#Loner-operated

[elrenphoto]

#모슬포항#외톨이 조업을 나간 대형선박은 귀항을 한다. 항구는 조용히 받아 들인다#제주#대정 모슬포항

#Moseulpo Port #Loner-operated large ships return home. The port quietly accepts #Jeju #DaejeongMoseulpo Port

[theoogtree]

good news todd the librarbian was finally free to start the Pathfinder thing \o/ me and two others made our characters and did a little introduction and next time we will play for real : )

[shih-coulda-had-it]

road house (2024) starring jake gyllenhaal is kinda meh with its soft points, unintentionally tragic with its thirst traps (HYDRATE THAT MAN…! PLEASE…!), and okay with the comedy (not as quippy as a whedonesque/MCU, but still a little off putting), but i did appreciate that every attempt to turn a stand-off into a gun fight resulted in gyllenhaal slapping the gun away in order to force a fist fight

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Make Friends 1/4 (Word count 5.4 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

A/N: AU where König (sadly) isn't a colonel and doesn't have a t-shirt as a hood but an... actual hood. Please heed the tags lovelies 🩷

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

No one sees a cleaning lady.

Cleaners are invisible. People remember them only when their desks start to gather dust, when their floors are full of mud. No one sees her except the tallest guy in the building: the guy who everybody seems to ignore, just like they ignore her.

It doesn't take long to see why. He's different, and not just because of the mask he's wearing.

She sees him playing with knives. He throws them in the air leisurely, catches them by the handle, and never misses the catch. He flicks them from side to side, spins and whirls the blades in motions she can't even see because they're so swift.

It's pure magic. And they're not dull training knives; they're sharp as a razor, vicious, tactical – but that doesn't make them ugly. They're quite stunning, and she's caught staring more than once.

His movements are not what she'd exactly call precise and fluid. They're urgent, antsy, made to relieve stress of some sort. He's stimming with the knives. Alleviating pain or frustration. The rest of his body is still; only the ice-blue eyes flicker on the blade as he focuses all his attention on the dance. Sometimes he just stares at them, turns them around as if checking the edge, as if it wasn't evident that they're deadly and sharp. That's how she knows he takes good care of the things he loves.

He's fascinated by them, just like she is. And it's not just the knives; she's fascinated by him.

Others cast side eyes, nervous looks at him. Even some of his fellow operators look at the man like he's a lunatic. And perhaps he is, but she can't help it.

She's mesmerized.

It all changes when she accidentally walks into a meeting room while there is a briefing going on. Apparently, no one considers her a threat or a potential spy because she is summoned in before she rushes to close the door, and so she goes on about her day while the soldiers are already wrapping things up.

The hooded giant is there too, leaning back in a chair too small for him, this time playing with a butterfly knife. It's the smallest, daintiest thing she has yet seen in those hands. He always has gloves on, but that doesn't make the flashy flipping look any less dangerous.

She starts by dusting the side tables so she is not in the way. This time, she vehemently does not want to be seen. Save perhaps by the knife maniac.

The man even helps her with cleaning: he picks up some of the objects he can reach so she can wipe the surface more easily. It makes her cheeks grow hot, but she cannot bring herself to thank him. She doesn't dare to make a single sound while there is a meeting going on and their captain is still speaking, but she gives her thanks through her eyes and her smile, and the man looks at her like she's some kind of saintly sight.

The look in those blue eyes is starstruck. Almost… obsessive.

It should send ice to her stomach. But it doesn't.

He continues showing off with the knife as she moves to the other side of the room. He does it to mess with her head or entertain her, delight her, perhaps - the man already knows she’s intrigued by his vast collection of blades.

It's a bit creepy. The man as a whole is a bit creepy, but she only feels a rush, a high that turns her monotonous work day into a thrill.

"König. Would you mind?"

The sound of the flicking blade stops, and she is possibly the only one in this room who misses the noise.

"Entschuldigung."

He speaks, and the voice sends ripples across her scalp. It's twisted and amused, as if the man gets off on annoying the shit out of his workmates.

"English, please..."

"My apologies."

The blade is tucked somewhere in his pocket and the man named König leans forward on the table. Slightly hunched over like that, he looks even more intimidating than before. The playfulness is gone, and he looks fiercely professional. More shivers are sent down her spine.

König…

König is the reason she still keeps working in this odd little compound, the base of some special operations unit that requires an insane amount of security checks and secret contracts and confidentiality agreements just so she can clean the floors from their soddy footprints.

König is the reason she starts to put on some mascara in the morning, tie her hair in a high ponytail, or braid it in two little braids so she would appear cuter if she happens to pass him by in the hallway. He's the reason she opens not one but two buttons of her blouse before she starts the day. He's also the reason her underwear is soaked in the middle of a boring shift.

He appears in her break room to borrow coffee. And not once, but twice during the same week.

"You're running low again?"

"Eh… Ja."

He's shit at lying, though. She is relatively sure by now that he's here only because he wants to see her.

"I'll bring it back. I mean–I'll buy you some."

He seems a bit shy, like her, and combined with the fact that he still chooses to seek her out already gives her sleepless nights. It makes her far more confident than she has ever been with people.

His accent, his voice, are pure fire. She feels sinful for thinking about how he would behave in the bedroom, how he would talk – after all, it already sounds like he's breathless and strained, already sounds like he's working her open with whatever monster is hidden in those pants a bit too small for him. He walks with a wide lounge, and she just knows it's because he is so big down there.

"You do that," she gives him a particularly flirty smile and revels in how it makes him even more distraught. It's quite fascinating how the same man can exude barely repressed bloodlust one moment and stupefied silence the next.

He returns the very next day to bring her a package of coffee. The same brand he borrowed twice already is set on the table in front of her with tense shoulders. She has seen the man relaxed only when he’s achieved that alluring flow state with his knives.

"Hier."

"Why thank you."

He simply stands there, switches weight from one foot to the other, and shrugs.

"I'll be going then."

But he doesn’t leave. Not right away. He watches her with that icy, burning stare, and she cocks her head.

“Bye,” she chimes with a soft smile – the guy is simply too cute. His restless twitching stops; he freezes where he stands, blinks – and then turns and walks out the door like a robot.

. . . . .

She's not supposed to be here. Or, she is, but he's not.

No one’s supposed to be here when there's the sign on the door. The men's showers are supposed to be cleared once a week for good scrubbing, and she only has 30 minutes to do that. It's once a week, less than an hour, there's a sign, and still, some jerk has to walk right through it.

No one sees a cleaning lady.

No one appears to even care about the fucking sign.

But then she sees who exactly has disrespected her humble position. It's a shock to see that familiar black hood with two eye holes on it thrown on the bench. Next to that, the khaki-colored cargo pants, a black shirt, and those gloves, all in a heap – this guy is not the most orderly, perhaps.

And she takes a fucking peek inside the showers because the door is, for some unfathomable reason, transparent, see-through glass.

The first thing she sees is muscle. Just wet, powerful cords of muscle slapped on the tallest man she has ever seen or would probably ever see.

He's a vision: godly, almost. Then she notices what he's doing.

Of course he has to be fucking fapping on top of everything.

Her throat is dry and her hands are numb as she watches how he leans on the tiles with one hand and works himself with the other. The body hair on the guy is so pale that he basically looks neatly shaved, save for the short hair on the top of his head – the man's nothing but sleek, dripping muscle through and through.

He sounds weak when he's masturbating; the noise that echoes in the showers consists mainly of frail, high-pitched grunts.

She's wet in no time, and it doesn't help that he looks frantic, almost violent, while jerking off. It's a sloppy frenzy, and the sounds of wet, angry slapping make her heart beat so fast that the rush of blood in her ears nearly drowns the noise.

The man has big hands, but his cock still looks massive inside one. She knows she will copy-paste the image of that long cock, slick with water and soap, in her mind over and over again while releasing some tension herself. Of course it's big because he's big, but the length of it is simply outrageous – she cannot comprehend how he can fit himself in his pants, even when soft.

His whole upper body tenses abruptly, like a huge cord of cable; he throws his head back, his hips jerk forward and he goes catatonic – the cum shot that follows would shoot a meter away if it wasn't stopped by the wall. The spurts of his load are equally as fierce as the fap, and she feels faint.

And why the fuck is she even standing here in the first place?

And then he…

He drops his head, turns a little to the side, like he’s known she has been here the whole time.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

She can only see his eyes from behind the arm still leaning on the wall. That heated glare is not furious, but nor is it benevolent: it's simply pure, manic lust.

She turns and rushes from the locker room like she has just seen a monster.

. . . . .

"Hey."

If he's here for coffee or for her, she doesn't know. Or, perhaps she does, but she's also so unbelievably ashamed and embarrassed that perhaps it's no surprise that he seeks her out in the break room since she has avoided him everywhere else for two days.

"Hi."

Her weak voice is followed by silence, and she doesn't turn, even when she knows he's still behind her. Something in the air, some part of atavistic instinct tells her he's standing right behind her.

"You here for more coffee?"

He still doesn't say anything, and she begins to freak out.

"König… I'm–God, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have–"

"Did you like what you saw?"

Her heart shoots up her throat, and her stomach churns, almost starts to eat itself from the pure terror. But it's nothing compared to what he says next.

"I was thinking of you," the calm voice reaches her ears like a tall wave, making her even more woozy than she was in the men's showers.

"I'm– sorry, what?"

"Your mouth… Breasts. If you're tight."

She finally turns, doesn't even try to conceal her horror tinged with incomprehensible, strange lust.

"Jesus…"

The ice between them is broken, but at what cost – and the anxiety she had mistaken for cuteness reveals something psychotic underneath. He still looks at her with the same stare, even when she tries to make it clear that this approach makes her want to vomit. He doesn't move, only towers over her like a hulking shade, and she darts from the break room, completely soaked and on the verge of tears.

. . . . .

There's a knock on her door the next morning, so early that she wonders who the hell could be up at this hour other than staff. It's like… five-thirty. She's so sleepy that she doesn't quite think it through as she throws only a t-shirt on before strolling to the door.

What the f-

König shoves the flowers almost in her face as she opens the door, and she has to yank her head back. All the sleep is gone in an instant, and she curses in her mind that she's standing here in only a tight t-shirt and a black pair of panties.

"I'm sorry. Please, accept my apology," he says like a poorly rehearsed actor while watching her thighs and what's between them. Her nipples shoot up, and not from cold.

"Uh… sure," she tries to sound neutral while accepting the flowers, if not his apology. He takes a step back after making sure she has truly taken the gift, and she instinctively lowers the bouquet down to shield herself from his searing gaze. She knows she's a hypocrite, having masturbated at the memory of him last night. Twice.

He has his hood on, and wears the eternal black shirt, padded gloves and some cargo pants, but there’s also an overload of gear on him. Pouches and pads and wires and ammo - she even catches a grenade or two. There’s a gun strapped to his thigh, and the shoulder pads make his already broad shoulders look even more wide. He looks so… tactical, so in his element that her instincts tell her it wouldn’t do shit to slam the door in his face and retreat back to the safety of her room. This soldier would just barge through the plywood.

And where did this guy get flowers at this hour of the day? No florist can possibly be open. Then she notices they're not exactly the kind of flowers she has seen at a shop.

Has he picked them from outside…?

"I thought you liked me."

His explanation makes her heart melt a little. He's so straightforward, so utterly without any charades or roles, that it makes her feel like she's the one who has disrespected him with her games. After all, she has done nothing but flirted 24/7 with the poor man for the last week. Of course he only thought she was interested.

"I do. I do like you."

His eyes light up with uncontained hunger. "Can I come in?"

Nope. Big mistake.

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Ok. I'll be going then."

He turns on his heels and is ready to go like nothing ever happened.

“Wha-… König, please, wait.”

He halts on command, turns back, looks at her solemnly. The only thing that gives his confusion away are his eyes, which flicker from her puzzled stare to her mouth, occasionally to the bouquet covering her nether areas.

"Could we just be friends?" She offers him rather desperately.

He merely shrugs.

"Never had any friends."

For some reason, this guy has already started to live rent-free inside her head. She simply can't get him out. And she's intrigued, even when the sanest option would be to stay away from a creepy lunatic like him.

"I can be your friend."

Fuck, what did I just say, what the fuck did I just–

"Sure. Why not," he says immediately. "You just want to be friends?"

She resists the urge to facepalm right then and there in front of him. The guy is not only socially awkward: he's in a state of denial.

Some of his friends – or at least, teammates – pass them by. Kyle, if she remembers correctly, and a Scottish man they call Soap. They both smile at her kindly. It's the first time these men have ever paid her any attention; actually, this is probably the only occasion anyone pays attention to König either. They are both suddenly visible.

"Hey König, don't go harassing our cleaning lady. We got a plane to catch."

König stares somewhere behind her as Soap speaks. His eyes are covered with glass, and she knows that look all too well. The tallest man in the building is dissociating while the two soldiers march by behind him with raised eyebrows and pursed lips: a mocking gesture only she can see.

She watches the scene with an odd pity. It appears they step into existence only when they're together – an unfamiliar setting and an odd couple, the object of ridicule for people who probably claim themselves to be normal.

"I think it would be best, yes," she whispers when the hall is quiet again. She has to start her day soon, and he has a plane to catch - no one else is awake except one hard-working woman and a few operators about to leave on an early mission. She feels the strangest sorrow as she realizes that he wanted to drop by with some flowers and his apology before leaving some place he might never return.

The man gives her a last once-over before taking his leave. He nods slowly, never breaking their gaze: an odd, gentlemanly move.

"Just friends, then."

. . . . .

It is the hottest day yet, and the guy walks around with his black hood even then.

Her new friend.

She's outside, trying to catch some fresh air and sunlight after spending another 8 hours inside a buzzing facility, and somehow, some way, the tall enigma of a man always finds her.

He angles his walk towards her as if he only happened to pass by at the same time she was lounging against the wall and looking at clouds drifting in the sky. In truth, she has an odd, yawning suspicion that she is being stalked nowadays. One of her underwear has gone missing, and she's wretched because her first thought upon finding it gone was the solid assumption that he had stolen them. Which further meant that the man had broken into her room.

But there's also flowers. Every morning when she opens her door, there's a single flower awaiting her. Sometimes, two or three, and not from a store, but from outside, from nature.

He's courting her, and she feels stupidly like a little princess because of those homely yet thoughtful gifts. She doesn't throw them away: they gather on her table, on her window sill, in a little water glass on her bedside table.

She's far too kind, that's what people always say, but she's also neck-deep into this goddamn creep at this point to do anything about it. The building is full of muscled men, men who are decent, and she chooses this… gift-bearing perv to crush on. In her judgment system, she's basically asking for it at this point.

"How are you?"

His accent lingers in the air between them, and she can't help it: it always brings a rush of heat on her cheeks and a rush of wetness down below when she hears him speak.

"I'm good. Just… good. How about you?"

"Sehr gut."

Perhaps the underwear has simply gone missing while washing laundry: it's not unusual when at least 20 people share one washing machine.

And they're only friends. Friends don't steal each other's underwear. Friends ask how they have been, how their day's gone.

"You look nice."

But the summer sun pales in comparison with the heat of that stare. Friends might compliment each other, but they don't look at each other like that.

She feels grungy enough while cleaning, not to mention in the bland, saggy clothes she has to wear every morning, so it can't be a surprise that she likes to put on an effort after the day is done. The citrus-yellow dress she has this afternoon catches his attention like she's a whole circus in town.

"You always look like an angel," he elaborates further, and she has to prevent herself from taking support from the wall upon hearing his compliment.

"Oh.. Thanks," she smiles, and he answers it: the faint creases around narrowing eyes are enough proof of that. "It's so hot… Do you ever take the hood off?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you take it off before bed?"

Oh god.

That sounded weird. She meant to ask if he took it off before sleeping.

Well, 'before bed', 'before sleeping'… What's the difference, really?

Still, he reads into it like a hawk for a seemingly socially graceless case.

"Depends if I'm alone or not," he says. Definitely thinks she's flirting with him again. Talk about sending mixed messages…

Friends, friends. We're just friends.

"Where are you from, by the way? Are you German?"

"No. Austrian."

"Oh. It must be beautiful there at this time of year."

"It is. I would still trade all of Austria for you," he says without any clumsiness, even though the pickup line is awful, one of the worst she has heard – and god, still, those big hands, that fire and ice stare makes her feel high as a kite. The image of him plowing her with the same pace he fucked his hand won't leave her alone.

"König… Just friends," she warns while feeling how another pair of panties is already ruined. She's so wet it's not even funny anymore; it makes her annoyed.

"Ok."

He says ok, but she knows he won't yield. She’s been far too kind for far too long and won't be losing this guy's interest anytime soon.

"How's work?" She tries to patiently show him how to be fricking friends, even if one party is constantly undressing the other with their eyes. As if she's not doing the same…

"You really want to know?"

"Sure."

"Had to scrub intestines from my shoes all night," he says casually. She can only blink and watch how completely distanced and indifferent he seems about something so sick.

"Everything's a mess when you use a knife," he explains further.

"Uh... I'm sure it is."

"Do you regret that you asked?"

"No. Well, perhaps a little."

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks proud; only seems pleased with himself for succeeding in scaring her even more.

"That's why I scrub guts and you scrub floors."

"I guess so," she agrees to his ever-authentic way of saying things how they are. He's a soldier: she can’t change that fact no matter how he or she puts it. Decent guys did the exact same things he did; they just didn't go around telling shy girls about the gory details of their work.

"Do you like knives?"

Nor did they ask things like this. They would ask if she wanted to go see a movie or have a lovely dinner that would end in a kiss and an exchange of phone numbers.

"Um. Yes, I think they're beautiful."

Her response causes a short, deafening silence, a few blinks. The wind catches his mask, but it never rises: she notices he's not only undressing her body, but also her soul with those eyes. Patient, like he knows all her secrets and loves them already.

"What would it take to be more than friends?"

His sudden change of subject is almost as shocking as the devil-may-care account of his work. She is feeling unusually wild; the warm weather and the yellow hues covering the distant horizons make her want to lie down on the grass and pull him on top of her. She thinks of him sliding up the fabric of her cutesy dress, thinks of him opening his pants to get that huge cock out and force it inside.

"Well… You could… Ask me out, for starters?"

"What if you come to my room and I'll show you something," he offers instantly.

As nice and naive as she may be, she's sure the only thing he wants to show her is his cock. Which she has already seen, technically speaking. Which she would like to see again, heaven forbid.

She is slightly breathless and wonders if the heat on her cheeks is visible, if her lips are a bit fuller than usual from her thoughts. Perhaps that's why she resorts to a counteroffer as if she's bargaining here. As if she can't say no.

"Uh.. How about you come and pick me up for dinner this eve–"

"Ok."

He nods with full-blown promise in his eyes and leaves right away, a little too content, and she realizes she has made the worst mistake of her entire life. She will never get a man of his size out of her room if she lets him in and things go awry.

In a hurried decision, she decides she will simply leave him blue-balled at the door. She simply won't go to dinner; she certainly won't let him in. She doesn't have to, even if and when she has to watch him mope for the rest of the year.

She will tell him they're not friends, they're nothing anymore, and that's just it.

She goes, determined and her mind set, to shower, only to notice that she's more soaked than the pool of soap water gathering at her feet. Her body simply betrays her at every turn. Perhaps she should masturbate, just in case, so she won't be weak-willed when he arrives at her door this evening. Yes, that's a brilliant idea, one of the rare good ones she’s had these past few days.

“Jesus–"

By the time she enters her room, wet and throbbing, he's already there.

"How did you get in?"

He shrugs his shoulders like he always does.

"You asked me to visit you."

He doesn't even answer her question about him breaking into her fucking room. He's standing right next to her dresser and a bra she had thrown on one of the open drawers, and she knows right then and there that he's the panty thief.

"Yeah, but… I thought you'd knock or something."

"Sorry."

If you shrug I swear I’m going to…

"Where do you wish to go?"

He's standing there like a contrapposto statue, narrow hips deliciously tilted and with an obvious erection in his pants. He doesn't seem to feel ashamed about it, and it makes her even more wet.

She has a murderous giant in her room, a killer who's visibly turned on by the sight of her underwear, perhaps the lingering scent of her perfume, too… and he's asking where she wishes to go eat tonight so he might have a chance to bang her afterward.

"Do you like Chinese?"

He shrugs as an answer, and she sighs.

"I need to change. Could you turn around?"

The eyes behind the hood regard her with curiosity, but the man does as he is bid. She takes out a floral dress and a more comfortable bra and walks further away to the bed to change. König faces the wall while she gets undressed with trembling hands. She’s sure the man will turn around, march to her, and simply have his way with her before she gets the dress on. Some sick part of her even yearns for it.

But he doesn't. Instead, his head tilts a little to the side, and his hand rises to gently brush the lace of her bra while she's in the most vulnerable position she's ever been with this man. It's an almost equal violation of her privacy as it would've been to turn, but her tongue is tied. And she only now notices he's not wearing gloves.

König is caressing her underwear with no fabric whatsoever between his skin and her chastity, and it makes her breath grow heavy like they're living in the 18th century.

"All set," she says, voice tight, and he lowers his hand and turns as if he has done nothing wrong.

The evening, however, goes far better than she had hoped. Or feared.

He buys them dinner, drinks one beer. They even have a perfectly healthy, civil conversation. She helps herself to a bit of wine to calm her nerves, and they discuss what their dreams used to be before they landed the jobs they currently have.

He reveals he wanted to be a sniper and that he prefers to work alone, but to her question on what went wrong with all that, he merely answers he was 'too clumsy.'

What the man is really trying to say is that he's simply too big. Detectable, loud, and tall.

He hints at being bullied at school and in the army, and she feels even more sorry for him, curses in her mind – if the guy's tactic is to get a girl by being a hot loner with a tragic tale of woe, it sure is working for him.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asks when there's still tension between them, tension that should have melted by now.

"A bit, yeah."

"Is it because of the hood?"

His voice is softer, and she realizes that he's really trying: trying to tone down whatever beast rages inside him, trying his all to be normal instead of some tormented madman.

"No, not exactly," she confesses and feels a sting in her heart when he looks defeated. She almost feels like a bully, too. She wants to take the guy in her arms and shush him to sleep so he would wake up less haunted. But that's not how this goes: she cannot fix him, and even if she could, she has no right to.

He takes her back to the base and stands at her door again. The halls have fallen silent, everyone's asleep at this hour, and her heart is still hammering in her chest.

"Are we still just friends?" He stares at her from the darkness of the hood, shoulders slightly hunched, trying to make himself appear smaller. Less intimidating.

"I…I guess so."

"You think I'm weird, don't you."

His next question is more of a statement. And all she wants to say is no, even if it's a lie. The guy is… not evil; it's just that he certainly isn't sane and sound, either.

"Um… I… Uh-"

"You're the one who watched me in the showers," he points out as if they're keeping score on who's more of a perv.

"Yeah. I guess I'm the weirdo here," she laughs nervously, then almost bites her tongue. He only cocks his head a little to the side and repeats his earlier question.

"Did you like what you saw?"

"Well… yes, ok? I did. Why else would I–"

"It's ok. I understand. I don't mind."

"Well, it was still rude of me to do that." She guides her gaze to the floor, then up at his polar stare that makes her want to swoon in the hopes that he will catch her. "Didn't you notice the sign on the door?"

"I did," he said, and the corners of his eyes slowly gather a few wrinkles. Smiling again.

She shakes her head slowly, scoldingly, and notices how that smile only deepens under the hood. Then his face – or what little can be seen of it – straightens.

"Am I harassing you?"

Wow. Well, at least the poor guy is trying to self-reflect. But something tells her there's more than some new-found awareness of his late behavior at work here.

There's bitterness... Exclusion.

Loneliness.

"No," she tries to comfort him. Another facepalm moment: she is basically telling a stalker she likes being stalked. That this sort of wacko shit was approved of. So this is what it has come to… Years of being invisible apparently did things like this to people.

"Or maybe a bit," she says as a spineless afterthought.

"Do you want me to stop?"

In all honesty, she is drunk on his attention. The obsessive behavior, the relentless wooing, romantic gestures accompanied by a stare that says he wants to plow her until she is a limp heap on a bed stained with tears and cum.

"König… Are you lonely?"

He shrugs, and she wants to grab him. Shake him.

"Are you?" He says with an unusually deep voice.

"...Yes."

Her voice is as fragile as can be, but the hall echoes her confession like it's a loud song. The eyes under the hood look at her softly, longingly: she hasn't even noticed how soft they can sometimes be.

"You don't have to be."

There's simply no use in denying it: she wants this guy to fuck her, no matter how creepy or weird he is.

She grabs a fistful of his shirt and pulls him inside.

[novy2sirius]

BRUTALLY HONEST NUMEROLOGY

⬫ lower vibrational vs high vibrational

⬫ note: most of the negative things you’re reading are only applicable to lower vibrational people (people who are consistently at a lower vibration due to their actions). these things of course will not apply to everyone as all your numerical energies play an importance in you and your life experiences do as well

⬫ tw: porn (18+ only), divorce, abandonment

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ the real compatibility of astrology signs lies in the numerology. everyone goes by elements, but i’m sure anyone who has met people and examined enough dynamics between signs can tell that it’s just not accurate with the “fire is compatible with air and earth is compatible with water” bs. the two most compatible signs based on numerology that are soulmates are capricorn and sagittarius’. sag season starts 1122 and capricorn season starts 1221. this is one of the many reasons why. it may be confusing for numerology newbies, but i can explain it in depth in another post eventually

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ i don’t think 7’s are good lovers unless they’re 16’s usually. i’m sorry, like i said these are honest.. it’s the same way i feel about strong aquarius energy in an astrology chart. they just don’t know how to put others first, be thoughtful, or be in a relationship in general. usually the men, sorry. they have a tendency to fall weak to any sexual behavior they’re surrounded by. i’ve witnessed many of my friends (even 11’s who are quite compatible with 7’s) get heartbroken by these 7 men because the second a pick me girl tries to get with them while they’re in a relationship, they don’t even try to have self discipline and be loyal. they’re just pervs usually or narcissistic and will find a way to always make you feel as though everything is your fault even though they’re the ones that don’t put effort into relationships. they tend to be better independent. 7 is known as the number of “the loner” for a reason. i don’t think they’re all literal “loners”, but they operate better alone than with others

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ i have never had good experiences with people that have prominent 19 energy (one of the unreduced 1’s). it could just be that most people with it have lots of negative past life karma, so it’s indicative they have not been a good person in recent past lives. i also believe it has to do with the home environment they often grow up in though. many people that i’ve met with this energy have unbalanced emotional energy simply because they grew up in a chaotic household and now they don’t know how to control their anger or other emotions. 1’s in general sometimes don’t know how to. however, i don’t think any number can directly cause someone to be a bad person, that’s ridiculous. just like with astrology, it does not make you do anything. i’m sure there is people with 19 energy that are good people out there, i just have not yet met any unfortunately. i’ve also noticed they have big ego’s.. like jojo siwa born on the 19th for example. she comes off very cocky and tries to act like it’s just sexy confidence like other women, but it really comes off like a cocky white man instead, which also makes sense with 1 being the number of masculinity and 9 being the number of the ego. to be fair it’s an intense number to have, but these people can be egotistical and just mean as hell sometimes. i will add something good to this since this was a very harsh take. these people can have things come back to them super duper fast, so if they put their energy toward positive things then they can attract better into their life then they’ve gotten in the past

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ i have yet to meet someone with 25 energy who isn’t a hoe or hasn’t been a huge one at some point. as we know, 2 doubles the energy of the number it’s next to and 5 is the number of sex. this creates lots of sexual energy in people with this number. they tend to also run the porn industry and only fans industry. an example is lana rhoades who was the number one porn star in the world for a while. she was born in 1996 which adds to 25 (1+9+9+6=25). also i do not want to see 13 year olds commenting “i’m not a hoe”. i would hope not, you’re a child..

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ almost everyone with 14 energy in their birthday has had a person in their family abandon them as 14 is related to abandonment. often people with this energy always have divorced parents as well or had a parent leave them when they were really young unfortunately. a good thing about this number though is it can create a very self disciplined energy in someone and cause them to not need others to thrive in the way other numbers do

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ people with 9 energy (especially 27) will accuse you of doing the shitty things that they’re doing when they’re lower vibrational and gaslight you. i would say this number is one of the worst gaslighters. my friends and i have had such bad experiences with the lower vibrational people with it that we literally refer to it as “the number of gaslighting”. they also will never let go of things. even if you got into one tiny fight they will hold things against you forever and don’t know how to forgive and move on. however, i also have met people with 27 energy that aren’t immature in this way and are very intelligent

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ people with 3 energy are the absolutely worst secret keepers. do not tell them your secrets. it’s the number of communication and gossip. as much as some of them hate to admit it they love drama. they’re fun to hang out with though and often the life of the party

[ceirinen]

December 2023

I decided to make a list of every fic I read each month.

I would like to interact more, but life has been complicated recently and when it comes to interacting, I get very anxious which is something I'm trying to overcome.

So, here I made this to appreciate such amazing writers and stories that inspire me and others everyday. To the authors, I want to thank them for their dedication and time spent on writing to offer us fascinating stories.

I totally recommend their work.

(If you are in this list and you don't want to, please let me know so I can fix it).

@cillianmesoftlyyy

So New | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader Method Acting | young!Cillian Murphy x Reader

@runnning-outof-time

Research | Tommy Shelby x Reader Bedtime Stories | Tommy Shelby x Reader & Daughter

@zablife

teacher!Luca Changretta x Reader Funeral | Tommy Shelby x sister!reader A Visit to the Peaky Blinders Set | Cillian Murphy x wife!reader

@gypsy-girl-08

Festive Spirit | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader All I Need... | modern!Thomas Shelby x Reader A Gentle Warning | Thomas Shelby x wife!Reader

@pacifymebby

Arthur Shelby x Reader

@fkmarrycill

Pre-Gaming | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@holacia3

Lost and Lucky | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader Surprise visit | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

@beastofburdenxo

Let Me Praise You | Tommy Shelby x Reader Raising Catherine | Tommy Shelby x Reader

@look-at-the-soul

If I let you go | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@your-nanas-house

What does my princess want? | sugar daddy!Cillian Murphy x sugar baby!reader I'm pretty sure you're mine | sub!William Killick x dom!fem!Reader What are we, idiot? | Neil Lewis x best friend!Reader Thirsty | Tommy Shelby x secretary!Reader

@raincoffeeandfandoms

To the end of the world | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Tommy, the teddy bear | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Emergency surgery | baby!Tommy Shelby Fanfiction | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Anon | Alfie Solomons

@lis-likes-fics

Loner | Edward Cullen x Reader At the End of the Day | Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader

@rafeology

Mentor!Finnick Odair x victor!reader

@wife-of-all-dilfs

Flower Therapy | Finnick Odair x Reader

@darlingsfandom

Cillian Murphy x Reader Tommy Shelby x artist!reader Soft sugar daddy | Robert Fischer x Reader

@pinguwrites

Home Is Where the Heart Is | William Killick x future!reader

@http-finnick

Skin to skin | Finnick Odair x fem!insomniac!reader

@acewritesfics

Lost Love | Tommy Shelby x Reader 36 Minutes | modern! Tommy Shelby x Reader

@dearshelby

Had you first | Tommy Shelby x Reader Little Tommy | Thomas Shelby x oc

@lau219

Red Carpet | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@peakyswritings

I Do Bad Things | demon!Tommy x Reader

@shelbystales

Ceramic Lessons | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@darthannie

Day eighteen: breeding kink with Lenny Miller | Lenny Miller x f!Reader

@hllywdwhre

Afterglow | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@red-write-hand

I'll be home for Christmas | Thomas Shelby x Reader

@mysaintkitten

Bad Behaviour | Mike Kiernan x fem!Reader

@notyour-valentine

The Spirits that I summoned | young!Tommy Shelby

@brummiereader

No Son Of Mine | Tommy Shelby

@youbyradiohead

Strawberry Syrup | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillianthinker

British accent | Cillian Murphy x Reader Young and in love | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillspropertea

Coming home | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillmequick

Operation Christmas Tree | modern!Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

[jyeshindra]

MARS, SCORPIO, & ARIES

Mars: Ambition, drive, power, courage, instincts, anger, passion

Aries & Scorpio (Pluto)

Both are ambitious, driven people. Motivated by goals and desires. They want to take action and are independent people. Do not easily obey or submit to others. Passionate people and can be spiritual as well. They can both resist temptation and focus in on what they want.

Solitary people. Mars likes to operate on its own. Undisturbed and un-influenced. Can be loners or they just like to lead the pack. Both positions are lonely.

They both have excellent instinct and trust their natural talents. They have a strong sense of self built on their accomplishments. They are hard-working and can put their noses to the grindstone!

Scorpio is more subtle and reserved (yin/water) but ultimately has more stability and focus (fixed). Scorpio studies, analyzes, processes, interprets, understands. Pluto is the destroyer, so Scorpio has a lot of concentrated power. If Aries is a cannonball, Scorpio is a laser. 

Scorpio has more endurance (Scorpion). They can weather a lot of different situations and will defend themselves if they have to. But this won’t be their first response (yin). They’ll likely figure you out first, pinpoint your weaknesses, and keep their head above water. But best believe, they know what buttons to push and how to hit where it hurts. Cold people, ruthless at times. More feminine-leaning Scorpios can display this easily. Spiteful people, can hold a grudge if they really are emotionally invested. Eye for an eye kind of people. They will linger emotionally in situations and fester. 

Scorpio’s expression of Mars + Pluto creates this desiring nature. This kind of speaks to a Scorpio theme which is suffering. Scorpio can have a relationship with desire where it is extremes of grasping and staying away. Hot and cold hot and cold. Never satisfied. They are (yin) so they need something to fill them. Something to warm them up. They like to hold onto things. Some Scorpios can be indulgent (Taurus/Venus opposition) but it’s more like Scorpio will indulge their feelings. If they really want something and they’re fixated on it, they will indulge that desire. 

Aries on the other hand can be more dynamic and bold (Fire/Cardinal). They like to explore, try different things, and make progress towards what it is they have set their sights on. Aries is not like Scorpio in terms of endurance. They can burn out more quickly, get frustrated, quit, or just throw themselves at the same wall repeatedly. 

Aries is the baby (Ram/Lamb) of the zodiac so there is this theme of maturation with Aries. They need to master themselves and their abundant fiery energy. Scorpio is more likely to have the introspection available to understand their motivations and why they do things. Aries can be like this as well, but they can also be childish in their approach to matters.

Overestimating their abilities, underestimating their abilities, biting off more than they can chew, taking on too much at once. Their Martian energy wants to do, do, do, do, do, and it’s firing on all cylinders.

On the other hand, because Aries is so dynamic, their Martian energy is geared towards leadership (cardinal). Where they go, other people tend to follow or mimic. Something about their nature (fire) is infectious and inspiring. Their Martian energy manifests as a light for others to follow through the challenges they face.

Aries clears the path (cardinal) and breaks down walls. As it matures, it learns to focus its energy and apply itself in the right ways. It picks the positions that are suited for it. It does not only think of itself, it thinks of others too.

Scorpio learns to balance their control and surrender. They learn to investigate themselves and kill off the parts of them they no longer need. Ultimately, Scorpio achieves an inner peace and builds their inner security so there is no need to fixate or obsess. They channel that focused energy on the things that give back to them. On what makes them emotionally content.

Both energies are incredibly inspiring though, Scorpio + Aries. These people can bear a lot and are fierce protectors of the people they love. Aries may be more demonstrative (yang) while Scorpio will be subtle and quiet in their affections (yin).

[nightingale2004]

Teen wolf next generation: Sterek version

Let's meet the Stilinski Hale kids

Talia Erica Stilinski Hale

Faceclaim: Brianna Hildebrand

First born daughter of Derek and Stiles

Named after Derek's mother and former beta

Takes after Derek. She is a werewolf and is the future Alpha of her pack

Such an overprotective big sister

Loves her leather jackets

Speaks Spanish and a little polish

Works with Derek at his auto shop

☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆

Benjamin "Ben/Benji" Noah Stilinski Hale

Faceclaim: Cole Sprouse

Second oldest of the Stilinski Hale's

He takes after Stiles in sarcasm and the love of mysteries but can be pretty intimidating like Derek and older sister.

He is also a werewolf, and he is also pretty blunt

He is very weird, but he embraces it.

Stiles works at the FBI, running his own operation that looks into supernatural related cases

●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●

Miguel Vernon Stilinski Hale

Faceclaim: Tyler Young

He is the middle child

Big loner and antisocial. A bit of an emo boy (so takes after Derek)

He also takes after Stiles since he randomly knows random facts about pretty much anything

Incredibly smart

He is a spark and future emissary of his pack

He had inherited Derek's brooding face

Also uses color coded highlighters and string for his assignments

He is jealous of his werewolf siblings but loves them all very much

Stiles and Miguel are more close with each other

Ben and Miguel help out their dad (from the distance) with his cases

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Claudia Laura Stilinski Hale

Faceclaim: Sara Waisglass

Younger child of Stiles and Derek

Named after Stiles's mother and Derek's late older sister

She's a sweetheart, and everyone loves her

Older twin to Eli (hates him, but loves him at the same time)

She is also a spark and like Miguel, she is also an emissary in training

Both her and Miguel are trained under Deaton

She's a cheerleader in Beacon Hills high

She is Noah's favorite (🤫🤫 don't tell anyone)

Can get away with anything

She and Miguel speak fluent Polish

She and her siblings all live in the new old Hale house that Derek rebuilt from scratch

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Elias "Eli" Mitchell Stilinski Hale

Faceclaim: Vince Mattis

Troublemaker in the family and pup in the family (he hates the pup part)

Youngest twin (believe it or not)

Annoys, his siblings, and his parents to no end

Secretly jealous of all his siblings but loves them at the same time (never tells them that, but they know)

Takes after Stiles by.............A LOT

Him and Claudia have twin telepathy and can sense what the other is feeling

He's not the greatest lacrosse player, but he loves doing it anyway

He loves it when his family comes to see him play and when his twin cheers for him

His siblings cover him a lot (I mean A LOT) since he gets in trouble (A LOT)

He is closest to Stiles and Claudia

That's all I got for the Stilinski Hale pack. Hope you teen wolf and Sterek lovers enjoy ❤️🐺🦊

[feartoxinjelloshot]

clipsverse SWAP AU! for fun! character elaboration under the cut because it gets kind of wordy:

selina's deal is pretty straightforward: she has the typical “saw parents die as a child" backstory, but she’s obviously not a millionare so she’s operating out of some kind of condemned underground parking lot... somewhere. authentic gotham grunge i guess. she’s a functioning alcoholic and i am obsessed with her. she's a hardboiled detective like batman, but tends to be a bit more cynical - sort of like if rorschach from watchmen was a normal person and also didn't hate sex. firefly is her "guy in the chair" similar to what alfred is to batman in canon, minus the surrogate parent part, obviously. public opinion is pretty split on if the bat is a man or a woman under there. i don't really have swap ideas for the robins ironed out, but i'm thinking that cass and stephanie are her robin and red hood equivalents (cass being dick, stephanie being jason). cass would have an allblack bird theme going on, so she might be "crow" or "blackbird" instead of robin. dunno what stephanie's red hood rendition is like. purple hood? i'll figure it out eventually.

bruce’s parents are alive, but he has a terrible relationship with them and with his own wealth so he mitigates the guilt complex by dressing up as a cat to steal and redistribute resources to people who actually need it. he could probably do that in daylight but there is something very wrong with him. i don't think his dumb slutty playboy persona is entirely genuine even without his parents' deaths, but he does lean into it more and incorporate parts of it into his vigilante persona over time. i think this version of bruce is just generally very lonely under the surface. he tries to be normal in his daytime life and he's very bad at it - theft aside, in a certain sense being the cat(man? woman?) is his own break for freedom; he felt a need to plunge himself far into the deep end of what normal society calls a 'freak'. ...writing it out like this, we're probably lucky he didn't start killing people. fortunately batman isn't really that kind of guy in any universe.

meanwhile on the other side of the rails: ivy! her deal is slightly unformed right now due to the fact that the hatter and the joker also swap places in this au - so the hatter is a dangerous, evil mastermind intent on controlling gotham to suit their whims, and the joker is... just a harmless silly little guy. yeah. i don't have swap-hatter's exact personality ironed out yet, so detailing his and ivy's dynamic would be difficult, but i can say that while she is his loyal second-in-command at his table of advisors, she is also plotting against him. ivy is a consistent loner in both mainline cv and here, and while she doesn't have the same tumultuous, antagonistic, emotional relationship with him as harley does with the joker, she is also frankly not interested in being his number one until the end of time. she wants to do it herself and she wants to do it right. this is an ivy who, in lieu of her own world-altering gift, is scraping tooth and nail to successfully supersede the most powerful entity she can her her hands on. the hatter is blissfully unaware of this - we can't all be perfect.

harley, for her part, is very tame in comparison. she mirrors ivy's canonical backstory pretty closely: an esteemed scientist studying stem cell relations who was denied funding, mocked, and forced to experiment on herself to prove a point, unwittingly connecting herself to a worldwide hive-mind of plantlife. this version of harley, while still dressed as a scientist, is far more surface-level emotionally volatile than mainline ivy, more impulsive and irrational, and probably willing to lean much farther into the classic poison ivy reputation as a villainous seductress, to varying degrees of honesty and success. it takes ivy an incredible degree of patience and control to maintain the mental and physical balance she strikes with the green, and this version of harley has far less of both. she lets it use her body as a conduit of earthly rage and she lets the poison infect her skin and organs until mottled and decaying. she's not unhappy, but she's not exactly stable, either.

jonathan is a mysterious, faux-sleazy lounge singer who lost his left arm to a snake bite infection as a child and thereafter became obsessed with the symbolism of the balance of life via games, tricks and questions - winning and losing, birth and death, etc. the ouroboros is a common symbol in his theatrics. he possesses a certain degree of social confidence that the mainline jonathan has never quite been capable of - while he doesn't have the same fervent need for attention as edward, he takes a compulsory delight in the mental influence he achieves on small crowds and will employ many avenues to get ahold of it. he's certainly not outgoing: he keeps almost entirely to himself offstage, uninterested in fame outside of his show persona. unlike mainline jonathan who views the scarecrow as a genuine self-inflicted diety, this jon sees his persona as more of a mantle or responsibility that he must take on in order to discover new truths about the world. like his canon counterpart he is asexual and uninterested in sex, but i imagine that he has less qualms about leading people on as an act to get what he wants from them. he's not terribly famous in his singing career, but he's become a bit of an underground legend for his resolute 1920s-inspired style and occasional genuine debonair charm.

edward in comparison is not nearly as ritualistically compelled as mainline scarecrow, but he’s far less cagey about his own machinations and his mental relationship to them: he lives in a tricked-out barn somewhere on the far outskirts of gotham, and he spends his time as a propmaster creating elaborate saw-trap-esque haunted houses and escape rooms to invoke panic in his “guests”. he wanders the halls of his own houses along with the guests, repairing and tinkering, or just scaring the shit out of them. he also makes a genuine living by making and selling cosplay props and other related objects online; he's developed a bit of an internet presence through this channel, though he's not as fixated on it as the mainline riddler would be. he still craves spectacle and attention, but he's more of a "quality over quantity" guy according to his own standards and is rarely happy with the work he creates, hence the endless roundabout of creation and reinvention.

[thedisappointedidealist12]

Hi hii, what do you think about rusame/amerus? I'm super curious cause that one comic that you made <33

Everything, Anon. I think everything about rusame. LOL, but real talk, I'm actually slowly piecing together an entire comic based on that one I made with them in the mountains that I'm hoping to release in like.... 2 years. I could write LITERATURE on canon rusame/amerus, but to keep this ask on the shorter side, for their relationship in the upcoming comic, they're two loners with peculiarities that sing to each other. Do they necessarily like each other? Naaaaah; but the crazy shit that one does makes perfect sense to the other one while every one else is standing around with their hands out like ? ? ? ? ? ? ? In the mountain comic, Ivan and Alfred operate by the same code, game recognizes game. And down below is a lil scrap from the comic so it looks like i still post art ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[homosexualmorelikehomiesexual]

omg ok im on saltburn rewatch #???? and smth just hit me. weve all been sort of operating under the assumption that what olivers mum says about him is true. taking the idea that he actively avoided socialization, avoided friends, kept to himself, at face value. but honestly?? i feel like it was the exact opposite. bc the first time he sees felix (assuming that the first time WE see felix in oxford is in fact the first time oliver sees him, as olivers telling would have us believe) its not like, some romantic shot of just felix himself. its very specifically *felix surrounded by the people who oliver was preemptively rejected by, whom felix has obviously charmed*. and like. if oliver was in fact a willful loner, like micheal gavey (although even there, the willful part is debateable, given the bitter undertone to his whole rant about not being invited to the christmas party), then hed have no reason to be so....disgusted? by micheals embracing of his loner status? oliver really strikes me as the type who truly wanted connection, but was socially shunned throughout middle and high school, and lied about it to his parents so as to duck the humiliation of facing their pity. he got them to think that he *wanted* to be alone. just like he got them to think hes on the rowing team. hes treating oxford as a fresh start, but hes still in his old habits of lying to his parents, and he still has his old wants. the first time he walks through the archway into oxford, hes insulted by people who dont even know him. and then, alone, peeping through a window, he sees felix. surrounded by friends. which is to say, i think he first falls in love not with felix as a person, but with what felix represents to him: *acceptance*. i know theres a lot of arguement whether oliver wanted felix OR saltburn, love OR wealth, to be with felix OR be him, but i swear to god, i really truly believe that at its core its both. this entire movie is about oliver conflating the two. he is drawn in by felix's halo effect, not just as a subject of his gravitational field, but as an aspiring planet himself.

anyways. stream The Last Of The Real Ones by fall out boy its so cattonquick i wanna puke

[zmediaoutlet]

spn20rewatch, 1.13: "Doesn't it make you wonder if it's worth it?"

One of the most interesting parts of the story of Supernatural season 1 is how the narrative manages parting out information to the viewer. Some of it's "as you know" dialogue, which is what it is because this is that kind of show, but there's also a very interesting almost... shell game happening. You're introduced to a character, and how they operate on camera tells you something about them, but then someone else introduces information about them that either confirms or contradicts that information, and then in each episode and each scene you have to just pick up the shell and see -- is that who expected to find? What was the truth, here?

The truth is that it's complex, because for all the things you can say about Supernatural you can't claim that the characters don't have depth. Dean is a cool loner womanizer who doesn't need anyone. Dean meets a girl and dates her for all of two weeks before he's (arguably) in love. Dean says there's no need for anyone outside the family and you should lie categorically to 'civilians' because they'll never understand the job. Dean tells some random woman the darkest deepest secret, because he was hoping not to be alone.

Those things don't contradict each other, at all. They inform each other and twine into each other and speak to each other to form a fuller deeper picture. The most enduring feature of Supernatural is that Sam and Dean, most of the time, come off more like people than like characters, by which I mean -- they change their minds! They have some natural character traits that they do adhere to, much like anyone, but they aren't written in such a way that those character traits are law. In lesser character work, the Character Does X, and x is the only option on the table; in Supernatural, Dean can really only want one night stands where his heart isn't on the line one week, and be desperate to open up a few weeks later, and then a few weeks after that be miserable cold stone. It's inconsistent but it's inconsistent in the way that actual people are, outside the small screen. Really, the most consistent Supernatural is in with their characters behaving like inconsistent, maddening, incredibly people-y people.

CASSIE: Goodbye, Dean. DEAN: I'll see you, Cassie. I will. [...] SAM: You meet someone like her, doesn't it makes you wonder if it's worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do? DEAN looks at SAM for a long moment, then smiles and reaches for his sunglasses.

He wants the relationship. He knows it's a bad idea. He knows he can't have the relationship. He wishes it were possible. He wonders if it's all worth it. He knows it is. Having all those thoughts at the same time (and visibly, to camera, where they're highly readable to the kind of viewer willing to pay attention) is what makes the whole damn thing worth it. And the racist truck wasn't that bad, honestly.

[shoutoutout]

I've started up another Harlivy fic and was digging through my docs and found this old version of the noses & kneecaps section of she breaks (out, down, through). I cut it way down and changed up the setting for the published version but this Harley quote had me giggling so I thought I'd post here for folks!

Harley turns to the chef.  “If you fucking spit in this food I will literally gut you right now, you hear me?  I’m not letting my bestie eat any of your loogies so tell me if you did because she’ll fucking know, alright?  This bitch will taste them and then you’ll be dead and the misses and junior over there are gonna have a sad as shit Christmas this year.”

You can read the rest under the cut

Surprising no one, Ivy’s not that great at the whole “friendship” thing.

For starters, she has no frame of reference by which to judge.  Like her namesake, she was a wallflower as a child and when high school rolled around she bloomed into a sarcastic loner with Indigo Girls blasting through her headphones.  It left little room for normal girl shit like… well… she would name something if she knew.

But even still, with all her lack of experience, she’s pretty sure that this—Harley’s idea of friendship—is not quite normal.

“I could use some new threads.” Harley calls Ivy out of the blue on a Wednesday evening.  “Cops confiscated all the stuff back at my old place… not like I’d wear any of it anymore.  God, I was such a tightass wasn’t I, Ives?  So how about it?  A girl’s day out?”

Ivy doesn’t know what to say, knuckles pale green where they grip the phone.  She regrets giving Harley her number.  (And by “giving” she means Harley snatching the phone from her pocket and calling herself before Ivy had the chance to stop her.)  The thought of strolling through a department store with Harley causes her anxiety to ratchet the way it did when the pretty girls would laugh at her in English class.  What would they even talk about for fuck’s sake?

Not much to start, it turns out.  Harley’s version of shopping is a lot less mundane and a lot more criminal.  They end up taking twelve hostages in Bergsduff’s and leaving with two hundred thousand in designer goods.  Muzak plays idly in the background as Harley holds the salesclerk at gunpoint, parading him around the floor while Ivy snatches up some cute summer looks.  His nose drips blood from where she pistol-whipped him upon entrance.

“Hey, try those on,” Harley suggests, waving the gun wildly towards a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses.  The hostages in her line of fire duck and scramble when it points in their direction.  “Those’ll look real hot on you!  Perfect for your face shape.”

Even the sales clerks—with the barrel of Harley’s gun poking between his shoulder blades—can’t help but agree.

Ivy slips them into her pocket.

They go to dinner.

“And it better be fucking vegan, alright?!” Harley screeches through the kitchen door.  When she turns back to Ivy, she’s all grins and bubbles.  “He said it should be right out!” she relays, skipping back towards the table.

Ivy glances towards the chef’s wife and son where they lay bound and gagged, piled in the living room corner.  Harley had arranged a “private meal” by Gotham’s hottest new chef after Ivy had told her the reservations for his restaurant were usually booked a month in advance.

“Are you sure we don’t have to worry about them?” Ivy asks with a skeptical slant towards their hostages?

“Nah,” Harley dismisses.  “They’re chill.”

Their captive hosts nod in agreement, wide-eyed and terrified.

They talk about boys.

“So like I was saying,” Harley picks up where she left off, twirling a fork between two fingers.  “Joker has some real ripe areas for improvement with the overall rollout of his new brand vision before the Legion of Doom induction, ya know?  Just some things I’m helpin’ him out with… order of operations and stuff like that.”

Ivy’s thankful Harley’s doing all the talking.  She fills the space with an endless stream of stray observations and chatter.

She gets a dreamy look in her eye, resting her head against her palm.  “I mean, he’s a real genius, ya know?  It’s pure art what he does.”  (Ivy wants to vomit but the food is coming soon.)  “And don’t ever tell him I said otherwise”—she sits up, clasping her hands together—“but in general, there’s a lack of foresight to some of his schemes.  Like escape plans, for example.  Usually he has it all figured out when Batsy arrives—how to get away that is—but not for the whole crew, ya know?”

Ivy narrows, not quite getting at what she’s saying.

Harley shimmies closer in her chair, propping her elbows on the table.  “Okay, okay, so like, there’ll be a getaway car, right?  But it’s one of those clown cars, like a tiny one.  Only this clown car isn’t like a clown car where it can fit all the rest of us; it’ll just fit him.”  She pauses to let Ivy consider.  “Is that… is that funny?  Like ha-ha Joker-level theatrics?”

Ivy’s dumbfounded.  “A clown car that’s just a regular tiny car…that only Joker can escape in… and he leaves you all behind to get caught,” she summarizes, doubt dripping from her tongue.  “So you’re telling me he just like, takes off in a Smart car?”

“Yes!” Harley nods, excitedly.  Her jester’s cap bounces with the motion.  “Exactly!  Just a Smart car for one.  It could use some work, right?”

Ivy doesn’t even know where to begin.  Luckily the chef returns, placing two gorgeous plates of food before them.  Harley squeals beside her and Ivy snaps to attention, grabbing her fork.  It smells fucking heavenly as it comes to her mouth but then Harley’s hand is strong around her wrist, stopping her mid-bite.

Harley turns to the chef.  “If you fucking spit in this food I will literally gut you right now, you hear me?  I’m not letting my bestie eat any of your loogies so tell me if you did because she’ll fucking know, alright?  This bitch will taste them and then you’ll be dead and the misses and junior over there are gonna have a sad as shit Christmas this year.”

He shakes his head and whimpers; Harley seems satisfied.  They dig in.

“Oh my god,” Ivy says, flavor dancing across her taste buds.  “This is like… orgasmic.”

Harley preens.  “Only the best for my friend!”

Friend.  It rolls so easily off of Harley’s tongue and Ivy wonders what it is exactly that makes this shit so hard for her.  Ivy tries to play along but she’s transported back to English class with Melinda Jenkins snickering every time Ivy raised her hand.  “Ha,” she tries.  “I owe ya one… pal.”

God, she’s a fucking dork but Harley couldn’t care less.  She pounces.  “Come to me and J’s Legion of Doom induction then?!” she asks like the question was burning a hole through her tongue.  “It’s this weekend.  We can drink all of Lex’s fancy-ass champagne.  Please?  Please?  Please, Ivy?”

Harley puppy-dog pouts and Ivy’s stomach flips.  Is this normal friend shit?  She has no idea.

“I’m sorry but fuck no.  No way.  Literally anything but that.”  Harley will just have to deal; Ivy is decidedly not a good friend.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

I Am All In Rewatch - Jess & Rory - Episode 3x20 (Part 1)

[Yeah. Here's my question for Scott. Does Jess treat Rory like dirt?] Yes, but he doesn't do it intentionally. He's out of control of his psychological and emotional state. He has no control over what he thinks and what he feels. He's just getting swept away emotionally and psychologically by his anger, by his sense of loss. And he's a very confused young man and it's, it's heartbreaking to watch because this happens to a lot of kids, male and female, you know, and, and he's just completely out of control and it's yeah. [Why is he like being kind of coward?] Because he's never, he's never, he wasn't raised properly. He, he, he, he'd never saw an example of what normal was growing up between his mother and his father. His father was gone and you know, Lord knows what his mother was up to when he was growing up. He doesn't, you doesn't know what normal is. He doesn't know the rules of the game. He just see's something he senses Rory can, is an intellectual equal. That's what turns him on. She's obviously, you know, easy on the eyes as, as, and she's an attractive girl and he wants to be with her. He, he, I think he falls for her pretty quickly and senses that this is a far more stable person. She's a lot like me in many ways. And I love her and I want her and no one's standing in my way. He doesn't take the normal route. He doesn't do the normal things to, to get her. He's he's a guy, who's a Maverick, a loner he's depressed. He's full of anxiety and rage. And he just doesn't know how to operate in the real world. He's never seen it. You know, his parents never showed it to him. He's just guessing at what to do. This, this is not a situation where Luke can rescue him. Right. He's it's, he's, it's not possible. The kid needs to be in therapy and he needs to, he needs to talk to a professional and he needs to do it for over a long period of time. Luke is just gonna get chewed up doing this. Hopefully Luke can inspire in him the strength to, you know, look in the mirror and, and say, listen, I need help. I need real help. -Scott

[papaver-decervicatus]

Headcanons- König (featuring a bit of Sebastian Krueger)

Authors Note: Full disclosure, at this point König is basically an OC of mine with how specifically I think of him. Which, in fairness, cannot be helped when his entire characterization is limited to 20 mins of voice lines, 131 words in his bio, and multiplayer animations exclusively. I feel similarly about a lot of the other SpecGru/KorTac operators but König is definetely the most fleshed out because I've been writing a lot about him (at this point, like 30k words extended universe thing whoo-ee.)

A tag for the lovely @kneelingshadowsalome who has inspired me to write the above mentioned story and all this silly little world building about one of our favorite masked murder men~! Thanks for being so kind and pushing me to publish my work after so long ❣️

⚠️TW: Mentions of abuse, murder, undiagnosed mental struggles, ableism (?), sexual assault, and human trafficking

Birthday, March 15th, 1982

Full name: Julius Kilgore Doss

Early Life and Backstory

Born and raised in the slums of Vienna, Austria to a poor family. His father was frequently unemployed but focused on manual labor jobs (he was also like 6'10 like his son,) and his mother worked various hospitality jobs.

He gets his first name from being born on the Ides of March.

Teasingly called “Kaiser” as a child for his name. This resulted in a minor obsession with Roman history in an attempt to disprove these accusations. That failed.

Result of a “baby trap” from his father. His parents got married when he was 3 years old.

He is an only child, and he was an incredibly complicated pregnancy. His mother was on bed rest for two trimesters.

He was born with a pretty severe cleft palette, this was the original cause of his bullying

When König was 12 or so he got his cleft palate surgically corrected, but he got permanent scarring from the event. 

This did not help his bullying. The site became infected and required multiple follow-up surgeries to correct. 

He was severely abused by his father, who would frequently intentionally scar König in an attempt to “toughen” his “shy” son up. 

The behaviors he was trying to correct were just König’s undiagnosed neurodivergence and the abuse did nothing but make König retreat further into himself. 

Undiagnosed au/dhd. Primarily manifests in masking in a need of control of his environment.

As much as he desires company, he has such a hard time relating to others (not because he lacks empathy, but he experiences it differently) he tends to be a loner save a few very close loved ones. 

Sebastian Krueger is his mother’s brother’s son. Krueger's father was in the military. 

Originally joined the military to get away from his hell of home life at Krueger's father's recommendation. Has re-enlisted ever since.

König is 3 years older than Krueger (March 29th, 1985)  and the two grew up together.

Krueger also had a little sister but she died in a car accident at 11 along with his mom. From then on, Krueger's father, König’s mother, and father, Krueger and König all lived in a medium-sized flat in Vienna. The two shared bedrooms often. 

Krueger was well known as a serial delinquent and general creep when they were growing up. Despite his harsh reputation, König always stood up for him (which did not help his bullying). The only time he didn’t was when he beat Krueger to a bloody pulp for attempting to assault a girl. 

Krueger never attempted that again and later thanked König reluctantly for setting him straight before he did something really stupid. 

Krueger never stood up for König in front of his face for fear of showing weakness but definitely threw some punches behind his back in his stead (which further isolated König). 

When he was 19 and came back from his first deployment, Krueger's father had a mental break and lit the flat on fire after murdering König’s father. Krueger was out at the time. 

He got in time to save his mother, but he gained third-degree scars on the right side of his face, cheek, and over a lot of his legs. 

Super insecure about it, and avoids wearing shorts like the plague.

Will never admit it, super fucking glad his dad died. 

Very close with his mother's mother, his Oma. When she got too old to live on her own, she moved in with König’s mom and she gave König her house near Gosau, Austria.

Credits the metal scene as single-handedly saving his life at 13. He went to jump off a bridge and was talked down by a local metal band bass player who was 17 at the time. The two became friends and König joined the metal scene. 

He became sort of a stagehand for local bands and bulked up as a result. Found he liked working out (because people were less likely to make fun of him) so he kept at it. 

Got the nickname “König” from underground bare-knuckle boxing rings. He was scouted at a bar during a fight at 15 (he was 6’3 at the time, and still growing) where he beat up someone for attempting to spike a girl's drink when he was there helping his bass player friend. 

He fought for around 3 years on and off and never lost a fight. He made decent money and learned a lot of stuff about sparring in the process. 

He didn’t stop his tendency for fighting in the service and got reprimanded a couple of times for picking fights with soldiers he disagreed with. 

Has yet to lose a one-on-one spar with another man, but hasn’t fought anyone outside of training sparring in years.

Appearance

6’10 and 280lbs at his peak, trapezoid body type. Athleticism most resembles a Hockey Player or a Boxer. Has lost some musculature with age but definitely stays on top of it.

His face is partially numb because of all the surgeries to correct his cleft palate and all the scarring.

 Even though it’s been years since any trauma to the area, he has sort of a “disquieting effect” because he doesn’t emote properly from the numbness. Mostly just numb around the bottom of his “Greek-style” nose and through his burn scars. Smiles appear lopsided as a result

Strawberry blond, pin-straight hair, that gets darker when he’s deployed because the hood blocks sunlight bleaching. 

As a teenager he let it grow down to his shoulders because he was involved in the local Vienna metal scene, when he joined the military he cut it short. Doesn’t care because no one sees it anyways. It’s usually in a crew-cut style. 

Hair has thinned as he's gotten older, will probably bald at some point (but I hold onto hope that that one person on twitter who teased that his model does actually have hair is right because I think it would be funny for him to have an elaborate braid or something)

He has bunny teeth that he never bothered getting corrected because he was bullied so badly he kind of gave up on vanity. 

Has stretch marks all over his body because he’s so massive, they tend to act up during the winter. 

He is not vain enough to do anything about them besides moisturizing when needed. 

Generally does the bare minimum extra besides keeping himself clean. 

Uses generic military-grade laundry soap, generic antiperspirant, and unscented lotion, but he does use spruce-scented aftershave and tea tree shampoo. 

Likes having facial hair, but rarely gets to. 

Plenty of Freckles, beauty marks, moles, etc. beige cool-toned skin otherwise. 

Has various tattoos but no piercings. Tattoos include

Skull with a crown on his left shoulder

Trash polka war scene sleeve on his right arm through the shoulder. 

Bleeding Laurel crown on his sternum

Dagger at the base of his neck 

Various basic things like a lion, some roses, a couple of guns

Does not wear the hood when not on duty, it was originally a last minute addition to his uniform for anonymity when in the field working with terrorists.

General

Blood type is AB+

Contrary to popular belief, is not shy so much as he is awkward. Has built up a sarcastic, cocky, and harsh persona to avoid (what is in his mind) inevitable heartbreak and betrayal by those closest to him. 

Genuinely cocky. He believes his own hype on that front. 

Actually, a big teddy bear but, next to nobody gets close enough to him to find that out. 

He (probably) has ADHD that manifests in nervous movement. 

Never got tested, never will. 

Struggles with anxiety that leads to depression, but the military was decently good for his mental health because of the strict scheduling and forced camaraderie.

Does not have a temper problem as much as he has an impulse problem. He doesn’t get into fights because he’s angry, he gets into fights because he’s a cocky bastard who knows he’ll win and he wants to speed up the process of others leaving him alone/deferring to his plans

The big difference between König and Krueger is that König wants control over his surroundings and others to be comfortable, and Krueger wants others to be uncomfortable and he wants control over others and he doesn’t care about his surroundings.  

König mostly wants to throw his weight around to get left on his own, and Krueger wants to manipulate others to do his bidding. 

König would solve an ethical disagreement by explaining himself until he came to blows with the other party. 

Krueger would go behind their back once he knew he wasn’t going to get his way, but wouldn’t result in physical violence immediately. 

Krueger needs other people to feel powerful and in control; he doesn’t really believe that he has an equal or a superior. He thinks in terms of leverage and power. 

König feels less powerful and in control when he has a ton of other people in the mix: he doesn’t like the unknown variable of a possible weak link. He thinks in terms of self-sufficiency and sacrifice. 

Wanted to be a sniper because the position is a solitary one, he wants to be put in positions where he doesn’t have to trust other people because he simply does not trust other people 

He is a really good shot

Often Times gets into little skirmishes with snipers because of jealousy 

Another reason he couldn’t be a sniper was his red/green colorblindness. It’s moderate to severe. 

He is a people watcher, he is genuinely concerned with the people around him. Will remember even the smallest details if he’s close to someone (which is a hard position to earn.)

Has a very duplicitous way about him. Cunning, ruthless, and bloodthirsty on the field but in reality he’s a very agitated, demure sort of guy off the clock, especially in crowds.

 Gets his “berserker” energy out on the battlefield. Is typically much more relaxed in “civilian” life or when in leadership positions. 

Chronically the instructor who starts off making every recruit shit themselves but becomes a base favorite after basic training when he opens up and shreds a bass solo at drunk karaoke night

He hates civilian life for more than 6 months at a time. If he has to go much longer than that without doing something related to field work he gets incredibly antsy and like. Decides to build a whole ass barn on his property from scratch because he always has to have something to do. 

Was promoted to Colonel incredibly young (32) for the position due to his exemplary ability as an insertions specialist and as a leader. Never attempted a rank above it because of forced retirement requirements. 

The only reason I can personally see my version of König in KorTac is because somewhere along the line he fucked up and was either going to be forcibly retired or put out of active combat in the Austrian Special Forces. 

You don’t become a Colonel in the military for fun and desert for merc work, and shitty merc work at that. 

More than likely I think he was supposed to retire and that made him have a midlife crisis because König doesn’t see himself as a person, he sees himself as a soldier. Without the army, he’s nothing. He needs that stability, that outlet, that free pass at total carnage- so when the army told him he had to call it quits, he “retired” and went to KorTac under the specific condition that his name not get used for fear of tarnishing the Austrian special forces. 

Not a particularly big “Austrian culture” nut but he has his moments. 

Prefers Austrian foods that he grew up with, likes beer a lot (and has gotten drunk only once in his life because he’s. Fuckoff massive,) and doesn’t care about culture/history all that much. 

He more or less just finds comfort in stuff that reminds him of the happier parts of his childhood, mostly the mountains. 

König considers himself “traditional” in the sense that he doesn’t believe women should be on the front lines of combat. If he has to attack an enemy woman, he much prefers it to be with a gun at long range. 

Doesn’t necessarily think of women as “lesser” instead he firmly believes that they are superior to men because they are better humans, less violent, etc. 

The number one hatred in life is men who are sex traffickers. 

Hatred was acquired from his work.

Has had various stints in therapy because of what he’s seen.

Fond memories of the house he inherited from his Oma It’s where he lives when not deployed. 

He also has a decently expensive townhouse in Vienna, mostly from when he was a colonel and he needed to be close to Vienna for work-related reasons. 

Has a shitton of money from his work that he just doesn’t spend on anything. Drives a shitty car, and inherited a nice house, he doesn’t have anything to spend it on so he ends up giving most of it to his mom, grandma, and local charities. Still always has a ton left over. 

Is a lumberjack and carpenter for hobbies, and built most of the furniture in the house. 

Very much enjoys the alpine lifestyle. Hunts his own game, leatherworks, the whole nine yards. 

This bitch cannot draw. Stick figures that look like marks dogs made with pens in their teeth. Awful, awful, awful at drawing. 

Very much an “audio person” who can remember anything he’s heard but has sort of a terrible sight memory. 

His handwriting is so bad it puts 6-year-olds to shame. 

Not overly religious, but believes in god, more as a “wow. What a sicko. Makin everything then fucking it up” sort of way. Prays on occasion. 

Doesn’t watch tv or movies. Would rather listen to music, go hiking, or read nonfiction books in his free time. 

Small psychology fascination. He’s read a lot of early psychology essays, he’s the kind of guy who likes to read shit from Freud and go “I’m bad but thank god I’m not this fucked up”

The punchline, of course, is that he is that fucked up.

The most expensive thing he owns (discounting his guns, knives, car, or house) is a custom long-double neck electric bass. 

Her name is Wulkyrie

Extensive custom knife collection. Finds cleaning them soothing. 

His favorite is a Custom Glock Field Knife that is 10 inches long, has a serrated edge on the bottom, and has a red hand chord he wrapped himself. 

Has the engraving of an Edelweiss flower at the base, her name is Kaiserin (empress) 

She is his prized possession. Goes nowhere without it. 

He also has a gun collection. It is much smaller due to firearm restrictions, but he certainly has many more than is necessary. 

Mostly hunting rifles. Probably also has a custom game bow. 

He can handle being a leader, but he does not enjoy it. He hates being under people, too. He is such a good leader, though, because he hates the position and the power that comes with it, so his troops are the most self-sufficient, inventive, and well-trained platoon in the army at any given time. He creates other leaders because he’s a very selfless commander. 

Believes the mark of a great leader is not the willingness to lead, but instead the reluctance to let others get hurt. The only thing he hates more than having someone tell him what to do is letting down someone beneath him. 

He’s taken the fall for many of his subordinates' screw-ups, but he’s an all-or-nothing guy. If you’re not loyal to him, your ass is grass. 

Bonus! Romance HCs (very very very slightly NSFW)

Gave up on dating early in his military career. He had a couple of short-term girlfriends, each he ended upon realizing he probably couldn’t be there for them like they wanted. 

Not sexually inexperienced, but rarely has partners more than once or twice. Has had sex with ten different people in his life tops. 

Simultaneously very badly wants to and is completely terrified of being a father. Should the stars align, he’d want nothing more than to have a full house with a lovely wife and a gaggle of little ones in the Alps. 

Would want a traditional Austrian wedding, especially fond of the “bride stealing” tradition. 

preferably a capable woman he wouldn’t have to worry about leaving in the mountains, would also probably only end up with a pretty extroverted partner who pursued him first.

They fell first, he fell much much much much harder. Admires her from afar for a long time but doesn’t think he’s worthy so he never makes the first move. Once he realizes that she’s not going anywhere and can handle herself, he’s violently loyal. 

Also desperately wants a partner who is less strong than him so he can feel like his strength can be put to good use in protecting them. 

Has a marking fixation, clothing, jewelry, hickies, bruises, cum, etc. 

Anniversary presents include modest but expensive jewelry, knives, tools, and replacement bed frames for the ones that. Got broken. Whoops! 

Love languages are receiving physical touch and words of affirmation. Giving is physical touch and acts of service.

[maxispremades]

Random gave Ajay Loner the lifetime want of becoming Head of SCIA and it helped me see this sim in a whole new way! Now Ajay is a covert operator pretending to be the most ordinary guy in the world. Could it be that he has come to Strangetown precisely to investigate the mystery of the Lady-in-Red?

Рандом выдал Айджи Лонеру мечту «Стать шефом СимБр» и это помогло мне увидеть этого сима со��ершенно по-новому! Теперь Айджи — тайный агент, который притворяется самым заурядным парнем на свете. Может быть, он прибыл в Китежград именно для того, чтобы расследовать тайну загадочной леди-в-красном?