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ellewritesalright · 11 months ago

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The Lost Princess - Part 1

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Synopsis: The old Queen Mother of Kerch's former royal family is offering a hefty reward to whoever returns her rumored-to-be-alive granddaughter to her. Kaz being Kaz hears about the reward and hatches an elaborate plot involving a fake princess. Reader is a lowly amnesiac orphan and escaped indenture who flees to Ketterdam where she gets tangled in Kaz Brekker's plot.

A/N: Hello friends!! Here is part one of a series I started writing a few years back but never published. It's inspired by the movie and musical Anastasia. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope it makes enough sense haha

Warnings: sickness, mentions of death, mentions of drowning, mentions of violence. pls let me know if I've missed anything

Word Count: 2056

..........

It was happening again.

You sat upright in the bed of your cheap lodgings, swinging your legs to the side and touching the floor. The threadbare rug was itchy against your toes as you took deep breaths, a desperate attempt at grounding yourself. Still, the dizziness did not subside. It came along every so often, never without the cryptic nightmares. There was always vertigo and memories of plunging into dark waters.

At least, you thought they must be memories. There was a significant gap in your mind from birth to the age of about ten, and the first thing you could remember was waking up on a fishing boat on the True Sea. The fishers handed you over to their boss, a wealthy merchant named Devisser, once you made port, and you were made to work for him in a fifteen-year indenture. You had worked as a scullery maid in that man's second home on the southern shores, but you managed to escape your indenture five years early, running off to Ketterdam.

Nowadays you were free to do whatever you pleased--if it was within budget, of course. You had precious little in your life, and you couldn't squander your money in the gambling dens of the city.

You had to be smart if you were to make it to Os Kervo. Another maid at the house had said that there was a better chance of smuggling yourself to Novyi Zem than to find a safe passage to Ravka, but you didn't let her sway you. You had to get to Os Kervo. It was difficult to explain, but you felt instinctively that someone was waiting there for you. In your dreams, the better and brighter ones where you could feel the warmth of arms around you, there was a voice that whispered, "I'll meet you there, my little tiger. We'll be together in Os Kervo."

The only trouble was how you could get there. You had no travel papers or identification, and it was difficult to obtain any--even fake ones--with such little money. It was a difficult position you were in.

So you went about your life, picking up odd jobs using fake names. Your name is already fake as it was. The surname, Vos, was given to you by one of the more kind fishers who pulled you from the water. He gathered a mound of blankets around you and sat with his arm around you, trying desperately to keep you warm. Sometimes you wondered about him, wondered whether he was still fishing for Devisser. Perhaps if the captain of that ship had not seen fit to hand you over to their boss the kind fisher would have taken you in. Life might have been better if you had been offered a chance at a family instead of an apron and a crushing daily workload.

Your feet carried you to the wardrobe in this shabby lodging room. You had to sweep a spider off your jacket before you slipped it on. The morning air was a nice reprieve against your warm face as you walked down the streets. Shops were opening, food vendors were starting the fire in their ovens; Ketterdam was waking up.

You meant to walk further than the Barrel, but you stopped as you saw the window of some sort of pawn shop. There was a dress in the window. It was the emerald green of a kind of fabric you had never owned but knew instinctively would be smooth to the touch, like a flat stone one might skip on the ocean. There was something so familiar about the short ruffles of the over-the-shoulder sleeves; perhaps you had seen a guest at the big house wearing something similar when you used to spy from the door to the servant's quarters.

There was no way you would be able to purchase such a beautiful gown, you barely had enough money to get by as it was, but you were drawn into the shop because of it. You had to spend some more time around it and the other beautiful items in the shop. You hadn't been around such lavish things since… well, never.

The bell above the shop door jangled, alerting a woman at the counter to your appearance. She smiled, but the sight struck you in the chest. As an amnesiac orphan, you learned early on that people saw you as weak, helpless, and naive. For your youth and lack of guidance, you were perceived as easy pickings, and people tried their tricks on you more often than you could count, especially here in Ketterdam. You'd learned to tell what was genuine and what was fake when you interacted with others, and the woman's smile was the first real smile you'd seen in a long time.

"A beautiful dress for a beautiful young lady," the woman said.

You shook your head with a pleasant enough smile. "I was just looking. I could never afford such a thing."

"And yet here you are in my shop." She followed your eyes to a case of assorted valuables. When she saw the dull music box you stared at she hummed. "Would you like to know a secret?" You turned to her "That music box is from the old palace. It belonged to the missing princess herself, I swear on Ghezen and the saints."

You pondered the validity of her words, keeping a level expression so as not to upset her with your doubt. Everything you heard about the dead royal family seemed like it happened a lifetime ago, and no amount of rumours about one of their daughters being alive somewhere would make it any less a ghost story.

Still, you smiled politely. Despite her pleasant expression, she was only trying to sell you something, something you would not need even if you could have it. It wasn't even the most eye-catching thing in the display, just a decrepit old music box of tarnished silver. The music probably didn't even play anymore.

"It's lovely," you lied, "though I don't believe I could afford it."

"I could give you a special deal. I like to think there's something in my shop for everyone. The music box deserves to go home with you."

"That's generous, but--truly--I cannot make a purchase."

She tilted her head at you. "What is it you want, my dear? You've come into my shop, looked around, and you have the nerve to refuse my generosity--what is holding you back?"

"I've already told you," you said, "I couldn't afford it."

"And if I gave something for free?"

You brushed her off. "That's a terrible business model."

"Perhaps. But I like you, little runaway that you are. You're a long way from home--you deserve something nice."

You felt your pulse quicken. She shouldn't have known that. You weren't on the list of runaway indentures, so the stadwatch wouldn’t be looking for you. You breathed in before you could turn to her, balancing your composure with great care. Emotions were not useful in situations like this. "What brought you to that conclusion?"

"You keep your head down, which is normal in the Barrel, but you're not doing it out of habit, you're doing it out of fear. You must be hiding from something--from someone."

She was apt, you'd give her that. The trouble was figuring out the degree to which you could trust her. She could sell you back to Devisser in a second if she wanted to, but she could also be willing to help you. After all, she did say she liked you. You looked her in the eyes and then spoke.

"I'm trying to get to Ravka. The thing is, I don't have the money for travel papers, be they legal or illegal. I can't afford even that, and I could never afford anything in your shop." You straightened out, about to leave. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time--"

"Brekker can help you."

You stopped in your tracks.

“He can get you to Ravka, no travel papers necessary.”

You faced her again, questioning, “Where can I find this Brekker?”

“He owns a club down the road from here. The sign has one of those annoying blackbirds on it.”

“A raven?”

“No, a pesky crow.” She fiddled with a set of keys around her neck. “Anyways, he can help you on your way. I assure you.”

“How much will this information cost me?”

“Nothing, my dear. I hope you make it to Ravka.”

You thanked her, ducking your head as you left the shop. You kept a wary eye about you as you wove through the streets, finding your way back to your lodgings. There was little trust in such a wicked city as Ketterdam, specifically here in the barrel, and you were constantly looking out for any sign of danger. The shopkeeper wasn’t dangerous, not from what you could tell, but you had to keep your wits. One false move and you could be sent back to Devisser.

You couldn’t let that happen.

..........

Kaz stepped out from the back of the shop after the bell above the door rang out once more, signifying your departure. He was lucky to have been behind a particularly packed shelf furthest from the door, else you would have seen him and wouldn’t have explained your plan to Eugenia, the shopkeeper. Eugenia, for her part, did well to nudge you in the direction of the Crow Club. Undoubtedly she would want some credit for that, he knew. And, just as he thought, she brought it up as soon as he reappeared.

"I've found your missing princess for you, Kaz," Eugenia smirked. "And how valuable she'll be for you."

"You didn't do anything for me, Eugenia. She'll be just as impossible as the others," he retorted.

He'd been auditioning young women to play the part of the missing princess for months now. Ever since he'd heard of a hefty reward posed by the old duchess and grandmother to the princess, he'd devised a plan, learning everything he could about the toppled royal family.

"I think she's the one. Do you know why?"

He kept his stare neutral, but the disapproval remained on his lips in permanence. Eugenia liked to speak as though she knew best, leading tourists and tramps into traps as she sold them tin under the guise that it was rare silver. Even wisdom offered by her would be false.

She continued. "She'll play the part--and she'll be damn good at it--because she's desperate. Desperation makes us do what we otherwise would not."

He tilted a brow at her. "What do you want?"

"Waive six months of my rent," she said. There was no way she thought that he would accept this deal. He didn't even have confirmation that you would find him or that you would be willing to go through with his masquerade. Eugenia was a fool.

"If she is a good fit for the princess, I will waive one month of your rent," he bargained.

"Hold on, she is going to make you a million Kruge--I deserve more than a month for that."

Kaz frowned at her, leaning into his cane. Who was she to make demands? "Firstly, there's no guarantee that she can do the job. Secondly, even if she is a good fit, I don't owe you anything. You decided to send her to me before you thought to broker a deal; I don't owe you a thing."

She thumbed at her ring of keys. Eugenia was upset with herself and with him, he could tell.

"If she can play the part," Kaz said, straightening out, "I am willing to waive three months of your rent on the condition that you supply me with whatever I might need from this shop free of cost."

"Whatever you need for the job, right? I can't just give you anything you want from now on."

He nodded. "Just for the job. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal."

Kaz left the shop without the rent that he'd initially come to collect, but with something much more valuable if he played his cards right. He'd only caught a glimpse of you, but he was inclined to believe what Eugenia said. Desperation makes us do what we otherwise would not, and you had sounded plenty desperate.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the other parts of this series please comment on this part or send me an ask. And if you want to request a fic, please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Part 2

Tags: @justvibbinghere @happyhauntt

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #the lost princess

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opencharacters · 15 days ago

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Columbo first appeared on the Chevy Mystery Show in 1960. However Peter Falk's version of the character wouldn't appear until 1971.

I looked it up and both still fall under the 95 years after publication rule, so they will become public domain in 2056 and 2067 respectively.

However, in the meantime, Columbo was inspired by Father Brown from G.K Chesterton's series of the same name, first appearing in the 1910 short story The Blue Cross.

Father Brown is public domain.

#public domain #copyright #columbo

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wall-maria-around-ba-sing-se · 19 days ago

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What generations are Xenoblade Chronicles X characters in?

(calculations based on the year 2056 and in-game given ages)

Millennial : Maurice Chausson (65)

Gen Z : Nagi (57), Bozé (54), Vandam (48)

Gen α : Lao(31)*, Doug (30)*, Frye (30)*

Gen β : Elma (29), HB (28), Eleonora (28), Irina (27), "Hero"(late 20s), Murderess (26), Gwin (24), Hope (24), Phog (24), Yelv (22), Cross(**), Alexa (21), Mia (19), Celica (18)

Gen γ : Lin (13), Tatsu (13)

*depending on which date range you use, these are all close enough to the edge that you could consider them Gen Beta

** despite Cross' age technically being determined by the player, dialogue suggests Cross "canonically" appears to be old enough to drink in the United States but young enough to still get carded

#Maurice: The Last Millennial #How does everyone feel about Bozé being Gen Z? Because that felt gross to me #xenoblade #xenoblade x #xenoblade chronicles x #xcx

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thegeneticopera · 1 year ago

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after seeing many misconceptions on the ages of the characters and also the general lack of knowledge on relevant key events, I thought I'd create a timeline!

A comprehensive breakdown of important dates in Repo! The Genetic Opera:

1993: Rotti Largo was born (July 14th)

2006: On April 5th, the first ever death for NOS (Neuro-Overstimulation Syndrome) was recorded. GeneCo was then founded later that month in Milan, Italy by Giuseppe Largo and Dr. Michael Whatley who eventually discovered a treatment using an experimental drug called Zydrate and genetic manipulation.

2011: Marni was born (No date)

2016: Nathan was born (No date)

2017: Blind Mag was born (July 5th)

2019: Luigi Largo was born (November 20th)

2024: Pavi Largo was born (September 29th)

2025: By this point, The Genetic Opera, an interactive TV show, was sponsored by GeneCo to promote designer organs and keep the public "status-conscious" in order to continue boosting profits.

2032: Carmela Largo/Amber Sweet was born (August 23rd)

2035: Graverobber was born (No date)

2036: Marni brings Mag to meet Rotti Largo

2039: Shilo Wallace was born (August 27th), Marni Wallace dies, Nathan becomes a repo man

2040: Mag's eye transplants (March 21st)

2048: Blind Mag's Corpus Crusade tour

2053: Tao of Mag, a charity concert event held for blindness

2056: Rotti signs his last will and testament, declaring Shilo as the sole heir of his estate (August 7th). The events of the film take place on November 7th - Nathan, Rotti, and Mag die. Shilo presumably goes missing. Amber takes over GeneCo at a later unspecified date.

Some common misconceptions cleared up by the timeline:

Mag did not receive her eyes at 19, the date listed on her repossession chart says otherwise

Marni and Mag have a relatively large age gap. At the time in which Marni brought Mag to meet Rotti, she was already 25, and Mag was only 19. I personally like to think that Marni was a singing mentor of some sort (since in Chase the Morning we see that Mag has a memory of Marni singing), and perhaps worked with disabled people and this is how they met!

The age difference between Shilo and Graves is only 4 years!

Mag and Luigi only have a two year age difference. Her being under GeneCo's thumb since she was 19 and Luigi was 17 is probably why they have a relationship.

On that topic, Nathan is only 3 years older than Luigi, there's no way him or Mag could have "baby sat" the Largos as children if they're all approximately the same age (excluding Amber, but considering Nathan had his own daughter to raise and was a repoman and Mag was a world class opera singer I still doubt that would be the case)

This one doesn't have a specific date, but I felt it should be added regardless: Pavi's face disfigurement seemingly happened very recent to events of Repo! We see several times within the film that there are posters and billboards of him with his original face, even in the pictures Rotti has he didn't have the scarring yet. The posters say that GeneCo offering face replacements will be happening in 2057. Pavi was the one in charge of that, and he was stealing faces prior to his scarring (as seen in the pictures). We also know from several sources, including Luigi himself, that Pavi's face happened because of a botched surgery. It's safe to assume this was because of the new face replacement campaign that was being offered, and it was within the last year or two before the events in the film.

#repo! the genetic opera #repo the genetic opera #r!tgo #rtgo #mod luigi #blind mag #luigi largo #pavi largo #amber sweet #shilo wallace #repo graverobber #nathan wallace #timeline

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theanagyakaari · 29 days ago

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The way Indian soap operas do not give a flying fuck about continuity is absolutely insane like theoretically, the current year in yeh rishta kya kehlata hai should be at LEAST 2056. That's literally the minimum if you take the assumption everyone gets married at eighteen.

#desi tag #desi teen #desi tumblr #desiblr #yrkkh #yeh rishta kya kehlata hai

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offender42085 · 9 months ago

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Post 1238

Before and After...

Isaac Colden Duran, South Carolina inmate 384356, born 2002, incarceration intake November 2020 at age 18, scheduled for release October 2040

Voluntary Manslaughter

In October 2022, the First Judicial Circuit Court sentenced Isaac Duran, 18, to 25 years in prison for his role in a 2018 murder.

When Duran was just 15 years old, he and three others were involved in the shooting of Stacey Bradley. Duran was convicted of manslaughter, while the other defendants were convicted of murder.

Also involved were:

Mattthew Zalenski, born 2000, South Carolina inmate 384188, scheduled for release May 2056;

Miriam Hannah Leigh Bortz, born 2001, South Carolina inmate 384800, scheduled for release May 2058; and

Demacian Israel Middleton, born 1999, South Carolina inmate 385046, scheduled for release February 2031.

According to the Dorchester County Sheriff’s Office, Bradley was shot outside of the Archdale Forest Apartment Complex.

The sheriff's office also said all four reportedly confessed to the details of the murder, and admitted to discussing a plan to shoot Bradley prior to the meeting.

Court documents stated the defendants drove to the apartment complex to buy marijuana from Bradley.

#inmate

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sseomtada · 9 months ago

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baby, te quiero comer ya [dominik szoboszlai]

you reunite with an old friend upon his arrival to liverpool.

warnings: 18+ | wc: 2056 | parts: 1

an: originally posted 08/2023

“You know it was always meant to be me, right?” His breath fans against the back of your neck.

The question has to take a chaotic path to your mind, battling the most fearsome opponents. Thunderous cries and howls of want and need rushing ahead as his fingers raked up the middle of your stomach, hiking up what little coverage your crop top provided.

You knew a lot of things.

The first being that going braless tonight was a brilliant decision. You coo at his warm palm ghosting over your cold, crystalized nipples. He chuckles softly at witnessing the beginning of your undoing.

The second thing you knew was that he ought to select his floor in this elevator before someone had the chance to spring the door open. Though, imagine it, what would his neighbors think?

To see him pressing to your back like this, hands squeezing your aching breasts as you gasp and arch into him. All while you watch them watch you in the mirrored walls.

“Pick your floor.” You shudder.

“I like it here,” He kneads your chest. “Though, this one…”

One of his hands comes down to cup you through your denim shorts. You drop your hips instantly, hoping and achieving your goal of feeling his fingers prod at your clenching hole.

“Nah, you’re not ready yet.” He laughs breathily.

You’re suddenly a victim of gravity again as he pulls away abruptly, but your wits are quick. Your back leans against the mirror, chest heaving while you watch him fetch his card holder and press it to the keypad. Penthouse was his choice.

“What do you mean by that?” The anger comes belatedly like everything else when you’re around him.

Dominik stalks over to you, sizing you up in a way that absolutely infuriates you.

It’s the look you hated growing up. The one that stupid, awkward, goofily cute guy that moved in next door wore. His silly laugh, and cocky expressions when he played in his backyard as you watched from the sides of your eyes over the fence.

Even as he blossomed, just before he moved away - the time you began to love his playful arrogance. How he insisted on that last night you’d spent alone on your roof that he was your first love, Adam be damned. You resented how right he was then just as you do now.

Are you ready?

You spent so much of your life looking for a crumb of what you felt for him in so many other people. Yes, you smiled and you laughed and you experienced pleasure, but none of it compared to what you felt by just being near him.

The safety and security he provided. His warmth that he shared on winter nights when he bundled you up with him under the blanket on his patio. The vulnerability you expressed, having him see you in a way you’d never let anyone else.

“Until you say it out loud,” Dominik tilts your chin up and kisses you, gently. “Everything that I want to hear,” Another kiss, longer this time. “I don’t think you are.”

He’s always been like this - cheeky, challenging. You reckon it’s a big part of his game, the way he messes with his opposition. It’s easy to underestimate a pretty boy with a pretty smile, but you know better. A razor is always hidden under his tongue.

“I’m supposed to, what?” You look up at him through your lashes. “Just give it to you like that? No persuasion from your end?”

If he doesn’t recall how sharp your own tongue is, you’ll happily reintroduce him. For every smart comment he had, you wielded an even stronger reply. Dating in the wild for all these years only honed your skills.

Dominick releases your jaw only to dip two fingers into your mouth. You hold his gaze, swirling your tongue around them as he uses his free hand to unbuckle your pants. Their bagginess find them to your ankles quickly and discarded following clumsy kicks.

“Wait-“ You think about someone interrupting the lift.

“Won’t stop for anyone.” Dom shushes you.

He wedges a leg between yours and then slides his spit coated fingers into your panties. You’re shaking as he runs them over your clit towards your hole, collecting the juices that had pooled there since you decided to come back to his.

“Seems like I don’t have to do much.” His lips brush yours as he taunts.

“My pussy’s always this wet,” You lie blatantly. “Come on, Domi. At least make me cum.”

He pushes his fingers into you and your head drops against the glass. Your greedy little pussy swallows them, so he adds a third. It’s the type of stretch that has you leaning back, pushing your hips forward to feel them hit your g-spot.

“You always this dirty too?” His lithe fingers pump into you sinfully.

“O-only when I like someone.” You finally begin to soften.

Dominik doesn’t miss it. The pad of his thumb circles your clit appreciatively, earning him an airy whine. He lifts his thigh up too, fucking his digits beyond comprehension into your cunt.

You twitch and writhe, gnashing your head against the hard surface behind you as you ride his hand. Your hands seek wildly for purchase beside you, moans loud enough to surely echo down the chute filling the space with your impending release.

He catches your bunched up crop top in his teeth and pulls powerfully. It’s a move that raises your upper body to fall into his hold. He secures you with a hand on your ass while your hips rut over him.

“I like you so-so fucking much, I always have.” Your hands clutch his head, holding him tightly to your chest as you cum hard. “It’s always been you, Dom.”

Dominick lets out a noise that you can’t classify as either groan or cry before his lips are on, over, and between yours. He backs out of the long opened elevator, your touch heavy and desperate around his frame.

“I know, Y/N.” He rasps. “I know.”

It’s enough to stop you in your tracks. The elevator dings - closing and descending with your shorts in tow. You’re standing there fighting to regulate your breathing, clutching your favorite face of all time.

He’s not smiling or gloating. His eyes are sharp, bottom lip shuddering with his own forceful breaths. He’s not cocky in what he says. Rather, there’s a sense of relief in his tone.

He finally knows he’s not alone in this.

Wordlessly, you strip yourself bare in front of him. Shirt, boots, socks, panties - in that order. He does the same until you’re left swallowing. An invisible force pulls you into him, your hands splaying over the marbled column of his torso.

He trails his fingers down the middle of your spine as yours work up his chest and shoulders and back down again to brush his cock. A hiss bounces from the walls in response.

You make a fist around him, trying and failing to touch your fingers together. Dominick grips your ass and presses you close, pining the hand that’s working his cock between your bodies.

“Fuuckk…” He groans.

His strong hold rips you away. It isn’t the sensation that’s too much too soon, but the prelude - the intimacy in the way your eyes consume him and your hands discover him. If he wants this to last, he has to switch things up.

You’re spun to have him at your back again, his cock prodding between your legs. You whimper and slide it through your sticky folds. The feeling nearly breaks him. He literally falls to his knees, albeit cooly and slowly, bringing you by the hips along with him.

Dominick reclines with you on top of him, your knees spread wide with your thighs held open by his own. While he continues to glide through you, he moans right into your ear. It’s a sound that leaves you feeling a foreshadowing of an orgasm yet to come.

Together, you form a chorus of bliss when he tucks his tip into you. With some help from you, relaxing against his girth to accept it all, his entire cock fit. Though it felt like you’d waited an eternity for this moment, there’s no rush from either side.

You’re focusing on etching the feeling of his tightening abs against your back as he rolls his hips into you, splitting you in two, into memory. He’s completely lost in you. A victim to your undertow, fighting for his life beneath your current.

He buoys himself to you in any way he can. His lips ever present on your neck, your jaw. His hands - curving around your waist and grasping your breasts, and rubbing the swollen mound between your legs.

Dominik spanks it then, and you clench super tight around him. There’s a feeling both familiar and foreign to you in it, confusing you. You fuck yourself on his cock, begging him to do it again.

He does and harder this time. You place your heels to the floor and take him balls deep, grinding your hips quickly back and forth until a scream ripped itself from your core.

“Holy fucking shit!” Your legs press together.

His thighs are wet all over when your hips settle back down and you feel your face flush. All the times you’d actively tried to do that before in the past rushing to the forefront of your mind, each resulting in failure.

“Always this wet?” Domnik slurs.

He pushes from the ground to roll you on your side, your head resting on his bicep. Your lips instantly attach to the skin stretched taut over muscle there. Skilled fingers trace up the tendons of your inner thigh as he raises your leg.

“First time.” You croak drunkenly.

Dominik is eating it up, you can feel it in the teeth that scrape on your back of your neck. He provides one last bit of torture since it’s all he can take, cock digging through your ruins.

Your stomach sinks in and he presses a hand to it, swearing filthily in his native tongue at his ability to feel his dick when he enters you again. A fresh wave of tears pool in the corner of your eyes.

‘too good, Dom…

I‘m so close…

You tremble at the thought, both afraid and relieved that the end is near. His plump lips kiss along your hairline as he takes a firm grip of your hips in both hands. It’s a pleasure to learn that he becomes more vocal the nearer he gets to release.

His tone is gorgeous - a higher tenor, yet still on the grittier side. Throaty, like a singer whose voice is going raw from emotion. You hold your breath to listen and drink his noises in fully, barely holding on for a few seconds at a time with how he’s driving into your pussy.

“Ah- fuckfuckbaby-“

Dominik pulls out in time to cum over your stomach, his tongue twisting with praise. You grab his hand and lace your fingers in his. With them conjoined, you bring them to your lips, sucking on his protruding veins.

“Was it worth the wait?” You whisper.

“Oh, édesem,” Dominik sighs. “Megőrülök érte…“

You’re about to tell him you feel crazy about him too when the elevator dings.

A measly scrap in the form of his shirt is grabbed to drape pathetically over you two just in time for it to open. There’s no one inside, but your shorts are neatly folded on top of a covered tray.

Dominik gathers it all while you rise to your feet, joining him at his kitchen island. Under the cover sits a huge plate of fresh fries and condiments, and a note that reads:

Welcome to Liverpool, Mr. Szoboszlai!

(p.s. these are for the lucky lady x)

#dominik szoboszlai #dominik szoboszlai x reader #dominik szoboszlai x yn

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dankxsinatra · 1 month ago

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After the Biden admin and four years of a shadow presidency, I would not be shocked if in the next 25+ years, we don't even have living presidents anymore. Just a rotating avatars representing party's admins.

"Vote Ronald Reagan Tulpa 2056" and it's just the heritage foundation. The 'president' meets with other world leaders as a hologram like Tupac

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aston-axo · 7 months ago

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The year is 2056, F1 is now fully electric powered, Lando Norris is still Driver of The Day.

#austrian gp 2024 #f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #max verstappen #ln4 #mv33

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amgenesis · 2 months ago

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From Corpo Rat to Night City Boogeyman

FIA FILES #10191

Bio: 24, V Arima, Night City

Threat level: Omega

Former Arasaka Counter-intel turned Merc who's name strikes fear into the Gangoons and Corporations of Night City alike.

V aka The Oni (demon in Japanese folklore) is classified as Omega for

- Main cause of reduction in crime and cyberpsycho cases in Night City

- Orbital Air massacre of NUSA Spec Ops soldiers

- Single-handedly destroyed Arasaka (Night City) by waltzing through the front door

- Killing Adam Smasher

Languages spoken: English, Japanese

Born in Oct 12th 2053 to a Japanese father and Russian mother, V Arima grew up in a life of wealth. Sato Arima, V’s father is a high-ranking Arasaka executive and was sent to Night City from Tokyo to [REDACTED]. The family resided in Charter Hill from 2056 - 2075.

About V’s early life, his records from Arasaka academy suggests that V was a 4th Dan in Kendo and was really passionate for the sport explaining his natural gravitation towards the use of Katanas. His grades however wasn't the best, V was struggling in his academic achievements and was almost expelled from Arasaka academy if not for his father’s connections. V graduated Arasaka academy in 2071.

V is employed with Arasaka as a Counter-intelligence officer for 6 years until a sudden termination in 2077 under the orders of Susan Abernathy (Director of Special Operations for Arasaka American HQ Division). The reason for the termination was a suspected assassination attempt on Susan Abernathy by Arthur Jenkins, V’s direct superior and V himself.

V did not go back to his family after losing his place in Arasaka, presumably not being accepted back by his father, Sato. V began his career as a mercenary not long after with a partner named Jackie Welles an ex Valentino gang member. The two was acquainted back when V was conducting an operation for Arasaka in South America.

6 months after, V and Jackie caught the attention of Dexter Deshawn, renowned fixer of the Afterlife [Read file #8644 for more info on The Afterlife] which begins a series of events that leads to the heist on Konpeki Plaza and death of Saburo Arasaka [Read file #11 for more info on Saburo Arasaka]

#cyberpunk 2077 #phantom liberty #male v cyberpunk #male v #masc v #v #oc: V Arima #song so mi #songbird cyberpunk #cyberpunk photomode #virtual photography #will continue this Bio when I have time #will add more photos too #I'm going to leave it here for now

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abducted-cowz · 2 months ago

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| Chapter 2: May the Tents be Home |

Word count: 2056

It was thirty past five when the men began to approach the entrance of Dutch's camp. Ashley felt his stomach swirl with nervousness. He chewed on his inner lips, his teeth pinching off small pieces of flesh. It was uneven, his skin inside his lips were; scarred and healed incorrectly. Many years of nervous chewing made it that way.

He remembered when it first started becoming a habit. His mother became sick of something real nasty, Cholera it was. He begged night and day for money so he’d be able to buy some medicine from the local doctor and at night, when the people didn’t roam the streets as much, he was so nervous that one day he’d wake up and find his mother dead. So, he didn’t sleep and instead chewed his lip off until his mouth tasted of iron.

“Who's there?!” A woman stepped out from behind the tree, her face furrowed and her hands occupied with a large lancaster repeater. Her golden curls brushed her shoulders as they lowered and untensed at the sight of Dutch’s face. Her eyes darted to every person’s face as if to confirm their identity. Once her face landed on Ashleys, her hands visibly tightened around the handle of the gun.

“Dutch is back!” She yelled over her shoulder before backing up and allowing the men to go inside, her eyes never leaving the unfamiliar outlaw.

As Ashley followed behind the men, he began to see more of the camp. Wagons were parked and turned into shelter. People were walking around, their heads turning towards the clopping horses. He wasn't expecting the people to be so diverse, but he wasn’t complaining. Most outlaw gangs these days were filled to the brim with strong white men who were selfish, racist, and cold-blooded killers. Which was something Ashley was nowhere near being.

The gang was well hidden amongst tall, towering trees. Smoke from fires were obscured by large bustling leaves, and voices were drowned out by the singing nature around them. If Ashley were just a random man riding the path that cut through the forest, he wouldn't have suspected such a large camp in the middle of it.

The men unmounted their horses, Ashley doing so, too. “John,” Dutch called over. John quickly made his way toward Dutch, stopping next to him. “Please show our new friend around camp.” He gestured at Ashley, who was standing to the side.

John tipped his head and waved Ashley over as he began to walk into camp. Ashley quickly caught up with him and followed closely behind.

Ashley listened closely as John showed him where the food was made and kept, where the medicine was stored, and more. “Oh, and the ammunition wagon is also Arthurs tent, too, so make sure you go around and behind the wagon, not into it,” John mentioned.

Ashley let his curiosity take over before he took a quick glance inside the tent. There was a single cot and an end table. The wagon had pictures pinned above the cot, and the end table had a couple of supplies and items on it. “Okay…” Ashley replied.

As the tour went on, Ashley couldn't help but notice that everyone was staring at him. Their eyes bored into his very soul. It made his stomach do twists and turns that created knots, giving him this sickly feeling at the back of his throat.

He struggled to take a full breath in, his chest feeling heavy and throat tight. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, drowning out the voice of John. He fought the urge to look over his shoulder, to make eye contact with the people who stared at the back of his head. He must look stupid right now. Sweating buckets on a cool day, his fingers balling up into tight fist, everything he's doing must look stupid. The people behind him must think he’s slow in the head or a twitching freak.

“Ashley, you listenin’?”

The man blinked, the fog that clouded his mind quickly clearing up as John called out his name. “Uh- sorry, could you repeat that?” He apologized, swallowing nervously.

“Said you'll probably won't have a tent t’night, so you’re gonna have to sleep someplace else,” John parroted himself.

“Oh, alright.” Ashley nodded

Ashley continued to follow John. He was told about some of the gang members like Ms. Grimshaw, the lady co-leader, Pearson, the cook, and some of the girls like Karen, who was the woman in front with the gun, and Marybeth. For the most part, they didn’t sound all too bad, but only time would tell.

Before Ashley knew it, the tour was done, and John had left him alone. He stood awkwardly around the camp. Pacing back and forths between tents and trees. His eyes drifted around, quietly observing the people work, but mostly trying to spot Arthur's face amongst the crowd and when he couldn't find the man's face anywhere, he looked towards the horses. His shoulders slumped when he didn't see the dappled Trotter hitched to any of the posts. He must be gone, left right after John went to give him a tour. Ashley understood why Arthur was avoiding him. He’d avoid someone if they tried to rob him too, but he’d at least give them a chance to try to apologize.

With a deep sigh, Ashley found himself walking towards the large campfire. Every step he took, the more he could smell the burning wood and see the floating embers that disappeared into the dawn sky as its burn went out.

Ashley swung his leg over the large log that sat in front of the fire. He lowered himself down, letting out a low groan as the aches in his back cracked. His grass-green eyes stared into the dancing fire, flickering as the wind blew.

It’s been too long since he's sat at a fire and heard people around him. He doesn't even think that he’s even experienced such a thing, given he never joined a gang before. So, what was so different about this one? What was so different about this gang that he actually convinced himself to join? Ashley told himself he would never join a gang because they’re ruthless, unforgiving, cold-blooded, judging, and moraless. He wondered if the van der Linde gang was like that. If they were, he would be across the state before they even woke up, but he hoped not.

“Hello?” said a female voice behind Ashley.

Ashley pulled himself out of his thoughts, looking up to see a young black woman by his side. “Hello there, Ma'am.” Ashley dipped his head and tipped his hat. He had a smile on his face despite his mask covering it from the woman.

She was quite a nice-looking lady. Her black curly hair was tied back into a tight bun. She wore a beautiful yellow dress with sleeves bunched up at her biceps. Her eyes were a warm brown, soft and kind.

“My names Tilly, Tilly Jackson. Yours?” Tilly asked. She pulled her dress up, stepping over the log and sitting down next to Ashley, making sure there's a respectful amount of space between them.

“Ashley Jones,” Ashley replied. He straightened out his back and adjusted his poncho so his hands were visible to show he had no weapons if there was a reason for her to fear that. “Nice place you've got here.” Ashley gestured towards the camp with a nod of his head.

“Oh, yes,” Tilly said, letting out an airy chuckle, “Couldn’t ask for a better gang to be in. Been here since I was just a girl.” Tilly smiled, her gaze drifting slightly as if she was reminiscing about the past before she set her eyes back on Ashley. “You best be glad that you ended up in this gang than any of the other ones ‘round here.”

“Don’t you worry, ma’am, I can tell this gang is different from the others,” Ashley assured. His attention was pulled away when a loud whiny cry came from the other side of the camp.

He turned to Tilly, “Got a little one here too?” Tilly nodded, looking over in the direction of the cries too. Her face suddenly became sullen, her lips curling into a frown.

“Poor boy, Abigail's kid. Ain't got no daddy- or atleast one that will step up and be one.”

“Oh?” Ashleys body shifts with interest, but he quickly plays it off as adjusting his poncho out of respect. “Uh- I ain’t wanna gossip ‘bout that, not right,” Ashley said.

“I understand, his name’s Jack, though. If you ever run into the boy.”

A comfortable silence lays over them, the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the camp members are the only sounds that were shared between them. The once orange sky turned into a musky blue. Stars began to emerge from the depths of the sky, twinkling and sparkling.

Eventually, Tilly said her goodbyes and Ashley was left again. He couldn't bring himself to stand up because where would he go? He doesn’t have a tent, no chores have been assigned to him and even if he were to do a chore without being assigned- God would it be awkward. Just thinking about doing it made his body shiver. So, he sat there until the camp went silent and the only sound left was the nocturnal creatures singing in the woods.

The fire's flame turns dim, the wood too charred to burn any longer. Even the flame was putting itself to bed as the night fell upon them. With a deep groan, Ashley stood up. The bones in his legs creaked, and so did the ones in his back.

His eyes looked over the camp, scanning the lit lanterns and sleeping figures before they landed on the hitching posts. There, Noelle stood. She stood taller and larger, but somehow a shadow amongst the rest. His lips twitched into a smile and his chest went weightless.

Ashley carried himself over, every step bringing him a sense of relief as Noelle came closer in view. “Hey there, girl…” He sighed out.

“Been a real long day, huh?” Ashley let out a humorless chuckle. He tugged his gloves off, the cold air hitting his sweaty palms as he stuffed it inside of Noelles saddle bag. When he pulled his mask down, he took a deep breath in. The fresh air filled his lungs and after going a whole day without taking an actual good breath, it felt almost heavenly.

Ashley didn't like wearing so many layers, especially when the days begin to get longer and the sun makes waves against the ground, but it was that exact reason why he wore so much. It served as protection from the sun, so his skin didn’t burn and peel. So, sweating his life away was a sacrifice he had to make and it was one he didn’t mind doing.

Noelles huffed, shifted from side to side as she watched Ashley. “Alright, alright. I know, Noelle,” Ashley shushed quietly with a soft smile on his face. He went to unhitch her, unlatching her saddle and setting it on the ground before gently pulling her reins down. Noelle kneeled, Ashley kneeling with her until she was flat against the ground. “Good girl,” Ashley praised.

With a guttural sigh, he sat down, the grass beneath his body serving as cushion. He leaned his back against Noelle's body, who let out a low neigh and nudged her head against Ashleys shoulder. “G’night to you, too, girl.” He chuckled and patted the side of her head.

Ashley moved his hat over his face, his eyes fluttering close. He shifted closer towards Noelle, settling himself until he was seated comfortably against her body. He crossed his arms over his chest and placed his right leg over his left.

As the sounds of the night lulled both Ashley and Noelle to sleep, Ashley couldn’t help but think about how the future may look for them now. Up until now, he carved his own path into the dirt, he knew every twist and turn in his life, his entire future, but now? Now there were other people creating a path for him. Now he had no idea where this path would lead them.

#rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oc #rdr2 #red dead redemption two #own character #arthur morgan #fanfic #fan fiction #rdr oc #tilly jackson #dutch van der linde #tumblr fyp #red dead redemption community

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