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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

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Power Play - Chapter 1

AN: And here is Week 5 of HBS and the start of a new multi-chapter fic, this one a Bucky x Reader story, cos I like to give you all some variety. This also strays into Soft!Dark! Territory, cos, you know… Mob! Bucky. Thanks @buckybarnesevents for the inspo.

I’ve chosen the prompt When I first met you... Electricity

Beta’d by @buckysbarne

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and banner by me. Pictures of Seb courtesy of https://sebastian-stan.com/

Master list | Hot Bucky Summer Master list

Summary: Waking up in a mobster’s house the morning after the night before was not how this was supposed to go…

Relationship: Mob! Bucky x Undercover Agent! Reader

WC: 2.3k

CW: Kidnap, Manipulation, Soft!Dark! Bucky, Alcohol consumption, Reader briefly believes Bucky will force her against her will (use of R word once), kissing, Russian Pet names as mangled by Google translate (all variations of sweetheart/darling except Pchelka, which is explained.)

Your head was foggy and your mouth grainy as you opened your eyes, blinking against the harshness of the late morning sun coming through the window.

“Good morning, Pchelka.” Strong fingers gripping your chin and pinching your jaw harshly, brought you out of your stupor, and you looked up at the owner of the gravelly voice.

“Did you sleep well? I slept like a log. I’m going to say that it was because of the connection we made last night.” He chuckled darkly. “Did you feel it, sladkiy? The electricity when I first took your hand in mine? Because I did.” His body shivered at the memory, and you felt a fission of fear travel down your spine.

His eyes were blue - cool and chilling - and you wished you were looking at them under different circumstances. Wished you were here with him under different circumstances, because although he was your enemy, you weren’t blind.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Revered head of the New York Mob, and so sinfully handsome it was no wonder that men and women swooned at his feet.

“Are you going to answer me, Pchelka?”

His brow was arched, amusement still playing at his lips. Challenging you to defy him.

“I’m not your ‘little bee’. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let your face go with a snort that told you that he knew you were lying. Because you were. How could you not have felt it, when your slim hand had been completely engulfed by his when you’d been introduced? When he’d raised your hand, gently turning it to press a kiss to the fluttering vein in your wrist.

You should have known then that you were fucked. Should have called the whole thing off and got out of there.

But no. You’d decided that you had to stay - had to pull your big girl pants up, get a hold of yourself and prove to everyone else that you were capable of carrying out this mission. You wondered if your colleagues, your fellow agents, were trying to actually rescue you, or were they laughing at your ineptitude?

Barnes crossed to the far side of the room, a classic dark wood office with floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with leather-bound tomes. Turkish wool rugs covered the wooden floor that matched all of the furniture. He picked up a decanter, poured a hefty measure of amber liquid into a matching tumbler and brought it up to his lips. You didn’t even realise that you were watching him that intently until he smirked.

He walked back over to you, power and grace showing with every move of his body. He sank into a crouch before you, dipped his finger into the alcohol and then painted it over your lips. Instinctually you licked it away, and the whisky burned on your tongue.

“They think you’re dead, by the way.” That got your attention, making you halt with your mouth part open, tongue tip still midway through catching the errant drops he’d applied. His finger returned to the glass, then back to your lips once again as you sat, stock still.

A sudden anger burned through you, and you tried to leap to your feet, but you hadn’t counted on the bonds that tied you to the chair. You struggled against them, hands curling into fists and feet ineffectually kicking as you let out a wail of frustration.

“Tsk tsk.” Barnes admonished you for your reaction as he stood and backed up to rest against the edge of his, no doubt antique, desk. “And here I was thinking you’d be more grateful. If you’d continued in that job you’d have died of boredom, milyy. Just think. I’ve actually saved you.” He took another sip of his drink, observing you and you wanted to shrink under his gaze - you had to look a mess.

Your evening gown, which had looked stunning on you when you’d gotten ready for this op, was now torn and filthy. Your nail polish was chipped, a couple of the nails torn, and no doubt your makeup was smeared across your face. Somewhere along the line, you’d lost your shoes, or had they been taken from you? Admittedly a lot of it was a blur and you’d also been unconscious for some time, only waking up once you were here, tied to this chair, a smirking Barnes looking down on you.

Conversely, he looked so put together it should be illegal. Last night he’d smouldered in a dinner suit, but this morning he exuded power and danger. His shirt was black, with two opened buttons, showing off the silver rope chain around his neck. His suit jacket and pants were also black but covered with a wide pinstriped check. He had a large signet ring on the pinky of his left hand, and silver and black onyx ring on the adjacent ring finger, and it was hard to take your eyes off them. His pants were tight across his crotch, leaving little to the imagination, and he’d finished off his outfit with a pair of patent black boots and a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses, perched on his head. In a nutshell, he was sex personified and you needed to get your head back in the game before you did something you’d regret.

“You’re deluded, you know that?”

“Focused, Pchelka. Not deluded. I didn’t get where I am now without knowing what I wanted and taking it. And I want you. I think you want me too.”

It was your turn to snort, and you didn’t bother to hide your derision. “In your dreams!”

He was back in front of you in an instant, his beringed fingers curling into the leather chair back, his face millimetres from your own.

“I don’t think I imagined how you trembled when you were in my arms, lyubimyy. When I led you around the dance floor and you felt as though you were made to fit in my embrace. I don’t think I imagined how you sighed and leaned against me as I spoke soft words in your ears.”

Heat burned your cheeks and you tried for some bravado.

“All an act, I assure you. As you know, you were my mark.”

His mouth broke into a feral grin and, for the first time, you were worried. Worried about what he had in store for you… and worried that you might like it.

“You keep telling yourself that. I don’t think you’ll be able to maintain that lie when you’re screaming my name later.”

“I didn’t know your name was Rapist.”

He moved one hand from the back of the chair to rest at the base of your throat, fingers applying just enough pressure to remind you who was in control here.

“Don’t insult both of us, Pchelka. When I take you, you will welcome it. Want it. You will be begging me to make you mine. And I think it will happen sooner than you think.” His voice was a hypnotic whisper, and you could feel yourself spiralling, enchanted by the power that he exuded from every pore, so when he kissed you, you were unprepared.

Barnes used the thumb of the hand he had around your neck to tip your chin up. His pink, sinful lips demanded entry efficiently and you were powerless to resist. His mouth explored yours, tongues tangling, and when he teasingly broke the kiss you were horrified to find that you were whimpering.

Your captor just continued to smile, animalistic and condescending.

“Electric, as I said. You betray yourself without even meaning too. It’s a good thing that I’m a nice man, and I’m not torturing you for information. You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

Feelings of anger, shame and embarrassment rose within you. He was right, god damn it. You weren’t cut out for this work. You knew it. He knew it. The people you worked with knew it. Backroom paper shuffling was where you excelled, but there was no way you could’ve turned down the opportunity for undercover work, because success would have meant a level of recognition and respect that you could never have hoped, to gain otherwise, even if the op was a classic, and somewhat demeaning, honey-trap.

You closed your eyes and willed the tears not to fall.

“Please, Mr Barnes. Just let me go. I don’t know anything. Nothing has happened here that can’t be forgotten.”

“Call me Bucky, lyubimaya. And I don’t want to let you go, or forget you. Stay here with me. Leave those narrow-minded idiots you work for. I would treat you with the respect you deserve. And you wouldn’t just be on my arm and in my bed, you would be by my side. You have useful skills that shouldn’t be wasted.”

Your eyes snapped back open and looked at him in surprise and confusion. “What do you mean?”

Barnes - Bucky - ran the knuckles of his left hand down your cheek, the coldness of his rings a balm to your heated flesh. Tattoos peeked out from under his sleeve, twisting and winding down his skin, and onto his fingers. Vines and flowers and thorns. Letters of the Cyrillic alphabet.

“You think that I would bring you here, to the seat of my power if I didn’t already know every… little… thing… about you? I know what your role was before you started this ill-advised op. I know where you lived. I know what cereal you like for breakfast and what your regular coffee order is. You’re always flitting too and fro, concentrating on work. Busy as a bee.”

You weren’t sure why you weren’t shocked, but you asked him all the same. “There’s a mole inside my unit?”

“Of course, Pchelka. There’s always a mole. Always someone who is more than willing to trade loyalty for power and money, or someone who is so desperate that they can be easily persuaded. Desperate people do desperate things, and tell themselves they aren’t really the bad ones, it’s just their circumstances.”

Both his hands had now settled on your waist, the size of them making you feel smaller than you often thought of yourself. Bucky himself was still on his knees, between your bound, spread legs, his torso virtually pressed against your inner thighs. You absently noticed that the knife you’d placed in a thigh holder was missing. No doubt Bucky or his men had found it almost straight away once you’d been rendered unconscious. You hoped it had been the man in front of you - the idea of being touched in such an intimate place by someone other than him was abhorrent. A part of you wondered why you didn’t think that him touching you was also horrifying.

“And which one do you think I am? Disloyal or desperate?” You arched your brow, trying to ignore the way his fingers were branding you through the satin of your dress.

“You, milyy, are a secret third thing. You are an intelligent woman, who makes decisions based on all the information available. It’s not disloyalty if you’ve been betrayed first. It’s also not desperation that would make you join me if I have no pressure point - no sick aunt, no cousin in debt to a loan shark, that sort of thing. If you joined me it would be because you wanted to. Because you saw the merits of such an action.”

You had to admit, his offer was tempting. You hated your job and you hated your co-workers. It was still a ‘boy’s club’ and all the inclusion and diversity training in the world couldn’t counteract the toxic masculinity that the job attracted. You hated that, despite putting up with this job for so many years, you were still living in a crappy apartment with too long a commute to work.. You hated that, despite the fact you never even got around to taking your PTO, you also weren’t making any decent deposits into your savings account. Okay, you weren’t quite living paycheck to paycheck, but you were by no means where you thought you’d be by now.

The long hours also meant little time to socialise, and the friends you’d once had, had all dropped away one by one as you’d cancelled one social engagement after another. This also meant that your love life was, as the song goes, DOA, and after a while, all the toys in the world failed to satisfy. Which also meant that the feeling of soft, expensive wool, encasing a warm, hard body, rubbing against your inner thighs was upsetting your equilibrium quite a bit.

Then, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, his face dipped closer again, his breath, tinged with whisky, fanning over you.

“Imagine how it would feel, Pchelka. The power. The pleasure. You’d want for nothing. Every need would be met. Every whim indulged.”

It was your turn to shiver and as your eyes fluttered closed again you heard him chuckle.

“You want it, don’t you. You want me and everything I can give you. It’s okay to want those things. I want things as well. I want you, lyubimyy. I’ve waited a long time for a Queen.”

“You don’t know me…” Your denial was whispered, and even you didn’t believe what you’d said.

“But I do. I know exactly what you need...”

His lips captured yours once more, but this time you didn’t even pretend not to respond. You drank him in as though he would quench your thirst and you only remembered your bonds again when your body strained against them. Your knees managed to dig into his waist though, and you felt him smile against your lips.

His hands slid from your waist, to one wrist and then the other, freeing them. You threw your arms around his neck, not even trying to get away. In any case, your ankles were still bound.

Your fingers brushed over the short hair on the sides and back of his head, the strands prickling your skin. His own hands were now cupping your face as he continued to kiss you, and you knew what was going to happen. You were falling under his spell.

Chapter 2

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

#hot bucky summer #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #late writes

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pwlanier · 12 days

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Icon "Trinity of the Old Testament". Jerusalem, Hebron, Holy Trinity Monastery, late XIX century.

Wood, levkas, oil.

Preservation: crackle and darkening of the paint layer, swelling and chips (loss) of paint along the lower edge; traces of restoration (opening, restoration reinforcements of the paint layer and partial restoration of fragments).

The painting was made by a professional icon painter in the technique of oil painting on an oak board, symbolizing the Mamvrian oak.

This kind of icons were distributed in holy places revered by Christians (Jerusalem, Athos, Constantinople, etc.) and had the purpose of a memorial shrine (in Greek - eulogia), a sign of God's mercy, which the pilgrim could take with him. They were often passed down from generation to generation for the glory of the future century. Since the end of the 19th century, various souvenirs about visiting holy places have been actively sold near temples and at monasteries.

The icon depicts three angels sitting by the Mamvria oak. Angels are depicted sitting at the table with a meal prepared for them by Abraham and blessing it. A symbolic image of the triune God (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) in the form of three angels. The vision was given in the form of a prophecy long before the birth of the Savior to one of the Old Testament forefathers. The plot comes from the Old Testament (Gen. 18: 1-16): according to the biblical tradition, Abraham and Sarah had no children until old age. Once God appeared to the righteous elder in the form of three angels and at the meal gave him a firm confidence that in a year Sarah would give birth to a son and from Abraham there would be a "great and strong people", among whom the Savior of all mankind would be born. The image of the Old Testament Trinity is popular in Russian icon painting. In the patristic tradition, the meal of angels is the prototype of the Last Supper and the sacrament of the Eucharist established on it.

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ryuzakemo128 · 1 month

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What if.....

Parings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Oksana Ivanova / Johnny Mactavish x Military Psychologist! You, Female Reader / Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Military Psychologist! You, Female Reader

Credit for the Dividers go to: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Masterlist / Decription of Oksana

Words: 3048

Content Warning: Cursing/ swearing, implications of smut. Jealousy from you, mention of child abuse, graphic themes of violence and domestic abuse. Dark Themes and references. Read at your own discretion.

Summary: “You only speak to me when you only want something. Spit it out then.”

Simon’s office consisted of a large wooden desk, a large comfortable chair he didn’t particularly like seeing other people sitting in. Often shooing them away from it with the intention of ensuring they wouldn’t break it before he could really put some real wear and tear into it. A leather, cushioned, reclinable desk chair.

The painting of the docks above his chair was the only piece of décor against the dim concrete walls for a while. Until he brought in blue-grey coloured curtains for the window looking into the office. Bringing a little more colour to his office. Even if this office would be as temporary as the life he was living now. As everything in life is temporary and soon enough, he will die, he will be replaced by someone else entirely. It was just how life was. It is how life shall be. No matter what happens.

The desk itself was made from a nice cut of maple oak wood, and it cost him a pretty penny to both buy and haul into his office. He had his paperwork stacked neatly, just the way he liked it, he would get beyond annoyed when Soap or you would walk in leave something out of place on his desk and walk out.

It was like they enjoyed frustrating him to a degree that grated on him. It made it hard to work with either of them. He would have put in a transfer months ago, had he known how much of a jackass Soap would be by fucking you on his desk.

“Get out.” He said crossing his arms. “My office. My rules. Don’t do it again.”

He kept his office locked up tight after that. Refusing the to make a spare key for any of the team. Firm in his belief that what was in his office, stayed there, as his personal space. His own area where he didn’t have to put up his guard and listen to anyone.

He had many reasons to be upset with you. He would take that secret right to his grave if he had to. No reason to give you more ammo than you already had.

“Come on man.” Soap whined.

“No.” Simon told him again.

“Why not?” Soap asked him again.

“Cause I said so.” Simon answered again.

“Why can’t I go with you to meet this Russian chick you like so much?” Soap asked again.

“You know exactly why you’re not allowed to.” Simon reminded him. “You say the first thing that comes to mind when it comes to them.”

“That’s not true.” Soap snapped back at him.

“Well, how about the time you insulted the Russian pilot?” Simon reminded him.

“It was an accident I swear.” Soap protested.

“You made the poor woman cry.” Simon sighed shaking his head grabbing his keys. “Now scram. I don’t want to either of you inside my office when I lock it up.”

Soap and you shuffled out of his office reluctantly. Simon wasn’t going to let you or Soap ruin his chances with this one. He didn’t want to take that kind of risk of introducing you or him to her. He locked his office, the jingling of keys in his hand as he walked to his truck. He wasn’t going to give either you or Soap to tail him to where he was meeting her.

You whispered to Soap, "Who is he meeting with?"

Soap shrugged, "Someone from his past, I think. He's been acting weird since we got the intel on her."

“But he’s been acting weird even before then,” You reminded Soap.

Soap nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe it’s more than just a meeting with an old flame.”

You brought out a file with the name, ‘Captain Oksana Ivanova’. “Do you think he’s off to see her?”

You couldn’t help yourself, could you? The temptation of getting a background check on her ran strong within you. You convinced yourself it was for his own good that you were doing it for his benefit. Ignoring the gnawing jealously eating at you from the inside. Karma biting you on the arse. It had no intention of letting you get away with your mistakes without some kind of retribution.

“You only speak to me when you only want something. Spit it out then.” Simon sighed placing the folder of forms he was going to look at when you walked into his office.

You remembered how he was right then. Just like he was right now. You hated the fact that he seemed to be right about you in particular. He could make a random guess and still somehow get it right.

“We need to talk, Simon.” You started, placing the file on his desk. “It’s about Captain Ivanova.”

“You want to talk. You don't need to do anything.” Simon reminded you again making you feel like a child being scolded for stealing cookies from the jar. “But since you’re here, what’s this about Captain Ivanova?”

Oksana 'The Wolf', 'The Ghost of Siberia', 'The White Devil' Ivanova.

Her reputation proceeded her. Long before you had her file in your hands, you knew the name. Studied it, both from a psychologist angle, the angle from a doctor’s perspective and that of a tactician. You used her as a report for your psychology major, then you studied her tactics, her methods of warfare for your military career and now you were sitting here, about to face her in person. You felt your heart race at the thought of it.

The whispers of her tactical prowess had made its way to even the most secluded corners of the military base. Her story was like a myth, a legend whispered in the barracks and the mess halls. The way she could navigate the harsh terrain of her homeland with the grace of a wolf and the precision of a ghost. The way she had escaped death more times than anyone cared to count. The way she had turned the tide of battles single-handedly. The way she had left a trail of dead in her wake that was so cold, they called her 'The White Devil'.

“Are you jealous, (Y/L/N)?” Simon teased with a smirk on his lips. If you weren’t slightly flustered before, you are now.

You fumbled with the forms you filled out, you didn’t know what to say, or squeak out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumbled hoping he wouldn’t dig further than he had already.

“Mhmmm. Right. Right.” Simon rolled his eyes at your attempt at sassing him. In your opinion, he was playing hard to get. Unfortunately for him you were hard to get rid of.

You leaned in a little further trying to get him to glance at your cleavage. Even a little bit. His gaze didn’t catch it, disappointing a little bit. Though you remember, he hadn’t had a serious date with someone that didn’t care that much about his height being six feet and four inches.

“You know you’d get more luck in the world of dating if you weren’t such a sour puss.” You remarked.

He cocked an eyebrow at what you said. “I’m only sour towards you. Which you earned with your ‘hard work’ and ‘dedication’ to your cause.” He felt so fucking validated in outing what you fucked up last week. “Go back to whatever that is you do here and let the bigger, taller guys handle to tougher shit.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to Simon, inching closer to him, as you traced your fingertips along the corners of his desk. “You know, you and I could go on a date if you want.”

“Aren’t you dating Soap?” Simon questioned as he rose from his chair to walk over to the filing cabinet.

“Semantics. Specifics and utterances of whatever.” You gestured like you knew what you wanted to say without saying much.

“I don’t think he’d agree with you on that one Pup.” Simon chided you. Tutting under his breath.

“I just wanted to give you helping hand you know.” You pouted, huffed and crossed your arms a little.

“Don’t get bratty with me.” Simon told you. “I don’t need help from someone who is willing to cheat on their boyfriend. No matter how much their boyfriend mightn’t care about it. I’m not the type to do that to someone.”

“Well maybe I’m trying to help you. Ever thought of that?” You snapped at him.

“Pup. Don’t make me discipline you.” Simon warned.

“What are you going to do? Spank me?” You taunted, inching closer to him.

“Don’t tempt me, pup.” Simon growled into your ear. Sending a shiver down your spine.

“You never called me pup before.” You couldn’t help but point out as you inch a little closer to him.

“I hooked up with the Russian woman I told you about last weekend. She’s the one who called me that first.” Simon taunted back at you. Hoping it would get you to back off.

Your face flushed a shade of pink as he sauntered back over to his desk. Picking up the phone to call Soap. “Soap, you better get your arse in here and get your girl. Before I pick her up and carry her to you.” He said into the phone in a kind of sing song voice that really hammered home that he still planned to get even with you somehow.

Soap rushed in, looking like he had just rolled out of bed, his shirt untucked and his pants half zipped. “What’s going on?” He asked, looking bewildered at the situation.

“Your girlfriend here just tried to ask me on a date.” Simon told him. Hoping to get them both to leave him alone. “I said you wouldn’t appreciate that, and I told her I’d carry her to you if she didn’t leave.”

Soap looked over at you, he knew what you were trying to do, he didn’t even have to get you to say it, either. Soap looked over to Simon again, who thought he would be able to get rid of two people with the same stone. As the saying went with birds. Simon, pleased with himself, Simon spraying down his desk with antiseptic cleaner that he bought for his desk. Specially made to clean and keep the wood varnish intact.

“What’s the deal, Simon?” Soap asked, glancing at you with a knowing smile. He knew you were up to something, he just didn’t know what it was yet.

“What? A man can’t clean his desk and appreciate it?” Simon had no idea what Soap was talking about this time. His focus on tidying the top of his desk so it looked like a lieutenant worked inside of it. “Johnny, in a place like the military, it’s a nice and lovely thing just to have some kind of normal. Even if it’s just a neat and tidy desk. I could be dead tomorrow. I don’t have time to get sentimental with people as much as objects. Oksana is just a friend Johnny. You don’t have to get jealous of her taking your weirdly shaped place in my heart, Johnny.”

The photo of Oksana and Simon inside of a bronze metal frame on his desk, the letter from Oksana still in the envelope despite the fact that it was opened by him several times. The same woman he spoke to, the same woman that felt more mythic legend than a real tangible person. It was a photo of the two them, Oksana stood to be two inches taller than Simon. The other photo on the wall above the pile of letters from her, the one of her in a Competitive Shooting Competition.

You didn’t think much of it at the time. As Simon was the one invited to watch her compete in it. Though the recorded message of her saying, “It was fun hanging out with you. Can’t wait to do it again sometime. Thank you for celebrating my 30th birthday with me too by the way. You didn’t have to. But it means a lot to me that you did. You’re worth more than gold and silver combined. Don’t let that soap boy tell you otherwise.”

Later that week after the day they hung out together. Simon had received a bouquet of red roses from her, along with a bottle of Marmont Siberian vodka, a large box of dark chocolates and a beige card within the flowers the red ink cursive handwriting. ‘For the friend I don’t deserve but glad to have. Thank you for being there for me.’

When Oksana Ivanova came around again, Soap was more than a little determined to get her to talk to him. He had seen the way she had looked at Simon, and it was clear that there was a history there that went beyond mere friendship. Soap knew that Simon wasn't one to be jealous, but he also knew that the man had a serious soft spot for the Russian captain.

The abandoned cat Oksana rescued on the way there, the way she cared for the small thing, even though it was nothing but a stray. “I have a habit of collecting strays I suppose.” she remarked talking about Simon and the cat. “Though I suppose that comes from being one myself.”

You knew exactly why she said that last part, unlike Soap, unlike Simon, you dug deep into her background, and you knew exactly why she called herself that. Oksana and her twin's parents might as well have thrown them to the wolves and left them to starve. During a medical examination, Oksana’s back scars were seen by Simon once, the deep scarring made by a whip. A whip that must have been used by her biological father or stepfather, either way it certainly left trauma she waded through inside of therapy.

Her twin sister, she didn’t take any of it because anything she ever did that was considered ‘wrong’ by either their biological or stepfather was covered up by Oksana. Taking the blame for it instead. ‘Through hell or high water, I will bleed before I let anyone touch either my twin or my younger brother. I’m the oldest, I’m the one who is supposed to protect them. It’s my job.’

Her younger brother, Sergei, had been the one to find Oksana that night, curled up and shivering in a snowbank, the whip marks stark against her bare skin. The memory of her pained whimpers and the fierce protectiveness in her eyes as she held onto her siblings. He didn’t have to go into grim, gross, graphic detail, though telling him to stop would be like telling a waterfall to stop falling.

Sergei said, “The flesh was too cold, she must've been out there for hours. Our stepfather came home drunker than usual that night, raving about how we were the curses that ruined his life. Oksana told us to stay in the basement until he passed out. She was always the brave one, the one who took the brunt of his rage so we wouldn’t have to. The sound of the whip that night, it was haunting. It was the worst one yet. Our stepfather got off on causing her as much pain as he could. I don’t know how she survived it. I suppose he had it coming when he slammed her into wall, whispering disgusting shit he wanted to do to her. She reacted in self-defence and well, the rest is history.”

“I see you have met my younger brother.” Oksana walked in with pizza in her hands, “I got pizza guys. I managed to pick it up on the way here.”

Sergei replied, “Yeah, we were just chatting about old times.” His tone was forced, trying to lighten the mood that had thickened like the smoke from a grenade.

“Have you told them about your art yet?” Oksana asked Sergei, she was proud of him.

Sergei looked up at Oksana, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment. “I don't know if they'd be interested in that, sis.”

“Nonsense.” Oksana said with a warm smile, setting the pizza down on the desk. “Your art is amazing. Simon, Johnny, you both should see it.”

Simon’s gaze shifted to the newcomer, a cocktail of anger and curiosity swirling in his eyes. “Art?” He questioned, his voice gruff.

“Yeah. I encouraged him to get into art when we were younger.” Oksana answered.

“Why’s that?” You asked, hoping to get Simon’s mind off of the anger he had directed towards you.

“It's one thing for me and Katya to be in military and come out of it fine-ish.” Oksana explained. “Sergei, he had a real chance to grow up normally.”

Simon’s expression softened a bit at the mention of Oksana’s sister. “How’s she doing?” He asked, trying to steer the conversation to safer waters.

“She's an intelligence officer for the FSB.” Oksana answered. “She got married last year. I got meet my niece too.”

Simon’s eyes lit up at the mention of a niece. “How old is she?” He asked, his mind momentarily distracted from the rage that had been brewing inside of him.

“She recently turned two.” Oksana answered showing a photo of her to him.

The little girl had her aunt’s piercing blue eyes and her mother’s dark hair. She was dressed in a pink tutu, looking absolutely adorable. Simon’s expression softened even more as he took the phone from her.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured, genuine warmth in his voice. “I can’t wait to meet her one day.”

Sergei brought out his recent artwork, it was a picture of a farm in Siberia, where they had lived before their mother had passed away and their father had remarried. The way the sunset painted the sky was beautiful, it was almost as if you could feel the coldness of the Siberian air just by looking at it.

Sergei gave it to Simon as a gift, a thank you gift for looking out for his older sister Oksana. Simon looked at the picture for a long moment before setting it aside gently. “It’s beautiful, Sergei. You’re very talented.”

“Thank you for looking out for her.” Sergei told him verbally this time.

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maertyrer · 7 months

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Unknown Artist Russian icon of a Holy Martyr, probably St. Stephen

Mixed media painting: egg tempera, gesso, and levkas on wood board. The icon is presented in an oklad featuring a beaded ornamental design on canvas, and knob accents. ca. 19th century

#saint #stephen #martyr #icon #19th century

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amhrosina · 2 years

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Like Real People Do (Matt Murdock x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: this was requested, and i would do anything for matt murdock, so pls enjoy this nonnie! i couldn't pick between these gifs, so here's two <3

Summary: Matt wakes you up from a nightmare and you have a panic attack. He calms you down and cuddles you until you fall back asleep in his arms.

(Warnings: reader has a panic attack, mentions of past trauma, mentions of potential child abuse, soft!matt being the cutest)

“Matt, for the last time, I am not taking your bed from you. You’re blind! That would make me, like, the worst person in the world!”

“I thought you didn’t care what people thought.” He smirked, continuing to throw blankets and pillows towards the couch.

“Call it a concern for my eternal soul, Murdock.”

“You’re worried about what God thinks?” He scoffed.

“There’s a lot of things I’ll have to answer for when I die, Devil Man, but making the blind man who’s harboring a mob target in his apartment sleep on his own couch won’t be one of them.”

Matt smiled, then shook his head. “I think He might let this one slide.”

He wasn’t budging, and you were beginning to grow tired of arguing with him about it.

“Fine, fine, whatever. Damn me to hell.” You rolled your eyes as he barked out a laugh.

The glow of the living room changed colors as the advertisement outside the window started over from the beginning. Red light coated the walls, spilling across the floor like paint. You watched it tiptoe up Matt’s shirtless torso, eyeing the scars littered across his back. You turned away before he could pick up on your increased heartrate.

Unlike the other person in the room with you, you weren’t blind. Matt was an extremely pretty man. But he knew he was pretty, and you were sure that every person who’d ever met him had told him so, even if it was just with their heartbeat.

Matt ran his fingers under the couch cushions, securing the sheet in place. He bid you goodnight, and you settled into the silk sheets on his enormous bed. Yes, you decided, I will definitely be purchasing silk sheets as soon as the Russians are dealt with.

The Russians had become a giant pain in your ass. They knew you were connected to the “man in black”, as they called him, and wanted to get their greasy hands on you to bait Matt into showing himself. Matt had insisted on you staying at his apartment, where he could keep an eye on you while he figured out how to deal with the Russians. You had accepted his offer, grateful that he was willing to harbor you, but you were already feeling stir-crazy, and it was only the first night here.

You rolled over, sinking into Matt’s pillow, letting the subtle scent of laundry detergent lull you to sleep.

Your name was being shouted. It echoed around your head, and you felt beads of sweat running down your neck. You were overwhelmingly hot, panting as you fought your way towards consciousness. Hands grasped your cheeks, and you lurched out of bed, throwing the covers off of your body and falling to the floor. Your knees harshly banged against the wood, shooting pain up your legs. Uneven breaths turned into gasps as you felt hands around your shoulders. You yelped, clawing at the floor to get away from whoever was grabbing you.

Your name rung through the air as hands touched your cheeks. Finally, you looked up, forcing whoever was there to kill you to look you in the eyes before doing it. Instantly, fear turned to regret. Your eyes met Matt’s, who was whispering your name under hushed breaths.

“Breathe.” His voice was stern, but worry was laced in his tone as he softly stroked your cheeks. He repeated your name again, “Breathe. Deeper. There you go. Can you focus on finding five things you can see right now?”

You lurched out of his hands, heart still pounding, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry for waking you. I’m fine.” You hunched over, hanging your head between your knees as you tried to slow your breathing down.

“You’re not fine. Your heartbeat just skyrocketed out of nowhere. I thought someone was trying to kill you in here.” Matt followed you, crouching down in front of you.

He gently took your hand, placing it on his chest where you could feel the steady drum of his heartbeat. His hand covered yours, holding it in place. Your body started to to relax, his heartbeat grounding you. You raised your head, looking into Matt’s concerned face. That’s when you realized Matt was shirtless, and your hand was being pressed into his VeryNakedChest.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“What!” You yelped, pulling your hand away and shooting to your feet.

“Your heartbeat just picked back up again.” He said, confusion evident on his face.

You began to pace in front of him, ringing your hands together.

“Was it a nightmare?” He asked, creeping to his full height.

“Yes.” You answered bluntly, uninterested in continuing the conversation.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s fine,” he paused, still speaking in a hushed tone, “but you have to stop pacing. Your heartbeat is still elevated.”

You halted, staring at the bed that you’d fallen asleep in. The covers were splayed out, soaked in sweat. It looked like a tornado had slept in the bed, rather than a person. Turmoil rolled in your gut. Not only had you ruined Matt’s perfectly soft and well-made bed, but you’d also woken him up, probably giving him a heart attack in the process.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, running your hands over your face. You would not cry in front of him.

“Don’t apologize. Are you okay?” He met you where you stood in the bedroom, holding out his hands. A request, you supposed, to hold his hands until you were settled. You lightly set your hands on his, focusing on anything except the fact that his thumbs were now brushing over your knuckles.

“I’m-,” you breath shuddered as you spoke, “I think I’m okay, now.”

He brought a hand to your cheek, wiping the tears that had begun their descent. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. You barely remembered the nightmare, but it had to be a bad one, or else Matt would still be asleep in the living room.

“Do you get nightmares a lot?”

You furrowed your brow, trying to find any words that could explain your recurring dreams. More tears pricked at your eyes, willing themselves to fall.

“Sometimes, I guess. My childhood was...rough. I don’t remember much of it. I think there’s probably some trauma I need to deal with.” You choked out a laugh. There was definitely some trauma you needed to deal with, but you weren’t going to admit that to Matt tonight.

Matt slowly nodded, but you saw a streak of the devil in his eyes. He was going to ask questions, but not right now. Not tonight.

“Let’s try to go back to sleep, okay?” He tugged on your hands, leading you to the other side of the bed, where you hadn’t sweated through the sheets. Your hands grew clammy thinking about being left alone in the dark again. There was no way you’d fall back asleep tonight.

“Hey, don’t worry, okay?” Matt climbed onto the bed, resting his back against the headboard. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. No one can hurt you here. I promise. Come here.”

His tone was warm and inviting – lighthearted, even, like he didn’t want you to overthink the situation. His arms opened up, wrapping around you as you climbed into his lap. He had you cradled against his chest, resting his chin on your head. Your ear was directly next to his heart, something Matt probably orchestrated on purpose. He was giving you something to focus on so that you didn’t focus too hard on trying to fall asleep.

The last thing you remember is Matt’s lips brushing over your hair, kissing you so lightly you thought you might’ve imagined it.

Soft light filtered through the window. A morning haze coated the bedroom walls, condensation built up on the windows. The early morning sounds of New York buzzed in your ears. Taxi’s honking, bodegas opening their grates, life happening just beyond the glass.

Your eyes homed in on the mug of tea sitting on the bedside table, still steaming. You could vaguely hear Matt moving around in the kitchen. The scent of bacon wafted into your nose, sending your stomach grumbling. There was a noteworthy pause in the noise coming from outside the room. It returned soon after. Matt knew you were awake.

You carefully grabbed the tea, gravitating towards the smell of freshly cooked food. Matt was hunched over the stove, shirt thankfully on. You sat at the island, watching him gracefully move around. Even seeing, you were convinced you couldn’t move as gracefully as Matt did. He was constantly surprising you.

“Did you sleep alright? After the, uh, incident?” His voice echoed across the room.

“Yes, but I think you knew that.” You smiled, sipping your tea.

He set a plate of food in front of you and handed you a fork.

“You don’t have to talk about it to me, but I think you should talk about it to someone. Eventually.”

His face held a soft glow. He wasn’t being judgmental, and he didn’t seem to mind that you had woken him up in the middle of the night. You tilted your head, trying to think of the words you could say to express your gratitude, but your brain still felt foggy from sleep, so you just settled on, “Thank you, Matty,” and that was just fine with you. For now, at least.

End Note: I think I'm incapable of writing fics that tell a story from start to finish. There's so much room for more in this story, so don't be surprised if this turns into a multi-parter. Thank you for reading and requesting! I hope you enjoyed Matt being an absolute doll.

Requests are open!

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @xleiaorgana

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songs-of-the-east · 1 year

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Fairy-tale about revenge and fear, and about loneliness of an abrek. [From Maria Mussova’s folkloric series “Circassian Fairy-tales”]

"Blood-revenge led to the common North Caucasian phenomenon of the abrek (абрэдж; abrej; protector of the weak and poor), the outlaw horseman who would live in the wild and without the norms of society until the feud was resolved, which could be never. In the Russian and Soviet eras the reference was extended to those wanted by the authorities, in this context becoming local and sometimes national heroes, eulogized in music and verse. North Caucasian literati were duly obliged to denigrate the abreks as anti-heroes.

“Abrekhood” evokes notions that corresponded to Western romanticism regarding Robin Hood and his eternal quest and struggle for social justice, and in general it had the same positive connotations in the Circassian ethos."

"These [ten] pictures are of large size, and are printed on canvas-like paper, making them look almost like paintings. Each item in the series represents a personal fairytale for the author, her allusions and impressions born in the depths of the national self-identity. Here we find chrestomathic characters (e.g., Sataney), cultural phenomena (e.g., ажэгъафэ – a jester in a mask of a he-goat), images inspired by folklore and literature (“abrek”, horseman), and some light associations from the depths of consciousness (boy with a wheel, wood nymph, prayer to a tree). They are all devoid of stereotypes: The author pays much attention to detail, retouching is moderate, and the composition and the content of each picture follow strict rules. Sataney-Guashe is as if unguarded and, with all her perfection, she is very human, clear, and close to one’s heart. A young girl staring off into the distance symbolizes the eternal waiting of women – waiting for love and for the loved ones, for the winds of change, and for destiny. The fully-armed horseman is in hesitation, and he is with his horse – the only creature that will ever see him in these moments of weakness. His sabre is casually hanging behind his back, and, with all his vital energy, his hand caresses his horse’s muzzle. Maria Mussova appeals to origins as they exist in her own imagination. This personal approach helps her create works that communicate with a wide range of spectators."

#circassian #adyghe #caucaus #europe #folklore #russian #caucausian

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wastelandhell · 10 months

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I absolutely love your character Val! I'm a newer follower so I don't know much about him, but I love whenever you draw him. could you tell me more about his story? or how he ended up with Danse or even what their dynamic with each other is?

Ah thank you <3 I used to post more "lore" stuff on here and theres a bunch if you go way back in his tag, but in the last year I've just been kind of posting a lot of out-of-context and au stuff with no connection.

Him and Danse are both very opinionated men, and those opinions rarely align. They spend about as much time arguing as they do getting along, their relationship through most of the game is equal parts mutual pining and divorced.

They are finally able to acknowledge their feelings for each other shortly before "The Nuclear Option", but mutually split afterwards while Danse tries to find himself and Val focuses on establishing a stable home for Shaun. They reconnect about a year later when the commonwealth is in less of a state of crisis, and are finally able to pursue their relationship.

You know what, I haven't posted anything about him in a while, who's ready for a

This is not going to be very edited or formatted because I am a clown so. Sorry in advance.

A brief overview?

His "real" name is Vasili Gavriilovich Andonov but he goes by Valerie Anderson wherever he can, and does his best to hide his russian ancestry. He prefers people call him Val, though most of the brotherhood soldiers refer to him as Andonov. He hates people referring to him as Vasya or using his patronymic name, though thankfully there aren't a lot of people in the commonwealth who use russian naming conventions.

He's an autistic, bisexual, depressed alcoholic who indulges in stimulants a bit more than he should. He's surprisingly good at playing guitar, especially slide blues with his steel resonator guitar. He loves aircraft and built/painted scale models before the war. He's very lonely, even when around people who like him he never feels like he belongs. His birthday is Jan 12th, which is coincidentally a sort of holiday for the cryonics community.

He'll spend a lot of time looking inward and ruminating, and can identify a lot of his personal problems, but is not very good at "fixing" them. So he just kind of mopes around and wallows in self-loathing and self-pity. He's very gullible, and hates people messing with him. While he struggles a lot socially he is very intelligent, and is a genius with anything with an engine. Before the war he worked on vertibirds for the us military. His support of the brotherhood has nothing to do with their ideals; just that they keep him fed, paid, and let him work on aircraft. He's not particularly concerned with "saving" the commonwealth, he just wants to hurt the people who have hurt him.

Gameplay-wise, he's a melee/power armour build, with his highest stats INT and END. He can built so many weird and wonderful things that either explode or he can beat you to death with. Maybe both. His LCK and CHR are pretty miserable, nobody likes him and things are constantly going wrong. Playing a melee character in survival with MAIM is... a task.

Some sort of timeline?

He's the son of Russian immigrants who met in the US, His father Gavriil was an angry alcoholic who worked for the government and his mother Lidiya was a stay-at-home mom and a fervent christian. He had a sister, Kseniya, who was almost his opposite; a very polite and reserved child.

Valerie was small as a kid; being ginger, autistic, queer, and an immigrant made him a frequent target of his peers. Paired with his fathers physical and emotional abuse at home this made him a very angry and defensive person.

He spent most of his time away from home, preferring to spend his time in the woods around their home or just walking around town. He started smoking when he was 12 and drinking when he was 14, stealing from his father. As he got older he missed more and more school, spending his time committing petty crimes and getting into trouble.

While his father was more directly hostile his mother was equally overbearing in her own way. Val would identify himself as agnostic and having no belief in god, but for all of her preaching he still harbors a lot of “catholic guilt”, and fears that when he dies he will go to hell.

As he got older he quickly sprung from a small kid to a tall, muscular teenager. While he never learned to get along with his peers he learned to adapt an imposing, aggressive and masculine personality to defend himself.

When Val became too large for his father to easily push around he turned his anger towards Kseniya, whom Val was fiercely protective of. This only raised tensions at home, and Val and his father would get in frequent physical altercations. He contemplated leaving when he was 16 and could drive, but didn’t want to abandon his sister.

Eventually things came to a head when both of them had been drinking and Valerie came home late. Their fight got particularly nasty, and Val broke a bottle over his fathers head. He was immediately out cold, and Val was left shocked, covered in his fathers blood, believing he had just killed him. This would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Kseniya was home at the time, and ran in when she heard the yelling. Val tried to convince her to come with him, but she was shocked and terrified and refused to leave. Fearing retribution, and before he could really process what he had done, Val took any cash he could and the keys to his fathers car and fled.

He sold his fathers car and got something less traceable, which he lived out of for the next several years while he jumped around state to state. He picked up the occasional day job, but mostly supported himself by stealing cars and running drugs.

After he left is when he began going by Valerie Anderson. At first it was out of fear that he was wanted under his legal name, but he soon realized how much better people treated him if he had an “american” name.

When he was 20 he was eventually picked up for a minor offense, but given the political climate at the time he was offered the opportunity to join the military rather than face charges. As much as Val hated the government he was still very afraid of being connected to his fathers murder, and jumped at the chance to avoid any legal issues.

In his time in the military he discovered a love for aircraft, and pursued it doggedly. He got his GED, and went on to earn a masters in aerospace engineering. He never bothered with friends or relationships, he put all of his time into education and work. Lived and breathed for aircraft.

While Val enjoyed his job he continued to struggle with his mental health and substance abuse. He would frequently get into fights, eventually he got into a bar fight bad enough he nearly killed someone, getting the scars on his face at the same time.

While he was in trouble with the law he would end up working with his new attorney, Laura Walsh. She was elegant, graceful, composed, brilliant, persuasive, someone who always got what she wanted. And had terrible taste in men. Before the case was even over they started hooking up.

Their relationship was strictly friends-with-benefits, neither of them really cared for the other as a person and it was just sex. Over time, despite their best efforts, they came to see past the carefully crafted personas that they both presented to the world and fell in love with the people behind them.

He was 29 when they met, and they married less than 3 years later. They were moved to Boston for Val’s work, and it seemed like they would be staying for a while so they tried to establish themselves. Val tried to quit drinking around this time but struggled to face reality sober for the first time, and frequently slipped back.

Laura had always wanted children but Val was initially very against the idea. He still held a lot of unaddressed trauma from his own childhood and did not feel that he could ever be a good father.

Eventually Laura convinced him otherwise, and he agreed, again making an effort to clean himself up. When she fell pregnant his anxiety led to him having a breakdown at work, afterward he admitted himself to an inpatient rehab and spent 6 weeks there. From here until the start of the game was probably the best time of his life; sober, medicated and attending regular therapy sessions.

While Val was worried about his capacity to be a father, as soon as Shaun was born he lost that. That kid was his life, he did everything for him. He stayed on a break from work while Laura returned to practice, being a stay-at-home dad and throwing himself into domestic life. He even built a robot housekeeper!

His sister tracked him down somewhere around here and they began communicating through the post. She reveals that his father survived the attack, and was still alive, though she hadn’t spoken to him in years. They were planning to meet in person in the winter, though obviously that didn’t happen.

He was 33 when he went into the vault, and the main fo4 plot takes ~3 years to complete, but I think I’ve made this post long enough and I am too drunk and tired to keep typing. Safe to say hijinks ensue.

tl;dr hes an orange cringefail loser, and im hopelessly in love with him.

#asks #val #if you actually read all of that thank you. and im sorry.#id love to say english isnt my first language but it is. im just terrible at writing.#fallout

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pudding-parade · 2 years

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A Distant Glacier by MySimRealty

Are you looking for a world to play a colder-climate scenario in? This might be a good one. It's an old world, from 2010, so from before the Seasons EP, but the terrain painting and roads and whatnot are such that about 1/3 of the playable part of the world is always snow-covered, and there's also frost in the terrain painting of the green parts.

MySimRealty is one of my favorite world creators, and if you are familiar with this creator's other, newer worlds, you'll definitely recognize the rudiments of her style in this world. That said, this world isn't available on her site. I'm not sure why. I think it's a pretty cool (no pun intended) little world, so I can't see how she'd be unhappy with it. I thought maybe it might have some major, unresolved playability issues, but I had NRaas Story Progression create and move in 12 families and let the world run for five simdays to see if there'd be any issues, and there were none. Not a single one, not even a single stuck sim. The only issue I noticed during that time was some oddly-parked food trucks. They'd park across the streets, so that they look like they'd be blocking traffic going both ways, though of course taxis drive right through them. That aside, everything ran smoothly, and my sim and others had no problems using anything on the community lots.

So, I can't figure out why this world isn't out there anymore. In fact, I'm not even sure where I got it. If I had to guess, it's probably on one of the Russian re-upload sites, but I'm not feeling like looking through them to find it, which is why the title of the post isn't a link this time. Instead, I just reuploaded a .world file here or here, so if you want it, get it at one of those links. If you download it, the file goes in your install files under GameData - Shared - NonPackaged - Worlds.

The world only requires Ambitions and Riverview. There's no Store content aside from Riverview items and no CC. It's 1024x1024, but the playable area is only about half of that. It has all of the base game rabbitholes and all basegame and Ambitions lot types. (The firehouse is EA; the others are original.) It has all of the spawners that existed as of Ambitions, except the WA fish ones.

The world has about 80 lots total, split pretty evenly between community and residential. There are 18 empty lots. One of the community lots is built but empty inside, so it's ready to become whatever. Maybe a bar or club or arcade, or it might be good to use as shops if you use a merchant mod. All of the built residential lots are fully-furnished and ready to go. A few of them are duplicates, but they are all original builds, and the majority of them have at least two bedrooms. Two of the residential lots are "apartments," but since the world pre-dates Late Night, they don't function like Late Night apartments. I imagine you could make them do so it if you add the necessary markers.

There is a thread on the official forums from August of 2010 about testing this world here. Some of the issues mentioned in that thread -- particularly trees which have branches that intrude into houses and that can't be removed -- still exist, but they aren't really a problem in terms of playing.

More info and pictures behind the cut!

Here we have map view and Edit Town view of the entire playable area of the world. As you can see, it's split into three sections. There's the "glacier" in the middle, which is permanently snow-covered, and there are the two green areas. The one on the left has most of the rabbitholes. Residential lots are scattered throughout all three areas.

Here are some of the residential lots in various parts of the world:

Most of the houses have exteriors that are a combination of wood and stone in natural colors, which is appropriate for a colder climate. Personally, although they're pretty to look at, I'd get rid of the ever-blooming flowers and flowering shrubs and switch out most of the really green deciduous trees for more conifers, or maybe some birches/aspens, on the residential lots as well as throughout the world. That would make it look more authentically like a colder/taiga biome. But maybe that's just me.

Now for some community lots:

This is a little laundromat. The salon and the consignment shop look a lot like it, with the same roof and the same brick exterior. Also, the laundromat, salon, and consignment shop are all about the same size.

This is the larger of the two gyms in the world. I'm not sure why the world has two gyms, but there's this one, which is in the part of the world that has most of the rabbitholes, and then there's a smaller one just outside the stadium rabbithole in the other green section of the world. I guess the smaller one is convenient for those in the sports career, so maybe that's why there are two gyms.

This is the library that, for some reason, has a really tall roof. I'd lower that sucker by quite a bit. :) Then, on the left side of the pic is a small art gallery.

This is a little chapel. Inside it has some chairs, a stereo, and a fridge. Up front is a table that I guess is supposed to be an altar. It doesn't have a wedding arch. (Did the game not have wedding arches prior to Generations? I can't remember off the top of my head.) You could add an arch and maybe the podium from University Life to make it more church-y, but there isn't a whole lot of room inside or outside, so I don't think you could make it into a proper "wedding venue."

The junkyard and the graveyard.

This is my testing sim using the public pool. I'm thinking that I'd get rid of this lot (as well as the private pools that some of the houses have) because...Well, cold climate. LOL There is an indoor pool at the large gym which can serve the community's swimming needs. I suppose you could pretend that these are hot spring pools, but, as a person who lives in a cold climate, I can say that outdoor non-hot-spring pools aren't really a thing because you can only use them for maybe a few weeks out of the year. :)

This is the grocery rabbithole, which has a community garden on the same lot, which is an interesting idea.

The world also has several parks/playgrounds, a beach, a few fishing spots, and the EA fire station from Ambitions.

And I think that's all I have to say. We'll finish out with some random pics. :)

#sims 3 #world overview #world overview wednesday #sims 3 pictures #sims 3 scenery

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2frosty4you · 4 months

Text

Forgot how annoying writing longer chapters was for me qwq,

erm so have the first 1k words from the next chapter of scorched!!! Not the full chapter, probs like half of it, trying to get over that 2k mark for chapters :3c

(reader x tf2) | she/her | like 1k words | 'FAKEOUT'

She stood there, eyes slowly looking around her face painted with confusion. Heavy kept walking without her, picking up a lanky robot with such ease, and throwing into a far corner of the training room. The sound of the robotic crash echoed, flowed straight back into her ears making her brain scratch with an uncomfortable feeling of familiarity.

(Y/n) stepped forwards from the double doors, letting it swing back into place behind her, looking around to get a better view of this new area. Paint was messily applied to the walls, an arrow painted on it with red paint, a rainbow painted on as if a child was drawing it. Several scorch-marks painting the floors and walls. Tilting her head up she could even see that the ceiling wasn't safe as there was one large charred patched in the center of the room, with smaller holes covering it with no rhyme or reason to their placements.

Shrapnel littered the floor, every step was joined by the crunch of glass, wood or bits of metal which her foot pushed to the side. "Uh" she started, catching Heavy's attention. "what is this place?" she finished, her eyes focusing on the large pile of several robotic heads in the corner near the door with a dramatic sign reading "DO NOT TOUCH" plastered above it with an American flag in the corner.

"Is training room" The Russian replied, picking up yet another robot as if it weighted nothing but a couple of feathers. When her (e/c) eyes trailed down to meet faces with the robot she froze up, the robot. The robot looked suspiciously like the large man holding it. Down to his nose shape, his facial features and she could bet if it wasn't missing the bottom half of it's body it would be standing at the same height; maybe taller, than Heavy himself. (Y/n) let out an uncomfortable laugh, her gloved hands rubbing together, if her gloves weren't there she'd be picking into her skin.

Letting her eyes fall back down to look at it again she could see the scorch-marks in the side of its face, its left eye dismantled and frayed wires sparking, one arm fallen to the floor scrapping along the concrete as Heavy moved. Dents in its head and body as bullet holes littered it's chest. Something like a shotgun. It's head cracked open, mouth widening to let its mechanical skeleton be exposed, she grimaced as it's one remaining eye burned a bright white, staring at her.

The robot was uncanny, she didn't want to look at the machine for long. It just felt like it was looking deep into her soul. So far back it was reading off her past crimes like a cheap judge at the pearly white gates.

"You want me to fight that ? " She questioned, her voice a mumble as she walked a little closer, eyes still met with the robot's one piercing white one. The led light was sure bright and somehow still working even if the robot it was inside was on its deathbed. She swears it moved when she stepped closer, moved to either keep its sights on her to just to watch her closer and know what she looked like.

She poked it lightly, she couldn't feel it under from inside the heat resident gloves but it moved back, making a metallic noise as it's body moved against itself. "No. These are garbage, not good to fight. Engineer has built new one for Pyro to train with."

She looked up at heavy, nodding with some understanding. "Makes sense.. these look very dismantled" Her eyes moving to the pile of heads, Heavy sighed deeply. "Is Soldier's pile" He replied, dropping the robot to the floor with the rest of them against the wall. All of them in similar condition, it's head was still cranked up which kept it's back straight, letting it continue to watch her. Or well continue to let the someone, who was looking in through that one burning bright eye, watch her for longer.

"so uh, to engineer we go then?" (Y/n) asked, their eyes trailing the room once again briefly. He nodded in response, not saying a word, clearly he was a man of few words and she was okay with that, less talking for her. He opened the door for her to go through and he led her towards Engineer's garage, office, warehouse or well she didn't know what to refer it as.

As they walked she lost herself into thought, she didn't know why Heavy had shown her that room. When it was quite obvious they weren't going to use it to do the training. Maybe it was a threat? Like a show of power, of what this group was capable of. And how crazy some were, looking back at the pile of heads Soldier collected.

Or well, maybe it was a warning. Warning her of what was to come if she didn't perform well against the robots that Engineer had built.

She looked behind her quickly, swearing that she saw something from the corner of her eye, heavy looked back. She narrowed her eyes, maybe this place was gonna make her crazy like that American. "Probably Scout playing prank" Heavy gave an answer, and she looked up. eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed, she didn't believe it. I mean she hasn't been here for long. 2 days atleast so she didn't know the team that well, or she didn't know anything but their appearances and their 'names'. But whatever she saw flash was a bright white light. low to the ground and rolling away.

"ha, well, uh, guess that makes sense" She hummed, still tensed up and clearly uncomfortable.

Engineer opened the door to his workshop with a smile, waving his non gloved hand as a becoming guested to the two Slavic's who stood before his door.

Posted 30.05.2024

#↪⋆ghostywrites #↪⋆GhostyFics #↪⋆Scorched #↪⋆tf2 #tf2 x reader #wip #WIP #writing wip #↪⋆GhostySFW #team fortress two #x reader #current wip #snippet #wips

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feverinfeveroutfic · 2 months

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my arm hath been twisted. along with the titles, i’ll share the actual kinks (titles are my own in the quotation marks, but you can use the prompts yourselves! don’t forget to tag me here on the fever blog as well as my main, josiebelladonna)

for Tijuana sunrise, the main event:

“Treacle” - mask kink

”And You Will Know Me” - deep throating

”Cactus Jack’s” - temperature play

”Cardamom Kisses” - aphrodisiacs

“Bluebonnets” - sadism/masochism

”Wandering and Wandering” - lace/leather

“Hai-Bar” - blood kink

”Espresso” - stripping

”Songkran Drought” - knife play

”Tierra del Fuego” - aquaphilia

”Jack of Hearts” - sex toys

”Areias do Tempo” - pyrophilia

“Red” - accidental stimulation

“Lily Munster Ain’t Got Nothin’ On You” - prostitution

“Ugly Truth” - orgasm denial

”’Til Tel Aviv” - nipple play

”Sandstone” - masturbation

“Playa La Ropa” - body worship

”Bastards and Boozehounds” - seduction

”Pulmonaria” - voyeurism

”Prayer Hands” - branding

”Spiderwebs on the Heart” - handjobs

”Olives” - scars

”Don the Beachcomber” - late night sex

”Lady Godiva’s House” - boot worship

”Devil’s Tea Time” - threesome

”Ten Miles High” - erotic photos

”Amorsolo” - intimate artistry

”Lilac Treehouse” - graveyard sex

”Painted Roses” - erotic asphyxiation

“Lunatic Kibbitz” - olfactophilia (fascination with scents and smells)

the bonus fics (i’m just doing these myself because of my belly kink and as a birthday gift to alex in respective order, but again, you can join me if you’d like)

“The Hungry Lion Throws Itself on the Antelope” (prompts courtesy of @oops-all-kink) i reckon this will be the one that kills me because even though belly kink is one of my main ones, it’s the one i’m most sensitive, even apprehensive, about. if anything, i think i can pin my body issues and everything wrong with me on this kink here.

Warm food on a cold day (“smoky”)

Pillow (“black satin”)

Ate too fast (“Imodium”)

Illness (“rafa”)

First date (“Jesus H.ad a Stroke”)

Kink (“infernal bloodlust”)

Stuffing (“what’s with the shirt?”)

Vacation (“cruzin’”)

Eating contest (“rich tea”)

Bakery (“with a schmear”)

Trying something new (“rumor has it”)

Rumbles and growls (“are you afraid?”)

Surprise (“february ghosts”)

Button popping (“peek a boo!”)

Stomachache (“hide me?”)

Hand feeding (“white velvet cake”)

Belly rubs (“rabbit’s foot”)

Weight gain (“needles”)

Indulgence (“cut your crooked teeth”)

Drink (“bleedforme”)

Emeto (“don’t look so shocked”)

Cooking (“just eat fast food”)

Hunger (“ginger snaps”)

Content creator (“have a biscuit”)

In public (“walk in the woods”)

Drama king/queen (“black cat”)

Party (“SHake Up wiTh gaUges of Perfect MAlt or DiamonDs or whiskeY”)

Sleepy (“crimson silk”)

Spicy food (“small dogs or worms”)

Kisses (“devil’s elevenses”)

Sweets (“white russian”)

”Paradise” (my gift to alex)

Roleplay (“Clouds of Violet”)

Corsets (“Bridgeport”)

Hair Kink (“Ivy”)

Formal wear (“Blood Garnets”)

Gun Play (“Sugar Kane”)

Strip Poker (“Neon and Argon”)

Shibari (“Hey, Jim”)

Lingerie (“Broomsticks”)

Bathtub (“Richer, Richest”)

One Night Stand (“Burning Desire”)

Phone Sex (“The Dream Catcher”)

Halloween (“The Cannibal”)

Day of the Dead (“Black Pudding of Bones”)

Rosh Hashanah (“Gold Rush”)

Spanking (“Rhubarb Pie”)

Voice Kink (“The Faceless One”)

#fanfic #fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober prompts #kinktober 2024 #kinktober list #kinktober masterlist #writing #text

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