpers escaped your throat, the growing uncomfortable ache between your thighs forcing tears from your eyes.

"I say let her wait on it for a bit longer." Her devilish smirk forcing your grip along the sheets to tighten out of frustration.

"Mmm, fuck—" Larissa elicited a throaty moan.

Your head shook as you watched Larissa come for a second time, jealousy completely coursing through your veins.

Morticia sent wet kisses along Larissa's ass, gently guiding her through her orgasm. Her fingers moved from Larissa's used cunt and directly into her mouth, eliciting a small approving moan.

The scene in front of her was enough for Morticia to get off at the same time, her free hand rubbing circles along her own clit.

A shallow moan could be heard from Morticia as she came undone from her own touch. Her noise was just barely loud enough for both you and Larissa to hear, as Morticia was always the quieter one compared to you and Larissa.

Morticia then moved herself to sit next to you, legs tucked underneath her and thighs pressing together as she lifted Larissa's face, her thumb and forefinger pulling the blonde's face towards hers in a needy kiss.

Tears continued to flow, hips begging to buck and grind along Larissa's fingers as your gaze landed on the two women making out in front of you.

"Please!" You begged once more, "I'm taking your punishments so good. Just please— please let me come! I've learned my lesson!"

The two women broke from their heated kiss, both smirking towards each other at your pleas. Morticia ever so slightly nodded her head, allowing Larissa to bring her mouth to your clit and delve her fingers deeper.

Morticia slid a hand up your stomach, past your chest, and up to squeeze your cheeks, forcing your face to look at her. Her body leaned in, face only mere inches from your own, dark eyes full of nothing but lust.

"Come, my darling." Her signature red lips smashed sloppily against yours.

A familiar knot formed in your abdomen, appearing only momentarily until you finally came around Larissa's fingers with a relieved moan.

The blonde's movements slowed as she eased you through your orgasm, allowing the pleasure to last for as long as possible.

Your chest heaved, heartbeat racing as you attempted to catch your breath when Larissa stopped her movements.

"That's my good girl." Larissa smiled, wiping your release carelessly off her fingers and onto her thigh as she moved her body to sit opposite of Morticia on the other side of you.

Her hand cupped your cheek when Morticia pulled away, both of them wiping your tears away with their thumbs.

"She took her punishment so good, didn't she, Tish? Wasn't our little doll taking it like such a good girl?"

"She took it so well for us," Morticia played with one of your stray hairs. "I think she deserves a treat, Rissa."

"Oh indeed she does. Does our sweet girl want a taste of mommy?"

Morticia ran a hand down Larissa's barely clothed chest, moving the thin fabric to free Larissa's breasts from her bra. Your eyes widened at the sight before you, a bright gleam in your eye making itself prominent to the two woman before you.

"Use your words." Morticia added when she noticed your growing silence.

"Yes— God yes!"

Larissa chuckled, reaching behind her unclasp her bra, allowing the fabric to fall from her chest and out of the way.

"Lay down, Rissa." Morticia laid a hand on the blonde's bare shoulder, pushing her gently down onto the mattress. "Our beautiful and enchanting goddess."

"Let us worship you. Please." You chimed in, running your hand up her smooth leg, and stopping just before reaching her soaked cunt.

"If that's what you truly want, who am I to deny you of your desires? Be a good girl and help me finish, angel." Larissa spread her legs, giving you full access to her dripping center which you took in your mouth instantaneously.

Your tongue flicked across her sensitive bud, earning a gentle bucking of her hips. Morticia made contact with Larissa's breasts, one hand kneading while the other held a tit in her mouth, tongue swirling around the blonde's nipple.

"Mmm, just like that!" Larissa's head fell back against the duvet, eyes begging to roll to the back of her head.

Larissa hummed, her perfectly manicured hand reaching for your head to push you further against her, allowing the slight grinding of her hips against your face.

Morticia gave one last flick to Larissa's nipple before taking a moment to look at the moaning mess Larissa quickly became. A small smirk toyed at her lips when she came up with a new plan to add to the pleasure you were giving her.

The raven haired woman slid from the bed to grab the leftover bullet vibrator that she had discarded earlier, turning the toy on and bringing it to Larissa's view.

"If she gets to pleasure you, it's only fair I get to help." Morticia crawled back onto the bed, and brought the toy to Larissa's chest. The buzzing toy ran across Larissa's nipple, causing Larissa's back to arch and push her breasts harder against the vibrations.

"Tish please," Larissa's blue eyes met with Morticia's dark ones, her big doe eyes pleading.

Your eyes glanced up at Morticia with a knowing look, moving your head away from her clit, to insert two fingers deeply inside Larissa's cunt with ease. Her wetness allowed you to slide right in.

"Such a little begger. . ." Morticia teased.

Your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth at the sight of Morticia slowly drag the vibrator down Larissa's chest, past her navel, and down to her sensitive clit.

Larissa moaned loudly at the new sensation. Your free hand gripped her waist, nails dragging across her porcelain skin in a small trail that ended in her inner thighs, leaving little red marks in their wake.

"Look at her taking you so well," Morticia cooed, noticing the third finger you inserted that caused Larissa to let out a whimpering moan at the stretching of her inner walls.

Morticia moved the toy in circular motions while she brought her mouth to Larissa's neck. Red lips attached to Larissa's pulse point, sucking and nibbling at the skin, a mix of red lipstick and hickeys soon covering the blonde's neck.

"Faster, baby—" Larissa's hand gripped your wrist, picking up your thrusts to a quicker and needier pace.

The blonde's legs stilled ever so slightly, every noise coming from her mouth halting as her breath hitched. Her orgasm came barreling down at her, taking full control over her curvaceous body.

But neither you or Morticia stopped your movements.

"Yes, god yes!"

While Morticia marked up Larissa's neck, the blonde's free hand made home on her own chest, pulling her nipple between her fingers and toying with the erect bud.

Larissa's other hand only grew tighter along your scalp, hips growing frantic as she hurtled towards her next release.

"That feels so good— Fuck, don't stop!"

At her words, Morticia pressed the vibrator roughly along Larissa's clit, adding pressure to send Larissa in a daze.

Larissa moaned a long list of profanities, along with both yours and Morticia's name as she squirted against your fingers. You smirked, knowing you could still get one more out of her.

"Always making such a mess, Rissa." Morticia clicked her tongue, loving the sight of Larissa fully submitting. This was the only time Larissa was ever this submissive, and god did it turn Morticia on.

Larissa's legs shook immensely, your pace only easing up just the slightest as to not completely overstimulate her.

"Just one more, beautiful," You cooed.

The blonde's head frantically shook, moans never quieting down as her grip on your hand grew tighter. She could feel her body tighten, her legs growing stiff with each passing second.

"I- oh god—" Larissa grunted, your fingers repeatedly hitting her soft tissue.

Morticia's free hand played with Larissa's hair just as the blonde screamed your name aloud when she came once more. Your skillful fingers eased their movements, helping Larissa ride out her high.

Larissa was completely flushed, her cheeks and chest held just the slightest shade of red. You slowly removed your fingers while Morticia turned the vibrator off, leaving Larissa a shaking mess. Her legs closed, chest heaving as she came down from her high.

"You did so good for us, Rissa." Morticia gave the blonde a small kiss, "Didn't she, doll?" Her dark eyes gazed into yours, catching your attention.

"She did amazing." You agreed with Morticia, before sucking your fingers clean.

Morticia scanned both yours and Larissa's faces, the exhaustion not going unnoticed by the raven haired woman.

"While you two catch your breath, how about I get a bath started and the three of us take a nice long warm bath together, how does that sound?"

"Please," You answered Morticia while Larissa nodded her head.

Morticia stood from the bed, smirking to herself at the sight before her, Larissa completely spent and sprawled out on the bed while you laid next to her with a hand caressing Larissa's thigh.

Morticia left the two of you to catch your breath while she started in the bathroom, warm water and lavender bubbles filling the giant porcelain tub for you and Larissa to soak in. Morticia couldn't help but smile, knowing both you and Larissa would be too tired to wash yourselves, which allowed Morticia to happily take over and take care of the two people in the whole world she loved most.

568 notes · View notes

mrs-snape5984 · 6 months ago

Text

“Oh, but what will it take ‘till you believe in me the way that I believe in you?”

“I said I love you, that's forever. And this I promise from the heart, I couldn't love you any better. I love you just the way you are…” (“Just the way you are” by Billy Joel)

I will turn 40 years old in two months. 40 goddamn years on this planet…and only now - at my lowest point in my existence - I realised something. All my life, I’ve been hidden behind a mask. A mask, made of all my responsibilities and supposed duties, which I’ve put on from a far too young age. A mask, which helped me to hide all my ugly vulnerabilities and my true self from other people. A mask, which I thought would keep me going and going for lengths…hiding myself behind an “I’m fine” or a “No, it’s okay!”. A mask, which also came with the capability of erecting thick walls around my heart and soul…building a fort around the real Julia.

21 years ago, when I’ve found the perfect coping mechanism for myself in the love to Severus Snape, I started to allow myself being vulnerable in my little stories about Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules. Only Severus was permitted to know, what’s really going on behind this mask. He became the safe space for my deepest thoughts and emotions…the only place, where I’ve granted myself the right to express my own wishes.

And suddenly, after almost 40 years of existing in this world, I recognised, that there’s a drawbridge to my fort…and that there’s someone, who’s brave enough to knock on my door. Someone, who isn’t afraid of looking at the personality behind my mask. Throwing all my unpleasant traits at them, the defensive guards of my fort tried to scare them off in an almost desperate attempt…pushing them away to protect my raw core from being seen.

But my guards got propitiated by this someone. One after the other, they laid down their weapons and lowered the drawbridge ever so slightly…centimetres for centimetres…until someone slipped into my fort…getting a glimpse of the real Julia behind the mask. They made themselves comfortable within the black walls of my fort and switched a light on. This little light is shining through the eyes of my mask now…and it didn’t stay unnoticed.

All of a sudden, some people started to notice a change in my mood, my behaviour and my attitude. Even my children are wondering about the unfamiliar lighthearted happiness of their mother…despite the confines of my disease ME/CFS. Someone lit a fire in the darkest corners of my heart…and for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to acknowledge my own wishes and hopes. Maybe, I don’t have to hide myself behind walls and a mask the whole time? Maybe, there’s even some beauty in the rawness of my soul? Maybe, I’ll be bold enough to act on my own dreams and desires for once? Maybe, this time, I’ll be brave enough to stand up for myself…and let myself heal. Maybe, for once, the mask will be discarded for someone.

As always, when I’m thinking of these complex urges to express myself through Severus and Jules, I commissioned my dear friend @madfantasy to help me by creating the perfect artwork for my ideas. Mani, you beautiful gem of a human being, you’ve outdone yourself with these masterpieces! When I explained my imagination of Jules, showing herself to others (here presented as an audience behind the green flames of the fireplace) only behind the alleged safety of her well worn mask, I wouldn’t have thought, that your realisation of this idea would even be possible like that. But again, it seems as if you’re capable of understanding the pictures on my mind. Thank you for your willingness to hold the paint brush…helping me to pour my emotions out into art. Feel hugged, my precious friend.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

19 notes · View notes

elastylinson28 · 3 months ago

Text

It’s just starting to sink in that Liam is actually gone, and we will never see him again. One day, we will reach his age and be older than he ever was. And the most painful truth of all is that he’s now just a memory, and that is all he’ll ever be.

Yesterday morning, I woke up to friends messaging me, asking if it’s true. I didn’t know what “true” meant; I had no idea what was going on. I was so confused until one friend said, “It’s all over social media—Liam’s dead.” I immediately opened Twitter and saw the freshest tweets talking about the accident. I struggled to believe it. I thought maybe it was just a hoax, considering he’d just been in the spotlight a week ago, once again facing backlash. Then I went on Facebook and saw Good Morning America post about it, along with familiar names—names from years ago, names I hadn’t seen in a while, but still recognized from the days when I grew up loving One Direction.

I was shaken.

I didn’t know that a celebrity’s death could hit me this hard. Tears quickly followed, and I felt overwhelmed, like I might pass out. Just a few days before, I had been on Twitter defending Liam’s name over the pettiest reasons, with people pointing out the little things he did, claiming that the rest of the 1D guys always hated him.

I soon found out about the allegations against him, yet the little girl in me—the little girl who loved One Direction so deeply—just finds it hard to believe. Still, I gave the women my trust and decided that maybe it was time to accept that I don’t know these men personally. I chose to stay clear and quiet about all things Liam, as I couldn’t bring myself to even say anything, especially against him. It sounds wrong, but you can’t just simply erase all the years you spent loving and supporting someone that quickly. Instead, I chose to focus on the other lads and ignore all the controversies.

Days passed, and what was meant to be just another random day, the 17th, became a day that changed everything. I woke up to a completely different world—a world where Liam doesn’t exist. It’s a day I will never forget; a day that will stick with me for the rest of my life.

I spent the entire day on social media, sharing my grief with strangers who, like me, share a love for these guys, as well as people from my past who loved One Direction just as deeply. We all share this grief, all over the world, mourning for what has gone and what could’ve been. It did not have to end like this—a tragedy of this magnitude is so painful that it eats you alive.

It’s been years since I’ve come to terms with the fact that they are never coming back, and that’s okay. I accepted that, knowing that the little girl in me won’t and will never be able to. I believed that one day, when they were much older, they’d reunite for the last time—all five of them: Niall, Louis, Liam, Harry, and even Zayn. I knew it would be far, far off in the future, but I believed it would happen. But with his passing, all hope is gone. No matter what happens, One Direction just isn’t One Direction anymore, and that, I think, is the toughest pill I’ve ever had to swallow.

Liam’s gone.

Liam has always been the light of the band. Even as a young girl, I knew and recognized that he led them; he was called the “Daddy Direction” for a reason. Even after the band, he remained so supportive of them. As painful and hard as it is to admit, Liam didn’t get the recognition and success that the other four have. To see someone you adored get left behind and hated by the fans of the same people he called brothers hurt. And that is a fact that will always devastate me—how wronged he was by the public and the industry, and how that led him to inflict harm not just on himself but also on others. He needed help. He deserved help—a chance to get better. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder if things hadn’t gone wrong.

It’s so heartbreaking to think of the weight of all his struggles, the loneliness he must have felt, and the lost moments that can never be reclaimed. He died believing the world had turned its back on him, he was robbed of a second chance at life. He will never have the opportunity to witness his son grow up or create new memories with his family. Most tragically, he never got to experience the outpouring of love he is receiving now from the world and his brothers, a love that he deserved to feel when he was still alive.

Liam, you deserved so much more than the silence that now surrounds you. Rest now, knowing you will never be forgotten.

#one direction #liam payne #grief #fangirl #directioners #harry styles #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn malik #fangirling #im fucking sobbing rn #i am not okay #none of this is okay

14 notes · View notes

betweenthings2 · 6 days ago

Note

¹⁵⁾ friends kissing at midnight totally just so they won’t be alone. definitely no reasons behind it. nope none at all

I’ve noticed that for the most part, your full fics and blurbs have Gatty as an established relationship since they were teens (or that’s just the vibe I tend to pick up). So what if for funsies, they’re older, maybe 10 years ago, maybe 5 years ago, or hell even right now…but they’re still “just friends”? 😋 (Or of course if that’s not to your fancy, write whatever you want. I’ve never not enjoyed a betweenthings2 blurb<3)

Thank you for the ask!! I hadn't realized how often I put fictional!M+G in an established relationship, but you're right that I do it most of my fics. I'll have to change that up now that I've realized, but they are, in fact, 'just friends' in this. The prompt list is here is anyone else wants to see it and I will write any and all that I get, even it takes me forever, I promise =)

New Year's prompt 15- friends kissing at midnight totally just so they won’t be alone. definitely no reasons behind it. nope none at all

Matty has reached a point in his life where he's pretty sure he's ok with being single. He's not alone, certainly, he has good friends and family and people he cares about who care about him. Maybe a permeant relationship just isn't in the cards for him. He's ok with that; he's not very good at romantic relationships, he's realized. He's always a little bit too much and not very good at focusing his energy on a person in a way that isn't too much. That's fine. He can get sex when he wants it, dates for things when he wants them and he's better at being friends with women when he's not trying for a relationship. It's fine.

It's just that, well, sometimes Matty feels a little bit like he's missing out on something, especially around the holidays. Everyone has someone on their arm or is on someone's arm at all the holiday parties and Matty always makes for an odd number of people, alone. But it's fine. Really, it is, he is, and this is the last holiday party he has to get through for the season. He made it through all the Christmas parties, through being home with his own family, and now he just has this one New Year's party. He can do that, plus, George is here and George is single, too, at least for now.

Matty appreciates George, maybe more than he lets on. He'd go so far as to say he loves George, but Matty loves all his friends. It's different with George, he'll admit, but only to himself. George has always been there, even when no one else wanted anything to do with Matty, even when Matty was at his worst. Of course it's different with George. How could it not be?

George has always been a little bit better at being himself without anyone as a crutch than Matty, but he's still more than happy to let Matty act as his shadow all evening. He greeted Matty with a tight hug like they hadn’t seen each other in ages, even though it had just been barely two days and they'd exchanged texts in that time, and handed Matty a glass of champagne and that was that, they'd be MattyandGeorge for the evening.

MattyandGeorge is good, Matty thinks. He can whisper all his clever comments and snide remarks in George's ear and George will laugh and say something equally obnoxious in return. It occurs to Matty, when he gets up to get them both another drink and a woman he doesn't know tells him that he and his boyfriend make a wonderful couple, that they really do look like a couple. They're sat next to each other, thighs pressed together whispering in each other's ears and laughing in a way that couples do, getting each other drinks, going for cigarettes together, sharing a joint. Matty corrects her, of course, but he finds he doesn't mind the assumption. He wouldn't mind people thinking he's gay in general, but he thinks he would object to people thinking he's in a relationship with some of his friends, not because he doesn't like them, but because there's no way on earth he would be in a relationship with them, they're just not compatible like that, but, again, it's different with Goerge.

Matty doesn't share the comment with George when he returns to his seat. He's not sure why--maybe he doesn't mind the illusion, maybe he kind of likes the illusion, maybe he just doesn't want anything to change right now. He's never been good with change. He'll be thirty-one this year, well, next year, it's not quite midnight yet, and he still hasn't figured out how to handle change well despite the fac that his life has been full of it.

"You alright?" George asks, knocking his shoulder against Matty's.

Matty nods. "Just thinkin'."

"What about?"

Matty hums. "Change, mostly. Relationships. Other things I'm not good with."

"Matty," George starts.

"'s true," Matty insists. "It's ok, I'm ok with it, but, um, it's true."

"You're not bad at relationships," George tries.

"Not gonna argue change?" Matty asks.

"No one's good with change," George responds. "But you're ok with relationships. How long have we been friends?"

"I mean, like, romantic relationships," Matty amends. "Some people are good at it, but I just, I think I'm maybe too much, if that makes sense. I think I focus wrong."

"That's not true," George tries.

"'s ok," Matty says. "I'm fine with it. Mostly."

"Mostly?" George echoes.

Matty nods and sips his champagne before saying, "Yeah, mostly. I just sometimes miss having someone to, like," he pauses and glances away from George, wondering if he's making things weird, "kiss at midnight on New Year's, ya'know?"

George nods. "Yeah."

They're both quiet for a few minutes after that. Matty glances up at the clock on the wall, where everyone else in the room is looking, to see it read 11:55 pm.

"You know," George says as the clock changes to read 11:58, "I'm right here."

"What?"

"I mean, if you want to kiss someone, I'm right here," George clarifies. He looks more unsure that Matty has ever seen him.

Matty stares for a moment. "You want me to kiss you at midnight?"

"If you want," George backtracks. "'s not like we haven't before, and well, it wouldn't be weird."

They have before, Matty thinks, a handful of times. Sometimes Matty recalls those kisses when he's particularly confused about things, about what he wants and where he stands with his relationships, where he stands with George. It wouldn't be weird, he thinks, George is right, so he nods. George seems to relax a little bit at that and drapes his arm over Matty's shoulders.

They're both quiet for another few seconds, then when the room erupts into a countdown starting at 10, Matty turns to look at George properly. It's been a while, he thinks, since he looked at George properly. His hair is shorter that Matty remembers it ever being, but it looks soft and suddenly, Matty wants to touch. George looks kind and if Matty looks to hard, there's something like love in his eyes, but Matty has been drinking and he doesn't want to be wrong, so he ignores that and when the countdown gets to zero, he leans forward and kisses George.

It's not a quick, lips brush and it's over kind of kiss. It's the kind of kiss that should have fireworks or something, Matty thinks, long and open mouthed, all tongue and teeth like they're trying to get closer, closer, closer. George's hand ends up on Matty's hip and Matty's ends up in George's hair. It's just as soft as Matty guessed, and then, as quickly as it had started, they separate and it's over.

Matty feels changed. Something has changed. That was too much to simply be a kiss between good friends because neither of them have anyone else to kiss, but what else could it be? That's all it was, Matty tells himself, settling back into his seat. He doesn't say anything. He's not sure what he could say, what he should say. George doesn't say anything either, but it's an easy familiar kind of quiet between them, the kind they've shared for years, so Matty figures it's ok. They're always ok. It's a new year and they'll be ok.

#my fic #matty healy #george daniel #matty x george

11 notes · View notes

c-t-r-l14 · 11 months ago

Text

The Song A Dove Sings

—————————-🧡—————————-

Synopsis: You sing Xanthus a beautiful song; one he won’t forget for as long as he lives.

Warning: Mentions of blood.

———————————🧡——————————

As dawn made way for the morning rise, with the orange, pink and red hues rolling over into a sky blue, your eyelids fluttered open to the golden rays of sunlight poking its way through the curtains, and the gentle chirps of the birds roosting in nearby trees. The rays of sunlight that woven its way through the balcony window painted the room in an ethereal golden glow. You were enveloped in the warmness of the blankets, the strong hold of the man you loved most, and the faint, lingering smell of cologne and coca butter. You focused on the hushed sound of his breathing, and the warm air of his breath dancing on your neck. You looked at his peaceful expression, the way his blonde hair fell messily over his pale face, and those long, beautiful eyelashes that so perfectly complimented those stunning ruby red eyes you’ve adored so much. Like most people, you weren’t a fan of mornings—and it’s not for the typical reasons. Before you and Xanthus found each other, you woke up to a gaping cavity in your heart, suffocated by the air of solitude that filled the room. It didn’t matter how brightly the sun shined, how blue the sky was, or how loudly the birds sang; mundanity always hung above your head like a dark storm cloud. Seeing your partner’s face reminded you that you were not alone anymore. With every rise and fall of his chest, with every hushed breath that entered the atmosphere, you were reminded that your melancholic days were fewer and far in between. And so, with your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, yielding to the gentle call of sleep—you nestled further into the warm embrace of the one you loved most in this world.

Until you heard a familiar cooing sound. A familiar chirp—one that echoed in the air; its sound fluttering through the wind, just like the wings of the bird it belonged to.

A familiar song.

Your eyes popped open—any trace of fatigue and weariness melting away. As much as it pained you leave the serenity of Xanthus’ arms, you had to. So, with a quiet groan and a lot of caution, you slowly crept out of bed and tiptoed to the balcony window. And sure enough, there it was.

A Mourning Dove.

Your stomach swirled with nostalgia, and your chest felt heavy. It had been ages since you saw one, and even longer since you’ve heard its hauntingly beautiful call. As the bird sang, you took a moment to admire its muted colors—its little body covered in beige and light gray hues. The corners of your mouth quirked up fondly as you watched the dove’s chest and throat puff out to make each sound.

“Love?” A groggy voice groaned behind you.

You turned around to see Xanthus sitting upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“There’s a mourning dove outside,” you replied.

He got out of bed and walked over to the balcony window.

“Ah. So there is. I haven’t seen one in so long, which makes sense—they aren’t native to the U.K.”

You didn’t answer. You merely watched it sing some more. And although, for a time, the silence between you two was very comforting, you could practically feel Xanthus’ inquisitive gaze.

“I take it that you really like this bird?”

“Yeah. A long time ago, back when I used to live with my parents—a dove that looked just like this one would perch on a ledge outside my window, and sing— once in every blue moon. I know a lot of people think that it sings a sad song, but I never thought so. I always felt comforted, and even a little joyful when I’d hear its song.”

“Is that so?”

You hummed. “I’ve always envied them.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re free; they have peace. I didn’t have that growing up. For my entire life, I was forced to live in fear—always looking over my shoulder, always flinching at every corner. I never let myself fully trust people because I never knew what their true intentions were. It felt like I was…trapped in a cage. And since everyone was out to get me and family, I never really got a chance to actually live my life.”

The cage might’ve been spacious, filled with all the luxuries one could ever ask for—it might’ve been familiar, and full of the people you loved, but…

A cage is still a cage, nonetheless.

“Do you feel free now?” Xanthus asked.

You hummed and rested your head on his shoulder. Dontis was an absolute saint for opening up his home to you two. He’s helped you guys out in more ways in one. You certainly weren’t ungrateful for everything he’s done for you two, but at that point it’d been months since you’ve left his penthouse. Months since you’ve got to try new food, or interacted with new people. Months since you were able to live your life.

Yes, his house was full of luxuriously plush couches, beautiful paintings, and wide flat screen T.Vs, but you still weren’t free. A cage is still a cage. But even after everything you’ve been through, if there was one thing you’d gained—-it was peace. You’ve found peace with Xanthus, and that was enough for now.

“When I die, I think I wanna become a mourning dove.”

Xanthus turned his head toward you. “What?”

“I remember you telling me something about the jokes vampires make when they die. You told me that if you died, you’d come back as a bat. So, I’m telling you now that when I die, I’m gonna come back as a mourning dove. So make sure to keep your ears open;

‘Cause I’m gonna sing you a beautiful song.”

……..

No matter where he went or where he tried to hide, death followed Xanthus everywhere—but it never really bothered him until he met you. Humans lives were fleeting compared to his own, and as fragile as a porcelain tea cup, teetering dangerously on the edge of a high shelf; one nudge away from shattering into numerous irreparable pieces. He never liked thinking about your death, or what’d it be like if you were gone—so he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, and cherished your presence while you were still around.

But ever since you and him had that conversation, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He didn’t stop thinking about it when he held your broken and bloodied body in his arms—your face drained of any color, your eyes dull and lifeless.

He didn’t stop thinking about it as he tore Audric to shreds after what he did to you. He could still feel the warmth of his blood dripping from his fingers.

He didn’t stop thinking about it when he gave your eulogy, or when he and your loved ones walked to the graveyard.

And he most definitely didn’t stop thinking about it when they lowered your coffin 6 feet into the cold, dark ground.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave your grave—even after everyone left. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, or to mutter any sort of apology for getting you into this mess. For being so careless. For being so damn weak. All he could do was sit in front of your grave, with his face buried in his hands, and sob inconsolably. He’d lost the person he was supposed to protect; his lover, a piece of his soul. And now, he felt incomplete—broken, even. So, all he could do was sit there, and cry until there were no tears left to shed.

Until he heard a familiar coo. A familiar chirp.

A familiar song.

He took his face out of his hands, and looked up; the red, bloody tears still streaming out of his wide eyes. And sure enough, there it was, perched on your headstone:

A Mourning Dove.

Its little body was bathed in beige and light gray hues, its throat and chest puffed out as it sang. And Xanthus watched quietly in disbelief until it was over. He reached his hand out, and the dove perched on his finger. And as soon as the bird made contact, he felt it.

It was you.

You came back to say goodbye to him, one last time.

The dove cooed once more, and flew away—the faint flapping sounds of its wings fading further and further away. He watched as the dove flew toward the sky.

You were finally at peace. You were finally free.

——————————-🧡——————————————

A/N: Ever since part 8.1–when Xanthus jokes about dying and being reincarnated as a bat, I couldn’t stop thinking about what kind of animal listener would end up being. I really, really love mourning doves, and I’ve always thought that they’d be a good fit for listener.

Masterlist

#zsakuva #sakuverse #xanthus zsakuva #angst I guess?#poor Xanthus #xanthus x reader #xanthus claiborne #zsakuva x reader #zsakuva xanthus

44 notes · View notes

quillkiller · 6 months ago

Note

Thoughts on barty and catholic guilt?

i’m gonna be real honest with you here….. i’ve never thought about it much at all.. i think a lot about the black siblings (brothers & sisters) and their potential religious guilt, but i haven’t really thought much about barty in that context :/

to me, barty sort of always exists as something almost ’other’.. like there’s just this sort of otherness to him and he doesn’t really feel things in a normal way or in the same way his peers feel or experience things. like.. he’s just sort of deviated and has been ever since he was a kid, i feel, and be that because of the abuse he experienced when he grew up, his lack of atonomy over his own body/life, or just the absolute absence of love and touch and comfort in his home. either way, it sort of fucked him up from a very young age and just sort of made him a little…. wrong…

this is why i was being so serious when i said (here’s the post) that barty + twincest (the rosiers) would actually be a very healthy relationship in bartys opinion ahdhrjajrk. like, his home was completely and entirely devoid of love except for when they pretend infront of others. so when he meets the rosier twins who don’t have any boundaries with each other when it comes to love and intimacy barty sort of genuinely thinks that’s what a family should be. there are no grey areas as far as barty’s concerned. it’s just either or. and he yearns to be involved in their family dynamic like he’s never yearned for anything before. because it’s literally the direct opposite of what his own family is. instead of pretending to love each other in public, the rosiers have to hide it and can only ever be themselves behind closed doors. and barty experiences that as normal, and as proof that the way they love each other is how a family should love each other. the fact that they love each other when no one else is looking and instead they have to prevent people from figuring them out <- that’s proof of real love to barty. that they’re actually a family. the fact that there are no boundaries between them when it comes to love and intimacy behind closed doors

anyway. i don’t think this was at all the answer you were looking for…… im sorry!!!! my barty prophets are @sugarsnappeases, @foursaints & @itsjaywalkers and if you want a better answer to his relationship with catholic/religious guilt i’m sure maybe they have better answers for you <3

#sorry for taking your question about catholic guilt and turning it into twincest…….:/#asks #barty #bartyrosiers #marauders tag

12 notes · View notes

glassbubblebooks · 2 months ago

Text

Hello - Welcome in my Bubble🫧✒️

|| Who am I and what is this blog about?

Hello and welcome to my blog “glassbubblebooks”, I am very happy to have you here:)!

In this very first blog post of mine, you will find an introduction of me, bubble and a small summary of what this blog will be about🤍

Name: bubble🫧

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bisexual

Birthday: December 29th🎂 (I’m 18)

Country: Germany🇩🇪

Languages: German/ English

(This little character gives you an idea of my looks btw, credits to @veluv_art on Instagram, Twitter and TikTok)

Since I can remember I’ve always been obsessed with literature, escaping into different universes and I’ve always liked to draw, read and write. My favorite author is @aliceoseman and I love the Osemanverse in general. Her books have helped me so much in finding myself and they´ll always be my comfort books. I’m also very obsessed with the Harry Potter universe and my all-time favorite book series is the 'Empyrean' series, especially 'Iron Flame'. This series is hands down one of the best fantasy novels I've read so far and I love the concept of the bond between riders and dragons. This story is, so far, incredibly well thought-out and I can´t wait for the third book to be published in January. Rebecca Yarrows' universe really is a big inspiration for me. For almost five years now, I’ve been working on my own fantasy novel and the whole universe behind that.✒️📖

When it comes to books, my favorite genres are romance, coming-of-age, fantasy, and romantasy and I read books in English and German, which is my native language. I’ll try to read as often as I can, but since I’m still in school, I often lack the time. My biggest dream is to become an author one day but I still have a long way to go.💫

I thought about sharing book and writing related content for a while now and I finally decided to start this blog! From now on, I will try to take you with me every week and post about my favorite books, my current TBH my book progress and just general thoughts.🤍 I’m not entirely sure where this blog is going to lead me but I’m really hoping that you’re here to follow my journey through book stores, book reviews and outbursts of creativity✒️🤍📖

You are very welcome to follow my tumblr blog, and also take a look at my other socials for spontaneous updates about books or my life💫

I’m also very looking forward to getting to know you guys, so don’t be afraid to follow, comment and ask me questions. Do you have any writing tips or book recommendations? I’d love to hear about your interests and ideas for this blog! You’re also free to show my blog to people that you think would love to follow it!🫶🏻

I can’t wait to start this journey with you

Love, Bubble🫧

#booklr #blogging #introduction #first blog #glassbubbles #writing #books #writers #reading #book blog #bookstagram #the empyrean #iron flame #fourth wing #onyx storm #intro post #blog intro #looking for moots

5 notes · View notes

acciotherapists · 1 year ago

Text

Far From Home (Chapter 53: Stephen Strange)

Loki x Reader

Y/n Y/l/n never thought her past would come back to find her. After all who would look for her on Midgard? But one day in the small town of Puento Antiguo her world is turned upside down when an old friend turns up, threatening everything she has built and the people she’d fought so hard to protect. What happens when the life she left behind finally catches up with her? What happens when the old flame she thought had burned out reignites within her?

Warnings: language (sorry, Steve), eventual smut (slow burn), angst, some mentions of torture (most things won’t be detailed but anything that gets a bit more specific will be warned at the beginning of the chapter)

Stephen Strange.

I turned to find the face belonging to the familiar voice and his eyes widened.

“Mary?”

Wong chuckled softly. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” I replied.

“And me?” Loki asked, an edge in his voice. “Do I want to know?”

I shook my head and Stephen slowly approached us.

“W-what are you doing here? Who are they?” he pointed to Loki, Wanda, and Tony.

“They’re friends of mine,” I answered, ignoring his other question.

He placed the books on the counter in front of Wong, his eyes locked with mine.

“I-I don’t understand… It’s been 7 years… and you haven’t aged a day.”

“It’s complicated-.”

“Leave, Strange,” Wong hissed, taking the books from the counter and placing them to the side. “This matter does not concern you.”

Stephen gave a defeated sigh and left the library.

Wong turned to me. “You want to tell me what that was about?”

I shook my head. “It’s a long story.”

“So I knew you as Zoe almost 20 years ago when I was barely a student here… Stephen knew you as Mary seven years ago. I always knew you held secrets and your aging was slowed but I never imagined…” He looked back and forth between Loki and I. “You’re Asgardian, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“You mentioned people were looking for you when you first came to us… is that why you’re here now?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. I think most of them are dead or scattered. It’s something else. It’s about the Sapphire and Scarlet Witches. You speak of them with such fear.”

“That’s what I was always taught… to fear them. The Ancient One warned us of such beings during much of my training. To say that you could be one of them… it goes against everything I know about them… and you.”

“You don’t understand, Wong. I’ve dreamt of them… of myself. I’ve seen it, Wong.”

He shook his head. “No, you must’ve seen wrong.” He goes to a bookcase covered in chains and removes a book, returning to us and flipping it open to an eerily familiar image. It was a colored sketch of two women surrounded by scarlet and sapphire on either side, purple flames meeting in the middle.

“They are said to either rule… or annihilate the cosmos.”

“You truly believe you are the Sapphire Witch?” Loki asked me and Wong watched us carefully.

“I can’t think of another way to explain what I saw… the way my abilities have grown beyond my control.”

I turned my attention back to Wong. “What does it say about the other one? The Scarlet Witch?”

He looked down at the book again. “Nothing much… other than the two beings are close and have seen or will have seen many battles together.”

My heart was racing in my chest. I knew the Scarlet Witch seemed familiar but it wasn’t until I felt her nails dig into my arm that I realized what I’d been missing. I could practically hear her heart racing next to me as Wong spoke in a language I didn’t understand before translating it from the book.

“God help the soul who crosses them.”

***********

Taglist: @nelachu2423 @purplekitten30@lokisprettygirl22@midnights-ramblings@huntress-artemiss@lokis-little-love @lokis-tigress @the-archangel-in-asgard@crimson25@thedistractedagglomeration

#lokixreader #loki friggason #loki odinson #marvel #loki laufeyson #loki of asgard #loki x reader #loki x y/n #marvel mcu #avengers #loki x you #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers au #marvel au #mcu x reader

13 notes · View notes

ash-whimsicalfanfic · 2 years ago

Text

Agent Rushmore (CH 1)

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 1000

Warning: Mild language, violence, gore, guns, fluff, smut, angst, PTSD, graphic scenes…

Prompt: Special Agent Locklyn Rushmore, a highly trained Russian assassin who is skilled in all forms of hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, negotiating, and more. When her cover is blown, she is returning back to NCIS headquarters in D.C…

Jethro Gibbs POV

I study the footage again and shake my head before motioning McGee to rewind the footage to play it over again and again. That is until Jen decides to interrupt my obsessing.

“Any news on who you think the unsub is?” She asks.

“Yes. However, this woman has no existence as far as we know. No facial recognition and she’s good at what she does. What we do know is that she has red hair, green eyes, she’s a trained assassin for sure, but we ruled out Mossad.” I say.

“That isn’t your unsub. She’s one of us. A federal agent. She’s undercover. She’s in deep. We only keep her file on paper as of now. Her name is Locklyn Rushmore. She underwent extensive training in a secret Russian organization. Thankfully, she escaped before it was too late.” She murmurs.

I stare at Jen a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. Thankfully, she escaped before it was too late…that had me curious.

“Escaped?” I question.

“Yes. Her parents sent her into this secret organization against her will. She was just a child. She was eight. One of the youngest there. She got away when she was seventeen and started her own life by taking down renowned criminals. We were intrigued by her skills, so we hired her. She has dabbled in all sorts of federal agencies, but NCIS holds a special place in her heart. It’s where she first learned that blood isn’t family.” She says.

“Sounds like you know her well.” I murmur.

“She stayed with me for awhile. She was distant at first. It was her way of protecting herself and keeping her guard up. Little by little, I worked through to her and she opened up. She’s an amazing young woman. She’s gone through so much, yet she’s still fighting to put others before herself. She’s remarkable really.” She says.

“How old…is this agent?” DiNozzo asks.

“Not that you seem to ask the age of most woman you take out, but she’s thirty-three. However, you aren’t her type.” She says.

“I’m everyone’s type, Director.” He teases.

“Hm. Not hers.” She says.

“Then what’s her type?” He asks.

“Older. She claims she likes her men experienced. However, I think she has a thing for the hair too. I’ve noticed most men she takes out has silver hair. She always picks some…colorful men.” She says.

I watch the footage of this Locklyn Rushmore. She moved swiftly and quickly. She moved with grace and somehow no one seemed to notice her. She was like a shadow.

“Uh, boss…Director…you may want to see this.” McGee says.

He pulls up a live newsfeed and we instantly see fire and smoke and people running. I read the headline about a bomb. My eyes focus on a redhead who stumbles out with her gun drawn.

“Locklyn.” Jen whispers, a hand going to her mouth.

We hear gunshots and she takes cover behind a car, firing off a few rounds herself. Police were yelling at her to put her weapon down, but she throws her credentials their way to silence them as she fires off at an unsub.

“Director Shepard, emergency meeting in M-TAC.” Her secretary says.

I follow Jen to M-TAC. I sit with her and see that the newsfeed was playing in here as several different faces appear.

“Locklyn’s cover has been blown, Director Shepard.” I hear.

“I’m aware. I want her back here as soon as possible. She’s safer with us and respectfully, she belongs with NCIS.” She says.

“She is in D.C. She knew her cover was blown and was making her way back to you, Director Shepard. However, they caught up with her before she could tell you.” He says.

“I’ll handle this. And Locklyn will be safe. We will figure out how her cover was blown and officially take down the Dixen family for good.” She says.

She stands and I follow her. She walks out to the railing and with a simple look, I went down to stand with my team.

“We will all be investigating a case that has been classified and highly confidential for years. Locklyn Rushmore will be returning back to NCIS, joining Special Agent Gibbs team. She’s been undercover for years, however she’s one of us. She will need our help and support during these trying times. She has a target on her back. Her cover was blown and now several dangerous individuals, a very powerful family, is wanting her dead.” She says.

Everyone nods and gets back to their respective duties. I stare at Jen a moment longer before I look between Ziva, McGee, and Tony.

“Clear off that desk for her. And do something about that stupid divider so she doesn’t feel singled out. Go!” I snap.

They get to work and I knew the real person to set up her desk. I head down to Abby’s lab and she was blasting music through the speakers. I turn it off and she turns to me with a pout, putting her hands on her hips.

“Gibbs! It was getting to the good part!” She exclaims.

“Abs, an agent who has been undercover for quite awhile is returning to NCIS. Her cover was blown and she has a very powerful family who is dangerous after her. I don’t know all the details, but I know that Jen wants her comfortable when she returns. She’s joining my team and I wanted to see if you’d be so kind to set up her desk.” I say and she nods with a smile.

“What’s her name? Do you know if she’s nice? Oh! Do you know her favorite color or maybe if she likes hugs?” She asks.

“Her name is Locklyn Rushmore. Jen says she is distant and guarded at first, but once you break her walls down…she sounds nice. I’m not sure if she’s a hugger though.” I say and she sighs, nodding her head.

112 notes · View notes

pencilnewt · 1 month ago

Note

I dont think I have seen somebody draw as beautifully as you have, really.

The colors you use to draw make the photograph, as does the shadowing. And your ideas? Genius.

How did you learn all this great technique? Was that something you have always done or did you just start drawing?

I hope I could just tell you how amazing your art is to me (and many others)✨

thank you so much omfg!!

it’s definitely taken a lot of time and practice, i didn’t just wake up one day and know how to draw the way i do rn!! and im still learning all the time, im very self-taught!! gonna fish thru my instagram for a min and grab some screenshots of old art to demonstrate this in a sort of timeline but it feels very self-indulgent (which i try not to be too often haha) so it’s under the cut if anyone wants to see :3

i feel like im able to create something approaching the art i see in my head for the first time in my life and im SO grateful for any and all support people have given me while im doing that in a way i literally cannot express like i read EVERY SINGLE tag people leave on my art on here and it makes me want to fucking cry <3

quickly first of all i use CSP version 1 these days but over the past 9 years i’ve used nearly every free drawing program available - krita, 🏴‍☠️photoshop, firealpaca, autodesk sketchbook, ibis paint, medibang…

anyway some sketchbook drawings circa 2016/age 13 (earliest i have photos of, but i have one earlier sketchbook somewhere) at which point human anatomy was still an utter mystery to me:

got my first drawing tablet in 2017 - a little wacom intuos draw, which i don’t think they make anymore, but i still used it until about a year and a bit ago when i bought my xp-pen display tablet w my first paycheck. i think this was literally the first thing i drew on there:

a bit of a jump to 2019 (this is where i got my love for fuzzy chalky textures i think):

i try not to think about the dsmp era too much but that’s where i made some big strides (especially in my colouring) because i felt a lot of consistent motivation to draw!

& then spent a LOT of time doodling my dnd character over the past year & doing some other little reference studies when i could find the time between writing my undergrad dissertation etc. this helped me nail down drawing faces better than b4.

i’d doodled some hockey stuff on and of for the past couple of years but only started properly drawing or posting anything at the end of september!! gotta say a big THANK YOU to everyone who reblogged pens snoopy when i first posted him bc without the support from people on here i don’t think id have initially been so motivated to keep making this art that i’ve loved drawing so so much. and i’ve made friends & mutuals that i’m even more grateful for :3 1st vs most recent:

i have lots of things i wanna keep working on, here are some:

more detailed backgrounds & lighting (biggest barrier here is terrible Can’t Be Bothered syndrome)

recognisably simplifying/stylising people more!! i can do this a bit but my strength is defo semi-realism i feel

improving my composition/making it more intentional. this is the biggest reason behind making those stamp designs actually (could go into much more detail in another post about what’s behind lots of the hockey pieces i’ve made, if anyone would like to hear about that. there’s semi-often something im trying to specifically work on or practice)

more movement & dynamism!!

this is probably so obvious but i’m like. passively learning from looking at other artists’ work all the time as well as practicing. if i really like a piece of art i see online i’ll try and identify exactly WHY i like it so i can think about how i might improve my own art.

if you read this far i’m in love w you <3

#thank you so much anon!#this was so kind of you to say i really appreciate it #art timeline #i made this so self-indulgent i’m so sorry #but maybe interesting? i hope?#ask #my art

4 notes · View notes

panicawa · 1 year ago

Text

ADHD+feedback=agony

This is going to be a long and possibly boring text post about art and posting art online, with some self-reflection on top. I don’t usually do these and it’s been ages since I’ve actually written any kind of a longer text, but I really need to put these thoughts onto imaginary digital paper. I’d appreciate if you read it through and if you could give me any form of feedback on this! Your own experiences and etc. I do art because it’s a part of my ADHD-ridden personality, this desire to create always buzzing inside, it’s neither and both work and hobby for me, something I love and hate the most in life, because it tortures me as much as it fills me with joy. So if you ask me ‘hey, what’s your purpose for drawing? What’s your goal, your endgame?’ the answer is really ‘there’s none, it’s more of a curse, it’s just something that makes me alive so I can’t help but continue, cause if I stop it feels like I’d vanish or lose myself completely’. I can’t say I’ve done all other forms of media to express myself, but I’ve tried a lot of things (poetry, photography, music, cosplay, crafting and so on and so forth) and nothing comes close to drawing. And I’m not even sure if ‘expressing myself’ is a right way to put it because it’s not that my art is any kind of deep and meaningful, I just illustrate plots and characters I find appealing in some way or another, for the most part. Now, I don’t consider myself to be a professional, but I also have 20+ years of experience at this point so I might as well be, depending on how you look at it. All self-beating aside, I like to think that my art is at somewhat plausible level at the moment? I am proud of how far I’ve come despite everything and I can still see a lot of progress happening, and god knows I work my ass off to continue improving. The main thing I want to address here is how erratic and incomprehensible my online feedback has been recently and how it makes my brain perform loops of dissociation. I wish I didn’t care for feedback at all, but sadly I do, it’s what gives me the most dopamine. I’ve recently discovered it’s yet-another ADHD thing. Nothing else in life makes me as fulfilled as seeing other people enjoy my pictures, it’s just pure joy without any downsides to it. It’s really not about financial gain from art or fame and popularity, but just creating something new and then seeing people have a positive emotional response to it is what lights up my life and helps to get through all the shit it throws at me. And considering that my family is mostly completely disinterested in what I create (which has been hurting me more than I can describe since I was a little baby), and my paranoia makes it hard to accept compliments from friends and partners, online feedback has been the best medicine for me. I used to tell myself one day I will get good enough to have some following that would be excited about my art and give me constant feedback in return, because that’s what I always saw happen to other artists. I never aimed to be the most popular or to achieve certain numbers of likes, just being ‘good, on average’ was the ideal for me as long as I’ve had a constant crowd behind. I thought, a lot of musicians of the past don’t really make any more new hit songs, but they still can gather a crowd of long-term fans at a concert, right? Once you make it to some level of popularity you never really go into a complete oblivion, as long as you’re still working your craft and putting it out there? And there have been times in my life where I thought that the moment has finally happened and was now my reality, that my art was finally well enough to climb into ‘popular post’ tiers, and that I have gathered enough audience to have a stable interest in my publications, but it never lasted too long. I understand how social media work, how people change hobbies and fandoms, and how the world around us changes altogether, but recently the ride has been too wild for me to comprehend. Although I have a significant number of followers on all my main social media (tumblr, twitter, IG) (and a lot of those followers are fresh newcomers too), the feedback has just been... all over the place. I understand that I’m dipping into different fandoms here and there (then again, the vast majority of them are extremely popular on their own, so you’d think that should help the situation too?) and I’m experimenting with my art styles, but no matter how hard I try there’s just no consistency. I post something that I’m sure will do well and it does. I post something I’m sure will do well again and it completely flops. I post some scribes for fun and it goes super high. I post another funny thing and there’s no response. One post gets 10k likes, the next one gets 30 likes. Then the next one gets 5k. Then 15. I feel like I have no control over it at all, no understanding. It feels like playing a roulette. Just up to chance every time. It’s the same on all social platforms so I don’t think I could attribute it to algorithms only. How can I ever try to invest time and energy into bigger projects if I can’t even estimate if it has a chance of being any sort of likeable? Is my art just extremely non-consistent on its own and I just don’t notice? What’s going on??? I’m entirely grateful for big numbers but I’d really rather have them spread through most things I post? Of course some publications are going to be more popular than others, it’s perfectly fine, but while 300 likes on some posts and 600 likes on other is understandable, the gaps between 10k+ and less-than-30 are just too extreme? Especially when they happen one after the other? I swear I never see this with other people and it just makes my brain intolerable. For all those of you who have reached the bottom of this rant, thank you! If you have any thoughts to share or similar experiences, please do let me know! My main concern here is how to battle this feeling of am-I-going-insane-or-what, and not the numbers of likes. Finding any way out of this would be good because it has really interfered with my art process lately and I hateeee it!

#big text post

25 notes · View notes