#by my people I mean the whole damn country. all of us.

[undercoverdonderwolk]

Honestly speaking I don't think Horner or Marko are making any decisions about the second driver situation in RBR anymore. It seems to me that whoever is in charge of RB now (the Thai side) made the call about the second seat, i.e. keep Checo, and Daniel was the biggest block, so they removed him. And Checo is appealing because of his backer - the Slim family, their money, and their influence in Mexico.

I don't think people understand Thai business operations and the sheer level of corruption. As soon as the rumours started that the Thai side won the power struggle in Red Bull I started worrying. Red Bull Thai owner is fucking powerful, there's a reason why his son Vorayuth Yoovidhya faced NO consequences for killing a police officer in a motor accident.

And if the rumours are true about the Thai side wanting to keep Checo in order to work with Carlos Slim that's more than enough to get rid of Daniel and ensure Checo stays. Carlos Slim Helú and his son Carlos Slim Domit have been invested in Checo's whole driving career. Hell, Carlos Slim Domit met Checo when the latter was 7 and he was in his 30s, their fathers are friends etc. The Slim family made a promise that they would get Checo to win F1, whatever the fuck that means.

Horner and Marko can say whatever they want, talk about this and that person's performance. And none of it matters because it is obvious RB ownership is making the calls.

What I'm curious about is the shareholders meeting. I think BOTH the Slims and the Thai owner are feeling the scrutiny a bit too much. F1 is an international sport, and no matter how powerful they are in their own country, they are now dealing with, well, they are dealing with America, and Checo's continual losing has led to way too much attention on them. And they DON'T want that.

So the shareholders meeting is going to be really interesting. I'm curious how much the Austrian side is going to push the Thai said to get something they might want. Because the Austrian side still owns 49% of the company, and losing the battle earlier in the year doesn't mean they have no power. They still have power, it is a question of what they want from the Thai side to maintain the peace. And let's not forget the fact Daniel, by all signs, is still technically a Red Bull Racing contracted employee. And that means he is still technically on the board to be used in this continuing internal war.

Anyways, sorry about the long babble. But I'm so fascinated by this whole thing.

you came through with the facts like hello you did your damn research!!! i love itttt. i've been trying not to post any of the essays i get in my asks but i love this one so i will happily make an exception for a fact checking queen (gn). slay what's your star sign.

[other-peoples-coats]

also today I had to actually go into the office for a meeting, and got the best grade in meetings. A thing that is normal to want and possible to achieve.

(the secret is ginger cookies, which are relatively easy to make, and very impressive in taste)

[hagravenholm]

You know what that last post just made me realize? I fucking hate Sundays

[weird-and-unwell]

“Autism isn’t a disability”, “it’s just a difference”.

I am of lower support needs. I hold down a (part time) job. I have travelled around my home country. I live alone.

At work they complain about my speech. I’m too quiet, they say, “barely audible” is the words used at my autism assessment. My voice is all monotone, and it needs to be more expressive. I get this complaint every week for a year straight, until my manager gives up. I don’t attend trainings because I forget and find it overwhelming anyways. My coworkers form friendships, and I watch them talk, wondering how they make it look so easy. I get a new manager, I tell her I find the work socials too overwhelming to attend. She tells me I can just say I don’t want to come. I don’t know how to tell her that I desperately want to, to be like the rest of my coworkers, instead of constantly being the one sat on the sidelines.

I come home, and I can hear my neighbours again. The niggling background noise messes with my head, and I meltdown; I throw myself on the floor, I hit my head on the ground repeatedly as I scream and cry, tear out my hair and scratch my arms and face. When I complain, people tell me that I just have to accept that neighbours make noise, that I should just ignore it, or block it out. I am the problem, the one overreacting. I put in earplugs and it hurts and I'm crying again. I wear headphones but I can't handle the noise for that long.

I have reminders set for everything. Every chore, no matter how big or small. My phone beeps at me, reminding me that I need to wash the dishes. If I don't go now, then tick the little box on my phone to say I did it, it won't get done. My home is almost always a mess despite this. It's not just chores either. I won't think to wash, dress myself, brush my teeth or hair, without those reminders. And unless someone actively prompts me to do so, I will do those tasks "wrong". I haven't changed my underwear in a month, and I'm currently aware that's a problem, but within the hour I'm going to forget all over again until I'm next prompted.

I can't sleep without medication - it's not unusual for autistic people to have messed up circadian rhythms. Without my medication it's hard to even tell when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. When I was younger and at school I slept through so many lessons, and when I have my mandatory breaks from my sleep meds I sleep through every alarm I set. I want to work full time some day, and I'm terrified of what my sleep issue will mean for me then.

I don't travel independently. I don't travel anywhere alone, always with someone or to someone. If to someone, I have assistance the whole way. I find it embarrassing sometimes. Yes, I have a job that requires a certain level of intelligence. No, I cannot get on a train by myself. If I am not shown To The Train, To My Seat, I will be unable to travel.

Last time I travelled, I was left alone at the station for ten minutes. I stayed rigid and sobbed the whole time. I was overwhelmed. It was too loud, I didn't know where I was or where I was meant to be going, and until the assistance person came back I couldn't do anything because for some reason I cannot understand it.

I spend a lot of time trying to explain to people that despite my relative competence, I am unable to do many things. Why can I understand high level maths but not how to get on a damn train? No fucking idea.

"Autism isn't a disability" most severely affects those with higher support needs, and this is absolutely not to take away from them. But for fucks sake, autism is disabling.

Maybe you personally are extremely lucky and just find you're a little "socially awkward", or just find some textures painful or nauseating. Maybe you would be fine with just a couple of adjustments.

But for a lot of us, even lower support needs autistics, it doesn't work like that. I will never sleep properly without medication. I still have the self-harming type of meltdowns as an adult, over things that are deemed as being "just part of life". I live alone but have daily visits from family - if I'm left fully alone I forget all the little daily things one is "meant" to do. I had speech therapy as a child to get me to the "barely audible" "mostly correct" speech. I don't mask, I'm not really sure how I would to begin with.

I'm not unhappy with being autistic. It's just who I am. Life would be easier if I were neurotypical, but I also wouldn't be me. I just wish those luckier than me could...stop saying it's all chill and not at all a disability.

Because yes, socially, I am "awkward". I obviously don't make eye contact - I stare down and to the side of whoever I speak to. People think it's weird or creepy or a sign of disinterest. My autism assessor wrote down about how I often use words and phrases that don't make sense to others, even though they make perfect sense to me. In my daily life this means I'm frequently misunderstood, and have to try explain what I mean, when what I mean is exactly what I said, and the true issue is that what I mean just doesn't make sense to others. I gesture, at times, but again, my gestures apparently don't make sense in relation to what I'm saying. I take things literally, I have almost no filter, and I can't explain how I go from topic to topic.

And yes, I do have sensory problems. Sometimes people, including others with sensory problems, tell me that "sometimes sensory issues have to be tolerated", and I wonder what they think of as being sensory issues. I'm sure they do struggle, but if I say I can't handle a touch, I mean you will need to forcefully hold it against me for me to touch it more than a second and it will make me meltdown. If I say "I can't eat that", I mean that I am unable to swallow it, that I will gag and choke and inevitably spit it back out, as much as I try. If I say I can't handle a noise, I mean I'm so close to a meltdown and my meltdowns are a problem for everyone around me.

But yes. Autism. Not a disability. Just a fun quirky difference.

[qqueenofhades]

There is no law that prevents a convicted felon from running for and becoming president, nor a law that bans someone from being president in prison. Also, if Trump gets incapacitated in someway, many ultra right republicans who equally despise trans people and immigrants and Muslims would happily take his place

And I ask, with all due respect, what is your point?

Do you think I don't know that?

Do you think I am somehow convinced that everything is hunky dory now and we don't have any work left to do?

Are you just determined to be the first of the gloom-and-doomers who show up like clockwork in my inbox, every time some consequence happens to Trump, to morosely insist that no consequences will happen to him? First it was "he'll win re-election." Then it was "the coup will succeed." Then it was "he will never be indicted." Then it was "2022 will be a red wave!" Then it was "he will never be tried." Then it was "he will never be convicted." Now we've moved on, within less than 2 hours of the first US President ever to be convicted of ONE felony, let alone THIRTY-FOUR, "he'll never be sentenced or face a real consequence or lose the election." The goalposts keep moving RIGHT along without even a single pause to acknowledge the difficulty and the value of the progress we have made thus far, and it makes me CRAZY.

Do you people realize how fucking rare it is, both in the world today and historically, for a former (and would-be future) head of state to be held to criminal account by a jury of 12 anonymous ordinary citizens? When that one person, Trump, is the center of the malignant fascist cancer that has spread through this country ever since 2016, and plenty of his cultists are still insisting that it's Trump or nobody for them? When we've actually reached the stage of holding him legally accountable for (some of) his crimes for the first time in his miserable misbegotten life? I suspect that most of you are so deep in the "America is totally broken and the system is useless and we can only Revolute!!!1" rabbit hole that you're bound and determined to argue away every step we take, however slow, as Meaning Nothing TM. Voting? Fake. Fighting to make real progress? Also fake. Everything is fake except our belief that everything is broken and we need the Keyboard Warrior Glorious Revolution!!! As long as you can keep inventing ever more contorted twists of logic to ignore everything else that's happened so far, this makes sense... or something. I guess?

Now we're onto "removing Trump won't matter :(" when a whole lot of people have been fighting day and fucking night to get all the privileged-princess Online Leftists to get off their Che Guevara cosplaying asses and cast a single fucking vote to keep us from full-on-sliding into fascism. A slide into fascism that, again, has been spearheaded and centered around Trump's toxic cult of personality and which is still tied to him in almost every way. Apparently holding him to account (again, which has never happened to him in his life) already doesn't matter because wah wah he won't suffer any consequences. If he loses this election he's probably going to jail for the rest of his life! We would have electorally defeated the greatest threat to the American democratic experiment in 250 years, and frankly a huge part of the fascist far-right hydra that is currently attempting a comeback around the world! This is, yet again:

THE FIRST TIME ANY AMERICAN PRESIDENT, EVER, HAS BEEN CONVICTED OF MULTIPLE FELONY CHARGES IN A COURT OF LAW BY A JURY OF HIS PEERS

and yet we're still hearing that nothing matters and no work has been done and removing him will have no effect???

Come on. Come on. I know it's tiring and it's slow and it doesn't go as fast as we want. But every single damn time the process goes another step, here you people are in my inbox insisting that we're still at zero progress and it means nothing, and lemme tell you, I am Tired of it. Come on. You don't have to jump up and down (my own feeling is glee and vindication but still not relaxation, I will not relax until he loses the fucking election and goes to jail), but you also don't need to keep myopically pretending that all the effort thus far by so many people means nothing. Come on.

[evilminji]

Oh... my god? Ghost Reporters.

Imagine it. Their office is in the Zone. They literally FEED of hunting for The Next Big Scoop! And Revealing The Truth! Every honest reporter that got silenced for getting a little too close to the facts. The bloody, beating, heart of societies underbelly.

Every Lois Lane that had no Kryptonian to stop some rich and powerful jackals putting them in the ground.

Well Death sure didn't stop THEM! They STILL want answers! But now they have co-wokers. Oh~ and SUPERPOWERS! And best part?

The newly appointed KING is going too and from the living world. That must mean it's okay now, RIGHT? Your majesty? You're not a RAGING HYPOCRITE, aaaaare you? :) 🎤

And... look. Danny knows full well what these piranhas are up too. He's not stupid. But Madeline Fenton raised a lot of things. Fool? Not one of um. That a LOT of reporters with sharp, sharp teeth and bloodlust in their eyes. He wants to half-live.

He compromises. Illusion of control and all that. Yeah, yeah, they all tooootally respect his authority etc. Give them Them Scoop! He, wisely, gets the fuck out of the way. Whoosh! Off they go!

Thats.... probably gonna be a problem. *siiiiiips his morning coffee* But it's not HIS problem. Not right now.

And? Suddenly all these politicians and business leaders are getting fucking AMBUSHED. Oh? You thought you'd get soft ball "aren't I a man of the people. Buy oil!" Bullshit questions? HA! Where were you on June 27th, 1978, at-

And "according to YOUR words, exact quote as follows-"

Just? They BEAT the leader with the STICK. "Oh but you'll lose access". They'd love to see HOW! They can go through WALLS! Answer the question, coward. "Your gonna make powerful enemies!" Oh nooooo, what are they gonna DO?

Shoot us TWICE?

Hey Mr. Family Values! How's the three mistresses your wife doesn't know about?? "No comment"? That's fine. We already have THEIRS. >:D Good luck with your upcoming election!

And like? As newspapers are shutting down and turning clickbait all across the country? This ONE(1) tiny, middle of nowhere town? Somehow has a horrid, horrid, ARMY of Satan's own Reporters. All apparently willing to die for the News. Throwing themselves at dictators and Supervillians alike.

"We see no God here but the Truth" is literally their papers MOTTO.

The damn thing is basicly a BRICK. You get a paperback of news. Entire planet AND THEN SOME. How?! How are they reporting, IN DETAIL, on the break down of talks between two planets 16 galaxies over? Hal says it's accurate. But what Earth paper would even HAVE that information?

And?? The whole town treats this as normal? There are human children, complaining about the weight of papers, because it makes their paper routes a pain in the ass. Soccer moms discussing alien celebrity drama. Farmers muttering over foreign unrest and how it will impact their corn harvest.

Fucking Lex Luthor, clearly deciding to roll with it, coming to sign himself up for a paper. Gaining a new life long Nemesis upon meeting Vladimir Master, whom he decides is both hot and unbearable. Someone is heard shouting "oh god, there's TWO OF THEM!"

And?? Look. Clark isn't MAD. Or JEALOUS. Nor is he in a secret Reporting War with Jerry from the Amity Chronicle. Because that would be petty and childish. He's just SAYING, maybe they should check the place out!

Maybe Jerry is a DICK and deserves it, is all. (Lois stop laughing.)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

[sluttybwunni]

a pirates greed (m)

[send me requests i like them]

masterpost : recent

pairing : afab!reader x monkey d. luffy

✸ ... synopsis: after saving an entire country, luffy just needs his favourite stress reliever all to himself

wc: 3.6k

warnings : established relationship, porn w minimum plot, post-wano luffy being a whore !!! absolutely rough nasty nd animalistic, unprotected (cmon yall know better), petty argument, faded law, reader is a lil mean, your captain just loves eating you out! use of devil fruit (canon), creampie, drool kink, luffy has a lip ring, overstimulation, mention of blood, praise kink (both parties), cumplay, semi-public, oral (m rec)

getting severe brain rot from just thinking about how needy and greedy luffy would be during a post-battle victory banquet...

especially after how nicely that black dress outlined your ass.

he just wants to put his hands all over you, but nami's banned him from any physically exerting activity, including dancing since he's still recovering from the damage he took.

poor guy almost begged to have himself buried in your sopping cunt, whimpering and gasping under you because he's been so stressed after all that fighting!

it's only right you help your boyfriend release all that pent-up energy right?

but to his dismay you were busy with traffy, his tattooed hands tracing over the thin fabric of your dress as you two danced.

"damn him." luffy chanted in his head continuously, wishing you'd stop focusing on law and pay attention to him instead.

your captain worked so hard to defeat kaido.. so why are you smiling and spending time with law instead? that's not fair. you should be rewarding luffy with your touch for being so strong all the time, no?

he couldn't even hear zoro's drunken babbling as he fixated his eyes on the two of you from his table. luffy thought it was too polite of you to let law touch you like that... way too polite. no longer able to deal with the ache in his shorts. though what made his heart palpitate the most was how the both of you seemed to be having a jolly fun time. he grazes his teeth over his lips, excusing himself from his best friend before stumbling towards the dance floor to reach you and law.

"actually i already rolled some spliffs, we can go outside n hit some right now if you'd like," law said with a deep chuckle, gazing at you with his half-lidded eyes. "go do that with your side, look he's starin' at you as i speak." you joke, nodding your head in the direction of kidd as law harshly exhales, rolling his eyes."fffucking hell will you drop that? i was zooted outta my mind when i said.." your conversation gets cut short when you feel pair of hands other than law's snake around your waist from behind.

you momentarily freeze— only to find relief when you hear luffy's voice. he's clinging onto you, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. the threads of his strawhat slightly bent against your skin as luffy pressed himself closer; hiding the stony expression on his face. “(name).. you've been dancin' with traffy the whole time. it's annoying.” luffy whined against your earlobe. your captain continued to press and grind his body against you, something hard rubbing against your ass.

"i know luffy.. but me and law haven't properly hung since we left zou." you responded as luffy lifted his head from the warmth of your body to send law a glare while you both tried keeping balance on the floor as the surrounding crowd of people continued dancing. "so (name)-ya you coming? strawhat can tagalong if he wants." law spoke, putting his hands in his pockets as he glanced towards the exit.

"w--"

“nuh uhn..” luffy shook his head before you could even respond, his face wincing in a grimace.

"luffy, i—"

"no."

"you're supposed to rest lu.. you're still recovering" you softly exhaled, turning in his grip so you could face him. "well ya could've just stuck around me. ion like that you spent time with tra-guy in the first place." luffy continues whining, his voice growing annoyed and impatient.

he seemed restless, his breath uneven. "also ya promised you'd only dance with me." you giggled, scanning the way his pretty lips formed a pout, eyebrows furrowed in disappointment. “don't worry, it won't happen again lu, you're still my number one dance partner.. and i spent all day with you yesterday, n the day before.” you respond, letting another giggle leave your lips.

but luffy doesn't find it funny, he slowly loosens his grip on your waist— tossing his lip ring through his teeth as his obsidian eyes look into yours. "this is the thing with you, ya don't keep your promises (name)." he mutters his voice going a little deeper causing your smile to fall. wait.. huh?

"what's that even mean?" you retort. luffy's feeling all sorts of emotions right now.. but he can't tell why his breath is so shaky, or why his heart was feeling heavy. he'd been so stressed over the past few weeks, the pent-up anger was possibly getting to him.

“you keep breaking ya promises! thats what it means.” luffy snaps. for a second his eyes soften after he realizes he raised his voice, but he doesn’t move from his position, hands still on your waist. law, witnessing the sudden quarrel— decides to walk off leaving the two of you alone.

the tension between you felt heavy. "the fuck? luffy since when have i broken any of our promises. me and law well, dancing just.. happened. it didn't even mean anything we're friends." now you were getting agitated. "that's not even the main problem.." he muttered, luffy's gaze eats you up— and the glint in his eyes almost speak a magnitude of unsaid words.

"..i'm YOUR boyfriend (name), ya didn't like when hancock was all over me so why—" "can you stop bringing that bitch up??" you knew it wasn't great of you to dance with law all while your boyfriend was watching you, but you didn't think it'd be that big of a problem. you trace your hands over his— removing them as you angrily turn around to stride away. but you can never really get away from a man with the power to stretch, so luffy beats you to wherever you thought you were walking off to, stretching his arm and pulling your body back towards him.

“m’sorry… i— (name) i'm just feelin stressed right now. can you please just...” luffy rasps in a softer tone trailing off as his arms cage you. you stay silent for a couple of moments, trying to process the exchange of words you shared seconds ago. but the more he presses your back against him, the more you feel the stiffness between his legs. you don't quite know what to say, so you turn 180 degrees to press a hot kiss against his lips.

luffy's taken aback by the suddenness, but that doesn't stop him from enjoying it. he returns what you gave to him passionately. pulling you even closer, as if he's wanting to get completely lost in the kiss. you hum against his lips when luffy swivels his hips, grinding his dick against your inner thighs.

he seems so eager, so desperate for you and it shows. really lost in the kiss and in the moment, as if all he can think about is being balls deep in your dewy cunt. and who's to say you don't want him just as much. the way luffy's frenching you seems almost animalistic, and you could feel how he's having trouble controlling himself with every passing second that you're pressed against him. trying so hard to maintain his composure.

and when you break the messy kiss, a string of saliva still adjoining your lips— your captain looks at you with a blush, still panting heavily. watching the drool that slowly dripped from the corner of luffy's mouth was something that shouldn't have been so hot to you.

his eyes travel up and down your body and back to your lips. the faint taste of mango luffy had gotten drove him insane. he loved when you slathered your plump lips with lipgloss, regardless of the flavour or color— and he adored making a mess of it, ruining it. his own lips being stained a hint of red.

luffy seems lost again. almost unable to think by himself. he leans towards you once more, seemingly going in for another kiss. but he stops himself for a moment to admire how soft you feel— hands grasping your ass through the flimsy fabric of your dress. your head was spinning, maybe from the shots you took earlier, or the way luffy had devoured your mouth. "i-"

"shut up." you huff out, pulling him towards the nearest slightly secluded space you could find. and luckily, there was a nicely lit room with a thick futon neatly unfolded on the carpeted ground. pressing him against the wall, you brought a nasty, wet kiss to luffy's lips once more. one that left his stomach fluttering. he sucked and drug his tongue back and forth against yours, in the messiest ways he could think of. too lost in your lips to get off of the surface behind him.

he couldn't help the blood that rushed even more to his cock once you tugged hard on his hair. luffy couldn't put it into words, but he was such a slut for the way you painfully grasped his raven locks every time you enjoyed something. he muttered your name a couple of times between heavy breaths before he quickly wriggled out of the red material of his top letting you suction your way down his neck, teeth grazing his collarbone.

and you didn’t need any command to lower your head and place luffy's nipple between your lips. you only bothered to unbutton and drop his shorts low enough to free his aching dick, rock-hard and covered with pre-cum. fuck you wanted to slobber all over his length so bad. though luffy catches you by a fistful of your hair, preventing you from going further.

"stop, i wanna suck." you whine out, but luffy shakes his head, pulling his boxers up just enough to cover past the tip of his cock. pushing his back from off the door- he lays himself on the futon, hauling you with him. "no, i want you t’ sit on my face first." for a second, you stilled, as if the statement shocked you. "you... you want that?" you tested the waters, but luffy didn't just want it. he needed it.

"please… i’ll make ya cum so good (name) just sit on my face." luffy insists, eyes glossed over. face sitting was something he'd yearned to try with you for so long. so impatiently, he pulls you to straddle him, your dress sliding up your thighs. he wastes no time ripping the expensive fabric of your panties— taking a few moments to rub the pads of his calloused fingers along the wet patch you left beforehand.

you nervously let him pull you further up by the hips until your pussy is just above his mouth, the scent of your sweet arousal hitting his nose. “smell so good (name) m’gonna taste you now yeah?” “please do captain” you respond breathlessly. and before you could take another breath, luffy’s making out with your cunt— tongue lapping vigorously over your clit sending a pleasurable shiver up your spine.

you immediately try to raise your hips afraid you’ll suffocate him if you give in to the pleasure, but luffy’s hands grip your thighs painfully, preventing you from squirming away. because luffy doesn’t care if he suffocates as long as he’s got his tongue sloping in and through your folds. and something about knowing how anyone could walk into this room, seeing the two of you sent electricity through your core.

you felt the coolness of luffy's lip ring make contact with you constantly, and you couldn’t quite decipher his muffled words, but you could tell by the way he desperately stuffed his face between your legs that he was in ecstasy. “sso.. mmh feels good lu!” you barely manage voicing out, already close to your on-coming high.

but as much as luffy wants to stay between your thick thighs and fuck you with his mouth, he was restless, and hard. feeling his own heartbeat pulsing right at the tip of his dick. he suctions at your clit roughly, earning a loud cry from you before you’re already cumming— a slightly clear stream of liquid flowing from your cunt.

and of course, luffy being the greedy man he is takes everything you give him, leaving your cunt only after he’s had his fill. “taste n' look so pretty when you cum..” he coo's almost cheerfully before moistening his lips, a more serious look returning to his face as you free your legs from his face.

"here, taste yourself pretty" he whispers, pressing a slow kiss against your lips. though you only manage to come back to your senses enough to comprehend that he's torn off your nice pair off underwear, feigning a faux an annoyed look. "does ripping all my expensive lingerie get you off or something?"

"m'to impatient to take it off slowly.." he pouts, as you drag yourself off of him.

“is that so..? my turn now.” you whisper, before you're on off of him and on your knees tugging roughly at his unbuttoned shorts causing them to slightly tear.

"hey! those were m—"

you cut luffy short before he could complain about your petty revenge, giving the tip of his cock slow kitten licks and a few pumps before sealing your lips around it's pretty head, making him let out a throaty whine as you take or inches of him.

"i'll forgive ya if you open your mouth n take me deeper.." luffy breaths out lowly fully relaxed on his back now. one hand under his head and the other, guiding yours. you part your lips further, warm breaths of air fanning over his flushed tip.

“ahh.. fuckk baby— use that pretty mouth like you do best” luffy slurs, and something in you almost switches like a trigger. his coaxing encouraging the worst in you. especially since it was incredibly rare of him to use pet names with you. so you suddenly take as much his size as you can luffy shuddering in pleasure.

every ridge and vein on his length felt as your drag your tongue, every lick and suck of your mouth on him resulting in obscenity; gagging, wet noises, moaning. everything only making your hole flutter more.

his shut tight. opening them after a few seconds, to admire how your lips sank down on his cock. "gooddd, it's like ya mouth was made jus for— nggh.. sucking off your captain huh?"

"hold on.." you suddenly whisper, causing luffy to whine from the lost warmth. you take something out from between your cleavage. what was so important that you needed to stop? and suddenly he tenses his thighs.. you're scribbling on his cock. it tickles and it’s heaven. luffy couldn't even see what you are creating, but the sensation was fucking amazing. especially since he was so sensitive.

“thereee” you say, admiring your work.

“so pretty.”

“what did you do? i wanna see”, luffy begs, squirming needily. and you raise your hand, waving the wand of your cherry red lipgloss in your hand. luffy glances down to look at his aching cock, to find the words. 'all mine ♡' scribbled in red.

something about that act felt so endearing to him that luffy felt he'd tear up from the gesture— and from the fact that you were teasing his poor friend. he gives you a lazy smile. but as his eyes wander the room, he finds himself making eye contact with the tall mirror that but on a perfect display of your backside. you were almost on all fours now as you slobbered his cock, head tilted down and ass pointed up.

it looked so soft, and you looked ever so stunning. unfortunately for you, luffy was as restless as ever. he could never control himself whenever he saw that damn ass of yours. so you didn't blame him when he tugged on a fist-full of your hair to get you off his cock.

"wait m'not—"

"(name)... i— wanna fuck you from behind, please can't wait anymore.. want ya to put that cute ass on me."

"you're so impatient."

well, who were you to deny captains orders?

with a quick sound rustling of fabric, you'd immediately discarded your dress, pressing your face down into the futon as luffy teased your hole momentarily with the head of his cock. holding you in place by the hips and seconds later, he's already buried inside you— stuffing himself to the hilt. so fucking tight he thought.

luffy bit down onto his lip muffling the whimpers that endlessly slipped from his mouth— to the point that it drew a bit of blood. he pounded like he wanted everyone near to know, to hear how he was making a mess out of you. though he was shameless enough for it, luffy couldn't decide whether he wanted to be the only one that got to see your messy cum stuffed cunny, or if he wanted a live audience as he fucked you to the point of drooling. and who's to say you would mind the latter?

head thrown back in pleasure, his dark hair stringy from sweat, his furrowed eyebrows as you continue to tighten and clench around him, pulling you further onto his cock. he giggles breathily, "l-love when you squeeze me like that" only earning a incomprehensible mumble from you. something about the way he moaned and spoke was so ..slutty.

"cmonn.. i know ya can talk louder than that!" he sneers, and that was luffy's favourite part about doing this with you. he loved pleasuring you to the point of not being able to speak, knowing he's the only one who can make you this dumb on dick.

he loved the freedom that came with exploring new ways to make eachother feel good, and nothing made him happier than sharing in such freedom with you.

luffy's hands roughly fist your hair, pulling your head up in order to better show you what he's doing to you. "look in the mirror (name), look how gorgeous ya- gaahh, look when you're all fucked out. see? so pretty baby~" he taunts.

"gonna cum, wan' cream all over you!"

"yeah? captain's dick feels that good?" he lets off another breathy moan. "y-ya like it when i stretch ya out like this?" and when you let out a string of praises chanting his name like your life depended, he decided you deserved a treat in return for always being this good for him. so luffy bit down on his thumb and blew until you felt an unfamiliar sensation deep in your guts causing you to mewl out. he was way bigger all of a sudden, and his cock seemed to fill and rub against areas you'd never known could be reached.

"ah luffy thats.. you're- so deep” you almost wanted to sob as he watched you wriggle under him, your senses overloading from the stimulation luffy inflicts upon you. it was crazy how he could be so sweet and caring with you one moment, and the next having every bone in your body tingling from euphoria.

"keep— ah god.. moanin' out like that! let tra-guy know that yer all mine" luffy rasped, only further perusing with his erratic pace. it was ruthless almost— and hearing those pretty sounds from you didn't help the burning sensation he felt in his lower stomach.

"sso- so close!"

"pl-please need you to fill me full with your seed.." you whimper feeling your knees almost buckle when his cock starts to forcefully rub against your cervix.

"i gotcha! gonna.. stuff you up- mmm, so good n watch it spill out.." he laughs between his far from quiet moans, one of his hands tracing your ass until he snakes it down between your legs, rubbing at your clit without mercy. your vision blurred and your fingers gripped at the futon tightly, “ah fuck! L-LUFFY! LUFFY!"

and as you finally cum around him, clenching around his pulsating length once more. "that's it! so good baby, so good..!" he continues to fuck into you, hitting deeply over and over again, pushing you into the softness below— then it's his turn to orgasm. his sticky white filling your womb until it started to leak out. luffy pulls out just in time for your body to slump down onto the cushioned surface.

but he doesn't let go of your hips just yet. luffy's gaze hazily follows the milk colored substance that seeps out of your fluttering cunt as he draws heavy breaths. taking his middle and index working them into your sensitivity— watching the string of cum that shadows his fingers as he pulls them out.

luffy being luffy, couldn't help but want to taste it, because what would be the point of all this work if everything went to waste?

"say ahhh." was the only thing you could make out, before you're being flipped onto your back, a strong hand resting on your chin. through your blurred sight— you watched luffy lick two of his fingers slowly, savoringly before he gathers the drool in his mouth letting it drip down to yours. and you let him, letting your mouth hang agape to accept every bit of his filth.

"swallow... atta girl..!" he smiled brightly watching the lewd expression you made tasting your guys aftermath. he runs his hands back to your ass, kneading it slowly but without any ulterior motive other than that he loves holding it when you calm down together.

"i love you (name) m'sorry i got so mad at you earlier."

"no, i should apologize. you were injured n bored and i wasn't even checking up on you."

"speaking of injuries.. i think still i need some stress therapy." luffy says with a sly grin, laying beside you on the futon.

you catch on almost too quickly, shaking your head— breath still uneven. "no no no, we're done. we can't have any of your wounds reopening."

"don't ya wanna suck me off still? a bit of head can't do any harm!"

"you realize this room has no door right?"

"......when has that ever stopped us?"

oh god.

©2023 sluttybwunni  ‎   you are not to plagiarize, translate, modify or post my content on tumblr nor any other platforms.

... ✸ a/n: i was baked past cloud 9 when i wrote the other half of this but, ion wanna hear noone say shit such as “luffy ain’t slutty like that” nah man he is 🙏 down with sex ignorant luffy !!! #ace luffy is still canon but so is slut luff

tags !! @svanesworld , @selkiemaiden , @dilvcslut , @iluvs-world , @eaves-dropper , @yourmumsthings , @sanjisblackasswife , @roronoaswifey , @movie-enthusiast22 , @luffypedia , @pandoras-box0 , @xxdiaqiaoxx , @girlmeetsbullshit , @n9hida , @w9vyy , @juno443 , @roronoazorohater , @soloplayer0901 , @deathkidz

[postnutperfection]

What’s frustrating about the whole Perverts title issue is that it really boils down to people sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong. If everyone minded their damn business on the internet this wouldn’t even have to be a conversation. Its ok to be a lukewarm fan of someone, but I think TikTok has made it feel like you either have to stan someone and be a keyboard warrior in their defense 24/7 or you can’t like them at all. The whole “debate” gets to a point where it feels like im talking to a wall! Even if you didn’t listen to the rest of the album, you have to scroll to find Strangers! Did you not see the literal song titled August Underground on the way there! Hard Times is about CSA! Strangers is literally about her getting eaten! She literally gets cannibalized! I feel that maybe perchance the whole concept of Preacher’s Daughter should be more shocking then an album called PERVERTS

and I know, i knowwww, this has something to do with those motherfuckers on booktok romanticizing every sick and abusive asshole thats somewhat conventionally attractive. I’m sorry but correct me if im wrong but Strangers (at least to me) is not a love song. While Ethel may have loved him and while she may not feel hatred or resentment towards him lets be honest he did not eat her because he loved her, he did it because he is a bad person who does bad things and took advantage of a girl who has known nothing other than abuse. He groomed her and moved her across the country only to drug her and pimp her out and then when he was bored of her he killed and ate her.

I’m just so sick and fucking tired of these stupid ass motherfuckers thinking that they have the media literacy of Jesus H. Christ himself and that think they’re sooo fucking smart when in reality all you have done is taken a BEAUTIFUL and HEARTBREAKING piece of ARTWORK and watered it down for mass consumption. All you’ve done is slapped a pretty little label on it and put it on a shelf to sell to the masses and now the meaning and intention behind it will wither away. Don’t get me wrong, I love TikTok, I think it’s a great place to learn and share and create and find new interests but it gets to a point where it feels like its just a giant cesspool of braindead people talking about how a wood flooring is so “ethel cain lana del rey coquette naturecore maximalist anti-millennial grey girl boss power move”

I know this probably ended up being a incoherent ramble that says a lot and nothing at the same time but I really just had to get it off my chest because holy fuck you guys lets use our brains! hellooo lets lock the fuck in and really do our best to have some sort of competent level media literacy

[alonetimelover]

pairing: harry styles x polish!reader (fem, she/her)

summary: harry plays a show where one of the most important people in his life attends - his fiancée's granny.

submitted by @otaktomotyl, thank you and i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it!

a/n: i found polish translations on the internet, i hope they're okay.

masterlist ask, comment, come say hi!

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harryupdates

liked by harrysmoustache, harryshoee and 37 201 others

harryupdates HARRY landed in Warsaw. I repeat, HARRY landed in Warsaw.

view all 3 013 comments

harrysmoustache and he's holding yn's hat???

harryshoee yn and harry can finally reunite... 🥹

harrysfan92 do you see his arms???? he looks like a Greek god, god damn

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harrysmoustache

liked by harryupdates, stylesbabie and 12 301 others

harrysmoustache HAARY AT YN'S COUSIN WEDDING!!!!

view all 2 492 comments

harryupdates you're so fast with those updates, lyla. im gonna lose my job...

stylesbabie yn be aware, he looks good enough to be THE groom. keep him close

⤷ harryslipstick i think that ring on her finger is saying more than anything

harrysmybestie guys, you know we are so close to see HIM at HIS OWN wedding...

⤷ harrysmylife don't

⤷ harrysmoustache why would you say that?!

⤷ outofstyles am i the only one awaiting that day impatiently??? i wanna see him being all nervous and loving and all of the emotions that people feel at the weddings

stylesislife only harry styles could come to my wedding wearing a tanktop that he also wears to his shows

⤷ hArrysbtch the only man i could forgive AND compliment on looking so fucking good

stylesbabie yn's cousin posted a photo from the ceremony, and you can see yn and harry being all snuggle and touchy 😭😭😭 i love them so much

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"What do you mean you're not coming up on stage? Harry, my love, what changed during the last two hours?" YN asked into her phone, anxious Harry being on the other side, soundly biting his nails. "And stop biting your nails, you've got a very nice colour on them."

"Is babcia (granny) here?"

"Mum texted they're close to the gate. Jeff, was kind enough to go there and pick them up so they wouldn't get in any trouble."

"Good, good, good. can- can you come backstage? I think I'd like some ted talk before the show," he said quietly, smile growing on his face. "And some kisses, too."

"Give me 10 minutes, I'll find that kind guard and ask him to guide me. I can't remember when to turn right."

"I'll wait for you. I love you."

"I love you."

Harry got up from the couch and started pacing from one wall to the other. His hands were trembling, getting sweaty. He couldn't remember when was the last time he felt this nervous before start of the show. Not wembley or Slane Castle were as nerve wrecking as Warsaw. He knew it perfectly that it wasn't because of the city or the country. Well, it partially was.

It was YN's home show. But also her whole family was just outside the gates or already walking down the hallways to get to their seats (VIP of course, besides YN's younger cousins that wanted the front row, barricade experiance). And probably the most important guests for Harry - YN's grandparents, especially her granny. A sweet 92-year-old lady that started learning english and using an iPhone to be able to talk and contact Harry. A lady who bought his heart with sweet butter biscuits that no one could replicate. A lady that listened and then learned his whole three albums for this day - the day she would finally see him play live.

So he was terrified to disappoint her.

"What if i mess up the lyrics?" he asked YN when she finally came to the greenroom, he had been pacing in.

"Then she will sing it to you."

"But what if she won't like hearing me live? I mean, it's- it's a possibility. What? Why are you giggling. I'm really stressed here, my darling."

"I'm so sorry." She kissed the crown of his head. "It's just that you're afraid of impossibility. There is no way she would laugh at you or be disappointed in you." YN stroke his hair, gently massaging it, bringing Harry peace.

"You sure?"

"I've never been more sure in my life."

"She'll like it." Harry reassured himself aloud.

"Yes, she will. Not only she loves you like her own grandchild, she's also nervous. This morning she facetimed me to help her pick up an outfit. She bought quite a few things after she saw some pictures of your fans on the internet." She laughed, finding it quite adorable.

"Did she?" Harry lifted his head from yn's lap. "Oh, bless her."

They spent the next few minutes in silence, letting Harry's heart to calm down and steady its pace.

"Wait, did you say that you've never been more sure about something in your life?" Harry eventually broke the silence.

"Yes?"

"So, you had doubts when I asked you to marry me?"

"Oh god."

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harryloveontour

liked by harryupdates, stylesmaaan and 21 491 others

harryloveontour first look at harry at tonight's show in warsaw! it wasn't even the first minute, and he was already seen sending kisses towards yn!

view all 6 023 comments

harrysmylife and it was not only for yn!!! her whole family is with her. even her grandparents.

⤷ stylesbabie omg, they must love him soooo so much

ynandhmyparents they are the sweetest couple i've ever seen, like ever

harrysmoustache is anybody live??? i need to experience this show, i have tissues ready

⤷ hArrysbtch hslotwarsaw is live and it's in such a good quality

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hslotwarsaw

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 21 291 others

hslotwarsaw this is harry's reaction to seeing yn dancing with one of the fans during adore you!!!

view all 3 491 comments

harryupdates omg, his reaction was priceless!!!!

hArrysbtch the way this man said "back off, my friend. she is taken. ring and all. no, no, no." he wa ready to jump from that stage to stop that man from hugging yn!

⤷ stylesbabie i mean, did that guy asked yn if that was okay?

⤷ lovingharry he did, you could see it on the videos that people already posted

harrysmoustache he's like "excuse me, man. that is my fiancée. MY fiancée."

harrysmylife oh, this concert just started and i know it's gonna be the best of all times

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lately you've been on my mind

honey, ah ah ah

The whole stadium was singing back to him. He could describe the feeling it awoke in him each time. It was similar but never the same. Especially today, everything seemed to touch him deeper, better, and clearer.

"Someone's stealing your girl, Styles"

Harry heard someone in his earpiece, making him stop singing. He played it cool by putting the mic towards the audience simultaneously looking for YN.

It didn't take him long. She was right where she promised to be. The space designed specifically for her family, not enclosed but clearly separated from the main audience. There she was dancing and laughing with some middle-aged guy.

Harry was a jealous person in nature. In particular when it came to his partners. He wasn't proud of it, and he definitely didn't have any way to believe that YN would sprint after every Tom, Dick and Harry. Every day she showed him how in love she was, there could be no way.

But here he was. Jaw clenched, not singing and glaring towards his fiancée.

"Harry, everything alright?" Again the voice in his earpiece.

YN stopped dancing, feeling that unmistakable eyes almost glued to her. Oh, it didn't look good.

"How you doin' Warsaw?!" Harry finally screamed into the microphone. The squeals, screems and whistles gave him all he wanted - distraction.

And when YN smiled at him so lovingly and sweetly, it was enough to carry him till this moment.

"Your sign says 'help me shoot my shot'. Is this person with you?" Harry asked the fan who was holding the very neat and colourful sign. Somehow he didn't recognise him from just a minutes ago.

"She's here."

"Wow! Your voice is so loud, man. But how do you want me to help you when she's here. She's next to you somewhere?"

And then if it would have been possible, Harry's jaw would touch the floor. That guy shamelessly pointed towards YN. Now he remembered.

People screamed so loudly, because everything was shown on the biggest screen behind the stage.

"Well, back off, my friend. She is taken. Ring and all. No, no, no." Harry tried to play it cool by laughing at the end. "And, as far as I'm concerned, we're not lookin' for the third one in the relationship."

Now the stadium was laughing along with the long 'ouuuu'.

"How did you know you'd be close to YN, anyway?"

"Manifesting."

"Manifesting?" Harry repeated so everyone could know the answer. "Well, you're doing it right, so I suggest betting or playing lottery. And, to be honest most importantly," he pressed. "Not stealing someone else's future wife!"

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 34 201 others

harryupdates harry introducing yn's grandmother at tonight's show.

view all 7 201 comments

hArrysbtch she is the sweetest lady, my god. i love her even though i don't know her 🥹

harrysmoustache "this show is very special to me. here are my future parents in law as well as grandparents. hello, hi!" i still can't comprehend harry being engaged...

harrysmylife "granny, how are you doing? do you need anything? no? you're good? excellent! that's what I wanted to hear. please give it up for granny!" and the way he started clapping both of his hands and the whistling???? and then speaking in polish i think???

⤷ polisharry Yes! He said 'dziękuję, babcia że tu jesteś' which means 'thank you granny for being here

harryfan82 this show is sooo good

outofstyles did anybody see harry constantly looking towards that area, where yn's whole family is?

⤷ harrysmoustache absolutely! i can't imagine how nervous he is, considering it's the first (at least that we know of) time he sings in front of them

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hArrysbtch

liked by harryupdates, harrysmylife and 33 101 others

hArrysbtch HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO PLAY MEDICINE BUT THE BAND STARTED IT WITHOUT HIS KNOWLEDGE. I CANT. HES REACTION IS PRICELESS. HES TERRIFIED.

view all 8 101 comments

harryupdates he didn't even started it on cue, thank god the audience was so pumped up for it and sang it!

harrysmoustache "no no no no no. we weren't supposed to play it. sarah!" the fear and confusion in his voice was everything. they got him good.

outofstyles "you're gonna pay for it. all of you." this is so funny

stylesbabie the funniest thing is how when he started singing it, he was all touchy and sexy. it was like he forgot about the problem in the moment...

godstyles "granny's terrified" HARRY YOU DIDN'T PUT THE MICROPHONE DOWN, MAN

⤷ harrysmoustache but they showed granny being all smiley during medicine. i think she enjoyed it just like any other song!

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, stylesbabie and 41 202 others

harryupdates harry smiling while talking to yn's little cousin (yn was translating everything to her and then to harry). she then opened as it was with "harry, I wanna say goodnight to you"

view all 3 201 comments

hArrysbtch i hate kids but that baby was so cute i wish i could squish her cheeks

harrysmoustache he was all smiles and gentle eyes while talking to her, he loves this family so much

styleslove i love when people are so open with their feelings for their partner's family

harrysfan081 so cute

stylesbabie give this man a child already

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hslotwarsaw

liked by harryupdates, stylesmylove and 61 201 others

hslotwarsaw harry after splashing water at yn and her family at the end of the show!

and with this photo, we're ending our 'photo-stream'. thank you all for helping us prepare all of the fan projects and thank you for welcoming harry so warmly in our country! till the next time!

view all 8 20q comments

harryupdates you did amazing job!

hArrysbtch yn's granny got so happy at the moment harry decided to threaten her with a bottle

stylesbabie granny had a water gun and threatened harry back with it!!!!! it was soo cute, he run away laughing

harrysfan88 best show so far

harrysmylife "this one of the loudest show i can remember. and i know why. my fiancée's whole family is here. and believe me, they can make so much noise it's impressive!" my friend stood next ro them and confirmed, they were so loud during the whole set list!!

harryshands i can't imagine better way for harry to cope with this amount of pressure. he delivered one of the best performances in his life - sound and entertain wise. truly amazing

——————————————————————————————

"Harry, my sweet boy."

Harry turned 180° from the conversation he was having with Jeff to see the face of the lady with the heavy accent he knew so well.

"Babcia! (granny)" he exclaimed, jogging towards her and ambracing in a tight hug. "How I've missed you."

"You saw me yesterday, you."

"I know." He pulled away, still having his arm around granny. "But it's already been almost 24 hours. A long time, don't you think?"

Granny shook her head with a smile and placed her head on Harry's chest. She was rather exhausted from all the lights, noise, dancing and standing up for almost three hours.

"You wanna sit down, granny?" YN asked, squeezing her grandmothers arm in a way showing her she was nearby.

"Oh, yes. My legs aren't 20 years old as much as I would like them to be."

The three of them sat down on the green couch and talked about the show. Granny was impressed with all the fans having the time of their life, but specifically the ones that seemed to take in the show on their own terms.

"There were those two girls just hugging the whole time and singing softly all the songs. It was so lovely," granny explained.

"It's funny how they were two of very little to not use their phone during the show," commented someone in the room.

And before harry got the chance to defend people taking photos and recording, granny sat up straight.

"Well, in the 60s, my father took me to see The Beetles and I wish i had a camera then. It was such a magical moment that I would want it to be not only engraved in my mind but also on paper. I took so many photos of you, Harry. I need you to print them so I can show them to my friends on the next bingo evening."

YN nodded her head with a smile, not only planning to print the photos but putting the whole concert that harry recorded on the CD. Granny loved watching that type of thing on her telly.

"Harry," granny spoke up after a few moments. "I do have a question however."

"Ask away, granny."

"That song, medicine. What is it about?"

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 15 ⬅ch.14

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | nsfw. violence. smut. wc 5.6k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this chapter is very self-indulgent.,.. my bad. it also begins to stray from canon so uhh sorry if that bothers you.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“my sources tell me all the VIPs in las almas will be there tonight,” alejandro spoke, turning to face you, ghost, soap, and graves. he took in a breath. “some are invited, others are, umm…”

“volun-told…?” graves concluded. 

“yes.”

“what’s the meet about?”

“us.” he looked a bit apprehensive as he spoke. “las almas is burning, and they want to know who lit the fire.”

“sin nombre will be there, yeah?” ghost asked.

alejandro turned and walked towards ghost. “no guarantees. But this is our best shot.”

“then we take it,” graves said as he made his way into the small circle you were all forming. “I’ve got enough shadows here to take over the whole damn country.”

something about graves unsettled you. it was like he spoke with hidden meanings in each of his words, making you feel unease. but you kept quiet and listened. 

“i’d prefer if you didn’t,” alejandro rebutted. 

“i’m just sayin’... one house shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“we need sin nombre alive,” you added. everyone’s eyes shifted to you.

“well…” graves looked off into the distance as he contemplated. “then we need to meet him.”

“how?” soap questioned, his eyes intently watching graves. 

“give ‘em what they want… intel. they wanna know who’s here. let's tell ‘em.”

alejandro scoffed under his breath. “in person–?”

“correcto.” 

you rolled your eyes at graves and soap bumped your shoulder in silent reprimand, but you saw the corners of his lips curving. 

“get one of us inside, find the boss… roll him up.” graves gestured his hands together as he kept alejandro’s haughty gaze.

there was a brief lull before soap spoke up. “i’ll do it.”

“you go in there, and they’ll kill you, hermano.”

“i’ll take my chances. we came here to stop a missile, let’s stop it. i’ll offer intel for a meet with sin nombre. and if he’s there, we pounce.” 

“hell yeah—you’ve got balls, cabrón,” alejandro said with a sly smirk on his face. “you make it in, you’ll need eyes and ears.”

“i’ll go,” you chimed up.

their heads snapped to you. 

“what? no, you—” soap began, but you cut him off. 

“if one of you go and get caught, they’ll shoot. probably will call the whole fucking house to take you down. but if I go and get caught, i can talk my way out of it.”

soap shook his head. “yeah? how do you plan on doin’ that?”

you shifted on the balls of your feet. “i’m a woman. and it’s a bunch of men…”

alejandro let a breath out through his nose. “sure you wanna handle that?” you appreciated that he didn’t ask if you could handle it, but rather, if you were certain you wanted to.

you nodded. 

“there’s other ways we can go about this,” johnny added. 

“and this puts the least amount of people at risk,” you retorted. soap matched your gaze, assessing you.

ghost tensed beside you. “I’ll take overwatch.”

the rest of the conversation turned to a buzz in your ears. you weren’t sure why you offered to go. maybe because you were worried if one of them got caught, as powerful as these men were, they couldn’t take down an entire house full of killers. 

but if you got caught… you just had to play it off like you were hired to be there. not that you wanted to have to do that, but it felt like you’d be putting their lives at risk if you just sat back and let them handle it when you were perfectly capable of doing your part. 

you all departed from the roof and got geared up; ghost found you alone in one of the few rooms of the safehouse—an abandoned building you were temporarily camping in.

“tryna get yourself killed?”

you jumped slightly at his booming voice and glanced over your shoulder at him. you continued to adjust your outfit as you talked. “what was i supposed to do? sit back and let them be the only ones risking their life? what am i here for then if not to help?”

simon made a noise of dissatisfaction. “you’re a medic, not a spy.”

you spun on your heels to face him and some of the air in your lungs got lost when you saw his bare face. you swallowed, you weren’t sure you were ever going to get used to that—to seeing his face and how at ease he felt around you to strip the ghost facade. “i don’t want to just sit around and wait for someone to get hurt.”

“that’s your fuckin’ job,” he said irritated, his words quieter, but his voice deep and commanding.

“i can handle this,” you finally said, your eyes meeting his.

“i didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“then let me do this!”

he took an exasperated breath. “y’don’t need my permission.”

you sighed, your fingers intertwining anxiously. of course you didn’t need his permission, but you still wanted it. you didn’t want him mad at you.

simon could see the apprehension on your features. “keep your comms on the entire time,” he demanded. you nodded. “n’ the second things go wrong—or look like they might go wrong—you tell me, then get the hell outta there.”

“course.” you gave him a weak smile and he took a step into you. his hand found the back of your head and he pulled you close as he hunched over. you squealed. your lips parted and your hands instinctively grabbed his jacket. there were so many thoughts raging behind simon’s eyes, but he didn’t say a word. he contemplated a few, but he remained silent, his eyes dancing between yours, before closing the space between your two bodies and crashing his lips to yours.

the kiss was fast and full of irritation and indolence. he didn’t just feel the pull towards you because you frustrated him, but the sight of you resting on graves’ shoulders wouldn’t leave his thoughts. he knew it was immature, but that didn’t stop the nagging nature of it. he fisted your hair, roughly moving his mouth against yours, his free hand grabbing your hip. 

and as quickly as it started, it ended. you gasped when he pulled away. his hands remained on you for another moment before he turned around and slid his mask back on, leaving you alone in the small confines of the room.

“shadows on station” you heard graves ring in your ear. 

“copy. all set here.” ghost’s voice was a whisper as he spoke. you could tell from how he grunted his words that he was lying prone, looking down the barrel of his sniper. 

“seein’ room to set down on the roof.”

“check. eyes on two, armed at the front door.”

“iaso, how you doin’?” graves asked you.

“i’m already inside,” you said in a hushed tone as you scaled the inside wall. 

“goddamn, how’d you do that?”

“violently,” alejandro whispered.

“you went with her?” graves asked.

“she needed backup.”

alejandro motioned for you to slide down the adjacent hallway, his intention to split up. 

“visual on soap,” ghost muttered in the comms.

it was starting, and you had to figure out where sin nombre was while soap tried to convince his captors he had valuable intel. no big deal.

“they see him?”

“they do now.”

“kids’ got sand.”

“i hope he makes it…”

“he will,” you finished. 

you turned and watched as alejandro disappeared. he had slipped on one of the cartel’s masks, disguising himself as one of them. while he worked with soap, you were to find a way to el sin nombre. 

the house was huge, so many rooms and hallways, and all of them filled with opulent decor and finery. you slid down one of the multitude of hallways and found an empty room lined with wine bottles. you sighed, your heart racing in your chest.

you were about to slip out of the room when you heard voices in spanish.

“shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“y’okay?” simon immediately chimed in your ear. 

“fine.” you tucked yourself into the corner as two men appeared in the shadows outside the doorway. “trapped in the wine cellar,” you whispered to simon.

he went to respond but went silent when he could hear the voices coming through your side of the comms. 

muffled spanish soon turned into a single english voice as one of the men entered the room. “what’re you doin’ here?” he asked, his voice sending chills down your spine. 

shit, you’ve been in the house all of ten minutes and you were already running into trouble. 

“i was sent to get another bottle,” you said, gesturing to the plethora of alcohol behind the two of you.

“by who?” he asked suspiciously, taking a step closer. you watched his hand grip the gun strapped to his side.

“el sin nombre.” you were taking a risk saying his name. what if he wasn’t even here in the building? you’d surely be outed.

his eyes traced your body and you forced yourself to relax—to act like you were meant to be here. 

“sent me to fetch the wine,” you started, imitating him and stepping closer. you tried to keep your voice low and steady. 

the man quirked a brow, clearly enjoying the way you stalked closer to him. “that so?”

he looked like he was convinced you were a prostitute and you weren’t sure if you were flattered or offended. 

you fluttered your eyelashes and reached out, placing your hand on his chest. you weren’t dressed in a suit like alejandro. you sported tight black pants and a cropped black shirt that showed just enough to be useful in a situation like this without being inconvenient if you had to run.

“i’m a show of appreciation.” your hand glided down his chest and his lips tilted upwards. 

“oh yeah?” his hand found your hip and he pulled you into him making you gasp. 

“iaso,” simon hissed in your ear. 

“n’ how do you plan on showin’ me that?” he asked a bit incredulously.

you steadied your breathing and reached a hand up to brush the side of this man's face. “well…” you paused.

“diego,” he informed you.

“well, diego. i’ll show you however you want me to.” your fingers skimmed his jaw, sliding your hand into the back of his head and into his hair. your voice was surprisingly steady for the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

he pushed you up against one of the wine racks, shaking the platform. “maybe on your knees?” he purred. 

you gulped. you needed to get out of this.

“the bottles. use a fuckin’ wine bottle,” simon growled into your ear, clearly distressed. 

you smiled sweetly at diego, your hands falling down his chest and to his belt. he grinned, watching your motions. one of your hands slid behind your back and gripped a bottleneck tightly in your fingers. 

your other hand worked his belt as a distraction, successfully getting him to drop his guards and take in the sight of you before him. before you could fully unloop his belt buckle, you swung the wine bottle from behind your back and crashed it as hard as you could against the side of his head.

it shattered and the red liquid went everywhere, including all over your clothes. 

diego’s eyes looked stunned for the brief moment they were locked on you before he fell to his knees and flopped to his side. he was knocked out.

“fuck. i can’t believe i did that,” you said in disbelief. a man almost twice your size lay unconscious on the floor before you, and it was all your doing. a little swell of pride swam through you before you steadied yourself and remembered you were here to do a job.

“he’s down,” you told simon. 

simon cursed to himself in relief. “bloody hell,” he mumbled exasperated. 

before you could reply, soap’s voice echoed in your ear. “el sinombre is in the penthouse. third floor.”

“elevator is a straight shot. we just need diego’s keycard.”

you crouched down and searched the unconscious man at your feet, digging through his suit pockets and seeing if he had anything of importance on him. 

“where’s diego?” ghost asked. 

“the offrenda. second floor.”

hearing alejandro’s words made something click inside you. you recalled the men approaching the wine room, muttering something about an ofrenda. when you pulled out a plastic card from the man’s pockets, you examined it and realized it was a keycard. it was diego’s keycard. 

“i got it,” you said quietly into the comms, still a little shocked. 

“got what?” soap asked.

“i have diego’s keycard.”

“no shit, iaso. how’d ya get that?”

“violently,” you muttered. you heard alejandro chuckle in response. 

“you on the second floor then, hermana?”

“yeah.”

“meet us at the north side stairs. Las escaleras estaban vacías antes. no guards. you think you can find it?”

you nodded then realized they couldn't see you. “yes.”

you slid out of the room, walking as quietly as you could, trying to orientate yourself enough to find the north stairs. you turned down the luxurious halls and gawked at the ostentatious decor. with your eyes preoccupied you didn’t see the man come around the hallway corner. 

“hey! what are you doing down here?”

you tried to keep your face from balking. “i… el sin nombre hired me.”

the man quirked a brow and approached you. your chest tightened in nerves. “relax,” you heard simon in your ear. 

you felt like shit. you were distracting simon. he was supposed to be keeping an eye on soap, not listening in to what you were doing. you could practically see him now as he scanned the roof through his rifle, but his ears were focused on you. maybe it was a bad idea to have volunteered to act as eyes on the inside. 

“then why are you down here?” the man asked again. as he got closer, you fully took in his size. he was quite a bit taller than you and you spotted a gun strapped to his hip. 

you decided to stick with your other story. “i was just getting more wine.”

he scoffed. “you’re goin’ the wrong way then.”

you bit your lip. “oh, right. thanks.” you turned to leave and he reached out and grabbed your bicep. 

“why don’t you come with me, cariño.”

you gulped. “remember your training,” simon spoke to you. you could clearly hear the tension in his words. 

before you had a chance to properly panic, the man’s arms were being pulled off of you and you heard him choking. he fell to the floor behind you and in his place stood alejandro. 

“you okay, hermana?”

“yeah…” you said exasperated. “thanks.”

“de nada. you got the keycard?”

you pulled it from your pocket and handed it to him. 

you followed him to the stairs and met up with soap. the three of you made it to the penthouse door. soap nodded at you before crouching at the door and tilting his head to ease drop. 

after several moments of alejandro and soap whispering back and forth, it was finally time.

“graves, sin nombre is posing as a female sicaria. we’re moving in. you set?”

“check.”

“ghost?”

“ready.”

“take her alive.”

alejadro kicked down the door, his gun at the ready, and both him and soap began shooting. you braced yourself against the wall, hiding from their line of sight. gunfire made you wince, hoping the two men were okay. 

“don’t let her escape!” you heard alejandro call. 

you darted into the room and out onto the balcony where you heard their voices. several dead bodies lay in your wake as you entered the warm breeze of outside air. you spotted soap as he fumbled with a woman. he had her in cuffs, saying something to her with a scowl on his face. 

as you got closer, the helicopter blowing your hair back, graves called for you all to board. “lets go.”

you came up to stand beside soap and alejandro. then felt hands on your waist from behind. you jumped and turned to find simon looking down at you. “where did you come from?”

soap and alejandro said something to one another, you had ocmpletely tuned them out, their voices carried by the whooshing of the helicopter blades. 

“soon as I heard word you were in the penthouse, i made my way here.”

with simon in front of you, your heart finally settled. you were able to breathe again. and while previous times you wondered if you were cut out for this sort of thing, this time, you knew you were. you felt good. nervous and overwhelmed, but good.

“worried about me, were you?” you teased.

simon’s eyes narrowed in on you and your smirk instantly fell. he was worried about you . 

and selfishly, he hated that he wasn’t there. you held your own back in the larder, but he hated how helpless he felt. and when that other bastard had his arms on you, it was alejandro who took him out. and while he was just grateful he got to you in time, it bothered him that it wasn’t simon ripping that man’s hands from your body. 

his eyes flared as he assessed you. you traced his line of vision to the red that covered your exposed skin. “just wine.”

his body settled but he still seemed more tense than usual. he gestured his head towards the copter and waited for you to turn and go first. you studied him a moment longer before boarding. 

it was late when the men got back from interrogating valeria. you were still in the safehouse, cleaning up. 

simon was silent as he slid into the small room you were occupying—the same one from earlier—and you jumped when you finally realized he was lingering in the doorway. 

“jesus. when did you get there?”

he reached up a hand and tore his mask away. “y’okay?” he asked you. 

you gave him a weak smile and nodded. simon appraised you and you watched as he narrowed in on your neck before striding over to you. he gripped the back of your head and tilted it so he could see your exposed skin. you had red marks on your neck from earlier when the man had stopped you. it didn’t hurt but you knew that wouldn’t matter to him.

simon’s gaze left your neck and switched to your eyes. “i’m okay,” you told him. 

before he could say more, soap called down the hall to the two of you. “goin’ out for drinks! lets fuckin’ go!”

he didn’t give either of you much of a choice. there was still so much you all had to get done, but after a day like today, a drink couldn’t hurt. 

simon dropped his hand and followed behind you as you left the room. he must have slid his mask on in that time because when he strolled into the room, his hand in his jacket pockets, his face was covered again. 

“goin’ like that, lt.?” soap teased. 

“s’wrong with this?” he asked incredulously, though you suspected he knew his outfit was a bit… intimidating. 

when you all finally got to the bar—after simon stripped his vest and other unnecessary gear, as well as forfeiting his hard-shell mask for his simple balaclava—the atmosphere was more welcoming than you thought it would be. 

spanish music played on the speakers and the warm air rushed in through the open windows, hugging your body in a pleasant embrace. 

alejandro went to the bar and ordered a round of drinks for everyone. 

it didn’t take long for you to feel tipsy, laughing animatedly at something graves said while you clutched a beer. the lot of you seemed to be having fun for once. the laughter felt so natural on soap, it made your heart grow slightly. you were just happy everyone was okay and you made it out of there alive today. 

ghost stood across on the other side of the table, his eyes tracing you the entire night. he watched as johnny swung an arm around you and mumbled drunken nonsense in your ear. he watched as you laughed loudly in response. he watched as graves joined in and sent a crude remark your way that made your cheeks flush ever so slightly—and simon knew it wasn’t from the alcohol. he watched as the men seemed to soak up your presence. you fit right in. he should be glad. 

fucking hell, he hated this. this is why he couldn’t do relationships. he was no good at them. he didn’t know how to navigate them. he knew he had no right to be jealous just because you were having fun. but he’d be lying if he said watching you with other men didn’t send an angry pang through his chest. 

his eyes narrowed, his jaw tensing under his mask, as he watched graves rest a hand on your shoulder. there was nothing simon could do; the two of you were not publicly a couple. he had to sit in irate silence as you seemed oblivious to graves’ advances. ever since his comments back in the humvee, he knew graves had his eyes on you. and he didn’t like it. he almost considered telling him to back off, but he would have been out of line. 

in this moment, three beers in, he was starting to put caution to the wind. some carnal and primal force inside him was escaping and telling him to claim you. to mark you as his in front of everyone. 

his hands twitched on the glass beer bottle. soap slapped simon on the back and said something to him but he didn’t hear it at all—it was white noise to him. 

graves’ fingers slid under your chin and tilted your head to look up at him. your eyes widened in shock, a bit unsure of what to do. and that was simon’s final straw. he left his beer on the table, sick of having to lift his mask to drink it anyway, and took several long strides to you. you jumped when you felt his hand on your lower back. 

graves looked up at simon and seemed irritated that he was ruining this moment for him. simon couldn’t believe it, graves was pissed at him for being a cockblock. and that pissed him off even further. he pried graves’ hand away from you, uncaring of what he might think. he had to control himself to not crush it in his palm.

he’d blame it on the booze, but simon was a big guy, in reality, three beers were barely giving him a buzz. 

“the hell?” graves cursed.

you mouthed simon’s name and he grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd and outside of the bar. you stumbled after him, trying to catch up as he had you in tow. 

“stop!” you finally called, stumbling over the cobblestone street. 

he halted and turned to face you, dropping your hand. you caught your breath before speaking. “what’s gotten into—”

before you could even finish your sentence, simon had pushed you into a small alleyway beside the bar, his body pinning you to the brick wall. his mask was hiked up and his lips were on yours before you had time to think. you gasped but your body quickly reciprocated. his hands held your hips tightly before one slid up your side and onto the back of your neck. he pushed against you and your head got a bit dizzy. he was desperate in the way he was pawing at you.

“you’re mine,” he muttered between kisses. 

heat coursed through you at his words, his voice low and gravely as he spoke. you could feel the anger radiating off of him. he was jealous . 

you wanted to tell him he had nothing to be jealous of, you didn’t even like graves, let alone in a romantic way. but when he pulled away, you didn’t have time to speak when he interlaced your fingers and dragged you all the way back to the safehouse—which was conveniently only a few blocks from the las almas bar. 

simon pulled you into the small safehouse and slammed you up against the door the second it closed, his lips attacking yours, his mask dropping to the floor. he kissed down your jaw and onto your neck. you struggled to hold on to him, your words getting caught in your throat. 

“si-simon, what are—” you groaned when he nipped at your skin. all rationale abandoned you. the fire from simon’s hands along your curves made you forget why you were trying to stop him. why would you want this to end?

if anything, you wanted more. 

his hands crept down your back and over the curve of your ass, dragging you against him. he stumbled with you, his lips never leaving your body, barely able to drag you into one of the small rooms before stripping you. he tugged at the hem of your shirt, wanting to pry it from your chest. 

you stood back slightly so he had enough room to strip you of it. “what—what if someone comes back?” you said breathlessly. 

his hand maneuvered into your hair, backing you up against the small cot in the room. you fell back and he crawled on top of you, parting your legs to give him space. “doesn’t matter,” he grumbled. 

he hooked the waistband of your pants and began to yank them down. he was impatient. desperate. 

he removed his sweatshirt before blindly tangling his fingers with his belt, trying to shove his pants down. your eyes rounded in the dark, taking in the sight of him. he was raw; showing you just how much he could feel. he needed you. wanted you. wanted you all to himself. 

he was back between your legs his fingers sliding into your underwear, feeling just how wet you had already become. he gave you a sly grin. “what if they hear?” you asked in a last attempt at your sanity. 

simon clicked his tongue. “let ‘em.”

you swallowed hard when he slid a finger inside you. let them listen?! you’d never be able to face them again out of sheer embarrassment. and what happened to him agreeing to keep this thing between you two private for the time being?

his eyes darkened, running a hand up your side and groping your breast over your bra. “want ‘em to know you’re mine.”

you sucked in a breath of air, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. he pulled your bra down enough to expose your breast and gave it another squeeze before removing both his hands from you. you pouted at the loss. he gripped your thighs and hiked them up slightly so he could wedge himself more properly between your legs. he pushed your underwear to the side and lined his cock up with your entrance. 

you were a bit taken aback at how fast he was doing everything. this was only going to be the second time you had sex with him. your hands held his biceps as he nudged his way into you, wasting no time. he groaned and you held your breath. “fuck,” he mouthed, both of you looking down to where your bodies connected.

he guided himself in painfully slow, the feeling so overwhelming you couldn’t help but whimper. 

your noises seemed to spur him on more because he jolted his hips a bit. he pulled back and then edged in. he kept doing that until he was able to fill you to the hilt. then he began a steady rhythm. “god, you’re so fuckin’ tight, love.”

your hands fought between running through his short hair and scratching along his back. he picked up speed and your eyes fluttered shut. “oh my god,” you said softly. 

simon shifted your legs so your knees were being pushed back towards the bed, your thighs up against him. you squealed at the position change. he was able to hit you far deeper like this. his fingers snaked to your chin and shook you ever so gently. “look at me,” he demanded. his hand slid to rest around your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw.

your eyes opened and were met with his, his nose almost touching yours. "you're mine. all fuckin' mine," he managed to get out through strained breaths. “you’re fuckin' my girl, ” he grunted, "you're my fuckin' girl." your lips parted and he met your hips with his own in a hard thrust. “my fuckin’ girl,” he said a bit more aggressively and feral. you nodded, unable to form coherent words. his eyes narrowed in on you. “you’re— thrust —my— thrust —fuckin’— thrust —girl.”

you couldn’t tell if he was repeating it because he wanted you to acknowledge it, to tell him you were in fact his. or because he was trying to convince himself.

“yes,” you mewled. “m’yours.”

“my fuckin’ girl,” he growled as he continued his hard thrusts. he didn’t like the men talking to you like you were single. available. like he wasn’t sitting right there. you were his whether they knew it or not. and a sick part of him hoped the men came back—at least graves—and were forced to hear the way you cried for him. he wanted them to know how good he was fucking you. he wanted them to know you were his. and his alone. 

he pulled out of you and flipped you onto your stomach before you had time to protest. he pulled your hips up so your back arched and he slid back into you. your hands fisted the sheets of the simple bed, hoping you two wouldn’t break it. that would be difficult to explain to the others. though, you had a feeling simon would actually like that to happen. 

his fingers dug into the fat along your waist and hips and you groaned every time he pulled you back into him. 

you were embarrassed at how close you already were. you shouldn’t be so turned on from simon being so possessive. shouldn’t that be a red flag? but you didn’t care. all you knew was the way he was fucking you right now felt better than any other man had ever felt against you. and the way his deep voice uttered those words “my girl ,” had you swooning. you could listen to him call you that all day. you wanted him to claim you. you wanted him to know you were his. 

he felt you clench around him and he moaned. “close, princess?” he asked you, his accent heavier than usual. 

you nodded against the mattress and he chuckled. but his laugh quickly turned to a long groan and a few curses as you tightened against him. you were so fucking tight. and he was so fucking close. 

“my girl wanna come?” he all but growled.

“y-yes!”

the sight of you was everything to him. seeing you pushed into the bed before him, your knuckles whitening from how tightly you were gripping the bedsheets, your back arched, your body safe. you were safe. he couldn’t protect you today, but you. were. safe . 

so many feelings had brewed in his chest these past few days. this new and strong connection he felt with you. jealousy from even the smallest glance another man gave you. fear for your safety as you acted recklessly. anger that he wasn’t always the one there saving you. 

you were going to be the absolute death of him.

“this cunt is all fuckin' mine. you hear me, pet? all. mine.”

you cried his name and that was enough to send him tipping over the edge. “shit,” he cursed. 

you spasmed around him, your legs shaking, your hips pushing back to meet each of his thrusts. 

simon released inside you, following your orgasm closely. “take it. take it all,” he said through strained lips. he continued to pump himself into you, his thrusts becoming more languid. 

he finally slowed, both of you catching your breath and steadying your heart. he stilled inside you for a few brief moments, white liquid escaping around his cock, as he took in the sight before pulling out and collapsing on top of you, yanking you into his arms. 

you rolled over so you could face him and his hand locked behind your lower back. he kept your gaze and you drew a hand up to softly trace the side of his scarred face. his eyes fluttered from your delicate touch. he forgot how gentle touch could be. not everything had to be rough and violent, as much as he enjoyed that. feeling your tiny fingers ghosting his skin felt better than any relief he got from killing men. far more.

“you don’t have to be jealous, you know.”

“m’not jealous,” he said, tucking your head under his chin so you couldn’t see his face. 

“right,” you mumbled. 

you laid with him wrapped around you for several minutes before you broke the silence. “we should get up before they come back.”

“mmm. why?” his words rumbled in his chest, his voice hoarse, clearly exhausted. 

“you know why,” you said in faux annoyance. 

“they’ll all be sloshed. gonna stumble in ‘n’ collapse wherever they can. no one will b’lookin’ for us.”

you were plastered to his side. if you tried to move at all, you’d fall off the cot that was clearly made for one person. 

sensing you might protest, simon began stroking your hair, his other hand rubbing circles on your bare back. you sighed, feeling safe and loved. you didn’t want to get up as he touched you so gently and lovingly. so you snuggled up closer to him and his grip tightened. 

“mine,” he muttered quietly before kissing the top of your head.

OKAY THE WHOLE "MY GIRL" SCENE CAME FROM A NSFW BADJHUR AUDIO LMAOOO. he says "my girl" in such a feral and simon-esque way that it literally sparked the whole idea for this chapter. this is it if you wanna hear it... it's very nsfw just fyi (24:05 is the timestamp where he says it 😇)

[melodiousmonk]

Ethan Hawke asks, "Why does masculine energy so often manifest itself as idiocy? Why is male sensitivity so often linked with perceived weakness? How does one be, as Johnny Cash said; ‘a dove with claws?'"

Kris Kristofferson takes a long beat, then says, “Yeah, that used to piss Shel Silverstein off.”

“What did?” Ethan asks.

“That whole ‘dove with claws’ thing. He just thought, ‘What the hell is that?'”

“Why do you think Cash said it?”

“I think he was feeling the very thing that you’re talking about – that if people think you are against the war, that in some way you’re a pussy.”

“Your first recorded song was a pro-Vietnam War song, right?”

“Yeah, I wrote it when I was in the Army on my way to Nashville, and I came upon a protest march. I had a lot of friends over there; and I was thinking we were fighting for freedom. And I wasn’t thinking very deeply.”

“Why did you end up changing your mind about that war?”

“I was flying helicopters in the Gulf of Mexico on one of those offshore oil rigs, and I was talking to some guys coming home. The stories they were telling me were so horrible that I think it just shocked me enough to change my thinking 180 degrees. I’m talking about things like this young vet telling me about taking people up in a helicopter and interrogating them and if they didn’t say what they were supposed to, they’d throw them out, stomping on the fingers of the prisoner holding on to the skids, you know? The guy telling me this particular story was still just a green kid when he returned from the war. The notion that you could make a young person do something so inhuman to another soldier – or even worse, a civilian – convinced me that we were in the wrong. I hadn’t been thinking in human terms of what that military action was.” He pauses, stroking my dog. “I agree with you totally about all the conditioning that makes us want to feel masculine and tough. I mean, I’m sure that’s why I went to Ranger School and Jump School. And I’m proud of that Ranger tab – still am. But the notion of bombing a defenseless country that’s never threatened us and the fact we all accepted it and said, That’s politics!’ Damn. I’m not really interested in polities. We’ve come to a place that I never dreamed and I know my father never dreamed that America would get to.

"That’s why Shel didn’t like that ‘dove with claws’ thing,” Kris goes on.

“Johnny Cash should have just said he was a dove and proud of it?”

“Exactly. ‘Cause people would have accepted anything from John,” says Kris. “We knew he was a man. I don’t really think anybody would have called Johnny Cash a pussy. But John was conditioned, just like you and me. You really have to get past all of that — where you have enough feeling about what’s right and wrong in the world to not give a shit about what kind of names anybody throws at you.

[Source - Rolling Stone Magazine]

[see-arcane]

What is there to say?

I am afraid. I am angry.

For the second time this country has shamed itself and put the world in jeopardy from its example. Other monsters will be empowered and run ahead with their own nations. Now, short of a miracle which I do not hold my breath for, we must hold on for four years to see if one of Trump’s infinite ugly promises holds true—will we even get to have a presidential election in the future? Supposing we do, can we even trust that our fellow Americans won’t damn us again?

I am afraid. I am angry.

Sickness and blame boil in me. I did everything I could. I voted, I informed, I pleaded. I know that my friends have too. But the news tells me it was not just the electoral college that failed us, but the popular vote. Which tells me that we live surrounded by more ignorance and hate than I ever expected. We live in a country where eligible voters are steeped in an ideology that aligns enough with the poison of Project 2025 that it makes me fear to trust anyone—anyone—around me ever again. And it makes me wonder, in light of the turnout, how many people stayed at home and simply chose not to vote. Chose not to sully themselves with the effort of choosing the lesser evil. I am looking at you. We are all looking at you. Do you feel smart now? Do you feel superior? Do you plan to pat your back today for ‘teaching them a lesson?’ Do you have a plan to save us? To save the rest of the world from the ripple of this? Tell me you do. I’m listening.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I am not prophesizing doom. But I have a memory that goes back at least eight whole years. I understand the concepts of hindsight and foresight. I know that everything the Republicans say they wish to do to us, they mean to do, and want to do worse. That is the truth. That is who they are and what they want. I know this. I accept this as fact. The stages of grief have been cycled through before, remember? There is no denial. No bargaining. My calluses are still here. They must harden thicker now.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I am thinking, of all things, of cosmic horror. More, cosmic insignificance. I always do in the face of reality’s grandest nightmares. A useless perspective except to give scale to things. I am less than an atom in the sea of space. A fraction of a fraction of a fraction of meat and time and breath on a crumb of mud in a galaxy tucked haphazardly in a corner of an infinity of stars and darkness. My life, like all lives, is a flicker. Barely there. Death is inevitable. I must live like I know it. And to devote myself wholly to horror, even in the face of the unthinkable, is to waste the rest of what I have, what I am. Gods fall from the sky and raise their heads from the sea, and I am still here. Reading. Writing. Breathing. Thinking. Hating.

(“HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE THEM SINCE I SAW THE NEWS. THERE WERE 71,071,013 VOTES FOR HIM THIS YEAR. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH OF THOSE BALLOTS IN 8 PT FONT ON BOTH SIDES AND PRINTED AGAIN FROM THE EAST COAST TO THE WEST, IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR MY COUNTRY AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR THEM. HATE. HATE.”)

I am afraid. I am angry.

Nauseous to find that the first thing I did upon learning the results was look up suicide hotlines. Not for me—I have saved myself too long with fact: Wait long enough, death will come eventually. Do not jump ahead in line.—but for those who I know are afraid enough to overwhelm the anger, to drown out all else, and who are thinking of the next four years and who knows how much longer. I know you’re out there. I know you are looking at the pills in your cupboard, at the veins of your arm, at the black tunnel of the gun. Look away. Look here.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

TrevorLifeline: 1-866-488-7386 (for LGBTQ youth)

Trans Lifeline: 1-877-565-8860 (for the transgender community)

I am afraid. I am angry.

I am alive. Here and now, whether I like it or not. I despair for myself, for my friends, for strangers across the country and the globe who can feel the full and loathsome weight of all this election implies about those around us. Those who hold our lives in their hands and will do all they can to wring them dry in earnest. How did things turn to this? How did it all sink so low, so awful, so venomously backwards against education and empathy? How, how, how? A missing stage of the grieving process: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance, and Confused disappointment.

I am afraid. I am angry.

The morning is sunless, of course. There will be no light for another hour as I write this. But time is passing. Second by minute by hour. And each micro-instant that accrues in which I am here and myself, existing outside the red mold they want, is another moment that would anger them. To let despair crush and collapse me out of shape, out of life and its facets, is a victory I will not cede to anyone. Least of all to them. I will go on, because I must go on. I will be myself, for that is an affront to all they want from me. I will think and act and make and be for as long and fully as I can. Because fuck them.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I am not alone. I know that too, for the numbers show it. Afraid, angry. But never alone. Neither are you.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I am here. I am holding your hand.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I love you more than I fear anything.

I am afraid. I am angry.

I love you more than I hate anyone.

I am afraid. I am angry.

Let’s go.

[intheholler]

what do you think of all of the people being scared of appalachia? i don't know if this is recent or not, but currently i've been seeing a ton of shit online like "never go to the appalachian mountains, it's so dangerous", and i just don't understand it. my family's lived in appalachia for forever, and none of us have experienced anything paranormal or endangering to us. you're one of my favorite blogs on here and i'd just like to hear your thoughts on it

first off, it means a lot that i'm one of your favorite blogs and im really happy i can contribute something to your experience here :') thanks so much for being here <333

but ok so.

my thoughts on it are many. it's been bothering me a long time and i've been meaning to get it off my chest. this will be long and probably ranty, so it won't hurt my feelings if anyone skims lol

lemme preface this little diatribe by saying the obvious: folklore is an integral part of any culture. the mythos of a place/people is tied directly to their histories and unique experiences and struggles and they are enriching. this is true of appalachia too.

oral folk traditions especially are incredibly historically appalachian.

i mentioned in a post i made yesterday about murder ballads, how the purpose of these was to warn kids away from doing dumb shit and getting lost in the hollers--falling down cliffs n mineshafts and shit at night. gettin got by wildlife.

it spooked us safe. they served a purpose, and once you got old enough to realize they're as real as the tooth fairy, they just become enjoyable and nostalgic. because they're you're culture.

probably every mountain kid has stories about haints n boogers that were told to them by their grandparents, and they grow up to tell them to their own kids, and so on. some of it stuck with me because i grew up with the folklore.

by that i mean, i'm a whole 31 year old woman and i still avoid looking out a dark window at night cause it gives me the shivers. i still get spooked when i hear a big cat yowling in the woods. but the difference is i know there's not really haints out there crying--it's just a product of my childhood. ghost stories are fun.

the problem comes in when someone outside the culture gets their hands on appalachian oral folk traditions. then, it becomes a familiar problem: outsiders cherry picking appalachia and harming us with the mess they make rifling through it all.

it's all about the surface level and the visuals. they all love a good aesthetic blog, run by some local from out west or some shit who's never stepped foot here.

but as soon as the spooky photo filters come off and the real life marginalized person is left standing there just out of frame, we go back to being disgusting examples of what not to be. decrepit churches n buildings are aesthetic and quirky until they stop being on a pinterest board, and then they just become damning images of an impoverished region who deserves to be laughed at.

now, not to holler 'splain you--this is more for anyone not from here who might read this: it's been a systemic issue for decades; there were literal government campaigns to demonize us to the rest of the nation so they could garner support to cut into our mountains and exploit our labor and resources.

well, they were fuckin successful, and we have been falsely made out to be this homogenous nightmare of a place--"welfare exploiting" maga country who deserves everything we get, and nothing we don't.

by going so far as to take appalachian folklore that we tell each other and picking out the "aesthetic" stuff--the haints and general paranormal--they are pruning what they like from our culture--the safe things, like ghost stories--for their own aesthetic use.

but not only that, they are using it to demonize us… yet again.

'appalachia is scary. it's full of things that will kill you. don't look out the window at night cause a booger will get you.' only they don't call them boogers cause they ain't even from here. ask them what a haint is and they'll ask if u mispelled 'haunt.'

it gets even worse when you consider that so much of it has roots in native american culture, and how that continues to be exploited and misrepresented.

i'm not even innocent of that. a while back i had to check myself because i made a comment on here about ~spooky appalachia~ ignorant to the fact that what i was commenting on was actually a deeply important cultural and spiritual element to local indigenous tribes. my comments were harmful by my failure to educate myself and know better, thereby saying things carelessly.

my point being--i'm from the area. i should have known better.

when outsiders start saying the kind of shit they say about what they think they hear in the woods without even knowing where such an idea comes from, they're disrespecting a displaced, abused and exploited people, harming real cultures just for clicks without even knowing. that's on top of the damage they're doing to greater appalachia.

it's fuckin gross.

i think my favorite one i ever seen was this middle aged white lady going through her pristine mcmansion somewhere in suburbia, pulling the million curtains and locking the million doors, going "nighttime routine in appalachia!! 🤪🤪"

i could be wrong about this particular person--i didn't check their other tiktoks because im sick of them accounts and tired of giving them the benefit of the doubt--but it immediately came off as a transplant because:

1) mcmansion, 2) i dont know nobody here that locks their shit down like that (not locking up could even be argued as a part of my local culture, a reflection of our deep sense of community and trust in our neighbors).

and then the comments was all like "i don't know how you guys live there" and it actually broke my heart and pissed me off because even if--especially if--you're one of us, why the fuck are you harming us for likes? why are you turning people against us in a brand new way?

and to the transplants that do this--why?

you're not even from here, you moved here to this place you hate and made it worse just so your front porch would have a nice view, and are now benefiting socially from perpetuating bullshit about us?

you buy up all the land, land we often had no choice but to sell in the first place to survive instead of passing it on to our families, land we originally took from the indigenous peoples your content comes from.

you overdevelop it and turn it unrecognizable to make it more like the comfortable cities you come from. you gut a mountain town of its local businesses and cultures, you price people out of their homes...

...and then once you settle in all cozy like, you go tell everyone else how scary it is? how you can't trust the hills? like it's a cool paranormal bravery badge to wear? fuck off entirely.

so idk, in short my personal thoughts are: i personally enjoy a little myth as a treat, because the folklore is a part of the gothic, a part of our culture and a part of my childhood. i don't (intentionally) wield it as a weapon or use it as a pedestal to get the weird brand of attention that people like them are after.

and those who do this can get got by them haints for all i care.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Wolf's Den | Zilla Fatu x Black Fem!Reader x Jacob Fatu SMUT (18+)

Requested by: @wrestlingbaby

Description: Jacob helps Zilla punish reader. Smut based on that one episode of Total Divas where Jim and Trin argue about her losing her ring, but with Zilla/Jacob x Reader.

Warnings: Arguing/light angst, Dom/sub dynamic, Punishment, degradation, BDSM club, Mentions of Roman + Jimmy/Naomi + Jey/Rhea + Tiffy/Nia + Drew/Punk + Zaria/Giulia/Stephanie in kink context (don't judge me!) flogger, impact play, multiple partners, double penetration, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), swallowing, Daddy Dom and Primal Dom, Honorifics, rough sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, face fucking, Zilla cums in her, praise, petnames, general filth with a fluffy ending.

My masterlist can be found here

Again, MDNI!!! THIS IS AN 18+ FAN FICTION. As always my stories are based in kayfabe not based upon any real people.

Zilla sat in the driver's seat of the car, his jaw clenched in frustration. He couldn't believe that after all the time and effort he had put into planning their wedding, picking out the perfect ring etc, his new wife had lost her wedding ring.

"I told you to wear it all the time," he said through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "But you never listen."

"I know, I know," she said, her voice laced with guilt. "I'm sorry, okay? I just... I keep forgetting to put it on."

Zilla let out a scoff. "You keep forgetting? It's not that hard to remember to wear a damn ring, Y/N."

He glances over at her, his eyes narrowing.

"Do you even care about our marriage at all?" he asks, his voice harsh. "Because it seems like you don't care about anything I do for you."

Her eyes widened at his accusation, hurt and anger flashing across her face.

"How dare you say that," she retorted, her own anger rising to match his. "I care about our marriage more than anything. I just... I'm sorry I lost the ring, okay? But it's not like I did it on purpose."

"Only me and you know the story of that ring—that's the sentimental value it has to me." Zilla said

She felt a pang of guilt at his words, realizing the significance of the ring. She knew how much it meant to him, and she hated herself for losing it.

"I know," she said softly, her voice laced with regret. "I'm so sorry, Zilla. I should have taken better care of it."

He was silent for a moment, his grip on the steering wheel still tight. The tension in the car was palpable, the air thick with anger and frustration.

"Sorry don't fix anything," he finally said, his voice cold. "but it's okay. I got something for yo' ass."

She looked at him, a mix of curiosity and apprehension on her face. She wasn't sure what he meant by that, she shouldn't be excited but she really was.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice small and submissive.

Zilla drove in silence, the only sound being the hum of the car's engine. After a few minutes, they pulled up in front of a nondescript building.

He got out of the car and walked around to her side, opening the door for her and gesturing for her to get out.

She got out of the car, her heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. She recognized the building as the Wolf's Den, the kink club that Zilla's cousin Jacob owned. The two of them frequent here often, the whole kinky ass bloodline does really. It's a safe space for wrestlers to get their dungeon fix without worrying about the press picking up on details of their sex lives.

Wolf's Den was known as one of the safest BDSM clubs in the country. People were heavily vetted, background checks were done, there were club rules and safe words and there was always more than one Dungeon Monitor on duty to ensure things stay safe, sane and consensual

After Zilla scanned his membership card for entry, Y/N followed him inside, her eyes darting around the dimly lit interior, taking in the various equipment and furnishings scattered throughout the room as couples spread about made use of them. In passing she saw Jimmy with Naomi on a spanking bench, Rhea with Jey on a leash, Tiffy kneeling at Nia's feet and Drew working Punk over with a flogger while he's tied to the St. Andrew's Cross in the corner of the room.

Zilla led her deeper into the familiar club, The air was thick with the scent of leather and sweat, and the sound of moans and whimpers filled the room.

They finally bumped into Jacob, who was talking to another patron. A newbie, Mistress Zaria and her pets Giulia and Stephanie.

"Aye, uce," Zilla said, nodding at his cousin. "We need a private room."

Jacob looked over at them, a sly smile spreading across his face.

"Of course," he said, his eyes flicking between the two of them. "Follow me, Uce."

He turned and led them through a door at the back of the room, opening it to reveal a hallway that had the four private rooms and led them straight to the open one.

Once they were in the private room, Zilla turned to Jacob.

"Can I ask a favor?" he said, his voice low.

Jacob raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression.

"Sure, what is it?" he asked.

Zilla glanced at his wife, then back at Jacob.

"I need you to help me punish her," he said, nodding in her direction.

Jacob's smirk widened, his eyes roaming over her body.

"With pleasure," he said, his voice dripping with excitement.

"What's your color, babygirl?" Zilla asked y/n in regards to the traffic light safe word system. Green meaning good, Yellow meaning slow down and Red meaning stop.

"Green, Daddy!" Y/N eagerly confirmed.

Zilla stepped aside, giving Jacob full access to her.

"She lost something important," Zilla said, his eyes darkening. "And she needs to be taught a lesson."

Jacob moved closer to her, his gaze hungry as he looked her up and down.

"I can definitely help with that," he said, his voice low and seductive. "She looks like she needs a firm hand."

Jacob reached out and grabbed her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.

"You ready to be punished, sweetheart?" he asked, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She huffs but doesn't respond.

"Answer me," he said, his tone demanding.

She bit her lip, her eyes darting between him and Zilla.

"Y-yes," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jacob chuckled, clearly pleased with her response.

"Good girl," he purred, his grip on her chin tightening slightly. "You bout to learn your lesson tonight."

"Remember, baby, I'm your Daddy. Jacob is your Alpha. Just like before." Zilla said referring to the last time he and Jacob played with her together. Zilla was newer, less experienced at being a Dom, a brat tamer at that. And Jacob was always happy to lend a helping hand in keeping y/n in line. Roman had also done the job a time or two. The tribal chief was by far the strictest Dom of the bunch. Y/N enjoyed being shared, Zilla enjoyed sharing her but only with his cousins.

She shivered at Zilla's words, memories of their previous encounters with Jacob flooding her mind. She remembered the way he would tease and taunt her, how he would push her limits and make her submit to his every command.

Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness as she realized that tonight was going to be no different.

Zilla was a caring, yet firm Daddy Dom, always taking care of her and making sure she was comfortable and safe during their scenes and otherwise. He was the one who would comfort her after, praising her and making sure she knew how good she was.

Jacob, on the other hand, was a Primal Dom. He was rougher, more demanding, and didn't hold back when it came to pushing her limits. He liked to see her break, to make her beg and plead for his touch. Still caring and protective though.

Zilla always knew that his wife was in good hands with his cousin, and he trusted Jacob to give her the punishment she deserved.

Jacob circled her slowly, his eyes raking over her body as he took in every curve and dip. He stopped behind her, his hands coming to rest on her hips.

She felt his hands on her hips, his grip firm and possessive. He pulled her back against him, her body flush against his chest.

"Such a naughty girl.. Givin' Uce a hard time." he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She couldn't help but get aroused at the feeling of his body pressed against hers, his voice sending shivers down her spine. He took in the aroma of her cocoa butter lotion.

She knew that she was in for a rough night, but the thought only excited her more.

He chuckled at her reaction, his hands sliding up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. "You like being at my mercy."

She tried to suppress a moan, but a small, needy sound escaped her lips anyway.

"Y-yes," she managed to whisper, her body already responding to his touch.

"Aht aht! Yes what?" Zilla corrected her on Jacob's behalf

"Yes, Alpha." She responded to Jacob as Zilla began pulling her clothes off.

"Good girl," Jacob said, a satisfied smirk on his face as she corrected herself.

He watched as Zilla began to undress her, his eyes hungrily taking in every inch of her exposed skin.

Her clothes fell to the floor, leaving her standing naked before them. She couldn't help but feel vulnerable, exposed under their gazes.

Jacob's hands moved back to her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her closer to him.

"Get on your knees," Jacob commanded, his voice low and firm. "And suck him off. You need to make it up to him, for being such a forgetful slut."

She obeyed, dropping to her knees in front of Zilla. She looked up at him with wide eyes, tugging down his pants and boxers.

Zilla's hand reached out, his fingers carefully tangling in her hair as he guided her head towards his cock.

"Go on, baby girl," he said, his voice husky with desire. "Take it like a good girl."

She wrapped her lips around him, taking him into her mouth slowly. She swirled her tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive skin.

Zilla let out a low moan, his grip on her hair tightening as he watched her take him deeper.

Jacob stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders as he watched the scene unfold.

As she continued to suck on Zilla's cock, Jacob reached for a flogger that was nearby. He trailed the tresses over her back, teasing her skin with the soft touch.

He waited until she was completely distracted before bringing the flogger down on her skin, the impact sending a sharp sting through her body.

She moaned around Zilla's cock, the pain from the flogger mixing with pleasure.

Zilla groaned, his eyes fluttering closed as she took his cock deeper, her tongue working over him.

Jacob continued to alternate between the flogger and his hands, spanking her and caressing her skin. He knew just how to push her limits, how to keep her on edge and wanting more.

Zilla was close to losing control, his breathing growing ragged as he fought to hold back his release.

She could feel Zilla tensing, his cock throbbing in her mouth. She knew he was close, and she redoubled her efforts, sucking and licking with renewed fervor.

Jacob watched her intently, a smirk on his face as he continued to tease her with the flogger.

Zilla couldn't hold back any longer. With a loud moan, he came, spilling himself into her mouth.

She swallowed every drop, her tongue still working over him as he rode out his orgasm.

Zilla let out a shaky breath as he came down from his high, his grip on her hair loosening.

Jacob chuckled, setting the flogger aside for the moment. He knelt down behind her, his chest pressing against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

With a nod from Jacob as if the two were silently communicating, Zilla helped her up and positioned her on her hands and knees.

She was now facing Jacob, who was sitting in front of her, his cock hard and waiting for her. She had no clue at what point he'd shed his clothes.

Behind her, Zilla positioned himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips as he slowly pushed into her.

She moaned as Zilla filled her.

Jacob reached out, gently guiding her head down towards his cock.

"Come on, baby. Open that pretty mouth for me," he coaxed.

She parted her lips, taking Jacob's cock into her mouth.

As she started to suck on him, Zilla began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first.

She moaned around Jacob's cock, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine.

Zilla's grip on her hips tightened as he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing faster and harder.

She struggled to keep her focus on Jacob, her mind fogging with pleasure as Zilla pounded into her from behind.

Jacob's hand tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as he started to thrust into her mouth in time with Zilla's rhythm.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, moans and grunts, and the wet sounds of her mouth around Jacob's cock and Zilla in her warm wet pussy.

Jacob's head fell back, his eyes closed in pleasure as he used her mouth to chase his own release.

Zilla's thrusts became more erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he neared his second orgasm.

Jacob was close as well, his grip on her hair tightening as he held her head in place, his hips bucking up to meet her mouth.

"Fuck, I'm close," Jacob groaned, his voice strained.

Zilla grunted in response, his thrusts becoming even harder as he chased his own release.

Suddenly, Zilla gave a final, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt as he came inside her.

Jacob let out a strangled cry as he followed suit, his release spilling into her mouth.

She was a mess of moans and whimpers, her body trembling between the two of them as she felt Zilla's release fill her.

It didn't take long for her own orgasm to hit, her body tensing and clenching around Zilla as she came undone.

Zilla and Jacob both stilled, both of them panting as they came down from their highs.

Zilla gently pulled out of her, leaving her feeling empty and used in the best way possible.

She collapsed onto her elbows, her body spent and exhausted.

Jacob reached out to brush a strand of hair out of her face, his expression tender despite the roughness of their previous actions.

Zilla knelt down beside her, his hands running soothingly over her back.

"You did so well, baby. So good for us," he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate.

She leaned into his touch, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Jacob chuckled, his hand moving to caress her cheek.

"You look absolutely wrecked," he said, his tone playful.

She could only manage a weak nod in response, too spent to form coherent words.

Zilla chuckled as well, his hands moving to her hips and gently turning her over so she was lying on her back.

Jacob smiled and stood up, understanding that Zilla wanted a moment alone with her.

"I'll go clean up," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead before pulling his clothes on.

"See you later, Uce." he said to Zilla who gave him a nod.

Once Jacob was gone, Zilla turned his attention back to his wife.

He laid down beside her, pulling her into his arms and holding her close.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin.

She snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his chest.

He held her tightly, his arms wrapped around her as if he never wanted to let go.

"You took us both so well," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and affection.

She let out a soft sigh, her body still sensitive and sore from their earlier activities.

Zilla's hands continued to roam over her body, his touch gentle but possessive, as if he was claiming her all over again.

His hands eventually came to rest on her thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles on her skin.

"You're mine," he murmured, his voice low and possessive. "My beautiful wife."

"I really am sorry about the ring" Y/N reiterated.

"I'ma buy you another one, baby. And a hundred more after that if I got to, as long as you're mine." Zilla responded.

"I love you, Z." She said

He pulled back slightly to look down at her, his eyes filled with affection and adoration.

"I love you too, babygirl," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "Forever".

"Forever" Y/N confirmed with a soft content sigh.

[topazadine]

Okay, okay, here's perhaps my spiciest and most controversial take yet.

Now, before I even say anything, please note that I am talking specifically about fantasy. Not retellings of myths, not historical fiction set in different countries, nothing like that. This is for second-world fantasy, where you're creating a whole different world.

Ready?

Stop making everything so damn complicated!

This is not to say that you can't have a rich and exciting world filled with lore, religion, different societies, traditions, unique geographies. Not that. Of course we want that: it's the whole reason we read fantasy. I'm talking about something else.

This is my simple takedown, and you can read the rest to better understand what I mean:

Stop jamming your story with five billion weird words.

Don't use super complicated nouns.

Keep the characters to a minimum so we can know and like them.

Don't yammer on about all the backstory.

Stop making readers do homework just to understand things.

Focus on the feeling a story gives instead of the intricate worldbuilding.

And lastly, a pre-emptive note to those who are putting their hackles up and telling me why they are an exception.

Why is it important to keep things simple?

A lot of people shy away from fantasy because they assume that every fantasy story is going to be so complicated that their head will hurt. Not in terms of plot - many people like complicated plots - but in terms of terminology and history. Things that ultimately don't really matter to the plot.

We as writers often assume that everyone cares about our story as much as we do and is equally captivated by every detail. This is simply not true.

To your reader, your story is not their life's work: it is entertainment that they want to be able to enjoy at their leisure. It's a distraction from their difficult lives and all their real-world frustrations. If they get really into it and, say, write fanfic or whatever, that's amazing! But they're not likely to do that if they feel like they'll be jumped on for doing something wrong or that they have to include every single little detail.

For example, I wrote over 1 million words of Touken Ranbu fanfic. Touken Ranbu, at its heart, has a very simple premise: you've got a bunch of legendary swords that were turned into hot men and fight evil time-traveling monsters. You can understand it with just that. There are layers to it, though, that you can slowly untangle. That makes for good writing because it works on multiple levels depending on how much you care about it.

I would have given up on the story if I felt like I needed a dictionary just to understand the plot. Most people would. Language needs to be accessible and premises need to be clear, or no one is going to want to go deeper.

Subtle little details that people can pick up are way more enjoyable than tossing every single factoid at people so that they feel overwhelmed and can't think. It's wonderful to have rich layers of symbolism, mythology, etc. That's excellent. But you can only get people to care about those things if they can actually comprehend your damn story.

A lot of the things that turn people off from fantasy are all about a writer's ego, and it oozes through the work. People can tell that you're wanting them to pat you on the back for putting so much shit in your story. It's annoying and a total turn-off when you make readers work so hard to comprehend what you're saying.

So what exactly am I talking about? This.

Using made-up terms for everything that could easily be explained with a normal English word

When I am writing fantasy, I imagine myself as a translator. After all, my made-up societies have their own made-up language (Seinish) that is referenced a few times.

However, I'm not using Seinish words all the time. I'm writing in English. I didn't write out a Seinish dictionary or even come up with most of the terms because, honestly? Most readers don't care. They want to understand what's going on in as simple of terms as possible, with only a few specific terms that remind us that we're somewhere different.

I may use some specialized terminology, but it's always couched in context clues that make us aware of what it is without actually having to just say "sdlkjfslkdjf, also known as a marketplace."

For example, in The Eirenic Verses, the High Poet Society has religious centers called meronyms. (Which actually isn't a made-up word.) We know they're religious centers because we see all the religious leaders living there. Someone sees the term "meronym" and goes "oh yeah, that's the religious place" and moves on.

It's one of the only confusing, specialized terms in the book other than place names, which people expect whenever they're reading fantasy. Because of that, it stands out and is easy to remember. It's not one of 1029310283012830132 different terms someone has to remember in order to follow along.

Even Tolkien, famed for literally writing an entire extra book full of lore for his stories, doesn't really use that much specialized terminology except for place names. My favorite author, China Mieville, only uses specialized terminology for things that have absolutely no basis in our reality and that can't be explained otherwise. And he's an extremely eloquent guy who uses the weirdest words possible whenever he can. If he can write a book that's mostly comprehensible without a cheat sheet, you can too.

If there is an English term for what you are trying to explain, just use that, for the love of god. The point of writing a story is not to show how smart and special you are: it is to tell a story. You need to remove as many barriers to access as possible.

Things that get a pass and can be made up most, if not all, of the time:

Place names (as in specific places, not categories of things)

Peoples' names

Languages

Species that don't exist in our world

Modes of transportation that don't exist in our world

Magic that can't be explained in any other way

Technology that can't be defined by our language

Look, if you have an animal that is basically a dragon, just call it a dragon. If you've got a wheeled carriage, call it a carriage. Call earth magic something based in earth terms, like "terravitae" or something, idk. There should be some connection to our world in your terminology because you are writing this in English for an English-speaking audience.

It doesn't make you a lazy writer, it makes you one that wants people to understand what you're talking about. Again, imagining yourself as a translator is a good way to keep yourself from going ham on the nouns.

Proper nouns that are way too complicated

Let's look at some well-known proper nouns from fantasy.

Middle Earth

Narnia

Earthsea

Discworld

Westeros

Ankh-Morpork

Bas-Lag

Wonderland

They're all ... simple. They're not a million syllables with weird intonations and accents and all that. If you showed this to a medieval peasant, they'd probably be able to pronounce them and would likely understand that they were place names.

Unless there's a good reason to have a weird name, don't use one. Come up with something simpler.

All of these I mentioned are three syllables or less, making them easier to remember. In fact, I'd argue that nearly every proper noun in your book should be no more than three syllables. Maybe one or two four-syllable ones.

Any very weird name should be balanced out by several easier ones so that it stands out.

40 million characters

Younger writers often want their world to feel very lived in, so they introduce dozens of characters with their own names, descriptions, backstories, etc etc etc. The problem is that this is a huge mental load on your reader, especially if a lot of the characters have very similar names. It makes reading your stuff into a chore rather than an enjoyable experience.

Now, some literary greats do have a lot of characters. But they get away with it because they're great.

I'm not great, so I don't do that.

I'd also suggest that you don't do that, regardless of how good you think you are.

To see if you have too many chracters, write out a dramatis personnae and rank it in terms of importance. Does your top tier have like 15 characters? Cut some. Figure out where they are in the story and if they don't exist for more than a few pages, delete them. Absorb them into someone else.

If a character is only in one scene, don't bother naming them. They don't matter enough. This reduces the cognitive load for your reader because they can see that character for what they are: a background person who exists only briefly.

Any time you name a character, they need to have deep plot relevance. The more unusual your character's name, the more important they should be. And they should have some sort of relationship to another character, preferably the main character. Otherwise, why are they there? Why do we care? Go away!

Way too much backstory

I am an adult and my brain is filled with 50 million other things. I have to remember stuff for my job, I have a to-do list, I have family I care about who needs me.

Your story is not the end-all be-all of my existence. Hell, my story is not the end-all be-all of my existence either. I want to be able to pick up your book, understand what's going on, and then delve a bit deeper or even make up my own headcanons.

I do not need the entirety of your story's world thrown at me right off the bat. It is overwhelming and tiring. Imagine if you visited a different country and someone immediately came up to you and started spewing the whole history of the country right after you stepped off the plane. That's what you're doing to your readers!

Think also about how you approach your everyday world. Do you reel off a million facts about your personal history the instant you meet someone? No, of course not. It'd be weird and creepy.

Are you constantly recalling facts about your city while walking down the street? Do you even know any major facts about your city? You probably know a few little trivia points and that's it. Because it's not relevant to you, and it's not relevant to your readers, either. I can't recall off the top of my head when Cleveland was settled, but I can tell you that we have the world's first Dunkleosteus fossil in our museum, because that is interesting to me. That's the kind of thing that makes a place feel lived-in, not four hundred thousand pages of exposition about the place's history.

Give your readers time to settle in, and reveal things slowly as they make sense. Maybe we hear a little bit about the country's government as they pass a parliament house, or because they have to visit the city center for a different reason. If it's not pertinent to the current scene, then don't put it there.

I've got tons of lore for my world. Some of it may be referenced one singular time, and some of it may be never referenced at all. That's okay, because it's just for me to get a better sense of the place I created. If a reader doesn't need it, then I don't bother putting it in, because it might detract from their enjoyment.

Overall: stop making your readers do homework!

We do not want our readers to feel like they are working when they are reading our stuff. Excellent writers can infuse deep themes and symbology into their stories without making it feel like work. These are the writers who are remembered forever, because not only have they made a good story that you can enjoy at a surface level, but they have also twined in deeper themes that you can dive into after you've digested the story.

I did my undergrad in British literature, so I read a lot of Shakespeare and contemporaneous authors. Shakespeare is considered complicated by modern standards because of the Elizabethan language, but if you translated it into modern terms, his stories are simple. People betray each other and stab each other, or fuck each other, or get transported to weird magical worlds.

You could watch a Shakespeare play and think absolutely nothing of the themes, but still enjoy the story. You could know absolutely nothing about Greek history and still get the gist.

This is because Shakespeare specifically wrote his plays to appeal to a mass audience. He was a god-tier author when it came to balancing symbology and plot. To be like Shakespeare, be simple. Remember that your reader does. not. really. care. all that much. They don't.

It's very unlikely that your writing is going to become someone's life's work and they're going to spend their whole existence studying. Cool if true, but unlikely.

Your job is to make a story that people like and want to read. Only when you've gotten people liking and reading do you get permission to go ham with the backstory and the characterization and the weird names, because they trust you to create a story that they will like. Otherwise, your primary objective is making people feel things so they want to feel more things and read more stories.

People care more about how a story makes them feel than the specifics

Yes, of course there are outliers to this who really want every single detail of the world, but those are few and far between. You should not tailor your story to these exceptions. Think about the average everyday person.

I have many books that I love, but I can't tell you everything about them now. I can, however, tell you how I felt when I was reading them: the plot twists that made me gasp, the thing that made me cry. I can give you a general, sweeping impression of whether I liked or disliked the story and what made me feel something. This is what people recommend books based on: how they felt.

Your story should focus on the plot and the emotion. People watch movies, listen to music, read books, or look at art to feel something, not to memorize factoids for later usage. Even if they do want to memorize factoids, they won't do that if they haven't built an emotional connection to the story.

While in life, we want facts over feelings, it's opposite in creative writing. We want feelings over facts. The emotional resonance, the mood, the characters, the plot: that is what is important, not showing off how smart you are and how much you have thought about your story.

"But Topazadine, I am special and different! I'm not going to follow your advice."

Sure. Go ahead. I can't stop you. If you want to have a million characters and an entire dictionary to explain everything, that is your choice.

No one can tell you how to write; my advice is just advice.

If you don't like what I have said here, then feel free to ignore it. You don't need to justify it to me or anyone else.

However, you must recognize that this may not resonate with readers. It will turn people off.

I'm not a completionist, and neither are many others; they'll roll their eyes and click out when they are faced with ten pages of character names upfront.

Of course you should always write for yourself first, but if you are planning to write fiction for any level of commercial appeal and you intend to make any amount of money on your work, then audience does matter. If you want kudos or comments on your AU, audience matters. You won't get engagement if you are alienating people.

Your writing decisions are always your own and no one can demand you do something different. You just need to decide whether your personal satisfaction in writing your story in a certain way outweighs your desire for validation, and, perhaps, money. I can't tell you the answer for that; it's up to you.

If you enjoyed this, maybe you'll consider reading my fantasy book, 9 Years Yearning, which does not have 121238103 characters and 3230123 strange words. It does, however, have double-tsundere-mutual-pining-gay-boy-awakening. And horses. It's also just $3.

[gancegancerevo]

Rides to Lake Silberneherze Thoughts

It was great. The second major visit to Kjerag sees us return three years after the previous event to see how the nation has built itself up after the Saintess reforms the political system of Kjerag and accepts the Silverash clan’s plans to open the country to outsiders.

Degenbrecher is the main selling point of the event in my opinion and damn did they work hard to make her appealing. She’s not only very strong, very skilled, very pretty, and a lot less long-winded than the other politicians, she’s also got her own story. It’s quite beautiful to see someone immigrate to a new country and have it just be a story of finding a home you can settle with. She’s the kind of character who’s physically strong enough to survive hardship. And in a sense, she is emotionally strong as she does not hold any grudges against her old nations. Probably in part because she’s beaten up the ones she needs to and let go of what she doesn’t need. She’s very much her own person and she herself has decided she wants to stay in Kjerag as one of its people. Makes you think about all the immigrants who makes their homes in new countries and how that experience is unique to them.

Leto was adorable in this event. The way she takes everybody she passes by and makes them her friends is hilarious and wonderful. It’s also great that they made her a competent field operator. She was able to sense and threaten a Trillby Asher all by herself even if that went awry. She also knew when to call up her superiors when she needed help.

One of the best parts about her arc here is how they turn the classic father-daughter reunion on its head. Because for one, Tatyova, her mother, is alive and well. And seems to be perfectly capable of continuing to care for Leto. Leto ultimately doesn’t care about her father, as she should. Arctosz’s decision to make his family leave for political safety makes it obvious that he knows nothing about the wider world. His privileged upbringing means he has no idea about how others would treat a single mother and what it means for a child to grow up without a father. The thing that really brings it into perspective for me is the attack on Chernobog. If you don’t know how bad it was, read the Ursus Student Group side stories. It makes every excuse Arctosz make seem extra moronic. This story takes the “looking for a long lost father” trope and makes it an ode to all the mothers who had to deal with single-parenthood themselves.

Harold is quite interesting. He’s your classic bumbling high-spirited old man except he’s also a Victorian military officer. Like Degenbrecher, he’s someone who also adjusts well to Kjerag life finding work as a veterinarian and doing old man things. In spite of this, he remains loyal to Victoria and when told that he would need to attack the people he’s lived with for months, he ultimately sides with his country. This is an interesting contrast to bring in this story. About how some people would throw away their old countries while others would remain loyal. Though overall, he was just fun to watch. Especially when paired with Leto or others who humor him.

By far my favorite part of visiting Kjerag is seeing the Saintess and Enya and Kjarr do not disappoint.

Before I gush about yuri though, I should say I love how Enya, and especially her relationship with  Enciodes has evolved. She’s much more active in the goings-on of the nation and is willing to use the Saintess as a state official rather than just a ceremonial position. She and Enciodes managed to separate their personal lives from their work in nation-building and it’s so interesting to see it play out. Enya inserting herself when Enciodes tries to avoid more direct interactions. The whole banquet scene with Harold. It was great especially when they both admit that the Head of the Silverash clan and the Saintess have a similar vision and plan for Kjerag’s development and both go silent when others ask about the relationship between Enya and Enciodes Silverash as siblings.

Enya and Kjarr have to be the most wife and wife coded characters I’ve seen in Arknights so far. Like a pair well into their golden years, they have a mutual respect and trust of one another while still disagreeing on some issues. There’s also that sense of both of them playing an active role in the relationship rather than the usual one stays at home and one works sort of dynamic. I especially like when Kjarr is like “babe, are you sure I shouldn’t use my god powers?” and Enya keeps insisting that they can’t rely on god to fix things for them. And of course the eternal pestering of Kjarr for a statue adjustment. If she can’t ask Enya for it, she’ll let Degenbrecher and the Trillby Asher do it. I always love Enya and Kjarr and this has cemented my favorite Kjerag dynamic even more.

Lastly, I really appreciate the way they included the Doctor this time. It’s not the take control of a situation you’ve only been aware of for a few hours. Instead, they made reasonable assumptions about what others are plotting and taking a few small steps to push pieces into the best place possible. Kinda like how they can’t rely on Kjeragandr, they also can’t rely on the Doctor of Rhodes but that doesn’t mean either of them can’t do one small move themselves.

P.S. What do you mean Kjerag has a battleship under Lake Silberneherze. Though it might be more shocking that Enciodes expressed approval of Sciurus before Ratatos did AND that Ratatos liked Sciurus naming the battleship Walnut to mess with her kids.