#hey german tv people
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Please let me know if they ask you for an interview, I'd like to participate too! I'd write a whole essay in German about them with my best knowledge. Ó╭╮Ò ❤️
oh totally, and i bet there are some more tumblrers who can weigh in...😊
i can see it now, title of the documentary "Fans schwärmen von Rammstein Gitaristen, aber nicht wie Sie vielleicht denken" (Fans rave about Rammstein guitarists, but not in the way you might think)
and it can include all my favorite german words like "Knutschen" (smooch), "Kuscheln" (cuddle), "Fummeln" (fumble) (can you tell i grew up reading Bravo? 😄)
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Hey I saw you talk about comprehensible input for Spanish, and you said it was easy and it seems effective. I'm learning German, and I wanna ask what comprehensible input is and how I could do some of that
Comprehensible input means watching or listening to stuff in the language where you understand 90% or more of what’s going on. If you’re reading it’s more like 98%. Early on this usually means either watching stuff for babies or watching stuff made for adult learners if that exists. Watching stuff for adult learners is generally better because it works better if you’re interested in what’s going on. Once easier stuff is too boring for you then you move on to slightly harder stuff etc etc. it’s supposed to take about a thousand hours of good quality input for you to be able to understand native speakers with no issues give or take depending on your native language and the language you’re studying. Right now I’m at like 50-ish hours in Spanish which means I’m watching slightly harder videos that still have a lot of visual cues but it’s not piss easy either. I can also understand most quick things I overhear people say on the street to each other but I don’t really know how to talk yet. My brain hasn’t pieced that part together.
For German specifically resources for this are YouTube channels like Comprehensible German and Natürlich German. And Deutsch Welle’s learn German section of their website has a couple series like Nico’s Weg that follow a similar idea.
The key is to not translate in your head or assign meaning to specific words or try to figure out the grammar when you watch videos or read but just try to understand what’s going on.
Some people supplement this with flash cards strictly doing vocabulary and no grammar. Especially if good comprehensible input resources aren’t available for the language you’re studying. Doing vocabulary drills and watching tv with subtitles in the language you’re learning can also be effective.
Another way to do this if you can’t afford a special class or there’s no good videos available but you do have native speakers on hand who are willing to be a “language parent” for you is for them to sit down with you and only teach you the words for yes and no and then they pick up something like a kids picture book and start pointing at things and slowly explaining it to you and asking you questions like you’re a baby for an hour or two every day. Most people do not have a native speaker on hand willing to do this though. But if you do then this video where a guy documents learning Arabic with this method should give both you and the native speaker an idea of how this works.
If you want resources googling “comprehensible input (language)” should get you started. There’s also a lot of different communities for language learners of different languages or language learning generally on Reddit like r/French, r/Portuguese, r/swahili or r/languagelearning for example. Most of those places have a dedicated page for compiling resources from the community and you can also ask questions to the community and in my experience they’re usually pretty helpful people.
Right now I’m mostly using Dreaming Spanish for Spanish but also other channels like Easy Spanish and Español con Juan. I’m also dabbling a bit in the channels Comprehendible Japanese and Nihongo-Learning for Japanese but Spanish is my main priority right now.
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hey, so im Palestinian and a strong activist for my people's liberation. i wanted to ask for some info/advice on avoiding antisemitism in my activism for Palestine. im on anon bc i don't want to be called a racefaker for caring about Jewish ppl. i know antisemitism is on the rise right now (and generally over the past few years) and i want to make sure i'm not unintentionally contributing to it.
Hey there! I wanted to start by genuinely thanking you for asking this question. Partially because I don't actually get any well-intentioned or helpful questions in my inbox anymore, but also because I understand the amount of bravery it takes to reach out with a question like that at a time like this.
Next, I want to apologize to all my followers who hate long posts. Judaism is a very complicated ethnoreligious group, antisemitism is a very complicated form of bigotry, and the Israeli/Palestinian conflict is arguably the most complicated international issue that has ever existed. I'm going to try to go through everything as succinctly as possible below the cut-- I am also going to ask other Jews to contribute to and make edits to this list as needed.
And finally-- I'm writing this as though I were speaking to someone with very little knowledge of the subject. I understand that as a Palestinian, you probably know a lot about what's going on here. But I want to make sure that I'm covering bases for anybody else who might need to use this post. So if you're like, Yeah, Obviously I Knew That. Please remember that a fuckton of people on tumblr are engaging in Israeli criticism without obviously knowing that.
There are two primary forms of antisemitism in anti-Zionist spaces-- antisemitic conspiracy theory, and criticism of Israel that no other country receives. The first kind is the easiest kind to pick out, and it makes a nice bulleted list, so we'll start there.
Dual Loyalty. A global stereotype that has skyrocketed since the establishment of Israel, but it's been around for a lot longer than that. Simply put, it's the idea that Jews are more loyal to Israel (or some global secret kabal) than we are to the countries we currently reside in. With I/P, it manifests as the idea that All Jews are directly responsible for Israel or the idea that All Jews secretly support Israel. If you see a Jew who isn't directly engaging in I/P topics, don't ask them what their stance is. Plenty of us have never even been to Israel, and it's fucked up to assume that we're all experts in geopolitics.
The Holocaust was a Fabrication or a Lesson. The idea that Jews made up the Shoah has been around since the Shoah was still happening, and it's always been ridiculous. Today, you'll see three primary lines about this. Either it's that Jews made up the Shoah as an excuse to establish Israel, that the Jews deserved the Shoah because of what's happening in Israel today, or that the Jews "should have learned their lesson from the Holocaust" because now Jews are "the new Nazis". Frankly, I wish goyim would stop treating the deaths of millions of Jews like a TV show. Palestinian deaths are genuinely horrible, but this isn't some kind of "narrative parallel" to the Shoah.
The Kazars Theory, or All Jews are White. This is the DNA test nonsense. The idea is that Israel (or Jews at large) are only pretending to be indigenous to the Levant and that secretly Jews as a whole are actually indigenous to Eastern Europe. It's a lie, started by a German professor of Russian history in the early 1800s. Meanwhile, the vast majority of genetic, historical, and archaeological evidence points to Jewish origins in the Israeli/Palestinian region. There have been literal hundreds of genetic studies on this. Most of them suggest that Jews, even "white" Ashkenazim, are nearly genetically identical to Palestinians.
World Domination. The idea that Jews control the world began with the Protocols of the Elders of Zion in 1903. If you're encountering criticism of Israel that suggests that world governments, particularly European or American ones, are being controlled by Jews, you've got yourself antisemitism. White supremacists like to use the term "Zionist Occupied Government" or "ZOG" as shorthand for this conspiracy. The next two points are born out of this same ideology.
Controlling the Media. The idea that Jews are in charge of Hollywood and/or major news organizations around the world. Regarding I/P, I've seen a bunch of people say something like "Western media outlets won't cover this! (Because you know who controls them!)" only to look online and see... Western media outlets covering it. See also: "My source is tiktok! I don't trust the news!" While it's obviously a fair criticism to say that some Western news outlets certainly have a pro-Israel and anti-Palestinian bias, it's certainly not every single one of them. Reuters and the AP are once again my go-to's here.
Controlling the Financial World. I haven't actually seen this come up regarding I/P, but considering how things have been going, it's only a matter of time. We don't control the banks. We don't control the stock market. We're not in charge of American aid being sent to Israel. HaShem knows that if we controlled all the money, I'd certainly be living larger than I am now...
Those Bloodthirsty Jews. This one arguably started with Blood Libel in the 1100s, when Christians started accusing us of stealing and eating their babies. Straight up, I have met Christians who still believe this in 2023. You see this a lot with I/P-- the Al Ahli Hospital is the biggest example. More than a month later, most reliable intelligence organizations agree that a misfired Hamas rocket landed in a parking lot, killing about 100 people. But a ton of people are still saying that Those Bloodthirsty Jews intentionally bombed the hospital dead on, killing 470 people. I want to be clear-- Israel is killing a lot of civilians. But if you see a bandwagon of people focusing on the one group of deaths that Israel probably actually didn't cause? Consider why.
Causing wars, revolutions, and calamities. Hamas has straight-up got this one in their founding charter. No, the Jews are not responsible for any major global conflicts, revolutions, or counter-revolutions that don't directly involve Israel. We didn't do WWII. We didn't do the October Revolution. See above-- we're not secretly plotting massacres on Shabbat. A lot of people are saying that Netanyahu and Likud let Hamas in to justify the invasion of Gaza... I'd be shocked if that was the case. All evidence points to a classic intelligence failure. We're not orchestrating bloodbaths.
Section 2: Criticisms only levelled at Israel
It's important to recognise that Israeli civilians are no more collectively responsible for the actions of the Likud coalition than Palestinians are collectively responsible for the actions of Hamas. No Palestinian deserves to be stripped of their rights to self-determination in their ancestral lands because of the October 7th attack. Likewise, no Chinese person deserves to be displaced from China because of the CCP's human rights violations in Tibet, Uyghur and Hong Kong. No Russian person deserves to be ethnically cleansed from Russia because of the Kremlin's invasion of Ukraine. But plenty of people do believe that Jews should be stripped of their rights to self-determination in historically Jewish indigenous lands because of the actions of the Israeli government.
After October 7th, I've seen people argue that Israeli babies deserved to be kidnapped because of their national origin. I've seen people argue that Israeli women deserved to be sexually abused because of their nation of origin. I've seen people argue that the seven million Jews living in their ancestral homeland deserve death or displacement because of their nation of origin. Justifying or allowing brutal harm against people because of their national origin is hateful.
I want to make this part very clear-- I do not have an issue with calling out Israeli war crimes or crimes against humanity. But I do have an issue with treating Jewish civilians differently than civilians of other nations responsible for similar horrors. Amplifying bias against a particular group because of that group's nation of origin is called bigotry. Taking a stand against Israeli settlements in the West Bank is anti-Zionism. Collectivizing the label of "white colonialism", and forcing that label upon refugees forced to move to Israel, or Mizrahim with uninterrupted 8,000-year histories in Israel, is antisemitism.
Part 3: Moving Forward
So where do we go from here? If advocating for the destruction of Israel is advocating for the elimination of Jewish self-determination in our ancestral lands, but advocating in favour of the Israeli government is advocating for the elimination of Palestinian self-determination in your ancestral lands, then we must find some middle ground. A solution that allows seven million Jews and five-and-a-half-million Arabs to share the same holy land, without fear of persecution, displacement, or death. For me, this means a few things.
First of all, the recognition that most Israelis disagree with Netanyahu's approach to Palestine, and most Palestinians disagree with Hamas's approach to Israel. And that brings up a question-- why are Likud and Hamas in charge of Israel and Gaza respectively if most people disagree with them? Without getting into the complicated intricacies of the Knesset and the PNA on an already very long post (and without explaining your own government to you), the simple answer is international funds.
Israeli crimes against Palestinians are bankrolled by American Evangelical Christians, who believe that when Palestine is gone, all the Jews will go to Israel, and Jesus will come back to kill the world's infidels. They actually fucking believe that. Meanwhile, Hamas is bankrolled by Iran, which believes that the more often Jews and Sunni Muslims kill each other, the easier it will be for Iranian Shiite Jihad to take over the world. They actually fucking believe that.
So what steps can we take during our advocacy? Not for the destruction of Israel nor the destruction of Palestine, but for America and Iran to get their noses out of our damn business. I genuinely believe that a defunded Likud and a defunded Hamas will allow Israelis and Palestinians to work together for a peaceful two-state or joint-rule solution. Something that will keep my Palestinian friends from feeling like they can't safely travel from Jaffa to Tel Aviv. Something that will allow my Jewish family to visit and pray at the Cenotaphs of Isaac and Rebecca and the Temple Mount. Something that will let Israeli children from Kibbutz Nirim and Palestinian children from Khan Yunis play on the same playgrounds together, instead of sheltering from missile fire.
Frankly, we nearly had that when the Supreme Muslim Council and the Assembly of Representatives began collaborating against the British Mandate instead of against each other. Clearly, it's possible, we just need to stop being pitted against each other by foreign powers.
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Bark like you want it
Pt 1
People were asking how the red collar works and I wanted to put in some tailed wolvie so here ya go.
Poolverinessa (mentions of NightWolves)
Finding home au (+tail au)
NSFW, a lot of pet play, ethical non monogamy (done properly), bratty logan, hand job, collared and leashed Logan, dommy mommy Ness
Being dropped off at the apartment, Logan waves goodbye to his priest friend, yawning a bit as he struggles to unlock the door with his keys. This is until he finds that it was unlocked already.
Coming through the door, he was a bit suprised to see them still awake. It was a little after 2 am and he was sure they'd be asleep by now.
Here, on the couch was Vanessa, her hair messy, only wearing panties and one of Wade's graphic tees. Wade himself had been smoking a cigarette with his arm around her, in nothing but some of Logan's pajama pants. Both of them had been watching some baking reality tv show and talking with various toys and bottles spread out over the coffee table and couch.
"Yeah he does this really cute thing where he-" Wade stops talking, turning to face the door with a big smile. "There's our big boy!! You have fun dicking down that priest?"
Vanessa snickers a little, sitting up to put her drink on a coaster. "Wait you didn't tell me about that."
Wade gasps, looking to her like gossiping with one of his besties, except she was the ultimate bestie. "Oh M Gee! I didn't? Okay so you know that blue guy from the Christmas party?"
She nods, about to get juicy news. "The one that was drunk and sitting on the counter while talking funny?"
"Yes! That's Kurt, he's like a german cat thing-"
Logan tilts his head, blinking with a soft frown of embaressment, scoffing. "He is not. He's got angel blood or.. somethin." He shrugs, putting his bag down and begining to unpack, putting his clothes in the laundry as he listened.
"Okay what ever, same thing, angel cat thing. Well he's a priest."
Vanessa gasps. "Loooaaggiee!"
"A Catholic one!!" Wade points out, putting his finger up in a 'matter of fact'ly type way.
"And Logan fucks him like once every two full moons or some spiritual ritual thing." He waves a hand, pulling her closer to his chest.
"Spiritual pussy cat."
"Hey, How I choose to cleanse my soul by confession is my choice and no ones buisness but god and I's." Logan smirks playfully.
Wade giggles. "Did Father Wagner tell you to say that?"
But he didn't awnser, just blushing more, storming off into the bathroom to shower.
"Oh, he so did." Vanessa smirks, Wade nodding in agreement. "A thousand percent."
Once Logan returns from the bathroom, Wade and Vanessa were still on the couch, except they were staring at him with a devlish look. Logan blinks, swallowing before crossing his bare chest with his hand as if trying to ward off their evilness. To make things worse, he had only put on his grey sweats, his tail hanging out the back as the pants dipped down to his hips. He had been planning on going to bed... guess not anymore.
"Oh boy...what do you two want?"
They glance at each other, smiles widdening. "Weeeeelllll.. we were hoping.." Vanessa started, shifting to scoot over to the otherside of the couch.
"You have any energy in the tank to play with us?" It's a simple question really. Wade even pats the seat between them, making it more clear what they wanted.
"It's okay if not." V states.
"Yeah, we know you're old and can't hang with us cool young people." Wade mutters, looking at his nails all bitchy.
Logan gives a playful scowl, though the face changed to thinking when the playfulness in his eyes lit up, telling Logan that he was excited just from the single glare alone. His tail began to wag, just the smallest of wiggles.
"That depends what you had in mind." He states, leaning against the hallway wall.
"We were thinkin maybe you could wear your red collar?" Vanessa asks.
"Yeah? And what else?"
"Fuck us? Duh." Wade mutters, now holding his arms out, doing grabby hands.
"Now come're and give me kisses! The contract says I get them when ever I want!"
Logan scoffs, shaking his head softly with a grin. Ah yes. The contract. Aka their marriage certificate tht hung proudly in a cracked frame above the wall of Polaroids that Wade took of all their friends and them, their family and of themselves. The ones with Vanessa were still up there too, many of Morph, Kurt, Laura, Puppins, Al, and several of parties over the years. Ones of their wedding surrounded the certificate, reminding them daily about how loved each of them were.
"I don't knoowwww. Are you gonna give a dog a bone or is this a good doggy, no bone situation?" Logan asks, finally coming to sit between them, leaning over to let Wade hold his cheeks, kissing him lovingly. I mean, this is his husband afterall.
"You want a metaphotical bone or?" Wade asks, pulling away with a happy smirk. "Mmh. You taste like wine."
"The older the better." V interjects, Making Wade laugh. "You know, I say that all the time and constantly he tells me-"
"I'm not fine wine, I'm barrel whiskey."
"Yeah that."
Logan thinks for a moment. "You know.. I wouldn't mind a steak."
"D'awww my big boy wants a steak? How big?"
He squeezes himself under his arm, laying on his chest, hand going down his abdomen to rub his stomach.
Vanessa soon follows suit, but instead scratched his beard and his chin. "You gotta be a good boy though, Lolo. Or no steak for youu." She teases.
Laying his head back, his arms wrapped around the both of them, already feeling himself slip into that headspace. Man.. he might not have the need for a refractory period but attacking him with such soft kisses and sweet touches when he just came home from something similar was plan cruel.
If he wished to complain, he'd say things like "I'm too old for this" and "I just got my soul washed of its sins and here you are."
But Logan didn't complain. He couldn't, really. It was a nice suprised to return too, the warm hands touching him in a way that made his heart burst with fire and affection.
Wade's hand slips inside of his sweats, palming his hand at the already reoccuring bulge only to smirk. "No undies? Oh you nasty dog you."
His grip tightens around them both, trying to focus on his breathing while Vanessa tries to mark up and down his jaw and neck, holding him so delicately between her fingers.
"Shit... go get my collar." He mumbles, feeling Wade pull away. "Yaaayy!! Okay!-Oh. And V, That's my husband. Hands above the belt miss ma'am. I'm watching you." It may have seemed like a warning but the wink he gave her made Logan nervous and blushy. He had been stuck in the middle of their own sick little games.
"You aint gotta worry about little ol me." She coes, batting her lashes, but the moment Wade wallks away, she runs her hand down to his thigh, sitting up on her knees with a grin.
"Can I touch you?" It's a soft ask, a whisper into his ear with a look that makes him laugh, snorting a bit. "Sure."
Ridiculous. Not even seconds. God they would be the death of him.
"Ssooo, How'd it go?" She asks, putting a hand on his shoulder, the other dipping under the metaphotical belt, giving a little squeeze.
"Eh.. it was f-Fine."
"Just fine?" She tsked.
"I-i meant great. Yeah.. great."
"Tell me about it." She says, leaning her chin on his shoulder, litsening to each breath as if it would be his last.
Logan swallows. "I.. it was fun."
"Oh? Was it now?"
"Mmmhm" It's a low whine of agreement, looking at the hall waiting for Wade to return with his collar.
"Use your words, Logan." She whispers into his ear, liking the little moments in which he could embaress him all she pleased in such a serious tone. She wanted him to tell him all the little details that he enjoyed so much, why he came home at 2 am, and if this Kurt charater had taken proper care of him.
"Did he kiss you? Yeah? How much? Ooh that's quite a bit. Did he hold you?"
The quiet, flustard mutters of agreement and small one word awnsers was all he had to give her at the moment as her acrylics dragged up his tip.
"Yes." He spits out, Like he would forget how to speak entirely if he didn't.
"Oh? Good. Did he feed you your dog chow? Hm? Were you a good boy for him?" The more she asks, the more he vividly remembers, blushing deeply as he tries not to buck into her hand.
Vanessa was one of those people that could fold him so quickly, he understood perfectly why Wade loved her so much. It was easy to become intoxicated by the teasing, her soft voice and how well she handled you. It was never the same, a different treatment for different people. She would pet Logan for hours if he let her, slowly stroking and forcing him to cough up words until he snapped.
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"H-he fed me." He mutters, putting his head back as Vanessa squeezed again, getting him ready to play. They would do this. Take turns getting him all hot and hard. And it's not like he minded, but Ness did squeeze a bit hard at times.. he kinda liked it. God he was a fucking weirdo.
She let him catch his breath, humming innocently as she waited for him to talk. "He-.. w-We had wine and... Oh, god.."
"Annnd?" She kisses his cheek, a bittersweet apology.
"And veggie burgers...h-he can't eat meat on fridays.."
"That's ironic." She giggles, making him blush more. "Shut up.. that's what Wade says.."
"Mmmh. What else?"
"Cheese.. and bread. He's so weird about fuckin bread."
He had just got done playing with a Catholic Priest and now here he was, getting teased by his husband's fiance. What a weird world this was.
But Logan would gnaw off his own leg then go back to his universe. Where everyone hated him and he hadn't got any tail in a little over a decade. Even then, it was a prostitute. Made him pay for the bed sheets too. Didn't even let him stay the night. It felt terrible.
Funny how things went, huh? Now here, a retired prostitute and possible one of the most legendary strippers of all time was on his smelly and broken pull out couch, scratching his foreskin and trying to pop his balls. Literally. If she was any rougher he'd have to shove her away, but it was perfect. Everything she could possibly do to him was hand crafted and fit to his liking.
The club had no idea what they lost when Vanessa quit and got that desk job instead. They were so proud of her. Insanely proud. Wade was proud of her for just existing though at this point, always so excited to see her, bringing her flowers and non stop talking about how nice her apartment was and joking about how he might ditch this place and move in with her, only for V to tell him that he'd wreck the place within a week. (This, of course was probably true)
Giggling, she smiles. "Yeah? I heard Germans are pretty serious about their bread."
"They are! He won't let me even eat bread if theres not grains in it and shit."
"Oh yeah? How's he on sausage?" She coes, hand wrapping around to pump a few times before pulling away, licking her fingers. This was how their little games went. The moment he bucked, she'd stop. Real bitch of a game, that's for sure..
A soft grunt comes from him as he shakes his head, shifting to spread his legs a bit more.
"You.. are nasty."
"Says the one who eats an ass full of cancer." She purrs, giving him another kiss. "Im glad he makes you happy, Logan."
Closing his eyes for the quick smooch, he hums, hearing the click of their bedroom door. "Wade would kill him if not."
Vanessa's eyes do a thing that said 'Yeahhh he does that' as if she herself has had the experience of being gifted pictures of a dead ex or a toxic client who wouldn't stop harrassing her.
Wade was just about as sweet as a paring knife. At first you think he can't do much damage, bringing you freshly, juicy cut figs and peaches, pears. Obviously. But he could just as quickly stab you in the juggular and lick the knife clean of your blood while you gush out into the floor and the last thing you see as your vision blurs is him giggling hysterically and a flash of a throw away camrea.
Just as Wade came back in he grins. "Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, honey?"
"Hm, let me check." He says, sarcastically pulling the elastic band up, looking at it then turned to Ness. "Definitely not a banana." She tells him.
"Ooh let me see!" Rushing oved he plops down on the couch next to him, looking too. "I'm no doctor but.. thats definitely not a banana."
The three laugh and giggle as Logan tilts his head up, letting Wade clip the red kink collar onto him. "There."
"Bad dog?" Vanessa asks, reading the tag of the collar. "Ooh, You're not a bad dog, are you?"
"Oh, yes he is. He has a humping problem." Wade says, shifting to turn his face towards him, kissing him deeply after spitting on his hand, slipping it back to where it already once was. Slowly, he pulls every few moments, working up the speed as things drawn on. He wanted him ready. Logan was already hard as a rock but he wanted to give him a bit of a tease too.
It was only fair.
Groaning into his mouth, his arms go back around them both, making a whine when Vanessa pulls his D ring away, to face her instead, her hand rubbing over his chest a way she knew drove him crazy. "No, he's not. He's a good boy. Ain'tcha, puppy? You want mommy to fuck you senseless? Hm?" She pulls away inbetween kisses to whisper such things, lips hovering as she teases him further, groping his chest some.
Whimpering, Logan's breath hitches, trying hard not to buck into his husband's hand, but can't hold much longer. His tail, stuffed into the cushion of the couch wiggles on its own when Wade jerks his collar back the other way, stealing him mid kiss. It makes Ness give him a playful glare, only to smirk in competition. She enjoyed it greatly. Wade knew this.
"You're a bad boy, aren't you? Just a stupid mutt, huh? Ooh, but it's not your fault, Noo you're just a puppy huh? You wanna be a good boy but you can't. It's not your fault you're feral, oh no its not. Some meanie men made you this way, didn't they? Made you wanna be bad and bite, huh?" Half way through, he had switched to baby talk, a gushy, mushy sound of tone that made Logan's tail wag more, gritting his teeth, nodding or shaking his head to corespond with what ever he was saying.
Fuck- he couldn't do this. He couldn't hold on.
Bucking his hips, Logan gasps, hands trying to come to hold Wade's hand here, to fuck into it like a toy, but V jerks his collar back towards her.
"Ah ah! Leave it!" She says, harsh and quick like she would if Puppins was trying to eat one of Wade's non toxic body safe pink dildos.
And of course he listens. How could he not? The sharp tone and her eyes, cat eyes that he should be terrified of, but he's not. Oh they're so gorgeous. So dangerous. V could tell him to get off the couch and go drink out of puppins water bowl and he probably would. As long as he got his bone.
His tail stops wagging behind him as he lets go of Wade's hand.
"Off. No bad dogs on the couch!" She scolds him. Within a second he's on his floor, hands and knees as he sits here, the outline of his hardness more hidden but clearly more worked up.
"You too. Off."
Without a question, Wade is not on the floor too, wiggling with excitment. Coming to put his hands up on the couch, he pants for her in a way that even embaresses Logan. It's hot. Really, it is but Wade was always too quick to humiliate himself for her.
Her hand comes to his head, petting him. "Good boy. Lay down." And so he does, laying down and even began to nudge at her feet. Vanessa smirks a bit. "Roll over."
Again, not even a second later he was on his back, hands up and knees bent to where his feet touched the floor.
"Good booyy~" she coes, letting her foot cassually rub against his stomach and then lower, grazing at the lump in his fluffy flannel pj pants.
Logan watches as this all happens, perhaps in just seconds. He's unsure. What he is sure about though is how embaressed he was for his husband, hearing him groan at the socked touches. He blinks a bit, looking up to Vanessa with a type of fear in her eyes that only lights a fire in her.
Tossing him a couch pillow, she smiles, innocent but all teeth, her eyes dark with sadistic pleasure. "Logan. Be a good boy. Hump it."
Swallowing, he looks at the pillow and then to her. "W-what?"
"I said, Fuck that pillow. Show mommy what you're gonna do to her."
"Oh, Ness, that's just cruel." The dog on his back says, only to be kicked lightly.
"Quiet! Dog's don't talk."
Staring at the pillow, Logan whines at her, his face beat red as he slowly pulls the pillow close, putting it in position before glancing up at her to see if this is what she wanted.
"Good boooy." Its a sing songy voice that makes him give her a guilty smile, tail wiggling from the praise. "Now fuck it. Just like how you would, Wade. Come on. Show mommy whatna good boy you are and maybe ill let you have some ass." She says, pulling Wade up by his own collar, turning him around, tugging down the pants and slapped his ass. Wade yipped a little from both arousal and surprise. This was the fun bit about letting Vanessa take charge. He shut off his brain, letting her do what ever she pleased with him.
Blushing more, Logan is hesitant, eyes flickering from Wade's now wiggly ass to the pillow. Closing his eyes, he tries not to think about it being embaressing, rather as behaving. Being a good boy for her. That seemed to be the agenda for tonight.
Though... He had other plans.
Taking the pillow into his mouth, he shook it, growling and then spit it out, giving a defiant look. One that said 'make me'. One that Ness knew well and was quite fond of. Her brow raised.
"Logan. You will obey me. Now fetch." She points to the pillow across the room, her foot stopping on Wade as he rolls back over, sitting up as he watches the tension build between them, internally squealing. Oooh, this would be fun to watch. Things were about to get good.
Lowering his head to her, He snarls.
"Oh, Don't you dare-"
Deliberately he sits down, hard, not fetching at all. Instead he lays down with a pout, turning his head to ignore her.
"So that's how it's going to be.. Wade. Fetch." She tells him, standing as Wade quickly crawls over, taking the pillow into his mouth and brought it back to Logan. Dropping it next to him, he's quick to try to lick Logan's face, giggling a bit. Blushing, His tail wags, but hes trying to keep his bad dog persona up, sitting up, snapping at him.
Just before he could land a bite on Wade, Vanessa leashes him, jerking him away from Wade, who was honestly a little disappointed. He liked being bit, esspecially when Logan was putting on his "bad boy" front.
Girls didn't take the bad boys home.
But Wade did. Infact he prefered them.
And maybe it was just the wrong girls, cause Vanessa would definitely adopt this doggy. Besides, he needed trained.
Leaning down, face level to him, Logan snarls at her but she dosn't budge.
"You'll learn to behave. Whether you like it or not. Cause if theres one thing I know, You can't break this bitch. Now sit."
#poolverinessa#poolveriness#ethical non monogamy#vanessa carlysle#loganessa#poolness#pet pl4y#fanfic#deadpool and wolverine#poolverine#logan howlett#wade wilson#deadpool#wolverine#deadpool 3#deadclaws#finding home au#tail au#worst wolverine
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Labor of love
I was very interested to see what S told Mark Gillespie on the last episode of the latter's WhiskyCast podcast, @bat-cat-reader immediately shared with us.
It was a most instructive 35 minutes. I listened to all of it, because I wanted to also hear Gillespie's tasting notes forThe Sassenach. And I regret nothing: once you get past the traditional (and a bit obnoxious) 'why The Sassenach?' question, you're in for some interesting news.
You can listen to it here, by the way:
Before anything, who is Mark Gillespie?
One of the most respected professionals in the very small world of alcohol specialized podcasters, with a 37 years work experience in media and broadcasting, spanning household names such as CNN, Bloomberg, Wall Street Journal, Gallup and MSNBC. But also, and this I found very interesting, given the current context, the owner of CaskMedia, a firm specialized not only in media production, but also marketing and PR.
The podcast was recorded at The Metropolitan Club's library, moments before the Keepers of the Quaich dinner, where S was a keynote speaker. So not 'just there for the Haggis Ceremony ' - a 'guest of honor' is never invited just for the show, people should have known better, eh?
S's 7 minutes interview starts at the 09:32 mark. Comments in brackets are mine.
Gillespie surely doesn't like to beat around the bush and after the customary niceties, asks a million-dollar question:
MG: 'I have to ask: did you have the troubles (problems?) in Germany straightened up?'
SH: ' Ha, ha, ha [not an organic giggle, but hey - gotta do what you gotta do, eh?]. Well, I am not entirely sure I should talk about it [speaks very quickly and through his teeth - visibly annoyed/nervous; not entirely sure I got it all correctly, so feel free to amend in comments], ah... ummm... not as yet... not as yet...ummm...we did fall into an issue with the name Sassenach, which was similar to a big brand in the US... ah!... in Germany, sorry... of a beer brand... I...I personally don't see the similarity [neither do I, S...neither do I], but I am sure once people taste our whisky, they'll know what it is, whatever the name is on it.'
Yes, this interview was probably rehearsed. Yes, Gillespie might have sent the questions to S/his people in advance for reviewing. No, he could not speak about a legally complicated situation before the final settlement with that Schoppingen beer brewer (penalties are probably still to be fixed and paid, but I will check that, so don't take my word for Gospel truth, yet). I will write separately about this whole thing, because I still think that was a very questionable decision of the EUIPO. Not because it royally pisses me off (so fucking unfair!), but because I really fail to see the proper legal reasoning and basis for it. His answer was perfect, under the circumstances. Absolutely perfect.
Anyways, FWIW, it would seem some sort of solution has already been found ('whatever the name is on it') and that most probably would be to rebrand it. And sell it on the German/EU market under a new name.
Lallybroch (https://trademarks.justia.com/981/67/lallybroch-98167525.html), perhaps? Time will tell, but that could explain this recent trademark application I didn't have time to properly look into, yet:
Further ahead (and fast forward through the cask version release, these things bore me to death), we land on another (as yet) unexploded ordnance:
MG: 'I have to mention your show MIK that you do with Graham McTavish, you visited a bunch of distilleries during that one... any visit in particular stands out?'
Now I am not very sure if that question was the best possible one, since that SAG-AFTRA strike is still an ongoing situation. And his answer was quite clever, changing the focus on their visit to Laphroaig's distillery on Islay and waxing lyrical about the casks, the peat, the landscape, etc. But other than a perfunctory and logical 'we', I heard absolutely nothing about McTavish, and it could have been so damn easy to further change the subject and mention his bourbon, with a few kind words. Therefore, I think things are pretty obviously not exactly on the sunny side, between the two. And I guess we all know why.
To end this long post on a cheerful note, I almost forgot to mention something very important. Answering a listener's question about Sassenach not being available in Rhode Island/part of New Jersey, S said something very interesting: 'obviously you can get it online, (...) we've just signed a deal with Southern Glazer's, so we're rolling it out. It is a limited batch, so you know, every year we do do a release and it is very limited, so it does tend to sell out pretty quick. But yes, it is available (...), but obviously you're not gonna see it in every bar, restaurant or retailer, because we just don't have enough of it. But online you can get it and great delivery service, it's very quick.'
I am taking two things home from this last answer: demand exceeds supply, which is both a blessing (solid yield, room for expansion) and a curse (lackadaisical market presence). On short to mid term, distribution will concentrate on the online market, with the help of Southern Glazer's superb infrastructure.
Remember the older guy he had lunch with in MIA, in May? You should, if you didn't focus on Mordor's inept babble about shirts, ballerinas and the like. That guy was instrumental into arranging the deal with Southern Glazer's. Just the biggest wine and spirits distributor on the US market, mind you.
Don't believe me? Check this out:
That company was founded in Florida. Its HQ is still in MIA. He didn't go there because he was looking for ballerinas at his birthday dinner. He went there because when these people are available to meet you, well: you leave everything aside and you damn GO.
Now who the hell is writing fanfiction, eh? You really should be ashamed, madam.
I rest my case.
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I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 4
Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 4,797 Tags: 18+, NSFW in later chapters, Flirting, Brief assault Summary: Cam believes she's being followed, and Eric intends to be the one to keep her safe.
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6
Cam goes for a run just after dark, when the sun has finally set and the stifling heat is a little more manageable. Her neighborhood is perfect for it, the streetlamps glowing soft yellow as she passes, the soles of her shoes hitting the sidewalk, then the pavement when she crosses the street. A few other locals walk their dogs, or take an after-dinner stroll, or sit on the porch with a nightcap, the blinking of fireflies illuminating their faces for a brief second.
It would be enjoyable, except she feels like someone’s watching her.
She already knows never to take the same path twice, something she adopted in Chicago as not just a woman alone, but one with a target on her back. Her preferred route would be down Wildwood, across to Poplar, and around a cul-de-sac of newly constructed homes, but that backs her up against a wall with nowhere to go if she’s cornered, so she nixes the thought immediately.
The path she ultimately takes makes no sense, and that’s intentional; if someone’s still watching her, or worse, following her, she’ll be able to pick them out relatively simply, if she listens to their mind. She takes a left where the sidewalk is considerably bumpier, something she would typically avoid, a right where a tow-truck is taking up much of the alley.
Tuning into her surroundings, she can pinpoint the thoughts of the man walking the German Shepherd across the street, the older couple on the porch swing a few houses down. She can also catch brief flashes of thought, people too far out of range to really hone in on, but that’s about all.
Unsatisfied, she decides to wrap up her exercise for the night, and she heads back in the direction of home; the closer she gets, the more at ease she feels, but she’s still alert and on the defensive in case she needs to be.
She’s almost half a block from her front door when her phone rings, and Pam’s name is announced through her headphones. She answers the call, breathing heavily.
“Hey, Pam,” she greets, but Pam nearly cuts her off, quick to get to the point.
“Eric asked me to check on you. He said he could… feel that something was wrong. Are you okay?” She slowly drawls that word, feeeeel, and Cam frowns, her pace slowing.
“Yeah, I’m okay… well, I felt like someone was following me a few minutes ago,” she says as an afterthought. “I’m out jogging and I felt that sensation of eyes on me, you know?”
“Are you getting that sensation now? How far are you from the bar?” Pam asks, her tone calm and even. Cam can barely hear her over the din of background noise usually associated with the club.
“No, I’m walking up to my front door now,” she tells her, pulling her keys from the pocket of her leggings. Before she inserts the key into the lock, she glances up in thought. “Do you want me to get in the car and drive over?”
“I think Eric would prefer it. I’ll wait for you in the parking lot,” she says, and then the line goes dead. Cam sighs.
“Okay, goodbye to you too,” she mutters to herself as she crosses the porch and goes down the stairs, making her way to the car.
Pam is waiting when she arrives, and she strides across the parking lot in sparkly red stilettos and a black dress as Cam gets out of the car. She pauses while Cam closes and locks the door behind her, then pivots on her heel when Cam walks toward the club.
“Ooh, do I get a bodyguard, now?” Cam teases when Pam falls into step beside her, their arms nearly brushing. Pam tosses her hair over her shoulder and huffs.
“I consider it more like babysitting,” she replies coolly, and when security opens the door for them, she lets Cam step over the threshold first. “But Eric is concerned, and until his worries are alleviated, I’m stuck with you.” She heads for the bar and asks for a glass of water, Pam on her heels.
“Well in that case, we should really get to know each other. I like piña coladas, getting caught in the rain,” Cam lists satirically, then takes a long glug of water. She turns, hoping Pam is wearing an expression of exasperation or something equally entertaining, but it’s Eric behind her now, and he looks incredibly serious.
“Someone was following you?” he asks, his eyes flicking over her face, her neck and shoulders where they’re exposed by the sports bra she wears. Cam shrugs and finishes her water.
“I can’t say for sure—I listened closely, but I couldn’t hear anyone, so if there was someone there, they weren’t human.” That darkens his eyes more than she thought possible, and he steps closer to her, crowding her against the barstool at her back.
“I don’t want you running alone at night anymore,” he says, his gaze on hers like he’s wishing his glamour worked on telepaths. “And stick to well-lit areas during the day. Ask Sookie to join you,” he suggests, and Cam nearly barks a laugh.
“Sookie, run? Only if something’s chasing her,” she says good-naturedly, but when she thinks about it, the hypothetical seems to hit a little too close to home. She shakes her head to clear the thought. “But I’ll ask Tara, or go to the gym, if that would be better.”
“That would be better,” Eric answers, voice softer, pleased that she didn’t fight him on the rule. “When you first asked for my protection, you said that you’d made enemies. Did you have a bodyguard in Chicago?”
“Nothing quite so formal,” she says, though she wants to laugh at the thought of being important enough for a bodyguard, especially when she just teased Pam about that very thing. “But I had clients who respected me who would keep an ear out, let me know if anyone was planning something that may jeopardize my safety.” Eric nods his head, and during that moment of silence, she steps a few inches closer to him. Her turn to ask questions. “How did you know I was uncomfortable?”
He hesitates, looks behind her, at the bartenders, and then puts his hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the front of the room and toward the office. The desire for privacy is fair, she supposes, but when he closes the door and offers her a seat, she refuses, crossing her arms.
“No thank you. I just want to know how you knew something might be wrong. How you felt it,” she says, recalling Pam’s words. With a deep exhale, Eric takes his seat even though she won’t take hers.
“A few weeks before you came to town, I consulted with a witch. I know,” he adds with a smirk, “many vampires fear witches, but I’m very progressive. She told me I would meet someone who would help me grow my power, my business, and that all I had to do was be receptive to it. She didn’t mention it would be a human, or a woman, or someone with psychic ability, just that I would know it when I felt it.”
“And you felt it with me?” she asks, taking a step forward and then sinking into the chair opposite him. Any resistance she had to meeting him on his level for this conversation has been swiftly replaced with curiosity.
“The first night we met,” he answers. “I was drawn to Bon Temps that night, but not for Bill, or Sookie: I was drawn there to meet you.” Cam swallows, her head spinning at the implication, and he continues. “And the more I learned about you, how intelligent you are, how powerful, it became more than mere intuition. I needed you working at my side.”
It takes a moment for her to form words, but when she does, she tries to make them sound less irritated than she feels.
“You could have told me that.” Eric drags a hand over his hair, looking more unsure of himself than she’s ever seen him.
“I didn’t want to scare you away. I wanted to prove myself trustworthy… and I think I have. I think that’s why I was able to feel you like that today.”
It makes sense to Cam—her path to his mind, that buzzing she hears, has been open, but hers had been closed until… Well, she’s not sure when, exactly, but now that it’s open, that tingle, that tugging in her head, it must go both ways. Maybe it’s not just his presence she can feel.
“I do trust you, but going forward we should have the expectation of transparency. If you’re talking to a witch about my future, I deserve to know,” she tells him, no nonsense. He nods in agreement, eyes on hers, and she deflates a bit, sighs. “So, does this change things in any way, now that you’ve told me? My contract or anything?”
Eric stands, so she does too, though he towers over her even with the desk between them, like he’s leaning into her space, whether consciously or not.
“I don’t believe so. If you can forgive my misstep, and accept my promise to be honest with you in the future, I would like it if you would continue to work with me as discussed.” After a moment, he holds out his hand for a shake, and she takes it firmly.
“Okay. If you promise to be honest—and know I’ll call you out if I think you’re bullshitting me or hiding things.” The contact breaks, and Eric nods.
“I have no doubts. Do you plan to stay a while?” he asks, looking over her again, but her sweat has been cooling on her skin, and she needs a shower and a change of clothes more than anything.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll go back home,” she says, and he nods his head once in agreement.
“That’s no problem. I’ll escort you back to your apartment,” he says, walking toward the door and opening it. “One of us will escort you home every night, just to be safe, until we find out if someone is indeed watching you.” Her first instinct is to refuse, because she can take care of herself, but she is still a little shaken from the danger earlier, whether perceived or otherwise, so she simply nods her head and lets herself be guided out the door. She did ask for his protection, after all, and he did promise it.
Eric walks her to her front door, his expression tight as he listens or smells or does whatever vampires do when they’re trying to solve a mystery. Cam stands in the doorway and watches him, smiles gently when he looks back to her face.
“Would you like to come in?” she asks, thinking about what she could offer him in the way of refreshments, good Southern hostess that she is… but she comes up with nothing. She should grab some TruBlood to have on hand, just in case, or more of the wine he’d gifted to her when she moved in.
“No, that’s okay, thank you. You interrupted your evening off when I asked you to; I do not want to take up any more of your time.” It’s really thoughtful of him to say, but when she shifts to say goodbye, she feels the sweaty funk on her skin, and she's instantly embarrassed, sure he must be able to smell it.
“Oh god, it’s because I stink, right? I’m sorry, I came right from jogging—” she begins; she can’t imagine how strong that kind of thing must be to vampires and their superior senses. Before she can finish, Eric leans in extremely close, his nose brushing over the bare line of her neck. He balances his hand on the door frame beside her and breathes her in.
“You smell delicious,” he murmurs, “all of the time,” and after another deep breath, he pulls back to give her space. She manages not to whimper at the loss, even though she kind of wants to, just clears her throat, and the corner of Eric’s mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. “Good night, Camila.”
“Yeah, good night,” she calls as he turns to walk away, her brain still a half-step behind reality. Eric disappears into the night, and, feeling a sudden chill, she heads inside to shower, double locking the door behind her.
Eric feels her, sees her, and smells her all at once. She’s back at Fangtasia, but tonight she wears a short black dress with ruffled sleeves, her legs looking long in a pair of strappy sandals. It would be mouthwatering, if he allowed himself to think of her that way.
Looking at her, yes that’s fine—it’s impossible not to—but feeling things is wholly out of the equation.
He waits for her to approach him, can tell by the look on her face she means business tonight, and when she’s within human earshot, he moves toward her. “Camila, what a pleasure.” His eyes linger on her bare legs at his own mention of pleasure. “Did we call on you tonight?”
“No, I’m doing a little of my own detective work,” she admits, glancing around the bar. “A former client of mine heard about a potential attack on a vampire nest not far from here, thought I might want to check it out. And I knew you’d want to know.”
Eric presses his hand to the small of her back and they walk toward the back of the club for a little more privacy.
“Which nest?” he asks, running through recent updates from all of the neighboring sheriffs and wondering which he should inform of her tip. She pulls out her phone and flicks open a text message. “And why do they wish to harm them?”
“The… Densmore coven,” she says, reading over it, “and he says there’s one vampire in particular they’re after, someone named Flynn. Do you know him?”
The look on his face when she glances up must say it all, because her expression changes completely.
“Yes, I know him. He’s always made trouble for our kind.”
“What kind of trouble? Eating kids trouble, stealing wives trouble, graffiti-ing bloody fangs on a monument of some racist old lawmaker trouble?” she offers, texting her contact back. Eric huffs a laugh and shakes his head.
“Nothing like—well, the stealing wives thing, maybe. He enjoys seducing women, likes being their first vampire, if you know what I mean.” Cam looks up at him and exhales, nods.
“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. You never forget your first vampire,” she recites, and that is intriguing… even though he wishes it wasn’t.
“I take it you remember your first vampire?” he asks despite himself, leaning in more closely like being near her is the easiest thing in the world. Like it doesn’t make him want things he knows he can never have.
She ignores him with a playful roll of the eyes, holding up her phone again.
“Has anyone heard of a man asking weird questions around the bar? Trying to get a vampire to take him home, to their home? My friend thinks they might be doing recon.”
It’s actually a good thing, he thinks, if they’re trying to schmooze someone at the bar: it means they’re amateurs, probably stupid, and not enough of a threat to write to the Queen about.
“I’ll find out,” Eric says, and he’s gone in a swift rush of air, making the rounds and speaking to all of his staff members. When he returns, she’s already zeroed in on suspect number one. Clever girl.
“Gray button up shirt, trucker hat?” Cam whispers, and Eric shifts to press himself against her back. “Don’t worry, I’ve got him,” she says, and it makes him wonder what she’s getting from him, if she can feel his uncertainty the way he could feel her paranoia when she was out for a run the other day. “Is there somewhere I can take him to get him alone—somewhere you could meet me, terrify him, do your thing?”
He murmurs an address into her ear, a house just down the block that Pam sometimes uses for entertaining. “I’ll be right behind you—and be careful,” he adds sternly before leaving as quickly as he’d gone before.
“You’re going to let her leave with that thing?” Pam says when he almost collides with her behind the bar. He watches Cam as she approaches the man, as she slips into a flirtatious smile and lets him put his hands on her hips as they sway to the music.
“He’s harmless; I’ll be watching her the whole time,” he assures, wondering when Pam became fond enough of Cam to be concerned for her wellbeing. Maybe putting her on babysitting duty for a few weeks had been a better idea than he realized.
Getting Trucker Hat alone is easy: Cam flirts a little, dances, tells him that her vampire said she could invite a third and that she wanted him in all of his redneck glory. His clear interest morphs into a shit-eating grin when she mentions that her vampire said they should go back to his place and get started, that he would be along soon to join them.
“Will you show me where he sleeps?” Trucker Hat asks with a squeeze of her ass as they cross the street just outside the house. Cam slips on a salacious smile and tugs him up onto the porch, turns her back to the front door to give him a very obvious full-body once over.
“He has a secret spot under the floorboards,” she whispers, in the event no visible coffin is present. If there is one, she can brush it off as a roleplay prop. “I’ll even let you fuck me on top of it.”
“Hell yeah,” the man drawls, pressing closer to her to grope at her breasts. He's not bad looking, has all of the suntanned, frat boy charm she expected upon first glance, but his hands on her make her want to take a scalding shower and kick him in the balls—though not in that order. She opens the door and leads him inside, steps back to watch him take in the admittedly luxurious decor.
The foyer is grand and open, leading into a dark and moody sitting room. There are bookshelves built into all of the walls, electric candelabras conveniently lit, and Trucker Hat drops down into the middle of a purple velvet couch, his arms stretched out on either side like a king on his throne.
“You look so good like that,” she tells him, punctuating it with a bite of her bottom lip. He pulls her into his lap—not what she’d been hoping for, but not altogether unexpected—and hikes up her skirt, so she can feel his erection beneath her, his hands on the thighs spread around him.
“And you look good on top of me.” He pulls her down for a kiss, but she shifts, gives him a face full of cleavage instead, which earns both a grunt of surprise and a groan of arousal. “Fuck, honey. Want ‘em bouncin’ in my face while you ride my pole.”
Cam rolls her eyes because she knows he can’t see them—the thing about being alone with a man is that she doesn’t even need to listen to their thoughts. They all spout off at the mouth and just say whatever stupid thing is on their mind anyway—then dips down to meet his gaze.
“Mmm. Let me give you a massage first,” she counters, running a hand down his chest and stopping at his belt. He swallows hard and nods, then takes her hand and presses it down against his cock.
“I know you’ve gotta be good at rubbin’,” he says with a wink, and she grins playfully and slides out of his lap, strutting slowly around the sofa until she ends up behind him.
“I’m good at all kinds of things,” she says, leaning down to purr in his ear. She rests her hands on his shoulders, digs her thumbs into them in a way that she knows has to hurt a little. He exhales sharply, then covers it with a moan as she glides her fingers down to his chest, flipping open his top button, then another. “Have you ever shared a girl with a vampire?”
His thoughts change then, flash to a pretty blonde woman, then the short, stocky, muscular vampire she now knows to be Flynn—fuck that vamp, man, and that fuckin’ fangbangin’ whore he stole from me. Slut for vampire blood and dick, stupid bitch.
“I don't share,” he says suddenly, angrily, and he reaches back to get a hand in her hair, uses it to pull her closer so that her feet are almost off the ground. He takes a hard kiss that is clearly not meant to bring her pleasure, and she reaches for his face, jamming her fingers into his eyes and earning a howl of pain. It’s then that Eric joins them, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her away from the man’s unkind grasp.
“Neither do I,” he growls, and when the man stands quickly, surprised, Eric fists a hand in his shirt and yanks him over the back of the couch, depositing him on the floor at their feet. “I heard you plan to take down a vampire nest—you don’t look quite that stupid, but now I can see exactly how small your brain is.”
Trucker Hat flounders, trips over his own tongue between a series of desperate apologies and outright pleading for his life. Eric maneuvers Cam behind himself, then steps closer to the man, hovering over him as if intending to crush him beneath his shoe.
“If you harm one of us, you’re dead. If you try to take out a whole nest, I’ll make a snack out of you until you’re begging me for death.” He glances back at Cam, who smooths her skirt, brushes a hand through her hair to regain a semblance of dignity after his halted attack, and then back at the man. “And if you ever so much as look at her again, I’ll kill everyone you’ve ever cared about in front of you and then skin you alive. Do you understand?” When the man can’t manage to get a word out, Eric reaches down and grabs him by the lapels of his shirt—and he pauses for a few seconds because shoving him toward the door. “Leave.”
Trucker Hat scrambles for the front door and out of the room, and when she can no longer hear his chaotic, frightened mind, Cam releases a long breath she’d been holding in. Eric turns to her and runs his palm tenderly over the crown of her head.
“I’m sorry. I did not expect him to be violent,” he says, sounding regretful as he looks down into her eyes. She shakes her head, both accepting the apology and dismissing the need for one.
“It’s okay, neither did I,” she tells him truthfully.
She’d underestimated the man’s rage, something she’ll be certain never to do again.
After a moment of silence between them, she looks up and says, “You let him live… to send a message?”
Eric clears his throat, slowly shakes his head.
“Because I knew you wouldn’t approve if I ate his heart.” She knows he means it, his face deadly serious, but she can’t help it, a laugh escapes her at that—probably one of those trauma laughs that bubble up at all the worst times. Eric actually cracks a smile at her outburst, and his eyes soften. “Can I take you home?”
“My car’s at the club, I’m okay to drive,” she assures him, and though he scrutinizes her face, he seems to agree with her estimation.
“Alright, but I’m going to ride along,” he finally decides. They walk back to the parking lot together, and when Cam hesitates, Eric takes the driver’s seat. Without a second thought, she hands over her keys and enjoys the feeling of being taken care of by someone—anyone—for a change.
The next morning, far too early, a knock on the door wakes Cam from a dead sleep. She pads from the bedroom to the hall and checks the peephole before unlatching the deadbolt and pulling open the door.
“Sookie, what the hell—”
“Bill heard all about what happened to you last night,” Sookie says, brushing past her and walking into her apartment. She stalks into the kitchen and pulls down a box of tea and Cam’s kettle, which she fills with water. “I told you nothin’ good would come of working with Eric, now didn’t I?”
“I don’t… what do you mean?” Cam asks, blinking away the haze of sleep. She glances at the kettle curiously; if anything, after barely three hours sleep, she wants coffee. “Nothing happened to me last night.”
Like her words flipped a switch inside her, Sookie spins around and faces her, crosses her arms over the baby blue peplum top she wears.
“So you didn’t go on some dumb undercover mission and get assaulted by some creep? Bill just made that up?” she demands, and Cam raises her hands in mock defense, takes a step back.
“Okay, no, he didn’t make that up, but that’s an exaggeration. I lured this jerk to a safe house so Eric could deal with him. The guy grabbed me, but I jabbed him in the eye sockets and then Eric pulled me away. I wasn’t in any danger,” she assures her, even though she had been afraid when the man’s thoughts switched so abruptly to anger and violence. But Eric was coming, she knew that, and he was there before she could do much more than instinctively react, anyway. Sookie huffs in disbelief and opens the cabinet over her head, pulling down two white ceramic mugs.
“Not in danger, sure. You were just alone with a wanna be vampire killer—who could have had a weapon, by the way!” she adds, turning to face Cam. Cam just blinks, still not caught up from being in a deep sleep just minutes ago, and Sookie waves a sleeve of tea bags in front of her face. “Everyone thinks I’m stupid, but you don’t see me luring men out into the dark, now do you?”
Cam takes a deep breath and moves closer to Sookie, gently taking the tea from her hands. She sets it on the counter, then wraps her arms around her cousin in a hug; the embrace lasts nearly thirty seconds, and when she pulls back, Sookie’s eyes are wet with tears.
“I’m sorry,” Cam says immediately, placing her hands on Sookie’s shoulders. “I wasn’t thinking about how it could affect you, me coming back so suddenly and then putting myself in harm’s way. How it might get you thinking about everything you’ve lost.” Sookie sniffles and tilts her head to the side.
“Don’t listen to my thoughts,” she murmurs, pouting, but then she laughs, something soft and delicate. Cam mirrors it.
“I don’t need to listen to know that I’ve upset you, Sook. I really am sorry. I promise that if I’m involved in any dangerous vampire hijinks in the future, I’ll let you know right away so you don’t hear it from someone else. I can’t promise not to get involved in things,” she clarifies, “you know that’s not in my nature, but I can promise to be the one who tells you about them.”
Sookie turns her head and looks at her, takes a soft breath before nodding her head.
“Okay. I’m sorry I barged in here like I’m your mom—or god, like Gran,” she says with an exasperated smile that Cam duplicates. “But I worry about you. I know you can take care of yourself, you always could, but this is a new world, Cam, and it can be scary sometimes.” At that, Cam takes Sookie’s hands and holds them softly.
“I know it can be scary, but this world isn’t new for me,” she reminds her gently. “All I can promise is that I’ll be smart, I’ll be careful, and I’ll be honest with you. If I do that, are we good?” she asks her cousin, so like a sister to her it hurts her heart, and Sookie nods.
“Yeah, we’re good,” she says with a sad smile, and then Cam playfully nudges her out of the way and reaches up into the cupboard for a bag of breakfast blend.
“In that case, do you want to stay for breakfast?” she asks, and Sookie grins and gets to work pulling eggs and tomatoes from the refrigerator while Cam brews a fresh pot of coffee.
#eric northman#true blood#eric northman fanfic#true blood fanfic#eric northman x reader#eric northman x ofc
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Another one small text from my English lessons. Today it's about König and Horangi.
Horangi helping König dry and brush his hair after a shower (562 words).
“Hey, babe, what’re you doing there for so long?” Horangi asked loudly, lying in the big luxorious bed in their hotel room.
König took a shower half an hour ago and still hasn’t come out for some reason. Hong Jin had time to drink whiskey and smoke while his Austrian was still in the bathroom. And he cursed loudly in German.
“Scheiße!!” König exclaimed. “Donnerwetter verflucht noch einmal!”
“I like your “noch einmal” in the bed, babe.” Hong Jin got up lazily, put on a snow-white hotel robe and knocked on the bathroom door. “May I come in?”
There was no response. Instead, the door opened so sharply that Horangi barely managed to pull it back. Then he saw König, standing naked with a towel on his head.
“What happened, babe?” Horangi asked, lowering his eyes involuntarily.
“My hair!” The Austrian cried out in despair. “I can’t comb it!”
“Okay, okay, calm down, sweety.” Hong Jin removed the towel from König’s head and wrapped it around his thighs. “Come with me and I’ll help you.”
“No scissors!” König exclaimed with fear and hatred.
“Aye,” Hong Jin answered, “I remember.”
His Austrian had wonderful, long blond hair. Now it reached below his shoulders, but it was cut unevenly and ugly. The back of König’s head and the part of his temples were shaved with a clipper four month ago and now the hair in these places grew and stuck out. All this could be fixed, but König really hated hairdressers, and the clipper’s sound made him mad. That’s why the Austrian didn’t let Horangi touch his hair for a long time. And now the Korean wasn’t going to do anything that could break this fragile trust.
Hong Jin led his Austrian to a dresser with a large mirror and sat him on a small chair. Then he brought another towel and gently dried König’s hair.
“Look, babe, I have a hair dryer and a comb, no scissors, okay?” Horangi asked, showed the things in his hands that he took from the dresser.
“Aye.” The Austrian sighed and relaxed.
Hong Jin began to brush König’s tangled heir slowly and carefully. It wasn’t very pleasant, but from time to time Horangi kissed the back of Austrian’s head and massaged it with his skillful fingers. Then he turned on the hair dryer. The warm air blew over König’s head and shoulders nicely, and he squinted with pleasure like a very big cat.
“Do you like it?” Horangi asked and smiled.
“A little.” König answered reluctantly. “Maybe it’s enough? Let’s have a drink and back to the bed.”
“Do you ever get tired?” The Korean turned off the hair dryer and raised his eyebrow. “I thought we would go for a walk or watch TV. Or what else ordinary people do on leave?”
“I don’t know.” König shrugged and stood up. “Do you really want to get out of the hotel? Everyone will be staring at us again.”
“Well,” Hong Jin smiled and came closer to his tall and stocky Austrian, “what do you want to drink, babe?”
“Peach schnapps.” König answered and kissed Horangi. “I’ll wait for you in the bed, mein Tigerjunges.”
“I love when you speak German.” Hong Jin said and went to the mini bar.
König smiled, removed the towel from his thighs and fell onto the bed, waiting for Horangi with drinks.
#call of duty#cod konig#könig#könig call of duty#konig x horangi#horangi#horangi call of duty#korangi#horangi x könig#könig x horangi
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Many moons ago, when (I think it was) the fifth season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer was airing on TV, I decided it might be fun to join some mailing lists dedicated to the show, so I'd have more people to talk about the show with. (Mailing lists were pre-social media vehicles for fandom, somewhere between USENET and MySpace; imagine a chain of comments on a Tumblr post, but it's sent to you in email.) It definitely let me talk to more people about a show that I loved, but it also taught me that online fandom can take just as easily as it gives. [SPOILERS if you're just starting to watch the show, i think it might be having a minor resurgence atm.]
It wasn't a terribly negative experience. I didn't get bullied or even have my ideas shit on. That season had the show's typical mystery of what's the deal with this season's Big Bad and how are Buffy and the Scoobies going to defeat them, but it also had the mystery of Buffy's previously unseen sister, Dawn. Where did she come from? Howcome all the characters act like she's been there all along when she totally hasn't been? Et cetera, et cetera, et wtf.
There had been cryptic hints dropped in the previous season (Little Miss Muffet, counting down from 7-3-0), but they were very cryptic. Babylon 5 had concluded not too long ago, and HBO's mainstreaming of the "tv show as novel" concept had not quite kicked into gear yet, so nerdy fannish brains were hungry for a well-planned-out tv narrative to sink their teeth into. This mailing list was full of speculation, sometimes based on those aforementioned hints, sometimes based on the bits of Latin and German text seen in the opening credits (the show is full of mystical tomes), to all those sorts of background details and clever quips that supposedly have hidden meanings. You know how it can get.
Of course I had my own theories, which I do not remember. That's suspiciously convenient, because I do remember that they were wrong. (Good job, super ego. You saved me from an embarrassing memory for once. That doesn't mean we're okay about all the other stuff.) Whatever my wrong predictions were, it really bugged me when they turned out to be wrong. And before they were proved to be wrong, it also bugged me when I would watch the show and someone else's theory, usually one I didn't like so much, would pop into my head. Oh, that one character did that thing that supposedly proves that such-and-such will happen. There was a mention of that so-called clue that means Dawn will turn out to be whatever annoying thing that one poster said that I didn't like. My pet theory being wrong was just the stink on top of the turd pie.
So at the end of that season, I thought, this deeper involvement in fandom has made the show less fun to watch. And that sucked, because I really liked that show. I'd found it at the beginning, and my enjoyment of it had grown from a very simplistic "hey, there's an attractive lady kicking vampires" to a real appreciation of all the character growth and the good acting and the smart metaphors and the playing with tropes, all the stuff that makes a tv show good. And one of my best friends had recently gotten into the show, though they were still catching up via my obsessive video taping (a lost art, folks). All that enjoyment was diminished, if only a bit, by my participation is a particular aspect of fandom. I unsubbed from the mailing lists and decided I wouldn't go down that path again.
Obviously, I didn't completely give up on online fandom, because here I am. But I have tried to be much more careful in how I engage with that fandom. Speculation isn't for me. It might be for you. Digging into behind-the-scenes details, and examining statements that creators have made about a story is not for me. It might be for you. What is for me is finding those stories--whatever medium they may be told in--that appeal to me, taking them in, letting myself get lost in the details that catch my attention, talking about those things with friends, and occasionally posting something here. Similar vibes seem to attract each other here. Most of the interaction is just a like, which I can interpret as appreciation for the thing that I enjoy or maybe my rambling about it, and that's nice. When folks do reply with more than a like, it's almost always thoughtful and written in a chill, conversational way.
I reckon the moral is, it's worthwhile to notice how your interaction with fandom affects your enjoyment of the art that brought you there in the first place, and it can be helpful to tailor that interaction so that you get the most positive and the least negative out of it.
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V-E-N-U-S (03)
Pairing: Rafe x plus size!Reader
Genre: smut, dark-ish fic
Word Count: 6 ,2k
Warnings ⚠️ Mildly Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, more like Enemies to Enemies That Fuck tbh, Rafe Cameron Being an Asshole, mentions of bullying, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Rough Sex, Mentions of death of a parent, Drinking, Drug Use, Rafe needs therapy asap, fatphobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Summary: The nickname he had given you in 8th grade was supposed to be ironic. In Rafe’s defense, he used to be a pretty stupid and cruel fourteen-year-old, as most kids that age are. So yeah, nicknaming the fat and nerdy chick Venus – like the goddess of sex and beauty – had been pretty hilarious in young Rafe's opinion.
What he would've never guessed was how much that name would fit you now as a grown woman.
Notes: Here is part 3! Enjoy 💖
AO3 | Masterlist | Part 1
You felt like you could finally breathe when you set foot inside your house, the familiar scent of beef strogonoff making your stomach grumble as you realized you were starving. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you rarely got hungry while working, doing a shift without much more than a granola bar and yogurt in your stomach.
But you were home now, and your body knew it, muscles relaxing and mouth salivating at the prospect of finally sitting down and having a nice meal. Maybe then you would forget about your shitty day – in particular your last conversation with Rafe. That had really soured your mood, a tension in your shoulders and neck that was starting to give you headaches.
Locking the door behind you, you dropped your backpack on a chair and sat on the floor with a tired exhale, taking off your shoes before fully laying down on the wooden surface, dust and dog fur in your hair be damned. Your whole body needed a break, your feet in particular; they always hurt like a bitch after a long shift of standing up and walking around.
The noise of loud indie rock came somewhere from the back of the house, and you could hear kid music and cartoons coming from the living room, just to your right. A tip-tapping sound from the hallway made you look up, and a smile stretched your lips as you were approached by the only family member to always greet you at the front door.
“Hey old man, how was your day?” you cooed as you sat up to pet K-Nine behind the ears, just how he liked it.
The old German Shepard mix wagged his tail from side to side as he excitedly tip-tapped his nails on the floor, trying to welcome you with a lick to the face that you promptly dodged with a chuckle. Your dad had let you pick K-Nine on your 10th birthday, and, in a way, this dog was like a part of your father that was still with you. It hurt watching him get older and start to prefer naps instead of long walks outside.
After a quick cuddle and a pet to his graying muzzle, you stood up and walked into the living room together, where your younger brother sat on the couch with his full attention on the TV.
“Hello, Kev,” you greeted when you passed by the couch, being completely ignored even when you ruffled his hair as you walked towards the open kitchen. “Bluey is that good huh?...” you muttered under your breath before smiling at your mother. “Hey, Mom, smells good!”
“Hey, sweets, you got home just in time,” greeted your mother, sending you a tired smile as she set the table. You hurried to help her, knowing that – no matter how tired you were – your mother would be ten times worse. “How was work today?”
“Work was okay, got some good tips,” you said as you took out the orange juice from the fridge and set it on the table. “How was your day?”
“Exhausting,” She said as she sat at the table with a tired sigh, a smile still on her lips. “But cleaning rich people’s houses does have its perks – Mrs. Lockwood gave me some good clothes her son doesn’t use anymore, so that’s one less thing I have to worry about – I swear that your brothers are growing like weeds.”
“That’s nice of her,” you said with a forced smile; your mom was always thankful for the things her employers at Figure 8 gave her, didn’t matter if they were second-hand or not – but you still remembered how kids used to bully you over it. You just hoped your brothers didn’t go through the same. “Have you been taking your new medication? Doctor Marsh said you weren’t supposed to feel this tired after a few weeks of taking it, right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s working,” she muttered with a shake of her head, eyes down on the napkin she was folding. “They help a bit with the pain, but I still feel so drained…”
“Maybe you should do some more exams?” you asked as you grabbed the plates and started serving the still piping hot food, the smell making your stomach grumble again. “We can go early tomorrow if you want, I only start work at five.”
“And mess even more with your college savings?” she asked in what you knew was a rhetorical tone. “I’m not doing that.” Then she turned to your younger brother, still watching his cartoons like they were the only thing in the room. “Kev, honey, go call your brother for dinner, please – Kevin, now.” Then she turned to you again. “Fibromyalgia won’t kill me, I can manage. Let’s just focus on getting you into college for now, I’m not having you stuck on this island waiting tables for the rest of your life.”
You gave her a resigned nod, setting the plates on the table before sitting down at your usual place in front of her, noticing the bags under her eyes and the silver in her hair – she had aged so much since being diagnosed two years ago. You didn’t like the fact that your mother refused to get all the help she needed; yes, there was no cure for her condition, but there were treatments to alleviate the symptoms, which she just refused to do if it involved touching your savings.
At times, it frustrated you more than just a little. You would rather your mother enjoyed her life comfortably with no pain than go to college; it was not like your major of choice was going anywhere, anyway.
The arrival of your brothers stopped you from pressing on the matter again, and dinner went by as it always went, with silly conversations that made you laugh and your worries disappear, allowing you to enjoy these little moments when everything was fine.
No work, no stress, no drama.
It was now almost ten-thirty in the evening, and your mother and Kevin were already long asleep while you relaxed on the couch with K-Nine sprawled belly up between you and David. Mom had only recently allowed him to watch scary movies, and the kid was obsessed, to say the least. So, it had become tradition, for the past few months, to watch a horror movie every Friday and Saturday night after dinner, which you were happy to oblige.
David was very noticeably going through puberty right now, and sometimes the only way to get him out of his room was to convince him to either go to the movies or watch something on the TV. Netflix was a luxury you were willing to pay for if it allowed you these special moments with him.
“Do you believe in demons?” David murmured as you watched the final shot of Annabelle in a glass enclosure fade to black before the credits rolled.
“Sure do,” you snorted as you stretched your stiff muscles with a yawn. “See them all the time at my job.”
The boy tilted his head to the side, brows furrowing.
“Uh, do you mean Kooks?”
“Kooks. Demons. They’re pretty much the same thing,” you replied with a specific person in mind. “Why? You scared?”
“I’m thirteen, of course I’m not scared,” he said with an eye roll that could match your own, helping you fold the blanket you had used before adding with a small shrug, “Just wondering…”
“Well, I don’t think we have to worry about demons, so you’re good.”
“Hmm…” He looked lost in thought as he hesitantly asked, “And what about ghosts? Do you think they’re real?”
“Not really.” Something sounded off, you could see it in his faraway gaze, the way he chewed on his bottom lip, shoulders sagged. “Why do you ask, Davie?”
He was quiet for a moment, and then he uttered, his bottom lip trembling, “I- I can’t remember Dad’s voice anymore… I think I’m forgetting Dad.”
“Aw, Davie.”
You pulled him against you, arms going around him as you held him in a tight embrace, kissing the top of his head when he hugged you back just as tight, his shoulders lightly shaking as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. He was growing up so fast; another year and he would be taller than you.
You said nothing as you let him cry, hugging him while rubbing his back, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. Even though you could cry, you wouldn’t do it now; he had seen you cry so much in the past, seen you sob and lose yourself as you grieved, not old enough to quite process everything that had happened, but old enough to hold you like you were holding him now.
It was your turn to support him through this.
He had been eight years old when your father died, just a little boy – which, in a way, made it so much worse for him. You had been fifteen and had almost died yourself, too deep in your own despair at the time to notice anyone else’s misery. But now you felt his pain as if it was your own. You were sure that if there were no pictures of your father around the house, his face would also start to blur from your memories.
“I think Mom might have some videos of Dad in a hard drive somewhere,” you said after some time in silence. “Why don’t we look for them tomorrow and watch them together?”
You heard him sniffle as he nodded, and you broke the embrace before gently guiding him out of the living room and saying goodnight to each other.
You watched as your brother opened the door of the room he shared with Kevin before getting inside, leaving it slightly ajar as he did every night, the shine of the night light (he still had nightmares sometimes) giving you some visual aid as you walked the dark hallway towards your own bedroom.
A sudden knock at the front door made you jump in place.
“Shh, boy, it’s okay,” you hushed your dog as he let out a bark from the living room, rushing after you as you hurried to check the peephole. Your brows furrowed, lips pursing as you noticed who was on the other side of the door.
Taking a deep breath, you opened the door to face none other than your cousin.
“Hey,” he said in a hushed tone before you could utter a word, looking at you with his hands in his pockets and a nervous expression on his face. “I know it’s late, but can we talk?”
You hesitated before giving him a nod and stepping outside, leaving the door unlocked behind you as you walked towards the front steps. You had a good guess as to why he was at your doorstep at this hour, and your shoulders tensed at the prospect of having this specific discussion right now.
“Fine,” you muttered as you moved to sit on the front step. “What do you wanna talk about?”
John B followed your lead and sat beside you, absently petting K-Nine behind the ears as the old dog lay down on the porch with a huff.
“JJ told me about you and Rafe.”
He was going straight to the subject. Good. The sooner you finished this, the sooner you could go to bed and pretend it never happened.
“What about me and Rafe?”
John B stopped petting the dog, fingers fidgeting as he started picking the old scraps of paint from the wooden step beneath him.
“Please don’t lie to me, V. Not about this.” You didn’t think you had ever heard John B say anything in such a serious tone, jaw clenched and mouth set in a straight line as his gaze locked on yours, eyes shining in the moonlight with something akin to concern. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know you would never have something with him even if he was the last man on earth, but I heard the rumors, so what the hell happened between you two?”
Your brows furrowed, his tone not lost to you as you tried to understand exactly the meaning behind his words.
“Wait, what- what are you talking about?” you asked after a moment of only staring at him, unsure of what to say. “What the hell did JJ tell you?”
“Last Saturday, at that Kook party, Rafe did something to you.” You looked at him in total confusion as he took your hands in his, his grip a little tighter than you would find comfortable. “He forced you, didn’t he? I saw the bruises, I saw the marks but I just thought…” he shook his head, tone turning frantic as you let out a nervous chuckle, at a complete loss for words as you realized what he was implying. He couldn’t be serious. “Did he drug you? Whatever he did, you have to tell me, tell the police. We can get him arrested. If- If you don’t want to do that maybe we can try to- to, I don’t know, but we can make him pay somehow.”
This was madness. This whole situation was ridiculous. Absolute insanity.
“John B, no, please stop–”
“No, no, no, you don’t have to be scared of him–”
“Johnathan, stop!” you snapped, tears stinging your eyes as you finally managed to pull your hands from his grip. “Whatever JJ told you, it’s not true. Rafe didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do, so stop whatever this is!”
He stared at you, eyes wide and mouth agape as understanding finally settled.
“What?”
“Rafe didn’t hurt me.”
His eyes flashed with anger, and an intrusive thought crossed your mind; it was almost like he preferred you had been assaulted.
“You actually willingly slept with him?”
The disgust was as clear in his voice as it was in his face, and you couldn’t stop yourself from recoiling in a sudden burst of shame. You were quick to push that emotion aside; you had nothing to be ashamed of.
“Even if I did, whatever my deal is with Rafe is between me and him. Not you and not JJ, so you can just stop getting in my business like I’m your responsibility. I’ve been dealing with Cameron for years now, he’s not your problem.”
“That’s the thing though, he is my problem!” he shouted, and you looked back at your house, afraid your family would be alerted by the ruckus. This was not a subject they needed to get involved in. “He’s always picking fights with us and treats Sarah like shit! Have you seen what he and Topper did to Pope the other day? He’s not a good guy and you know that so why the hell would you willingly spread your legs for him?”
“Hey, watch it!” your tone raised to match his own, index finger pointed at his chest as you pinned him down in a glare. K-Nine barked, sensing the rise in emotions. “You don’t get to talk to me like that!”
“What, am I lying?” his tone quieted, but the expression of anger on his face didn’t falter, hand raising to roughly push your own away. “Didn’t you go from hating him one minute to letting him fuck you the next? Like a–”
You felt the heat in your palm before you could even register what you had done. Tears stung in your eyes as you stared down at John B, who was cradling his cheek and looking at you with a mixture of shock, anger, and sadness in his hazel eyes.
“Get. Out. Of my house,” you commanded in between shaking breaths.
You stared down at each other for what felt like hours, neither of your saying a thing. You forced yourself to stop your lower lip from trembling, hiding your shaking hands behind your back as you finally broke eye contact, sure that you would erupt into tears if you stared at the disappointment in his eyes for one more second.
“Just leave,” you whispered as you made your way to the front door, not caring anymore if he left or not.
“He’ll hurt you.”
You halted, hand on the doorknob, glancing at him over his shoulder. Waiting.
“He’ll hurt you,” John B repeated, firmly this time, avoiding your eyes. Then he added, his tone so soft you barely understood the words “And when he does, you can count on me. Until then…”
You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he was already walking away before you could utter a single sound.
«»«»«»«»«»
You rolled in bed for the hundredth time that night, your cousin’s words repeating themselves in your mind over and over and over, like a broken record that never stopped.
Didn’t you go from hating him one minute to letting him fuck you the next?
You had… hadn’t you? Against your better judgment, against your own principles, you had let Rafe touch you and kiss you in ways you never even thought he would want to. Rafe Cameron was an awful person, and that wasn’t a matter of opinion. He was entitled, cruel, temperamental, and prone to violence. You knew that. He had terrorized you for years and made your life a living hell; laughed at you, hurt you, made you cry more times than you could count, and still…that hadn’t stopped you from riding him and moaning for him as if your life depended on it, had it?
And now here you were, unable to sleep, with a tightness in your chest and a churning stomach that was starting to make you nauseous. You were exhausted from all the muffled crying you had done as soon as you got to your bedroom, your pillow stained with tears.
John B’s words hurt, making you feel even worse than you already felt. Part of you hated him a little, insulted and beyond upset by everything he had said. He had no right to act like that. Still, the other side of you cried in shame, wondering if he was right and if you really were being the stupid and undeniably wrong person in all of this mess.
I slapped him, for God’s sake!
That alone was enough reason to at least text him an apology, but you quickly stopped yourself from doing it. You were still too furious, wounds too fresh.
Your thoughts started spiraling out of control, and that tightness in your chest grew worse.
What if your mom found out?
What if your boss found out?
What if you lost your job and your family because of it?
What if you and John B’s relationship never recovered?
What if this stupid fucking mistake stopped you from going to college and making a better life for yourself and your family so you would be forced to work as a waitress for the rest of your life until you died alone on this island with no family and friends, only the police to discover your cat-eaten corpse?
What if, what if, what if?
You buried your face in your pillow with a grunt of frustration, wishing you could go back in time and murder Rafe Cameron in his sleep, just for good measure. Then none of this would’ve happened, and you could continue living your life without this particular storm hanging over your head.
Groaning at how stuffy your room felt, you kicked your sheets off of you before getting out of bed and walking straight to the chair in the corner of your room. Grabbing the pair of shorts and the hoodie laying on it, you hurriedly got dressed before making your way out of the house, phone and keys safely stored in your hoodie’s pocket.
You hesitated as you walked down the stairs of your front porch, unsure of where to go.
It was at times like this that you wished you had more friends; Nina had been abroad for two years (It would be four in the morning in Portugal, so it was not like you could call her now) and you doubted that JJ, Kie, Pope, or Sarah would want to hear anything you had to say, after what happened. A couple of other people came to mind, but you never contacted them unless sex was involved, and that was not what you wanted right now.
Sex was what got me into this mess in the first place.
The sounds of waves in the distance crashing against the shoreline caught your attention. You listened for a moment, taking a deep breath of the salty breeze, mind going blank for a blessed moment. Living this close to the ocean could be a curse some days, unwanted memories rushing to your mind if you let them take over; right now, however, you would like to think of it as a blessing.
You were strolling towards the Boneyard before you could give it much thought, hands stuffed in your pockets and hoodie over your head as the chilly coastline wind made you shiver despite the warm island weather.
Your ears perked as the sound of loud music and voices alerted you to a party nearby, right on the other side of the dunes. You could smell burning wood the closer you got, and it didn’t take you long to catch the sight of a bonfire, people laughing and dancing and drinking without a care in the world.
Exactly what you needed.
You approached the gathering with your eyes on the crackling fire, enjoying the way the dancing flames cast a glow over the sand, making it look the color of melted caramel under the moonlit sky. The sand under your naked feet was cool to the touch, and the seawater was thankfully far enough away for you to be able to relax.
Most people around you were familiar in one way or another, a fair mix of Kooks, Pogues, and Tourons that just wanted to enjoy their Friday night as much as you did. You walked through the party crowd, being mostly ignored besides the occasional wave or nod of recognition that you made sure to retribute.
Fortunately, you saw no unwanted faces that would make you instantly turn around and leave.
That made you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding; no one seemed to be talking about you or looking at you weirdly, and there was no one to ruin your night more than John B already had. Perfect.
Coming here was a good decision, you thought as you approached the kegs of beer, smiling as you recognized one of the guys handing out drinks.
“Hey, V.” Eli, a tall young man with short curly hair smiled at you as he handed you a full cup of beer before you even had to ask. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, you know,” you shrugged as you took the cup from his hand, sipping the bitter drink, “just working and binge-watching shows on my days off. All very thrilling. You?”
“Same,” he chuckled, warm brown eyes looking almost golden in the light of the fire. “Just helping out at the cafe and surfing when I can. By the way, when are you passing by? My Mama keeps telling me to bring you over again, says she has some new books you might like.”
“Aw, she misses me?”
“C’mon, V, you know we all do,” he said, sending you a wink that made the corners of your lips twitch and a familiar heat take over your cheeks, the suggestion in his tone not being lost on you.
You really liked Eli, with his pretty smile and easy-going nature.
He had graduated two years before you, and you had gotten closer when you started spending your free time at his family’s cafe, staying whole afternoons reading or writing in their quaint little book corner. It didn’t take you long to develop a friendship, and before you knew it you were having your first kiss and experiencing your first time in his bed, in the apartment right above his shop. He had been kind and patient, and you really couldn’t have imagined a better way to lose your virginity.
But – even though you were aware that he liked you – you had never let your relationship evolve into something more than friends with benefits. Why ruin something that worked just fine?
“Maybe I’ll pass by on my next day off,” you said, and his eyes glinted. “Are you working on Monday?”
“I’m not, but I’ll be waiting there for you. Wanna go out and have lunch too? This new place just opened and–”
Your smile faltered, and he was quick to notice.
“No, no, I mean, just as friends,” Eli quickly clarified with an awkward chuckle. “I know you don’t want to change what we have and that’s fine by me. But, you know… we can hang out if you want and have a good time. We’re chill, right?”
Sometimes you wondered what was stopping you from getting into a relationship with a guy that was handsome, kind, shared so many of your interests, and knew how to please you in the best way. The problem wasn’t him, you were well aware of that. The problem was you and your fear of commitment.
Fuck that. You deserved something good in your life. And, right now, you really needed it.
“We are,” you answered, and you noticed relief softening his brow. “You know what, yeah, let’s plan something fun for Monday. How about–”
A heavy hand on your shoulder made you jump, and you stopped mid-sentence to look behind you, heart almost jolting out of your chest as you faced the last person you wanted to see at that moment.
“Rafe,” you muttered, glaring at his blue eyes before looking down at his hand, still on your shoulder. “Take your hand off me.”
“You’re in the way,” he simply said while dropping his hand to his side, nodding past you at the kegs of beer.
You said nothing, moving to stand next to Eli as Rafe passed by you and refilled his own cup. With a strange look at you and a glare sent in your friend’s direction, the blond left, and you followed him with your eyes as he walked away to the other side of the crowd, where he stood with his little gang of friends.
Of course he would be here, you thought as your hand reflexively squeezed the plastic cup in your hand. Luck was rarely on your side.
Maybe coming to this party hadn’t been a good idea, after all.
“That was weird,” uttered Eli, also looking in Rafe’s direction. “He could’ve gotten more beer right there.” He nodded in the direction of the other kegs, where no one stood in the way.
“Yeah, he just wanted to piss me off.”
“You’re still at each other’s throats then?”
“Yup.”
He hummed in response, and a weird moment passed where neither of you said a thing. You, for once, were too preoccupied with weighing the pros and cons of staying at a party with Rafe Cameron in your vicinity. The smart move right now would be to leave; you had no idea what would happen if both of you stayed. Then Eli spoke again, words coming out deliberately and slowly like he was thinking them carefully.
“You know that he’s not a good guy, right?”
You scoffed.
“You’re telling me that, of all people?”
“Just making sure…”
You let out a sigh, hand raising to brush over your face with a tired grunt.
“So, you heard about it too, huh?” you asked, hoping the irritation in your voice scared Eli enough so he wouldn’t ask too many questions.
“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’, eyes down as he kicked a tiny hill of sand. “Don’t know if it’s true and I don’t understand you if it is, but it’s none of my business so… just be careful, okay? He hangs around the wrong crowd sometimes, and, well,” he shrugged, “you know how he is.”
You glanced at Eli, taking in the way he rubbed the back of his neck, thinking his words through. Whatever he was implying, was said out of concern for your well-being, nothing more.
“Okay…” you started, unsure of what else to say. “Thanks for letting me know, but there’s no reason to worry. I can take care of myself.”
“I know.” He nodded once, and a pretty smile graced his lips again as he looked at you. “Now, about Monday…”
«»«»«»«»«»
You were more than just a little tipsy.
You stumbled over your own feet as you walked past the dunes, giggling to yourself as you remembered a joke you had said early in the evening, already so plastered that you had struggled to get the words out without laughing. You hadn’t really meant to get as drunk as you were, but before you knew it you were six cups past sobriety, dancing and singing at the top of your lungs with Eli and his friend group.
You felt amazing in your intoxicated high, barely remembering what had soured your mood in the first place. Eli had helped you forget, with his easy conversation and sense of humor, and his friends had welcomed you into their group without unwanted questions or weird looks sent your way.
Was exactly what you had been needing; and a long time overdue if you were being honest with yourself.
Not even Rafe had been able to smother your euphoria, despite the very noticeable glares sent your way throughout the night. After some time, you had even forgotten he was there, completely focused on enjoying the party to its fullest.
And damn you if you hadn’t succeeded.
It was now somewhere past two in the morning, and the exhaustion of your workday had gotten to you despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and your high spirits. So, you had said goodbye to Eli – with the promise to meet on Monday – and were currently making your way out of the Boneyard. A tiny voice in your brain warned you about the massive hangover that you would without a doubt suffer in the morning, but you lazily brushed it off; now was not the time to think about tomorrow.
Now all you wanted to do was lay down.
Lay down…
You fell to the sand with the grace of a newborn foal, giggling as you laid face up, eyes wandering lazily on the clear sky. It was spotted with shiny stars, one constellation more beautiful than another, and your eyes watered; looking at the night sky had always made you feel emotional.
I’ll sleep here tonight, you thought as you curled in on yourself, face towards the stars, fingers tapping on the sand out of rhythm with the music still playing from the party just on the other side of the dunes.
“‘Cause everytime we touch, I get this feeling,” you drunkenly sang off-key as Cascada’s ‘Everytime We Touch’ played loudly. “And every time we kiss I swear I could fly.” You could still hear people sing and laugh from your spot in the middle of the sandbanks, and it almost made you want to go back there and stay until the sun rose.
But you really had to go to bed; or sleep right there, one of the two. Your head spun as you tried to sit up, so you let yourself lay down again with a huff.
That’s when you noticed someone approaching.
“You’re so fucking drunk.”
“Oh, pardon me, your Royal Highness,” you mocked with a snort, turning towards the voice to see Rafe Cameron standing just a few feet from you, hands in his pockets, “but this peasant doesn’t give a shit about what you think.” You couldn’t see his face well in the darkness – only the moon as a light source – but he was most likely looking down at you with a frown, as per usual. “Leave me alone, I’m trying to sleep.”
“Here?”
“I’m homeless, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Venus.”
“Rafe,” you laughed as you tried to imitate his baritone. “Oh, Venus, you’re so fucking drunk. Oh Venus, let me fuck you again.”
“You’re fucking annoying, that’s what you are.”
You didn’t even notice Rafe approaching you, letting out a yelp of surprise as you felt him pull you up before stumbling against his chest as dizziness took over you. You made a whiny noise as he started to half-push you, half-drag you away, a strong arm around your waist while the other grabbed you by the elbow.
“No, I don’t wanna leave!” you cried out as you tried to turn away from him and back to your spot on the sand.
“I’m not leaving you to sleep on the fucking beach, you moron.”
Now you were close enough to see the annoyed glare that he pinned you under, giggling at his pinched expression as you slapped his chest in a weak attempt to have him release you.
“Ugh, you’re so boring,” you whined, letting yourself fall in his arms when you realized he was not letting you go. “Okay okay, I know, let’s tell each other secrets!” You clapped your palms against his chest, pulling his shirt when he groaned. “C’mon I’ll go first: I hate you. Like really hate you. But-” you lowered your tone to a conspiratorial whisper, “having sex with you was really good – I still hate you, though.”
“Venus–”
“Shh, it’s a secret,” you giggled, putting a finger against his lips. “Now you.”
“I–”
“You have really pretty eyes, you know that?” you mumbled as you looked into his blue eyes, forgetting the game you had been one-sided playing. “It’s so unfair…”
Rafe let out a long sigh.
“Anything more you want to tell me?” he asked, hands steadying by your shoulders as you swayed in place.
“Hmm… nope.”
“Good, then let’s get you home.”
“Wait!” you exclaimed, pulling at his hand as you let yourself fall to the sand again, laughing as he fell on his knees beside you. “Let’s watch the stars.”
He sighed again.
“I’m so close to just leaving you here.”
“Good, then go, goodbye,” you said as you frowned at him, slapping his hand away when he tried to lift you again.
You heard him sigh a third time, followed by a sound of resignation before you watched him sit down beside you. With a grunt, you used his arm to pull yourself into a sitting position, leaning against his shoulder for support as you turned your neck to look up.
“Aren’t the stars so pretty?” you whispered, shaking his arm when a moment passed without an answer.
“Yeah, guess they are.”
You kept staring up, feeling your lids drop the more you looked at the mess of gold, red, and silver dots that painted the dark blue sky. It was all so beautiful. You felt… content, even with Rafe beside you. He was still an asshole and you still couldn’t stand him, but he wasn’t being himself right now, for some weird reason your intoxicated brain couldn’t even wonder about.
Rafe cleared his throat beside you, snapping you out of your stupor.
“Can we go now?”
“Wait…” you murmured, closing your eyes for a moment as you took a deep breath of the clean ocean breeze. “Okay, we can go now.”
“Finally.”
He pulled you up and you yelped as you tripped over your own feet, allowing him to hold you straight against his chest. You looked up at his face, and a sudden thought made you bite your bottom lip.
No, don’t do it, warned a voice in the back of your mind that you promptly ignored.
Kissing Rafe felt… nice. Better than nice. You had thought so too when you had been naked under him just a week prior, moaning against his soft lips as he fucked you in a way you had never been fucked before.
Now felt no different.
You moaned into the kiss, intertwining your arms behind his neck as you pulled him closer, fingers tangling in his soft blond locks. One of his arms went around your waist, pulling you flat against his body as a hand cupped your cheek, forcing you to deepen the kiss. You did so gladly, enjoying the feel of his tongue against yours, shivering as his teeth swiftly pulled at your bottom lip.
You let yourself enjoy it, the possible outcome of it all pushed to the back of your mind. All you wanted right now was to kiss him, consequences be damned. You would deal with those when you were sober.
Rafe was the one breaking the kiss, and you almost cried as he lightly pushed you away. You wanted more than just one kiss, at this point, an insisting heat making you squeeze your thighs together.
“C’mon, you little tease,” he said, chuckling as you whined and tried to chase after his mouth. “Let’s get you home.”
«»«»«»«»«»
Part 4 ->
#outer banks#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#obx#obx fanfiction#rafe x you
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Villareal: Chapter 6, Part 1
I missed this family! I hope you're ready for incoming toddlers.
For ease of reading if the toddlers are trying to say real words I'll put the English in brackets. Luna (mummy) and Devin (mama) use some German and Italian. Bambino/s (Italian) Male child/children Buongiorno (Italian) Good morning Caro (Italian) Dear Grazie (Italian) Thank you Piccolo (Italian) Little one Schnucki (German) Sweetie but doesn’t have an exact translation Zia/Zio (Italian) Aunt/Uncle
Up in the Pinnacles lies the home of Devin and Luna Villareal. Devin is an established actress taking on movie gigs alongside her role as tv regular on ZBB: Apocalypse rising. As much as she loves her job she enjoys spending time at home with her beloved wife Luna who is a university professor. The pair have young twins toddlers Alfred and Rilian. Living with them is Devin’s younger brother Joey, a tech head who’s main goal in life is to sleep with 30 sims. 7 down, 23 to go.
Devin: Buongiorno bambinos! Wakey wakey. Time to rise and shine my little stars
The twins blink awake slowly and sit themselves up.
Luna: Who needs some more potty training
The twins look at each other and back at their parents sadly.
Alfred: Mummy I use diaper
Rilian: Me to Mummy, in sleep
Devin: Oh dear, do we need changes
Rilian: No Mama, need food!
Devin and Luna are so pleased that their picky eater wants food that they decide to leave changes for now, they can give the boys baths after breakfast.
Rilian: Up Mama, up!
Devin: You want up? I thought you don’t like being carried
Rilian: *quietly* I like snuggle
Devin sighs happily as her piccolo throws his little arms around her and snuggles into her hair.
Alfred: Mummy carry me? Food
Luna: I can do that, but you’ll have to pay
Alfred: Pay?
Luna: Kiss attack!
Alfred laughs as Luna scoops him in her arms and kisses his cheek. Since Rilian woke in a good mood Devin decides to chance carrying him to the kitchen while Luna takes Alfred.
Devin: Grazie Rilian for letting Mama carry you
Rilian: I hung, much hung
Devin: Don’t worry, mama will get you breakfast. Are you okay with cereal?
Rilian nods enthusiastically and Devin grabs him a bowl while Luna brings in Alfred.
Devin: Hey slow pokes, we left you in the dust
Devin pulls a funny face at Alfred who bursts into giggles.
Alfred: We here Mama, we here. I can has cereal Mummy
Devin: Hold on, what do we say
Alfred: I can has cereal… please?
Luna: Perfect. Oh Rilian, have you almost finished your bowl?
Rilian: I was hung Mummy, very hung
Luna: Can you say hungry? Hmm. Hung-ry
Rilian: Hung… ree?
Rilian looks at Devin quizzically while Luna is sorting Alfred’s cereal.
Devin: Try again bambino, hungry. If you want food you are hung-ry
Rilian tries a few times to say the word while Alfred pats at his cereal.
Devin: Alfred, caro, you need to put the food in your mouth
Alfred: *singing* ce-real, ce-real, I like ce-real *whoops*
Rilian: *giggles* Mama Alfe make messy
Devin: *laughs* Yes I can see
Luna: *quietly* Tell them not to play with their food
Devin: But you- you know…
Luna: *guiltily* That’s why I can’t tell them off
Devin: *sighs* Rilian, Alfred, you can’t keep playing with your food
Rilian: I no play, I finish
Luna: Well done on eating schnucki
Rilian: Mama, Mummy, what we do today? Can I has bath?
Luna: *laughs* And they said kids hated baths
Devin: Can you do the baths Lu? I think we need to work on our please and thank you because some of us are forgetting
Alfred: Why
Devin: Because we want to grow up to be nice polite people
Rilian: Mummy do we have to
Luna: Yes. Like your Mama said, we need to learn manners. If you’re lucky maybe she’ll teach you the words in Italian when you get the hang of it
Alfred: Then we speak Iti!
Devin: Si piccolo mio
Luna: Who wants first bath
Rilian: ME! Me!
Luna: Hmm, what a shame. No one wants a bath
Rilian: Me Mummy! I do
Alfred: Please Ri...
Rilian: Oh. Me please Mummy
While Luna and Rilian head for the bath Joey comes into the kitchen.
Joey: Buongiorno Devin, Alfred
Alfred: Bon gee no (Buongiorno) Zio Joey
Devin: This seems early for you
Joey: Hey, I’ve already hung the washing out
Devin: We really need to hire a maid
Joey: Yes! A hot one
Devin: You going to be working on your video game?
Joey: Just until you need to head out, then I can hang with my best little buddies
Alfred: We get time with Zio Joey? Yay!
Devin: Yeah, while Mummy and Mama go out together
Devin: Okay caro, do you remember why we say please
Alfred: It… it nice word
Devin: It is a nice word, yes. But we say it to be nice to others
Alfred: Why
Devin: To be polite and friendly. We say it when we want or need something. Shall we practice?
Alfred jumps up and down excitedly nodding his head.
Devin: Let me just get in character…
Joey: This should be something
Devin: Shh please Mr-I'll-only-play-a-robot, I’m focusing
Alfred: Zio Joey let mama focus so we have fun
Devin: *in accent* Hello, I’m a merchant from a far off land with many things to buy. How can I help you today
Alfred: What for sale
Devin: I have many pretty... colourful... birds!
Alfred: *gasps* I want bird! Can I has bird… please?
Devin: Of course, we always save our best birds for our polite customers. What kind of bird would you like
Alfred: One that goes caw *imitates bird*. Caw bird please
Devin: Of course sir, I will give you our best noisy bird
Alfred: Yay!!! I got bird
Joey: *with a mouthful of breakfast* What do you say when you get it?
Alfred: Umm… tank Mama?
Devin: Th…Th…Th…
Alfred: Thank Mama! Thank!
Devin: Very good job. Remember we have to say thank YOU or thanks
Alfred: Thank you! For caw bird
Devin starts making bird noises and snuggles Alfred close, getting in a tickle or two. Alfred begins to laugh and also make bird noises.
Joey: Woah, who let the birds out? That’s some good acting piccolo
Alfred: Thank you Zio Joey, thanks
Devin: Well done caro, good memory
Meanwhile stubborn Rilian and his fragrant diaper walked to the bathroom where Luna was waiting patiently.
Rilian: I ready, I can walk self see Mummy
Luna: Okay, here we go. Time to take off that smelly diaper
Rilian giggles and wiggles out of it with Luna’s help. He’s still too small to get in the bath by himself so once Luna has checked the water temperature she helps him in. Rilian absolutely adores water, he’d have baths multiple times a day if he could. Luna does her best to get him scrubbed clean but the toddler is more focused on playing with the water.
Rilian: Water for Mummy!
Luna: Oh no, I’ve been hit! Going down
Rilian laughs and continues to play between sponge scrubs.
Previous (New Goth) ... Next
#sims 4#the sims#the sims 4#simblr#my sims#ChangingPlumbobStorytime#DevinVillareal#LunaVillareal#AlfredVillareal#RilianVillareal#JoeyYork#R0906
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All my attention Part 9
warnings- swearing
words- 887
If you'd like to read the previous parts → All my attention series
a/n- so if you're new here I am British and cannot speak any German, I speak a little French, Spanish and Italian but German- no. I also do not trust Google translate so this is gonna be like an avatar thing (if you've seen the newest one Jake says that their language just became normal or something along those lines) so in reality this is all in German, you as a reader know German but, its wrote in English... make sense? no... oh well
(hey I know this is shitty but I swear it'll get better I just felt like writing something so I could carry on the story, I'm so sorry I haven't updated this since 27th June I honestly didn't realise how Long I'd not updated its but love you all and thank you for being so patient♥︎
I hate hate hate part 9 of all my attention and for the likes it's getting I can see not many people are keen with but I PROMISE YOU it's just a part so I can link the next of the series!
thank you and I am sososoososososososos sorry ♥︎)
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backstory- you are the 5th member of Tokio Hotel and you always thought the love was equally platonic between you and a certain guitarist... but what if that all changed?
I woke up with the sun shining into my bedroom making my walls glow and glimmer "morning babe" I looked next to me where Tom was lay smiling to me
"good morning" I grinned moving to be closer to him even though his arm was still under my head "sleep okay?" I asked pressing a kiss to his lips
"best sleep of my life, your bed is so much comfier than mine" we laughed, his hand moved to draw lazy shapes on my skin "you feeling okay?" he spoke and I just nodded while still watching his features "good" he hummed kissing my forehead
"this is all so crazy" I giggled staring to the ceiling "like who'd a thought? Tom and Y/n" I sighed "I'm not annoyed its happened though- are you?" he scratched his head trying to hide a smile forming on his face "piss off Kaulitz!" I shoved sitting up and crawling off the bed and standing by the window staring at the back yard where the sun was making the grass shine
"god you're so pretty" he breathed getting up too and hooking his arms around my neck and resting next to my head "what do you want to drink?" he asked letting go and grabbing his shirt from my desk
"erm.. my peach ice tea thing, should be in the fridge and I'll make us some breakfast in two seconds I need to wash my face" he nodded taking my hand and pressing a kiss to it before walking down the hallway.
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10 minuets later I made my way to the kitchen were I saw his frame leant against the counter watching the tv "babe were on the news" my heart dropped- why? why would we be on the news? I quickened my pace and stood by him and watched as our performance was shown on the tv 'Tokio Hotel are the 5th band who have been put forward for the best band in Germany' I turned to Tom who's jaw had dropped like mine
'HOLY SHIT!" I screamed jumping onto him and cheering "WHAT THE FUCK WERE IN FOR AN AWARD!" he nodded jumping us about until hurried knocking came at my front door and we stopped
'"Y/N!" it was Bill, Tom looked to me and I pointed for him to hide in the cabinet under the stairs "Y/N OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR QUICK!" sprinting I shoved Tom into the tiny room and fled to the door whipping it open "have you seen the news?"
"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!" I squealed grabbing the boys shoulder "I'm shaking right now like holy shit"
"its crazy! and we've been put on news papers and things already! we might actually win!" Bill laughed coming inside and walking to the kitchen "oh is Tom not with you?" he asked and I panicked remembering that his brother was in the cabinet
"erm no unless he's hiding somewhere, I haven't seen him" the black haired boy laughed shaking his head
"what like he's in here?" his hand went to the door knob of the cabinet and pulled it open 'oh shit' "Tom what the fuck are you doing!" Bill nearly screamed "Y/n you said- what the fuck is going on?" Tom stepped out looking to me but I just stood stunned "did you guys fuck?" I felt my cheeks light up red
"Bill thats enough-" I herd a screech come from the singer and then many loud laughs "man just shut up"
"you guys fucked! oh my god- you slept with Y/n!" I stared at Tom who grabbed his brother and tried to shove him out the house "WAIT NO I'M SORRY DUDE! I WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENED" Tom finally let go with a huff and walked back into the kitchen to the living room and fell to the sofa covering his face "so tell me what happened yesterday then" Bill cooed sitting himself across from his brother who looked to me and motioned me to sit with him
"so we went on a date yesterday- our first date and then I brought Y/n home and you know it just all happened from there" Tom breathed grabbing my hand which I gave him squeeze "I'm not even embarrassed or anything I just didn't want to fucking tell you this early after it happened" I nodded understanding what he was trying to get over
"don't tell the others" I began "I know we'll be picked on or something and we really don't need that for when we start our next shows okay and if I find out you've told them I swear to god Bill I'll rip out your eyebrow piercing and shove it up your arse" the boy laughed saying his lips were locked
"I mean us three knew it would happen at some point I mean Georg won the bet" he almost whispered looking away from us with a grin
"you bet on us?" Tom asked with a laugh "fucking weirdos" we all began to giggle and the idea of being betted on like fucking horses
"so what are you guys now?"
#bill kaulitz#kaulitz twins#tom kaulitz#tokio hotel#tom kaulitz x reader#00s#gustav schäfer#tom kaulitz imagines#georg listing#germany#tokio hotel smut#tom kaulitz fanfic#tom kaulitz icons#tom kaulitz smut#bill kaulitz x reader#georg listing fanfic#gustav schafer x reader
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ohhh please can you do cod match up for me?? i'm female, german, 27, aquarius and work as an artist and project manager at an agency specialised in classical music. at work i'm very organized, detail oriented and efficient, but in private i like to slow things down. i guess you could say i have two personalities: at work i like getting things done and have no problem arguing with people, but in private i literally hate calling the doctor's office lol.
it's very hard for me to take my brain off work and usually only achieve that by getting engrossed in a show or painting. i like cooking, not so much baking. my hobbies are reading, going for walks (how very german of me), playing with my cat. i can be very funny, but i am more introverted and a very good listener. my love language is acts of service.
my cod favourites are price, ghost and könig, but at the moment i'm leaning more towards könig.
thank you very much and lots of kisses 😍
and I AGREE::: (shorter and sweet ones now SORRYYt_t Cue some HCs/drabbley things:)
@/fairypurgatory on pin & @/jolvelyn on twt [art]
W: Intimidating newer man in your house O God, dark if you think about it (sprinkle sprinkle glitter sparkles on the war criminal), abrupt end
◈ Okay. Neighbour. Neighbour König. (AARRURURURURURU GET MARRIED GET MARRIED GET- GET--)
◈ After many sweet-talkings outside your respective doors, y'all had a date due at your place. If you cooked for him- omigod. Social expectations be damned, the clear thought and skill behind it… When he looked back up at you, eyes boring into yours, you were half worried you'd bought a serial killer home? (Which I mean, technically yes, don't ask too much about his job history-) But no, his ridiculously intense, maliciously-coded gaze was that one of determined enrapturement. ◈ It was an amusing juxtaposition to see him meet your cat. Tough guy, tryna be smooth, leaning on the side of the doorframe.. Before his intense focus was interrupted by something fluffy and he hit his head and almost cried. He's not the best with animals, but after enough visits they become casually inseparable, and a key part of the cuddle pile. If your cat wasn't spoiled already they were now. Hey, the pair of you aren't half bad at taking care of something.
◈ Doubly fell in love with you when he saw you popping off at work. He got called in for something important you left at home, god forbid, but of course he had your back, emergency key and all. He knows all too well the importance of things needing to go to plan. But forgive him if he just stared in awe like a motherfucker seeing you go off on someone.
◈ Oh, don't you worry. When your teeth are clenching looking down at your practice's phone number for that long overdue appointment- it's right there, just a click away,- König will snatch it from you. Mixed feelings, perhaps his confidence a little infantilizing, but… it's like a vice is undoubtedly unclamped as he waddles away with the dreaded compressed waiting room music (as if it was a totally normal thing to do). He'd confirm any details prior bending over behind you, rubbing your shoulder and cooing in your ear about it. Because of course you can do it, darling, but he's always there~…
◈ Takes great smug pride in a)taking care of you, if that's something you want- and b)being with you. Uh, yeah, the badass work-focused bigshot is his? And putty in his arms? That's right. So proud of showing you off to others at any possible convenience. 'Tries' to be subtle about it. Keyword 'tries'.
◈ He needs a break too. Proudly, toxic-masculinely denies any interest at first, but would ultimately happily waste away binging something with you. Colours and shapes reflecting off the TV onto his narrow, goofy lil' glasses, eyebrows slightly furrowed in focus as he guillibly complains about some ragebait. Uses you as a human weighted blanket laid on him, supporting your back with his chest.
◈ König's a prevalent yapper during whatever you do together. He plans as much as you'll allow, whisking you off for dinners, lunches- all expenses paid (or halfsies). Or elaborate hiking trails he insists you join him on, though sometimes he likes to choose the ones with tricky bits as an excuse to help or carry you.
#König x reader#König#konig x reader#konig#cod x reader#cod matchup#64sshit#uhhhh be prepared if you look up the art xdddd I DIDNT REALISE
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got tagged by @annunakitty in a thing! yippee tag game!
now the tag game was to introduce yourself with:
one tv show
one movie
one album
one video game
however, i'm doing two for each category! why? because i'm cute and special and get to change the rules, of course! and also because i'm really enthusiastic about sharing my favorite things with people.
tv shows: adventure time & scavengers reign
not being able to pick between these two shows is the reason i'm doing two for each category. adventure time is my all-time favorite show hands down, but scavengers reign took second place (overtaking russian doll, which previously held that rank) when it absolutely blew me away earlier this year. i've watched it twice now and definitely plan on giving it a third watch sometime soon.
movies: i saw the tv glow (2024) & suspiria (2018)
as someone who repressed my gender really hard throughout most of college after flirting with transitioning in high school, this movie really spoke to me. i've seen it twice now and found a lot of value in the rewatch. i definitely want to watch it again at least one more time. this is an incredibly profound movie that has changed me as a person.
on the other hand, suspiria (2018) is an enduring favorite of mine for a very silly reason. it is a straight up good movie, but the actual reason it's my second pick for this post is that for like a year after first watching it, i kept seeing the mangled bodies of characters from it as sleep paralysis hallucinations. it was terrifying at the time but i find it incredibly funny to look back on, and think very fondly of this film in general. i got to rewatch parts of it for free irl! thanks, sleep paralysis demons!
albums: feather river canyon blues by pigeon pit & kudzu, devour everything! by levees
for two years now, feather river canyon blues has very unambiguously been my favorite album of all time. it's lomes oleander's bold, dense, imagery-filled lyricism at its best, backed by the full band that her voice deserves playing alt-country sounds that strike the perfect balance between gentle and energetic. it's simultaneously desperate and hopeful, joyous and melancholy, and at every moment filled to the brim with emotion and beauty. this album feels like watching every sunset at once surrounded by your best friends and loved ones. transgender folk music will save us. if you have to pick one song from this album to listen to, make it milk crates:
kudzu, devour everything! is the reason i started playing banjo. levees is a friend of a friend, and i was introduced to their music because said friend was praising this album in our friend group's discord server. i find levees' idiosyncratic manner of clawhammer playing--often very fast and full of non-traditional rhythms--to be absolutely magical. their songwriting is also excellent, full of vivid stories and characters sung about in prose that weaves effortlessly between the elegantly straightforward and beautifully dense. i also recommend listening to their album vultures, as well as quarantipilation volumes 1 & 2. it's actually not one of the songs that contains banjo, but if you have to pick one to listen to from this album, i recommend her/hymn/their, which won't embed for some reason but hey here's the link
(also, honorable mention to drink the sea by the glitch mob, which is the first album i ever really fell in love with, and which inspired little 13-year-old elise to grab a copy of ableton and learn how to make music myself. until feather river canyon blues came along, i would have probably picked drink the sea for this post.)
video games: signalis & mice tea
first off, i cried at the end of signalis! while streaming! it was really, really good!!! it has a delightfully dreadful atmosphere, great story, very interesting worldbuilding, phenomenal art style, and excellent character design. plus, it was great for practicing my german. i strongly recommend signalis to anyone who likes survival horror.
second off, yes, i am choosing mice tea, a transformation fetish visual novel, as my second pick here. judge me all you like. i stand by my choice. its story is fun! the characters are excellent! its humor and conceptual ridiculousness disarm you and make way for genuinely emotionally impactful storylines! it has a lot of interesting commentary on gender! it almost single-handedly turned me into furry! also, it's hot! go play mice tea!
now, finally, it is time to tag! don't feel pressured to pick multiple things or provide explanations like i did! i just enjoy doing more than is assigned lmao. tagging @rotten-spaceymage, @birras0, @citrusuprising, @roboticvenusian, @femboty2k, and anyone who sees this and wants to do it themselves!
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Yeah, I know… „Thursday…“ is a real good fic.
In two languages? Well, I‘m German, so, yeah, no big deal.
And the music? Thank you. You inspired me actually.
Of course I‘m talking about the mixtape.
So, Dean-o, back to the fic…
Oh no, sorry, no smut in this one. Come on, you are 17. No under age sex from me. And even the adults? Take it like this: it’s a novel for the queer youth.
But, hey: there’s a rainbow cake - and a group who‘s having a slogan.
What? You haven’t been reading so far? What are you waiting for and why we are still talking?
Have fun reading it Dean-o.
Yeah, yeah, of course it has a good end. It’s the Christmas fic of my life, what do you think? 😁
#supernatural#destiel#deancas#ao3#supernatural fanfiction#castiel#supernatural au#its a wonderful life#dean winchester#led zeppelin#Spotify#Thursday…is a real good fic
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The country of cunning victors...is an anxious mess? 3
Part 1:
https://www.tumblr.com/mystermoose/735465215641124864/the-country-of-cunning-victorsis-an-anxious?source=share
Info: Carmedenon (you) sex: female age: 20s
When the people in the room heard the door open, all eyes were immediately on you. Under normal circumstances you would be shaking with your nerves as they prepare to skyrocket to the sky. But due to the chaos your eyes are being exposed to, you were too busy being baffled as you stare at the baffling sight before you to be nervous right now.
Two blond men men had their hands on eachother's throats, another blond with rectangular glasses is currently presenting his presentation with images of what seems like the power rangers (from what you know of), and finally a whiny ginger headed man balling his eyes out while pointing at the ruined plate of pasta that was so close to hitting you on the face, to the bigger blond man who looks about this close (👌🏻) to exploding.
'What...is this? Is this some sort of greenlighting room for some cartoon or something? Why is everyone...so disorganized?' you thought to yourself as you continue scanning the room and observing the other people there. And as if confirming the crazy world around you, the surrounding audience aren't any better than the up in the front. Some were casually talking, some were sleeping, some were arguing and...you get the picture. It was a room full chaotic beings. Definitely not a room fit for political discussions.
'Then that means, I must be...' your cheeks started to turn pink at the thought that you must've made an embarrassing mistake. Giving the on lookers a shaky shy smile, you stepped back and hid you body behind the door.
"S-sorry! Wrong room, just pretend I never stumbled in here um er...well I'll be on my way now. Sorry again, bye" and then left.
After you left, everyone in the room was silent for a while. Until the man doing his presentation spoke up "Huh, well that was awkward. But anyway! As I was saying, I still think a super-"
"Hey, didn't that girl looked familiar" one of the blond men who was in a choking competition a while ago commented.
"Ve~ she looked like the bella who completely froze up on tv" commented the Italian who a while ago was crying over ruined pasta. However his words seem to stiffen the certain German he was crying to.
"Vait, if she was the girl on tv then that means...mein gott! That was Carmedenon!" he said in a panic as he realized the gravity of the situation. For 1: the first thing that happened to you when you walked in the room was that pasta was just inches away from hitting your face and 2: you thought you arrived in the wrong room and walked away. Clearly indicating that they've already made a bad impression of themselves, enough to make you not see them as serious figures of the world.
Unfortunately for him, he was the only one who has this realization. As the rest of the world were only left to chatter in excitement as the most mysterious and most victorious country of the world is really here to meet them. In person!
"Dude, shut up! Carmedenon? You mean the country who kicked Britain's ass with scarecrows!" said the man with the presentation, eyes gleaming with excitement. While the man mentioned in the story glared daggers at him.
"Could you not say it like that, you git! She did not beat me up with scarecrows, she bested me with them! Big difference!" he yelled, but the American did not care what he had to say "Pssh same difference, bro. She still kicked your ass with scarecrows". He said, further angering the man enough that he was on his way to choke him now.
But before he could start doing so, the German stopped them from making another fight "Need I remind you that Ms. Carmedenon just walked away from the meeting room? On the day we are suppose to formally meet her?! We have no time for more fights! Not that we had the time in the first place. But we need her back here and get her to cooperate with us, now!" he said voice filled with resolute.
"Oh yeah, gotcha! Let me go get her" but before America even took a step, Britain caught his arm stopping him. "Oh no you don't! I heard from her queen that she has quite the delicate nerve. Someone like you is bound to scare her away!" he said, then another voice has voiced their opinion.
"Then I will go get her, after all I have a way with all kinds of ladies~" said France as he started making his way to the door, before he himself got stopped by the same man. "Like hell I'd let you! You're the last person she needs to first meet. This nation has isolated herself for all her life, and a pervert like you has a high chance of pushing her back in her shell!" he said, then a new argument ensues.
"Oh, and who do you think is fit to introduce her to us? You? The one who tried to invade her and famously failed to do so?"
"Don't talk as if you hadn't done the same! And where do you think you're going? Do you really think you can just walk off of this conversation?"
"Well it sounds to me that both of you were assholes to the dudette. And since I've never done anything to her, I'm probably your best bet of getting her to come here"
"You'll scare her away!"
"Whatever, dudes! I've always wanted to meet her! And now that she's literally out that door, I'm taking my chances and finally become her friend!" after his proclamation, he took off and ran out the door to look for you. The other two following after him.
"You know what? I'm gonna go meet her to! After all I've met her brother and he always brags about her without introducing her. It's time to satisfy some ancient aged curiosity aru!"
"I have also kept hearing so much about this nation and her victories, I guess now would be a good time to fulfill my own curiosities. Maybe she'll even want to be one with me~"
And just like that, two other individuals followed suit. An Asian man with one Russian.
"Germany-san, if what I'm hearing about her social anxiety is true. Then wouldn't it be bad if any of those people were able to get to her at any moment?"
After hearing that statement, the German suddenly remembered what her queen had said to him the day after they landed.
"Hello Mr. Germany! I assume you have seen the news of our landing? If so, then you have probably seen the face of our country, and well...you saw how she is. Try to make her as comfortable as possible, ok? It took a lot of effort to get her to agree, and we made a compromise that if things get too uncomfortable. We'll leave"
They'll leave. And if they leave...there's a chance the country herself will never agree to open her borders ever again!
"Scheisse! This is bad! We need to get to her before they do!"
With that being said, they bolted after them leaving the room and everyone else in it.
"Ve-?! Hey! Wait for-a me!"
As for you, you've been walking around looking for the "right" meeting room for a long while now. But no matter where you go, you can't find anything that resembled a room full of diplomatic exchanges.
"Am I even in the right venue? I can't seem find them anywhere" you pondered as you stop walking to rest your feet and to think clearly. Did the driver actually drove you to the place? No way, they've been your driver for 5 years now and they never brought you to the wrong place. Were you that late that the meeting was already over and it was that crowd turn to use the room? If that's the case, guess you'll have to make a written apology to Elinor and the other nations for not being able to make it.
Entertaining the thought, you lifted your wrist to take a look at your watch and...wait? It's still far too early to dismiss the meeting, even if you were really tardy.
'Wait...does that mean?..t-those people were actually-...No, no way! T-they can't p-possibly be-'
And at that moment, your worst fears came to confirm your worst nightmare.
"Hey dudette! Funny story, you were actually in the right room!"
Turning your head, you saw the same blond man who was presenting something in the room. Followed by the two other men who were previously trying to choke the life oout of each other. These chaotic individuals with full energy were running towards your direction.
Running towards you
All of the sudden your heart picked up it's paced and a terrible pack of anxiety suddenly dropped down to the pit of your stomach. Although your body may have stopped functioning and froze you on your spot, your legs didn't. And before you knew it, you were running away from them. With one thought, the very same thought you kept having throughout this trip, crossing your mind:
'I should've stayed home!!!'
Part 2:
https://www.tumblr.com/mystermoose/735668751809282048/the-country-of-cunning-victorsis-an-anxious?source=share
#hetalia x reader#hetalia north italy#hetalia america#hetalia england#hetalia france#hetalia germany#hetalia japan#hetalia russia#hetalia china#hetalia allies#hetalia axis powers#reader insert
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Hiii!
I got a bit of a silly request. Maybe poly tf 141 + los vaqueros (+ König if you want to) X male Swedish reader?
They’re going to ikea to help out furnishing the reader’s new apartment. Except they all keep butchering the names of the different furniture.
I imagine König would be the closest since German and Swedish have their similarities.
But I swear Soap would absolutely destroy the pronunciation. Poor gaz, rudy, price and Alejandro would try but fuck it up too and Ghost would get frustrated and in the end just not try. He’d sulk and make up some dumb argument that he doesn’t need to pronounce it “correctly” cus ikea is dumb for keeping it Swedish even in other countries or smth like that.
(Ik it’s a bit random but I’m Swedish and I think it’s so cute when I hear (mostly) English speaking people try to pronounce the words. Especially if the words include Å, Ä and/or Ö.)
[A/n:I would probably be able to pronounce Swedish words, with alittle help, also I'm not sure what you mean by poly, like if their all in a relationship or just all them together without the relationship part so I just went without. Thank you for requesting]
Summary: They help you out with your new home, but all the Swedish words have them struggling
Type:Scenario: 141 + Los Vaqueros + König + Swedish!M!Reader, a tad bit of Soap X Ghost and Gaz X M!Reader
Version:Mw2
~
Usually they wouldn't do this, especially all together. 141, Los Vaqueros, and an additional König where all there, in ikea, that was in Sweden. It was a surprise, to all of them. Sure they hang out sometimes, and do stuff together, but help furnish someone's house? That's on a whole nother level, but you're like family to them so of course they'd help. Price thought it'd be a disaster, it was. Soap was flirting with ghost abit, but that was normal, the others don't know how Ghost has so much patience with him. Price was looking at things to decorate his office with. Alejandro and Rodolfo were talking about random things. You, Gaz, and König where in your own little world, looking at everything possible before being dragged away by Price. Price knows what it's like to move into a new place and since this is your first apartment he doesn't want you to get unnecessary things yet, maybe next time.
"Hey y/n, need this lampa"
Gaz said, he was close but over pronounced the A. The lamp was a small toaster lamp with piece of bread popping out. It was adorable, small but adorable.
"Gaz, it's lampa, not so much A there, but YES GIVE ME THAT LAMPA"
You tried to grab the lamp from Gaz but price grabbed it first.
"No, that's the next trip y/n"
Looking at Price with sad eyes you watched him put it back.
"But-"
Price stopped you
"If you keep trying to buy every unnecessary item your gonna end up not having the things you need, I know this from experience, y/n"
You gave him a pouty look before speaking, keeping the pout
"What of I can't see? Mm? What do I do then?"
Price signed and pulled you and Gaz along, könig had been too focused on something else to have noticed what happened, looking over he jumped abit realizing you two were being dragged away by Price. Alejandro laughed at you two, Rodolfo slapped him upside the head to shut him up.
"What? It's funny"
Rodolfo just shook his head like a disappointed mother. While looking around farther more conversations where started, Ghost got mad since he couldn't pronounce the words well, same with Gaz. But Soap? Oh he rocked those words, the barely messed them up, and if he did it was a small mistake. When you guys eventually left you had most of the things you actually needed, chairs, a bed, and bed frame, a table, etc. And Price let you buy a TV and stand for it since you where able to. Unknowing to you, you'd be thanking Price later, since he didn't let you buy unnecessary stuff you had enough money to stock your pantry, something you forgot to do, you had planned to spend most of the money you had on you for stuff for your apartment, since you thought you stocked to fridge and pantry. Laughing all the way back to your apartment, with Alejandro driving, you guys all had a blast and tons of fun. Your glad you took them with you.
~
[A/n:Fun fact, I've never been to ikea, crazy right? I hope you enjoyed]
#cod könig#cod ghost#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod x male reader#cod x reader#call of duty mw2#mw2 x male reader#mw2
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