#i closed the tab and could not for the life of me find this post again for an hour

[mangorb]

pov from the other side of the issue as a survivor of child rape/undefined SA, I can't even fathom why anyone would try to intentionally inflicted this on a child. I was raised very conservatively, so I've spent a LONG time trying to rationalise my gender dysphoria as a symptom of trauma.

as a survivor and also a person who wants to love their body in the present, separately from the things I experienced a long time ago. the idea that you can just "fix" dysphoria by applying a trauma label is doing a huge disservice to sexual assualt victims of all genders too.

the whole "trans men just have sexual trauma" thing absolutely infuriates me, as someone who was practically brainwashed into believing i was raped by conversion therapists as a kid.

i have been an obvious transsexual my entire life. i told everyone i was a boy. i was just told it was normal and nobody wants to be a girl. i told my mom i wanted a dick and balls and she said, "no you dont."

i was put in conversion therapy, diagnosed with autism, despite not having many of the symptoms, and put on Risperdal. an anti psychotic drug that was not meant to be used in children as young as i was, that also "just so happens" to cause out of control breast growth. (it also caused me to become obese and struggle with my weight for years even after i stopped taking it, despite never having weight problems before.)

therapists and my parents would constantly tell me that i was hiding something and try to hypnotize me into remembering it, i had no idea what it was, i was told something horrible happened to me and i had to remember it, i kept telling them i dont remember, and they told me i had memory problems. they kept telling me i had a memory locked away somewhere and i had to recover it, i had no idea what they meant by this.

i have no idea how to describe the way that i felt because of this. the feeling didnt go away when the therapy ended. it stayed with me for YEARS. my entire childhood and most of my teenage years i felt like i had a dark and evil secret that i couldnt even remember. it stuck with me, i didnt even know what it was. they marked me socially and mentally as a "rape victim" without it even happening, without me even understanding what they had done.

i didnt find out until i was a teenager that the therapists were telling my parents i had been raped. based on nothing. you know what happened in these therapy sessions? i played with animal toys and told the therapist i didnt want to go to school and that i wanted to be a boy. i told them i hated my name. and wanted to be called by a different name. they told me i had a deep dark secret i needed to remember and confess to them.

because marking me as someone who had been raped would emasculate me.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

never penelope, always calypso

pairing: leon x reader

cw: infidelity?, p in v, alcohol usage, oral sex, angst, smut, possible misuse of words, questionable metaphors, allusions to the odyssey (i'm cringe), pseudo-poetic nonsense

summary: leon is married to ashley and they have an open relationship. you become fwbs when he visits dc. accidental feelings happen

a/n: the title is a reference to the odyssey (no discourse/analyses allowed on this post!!)

wc: 5.5k

taglist: @rigorwhoring @porcelainseashore @mrswint3rs @dilfprayers @pawrincss

link to join taglist in bio! link to commissions & ko-fi in bio! link to ao3 in bio!

Winter 2012

You first meet Leon at a bar near your apartment. Outside, it's freezing, yet you order your drink on the rocks. Drunkenness makes your cheeks match your ears, rosy and slightly numb to the cold. 

It’s been a rough day for you and the way Leon’s head hangs as he looks blankly into his glass - half-empty - lets you know that he’s in the same boat. He’s got blonde-ish hair, icy blue eyes, and a hint of a five o’clock shadow. His voice, low and tired, holds a sympathetic chagrin, subtle and genuine. He must feel your eyes on him because he picks himself up as best he can and smiles at you.

He’s not drunk. Neither are you, only tipsy.

“Hi,” you say because you’re not good with pickup lines.

“Hey. How’s it goin’?”

“It’s goin’,” you say because it’s the best way you can tell the truth without being too much of a downer.

“Not great, huh?”

“A complete shitshow if I’m being honest.”

“I can relate.” He thrusts his right hand out and you take it. His palm is calloused with a life much rougher than you’ll ever know. “I’m Leon.”

You tell him your name and he releases your hand from his grasp. 

You recount your disastrous day and he laughs at all the right times and keeps his smile sympathetic for the rest of your story. He doesn’t say much about himself, and the next morning you worry you were venting, but you come to find over the years that he prefers to listen rather than to talk. He has unparalleled patience. He’s not like other guys. You’re just like other girls.

The one time he speaks over you is to insist to the bartender that he is paying for your drinks too when he asks to close his tab.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

He grabs his wallet from his back pocket and you notice on his left hand, a wedding band. It was all just friendly conversation, you realize. Your smile drops and you don’t have time to pick it back up before he turns to you.

“What’s up?” He asks. 

“Nothing.” You give him a fake smile.

“You sure?” He probes you with minimal force. His questions never make you feel like you’re being interrogated, strapped to a metal chair despite the fact that a gun sits on his hip; not like an interview either with bright lights an audience; more like a surgery, penetrating, tearing and mending your organs while you’re numbed by alcoholic anesthetic.

“Mhm,” You respond. You are already falling into a dreamless sleep, breathing, but comatose. 

“Okay. Do you live close? We could split a cab.” He places his hand on the small of your back and whispers while you walk to the exit, “Unless you want to come back with me to my hotel.”

You look at him, almost angry for her – the woman you don’t know – and yet, still wanting. He removes his hand quickly. “Whoa. I’m sorry. I clearly misunderstood the situation. I thought we were having a flirtatious conversation and that it was heading that direction. I apologize for overstepping your boundaries.”

“No, I was flirting, but…” You point to his left hand. “You’re married.” There is a part of you that is already willing. You’re his puppet, his ragdoll, willing.

“Oh, yeah,” Leon says with a smile, thinking of her. He holds up his hand, proudly displaying his wedding band. “I am married, but we have an open relationship.” He sounds so honest you’re tempted to believe him. But, there is still a sliver of your consciousness left.

“Prove it. I don’t want to be involved with a cheater.”

“Prove it? Alright. Would you like me to text her and ask if I can invite you back to my hotel room?”

“Sure.”

You don’t think he’ll do it, but he does. Her name in his phone has a heart next to it. You notice it when he shows you her response: Have a nice time :).

He calls her ‘baby’.

He calls you a lot of things during the act, but mostly your name once it’s over.

He calls you ‘gorgeous’ as in, “You look fucking gorgeous like that” When he looks into your eyes from above you. You’re on your knees with his cock down your throat while his hand holds your hair in a makeshift ponytail. You look gorgeous if gorgeous means messy - the mascara that was already smudged when you entered the bar mixes with tears and drips down your face. You look like a canvas drenched with paint water. Filthy and accidental. And in an abstract way, something that could be conceived as beautiful in the eyes of a downright horny beholder. 

Leon holds your wrists above your head when he fucks you. His grip is firm just like yours is around his cock, though it’s not your intention. In fact, you want more of him, all of him.  

He calls you ‘darlin’ as in,“Darlin’, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. I’m not gonna last like this.” When you’re on all fours and he’s feeding himself to you from behind. One of his hands guides his cock to your entrance while the other holds your hip – that one continues to steady you while he’s fucking you at a merciless pace. With the other, he runs his fingers through his hair – you can see him in the mirror, sweat beading on his forehead.

He calls you ‘babe’ as in, “C’mere, babe.” When he beckons you towards him, lying in bed with his head propped up enough to see you. “Want you to sit on my face”. When you comply and sit on his face, your thighs drown out his words but the noises he makes reverberate through your entire body. Much to Leon’s dismay, it’s the last orgasm you can handle that night. (You have to walk home tomorrow, right?) 

There is a distinct difference between babe and baby. The difference being that he calls you one and his wife the other.

That first night, you go for three rounds, only stopping because Leon ran out of condoms and neither of you feel like going to the pharmacy to buy more. At least, not until the next day.

The next morning when his alarm rings, you grab his phone from the bedside table and hand it to him. You catch a glimpse of his lockscreen. It’s him with a woman. “Is that her?”

“My wife? Yeah.” He hands you the phone and lets you see her. She’s beautiful. More so than you. You understand why she lets him do this. And why he shows her off with no hesitation and a prideful grin. You’d brag about her too.

You imagine their first date, their wedding, the sex they have in their home that they share, and every other thing while Leon makes a trip to the drugstore across the street.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says when he climbs back into bed, “there was a long line at the checkout.”

It’s okay, you think, you gave me time to decide that it’s better if I leave now.

And yet, the second he lies down next to you, your decision changes. The prospect of lazy morning sex with Leon is too beautiful to resist. Even in retrospect, if it were purely about the sex, you wouldn’t regret any of it, it was even better than you imagined it would be. 

When he takes the blue box from the plastic shopping bag and jiggles it in front of you, playfully asking the question, you nod. None of this requires words. 

You sit up in bed, closing the gap between you and your objective, but he stops you. “Don’t get up. I’ll come there.”

He’s quiet despite the room being empty of sleeping children and nosy parents. The hustle and bustle of the city on Saturday morning covers up any sound. His wife knows anyway and she’s 1000 miles away. It’s for the sake of your ears, still acclimating to the ceaseless knocking at your eardrums that comes with being alive. He moves slowly, spreads your legs for you, removes your panties - the boring beige pair you wore to work the day before. He runs his hand over your folds like he’s petting a stray animal, getting you to ease up and let him in. Two fingers mold you to his liking. He fits you for himself despite being taken. He feeds your desire and sets you free when he’s finished. (You’ve finished too, so it’s not cruel, is it?). 

He steps into the shower alone.  

If getting some more material for your spank bank was your goal, then you accomplished it. Not just the sex but the sight of him with a towel around his waist, his toned body on display. It’s the first time you’ve seen it in the daylight. He only removed his pants when he fucked you from behind. And the night before, you only got a glimpse of his beauty in the dim of the lamp-lit room. 

The ounce of self-restraint that remains in your being, holds you back from ripping the towel away from him and kneeling before him, begging him to use your mouth. 

There is a piece of you that regrets not taking the opportunity while you had it. You would have another memory of him to fill the Leon-shaped hole inside you. Better yet, he could’ve called you pathetic and told you to leave, and ruined it all before your infatuation could turn into something worse. But, he wouldn’t do that. And that’s why you like him. 

Summer 2012

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. Well, honestly, it wasn’t supposed to be anything at all. You had each other’s phone numbers but no plans were made and the goodbye hug didn’t feel like a ‘see you later’, more like a ‘have a nice life’.

But a couple months after your first meeting, he texts you. “I’m in town. Are you busy tonight?”

You happen to be very free and though you denied it at the time, very infatuated with Leon. In your mind, it’s simply the fact that he’s the best sex you’ve ever had and none of it has to do with the fact that during the second night you spend together you’re mere centimeters away from love-making when he bites your lip, tugging lightly before he flips you over to fuck you harder. You know he knows, it’s too obvious for him not to know, that’s why he refuses to look into your eyes, opting to push your face - which he reminds you is gorgeous - into the mattress. Your mascara still runs while you wonder if he’s still thinking about you when your face no longer serves to remind him of the woman whose cunt he uses. 

But that happens later. You meet at the same bar because Leon is oddly unfamiliar with the area despite having lived here years ago. Maybe he wanted to forget. That’s a question you never bother to ask.  

“I was constantly working. I went out with Ashley on the weekends when she wasn’t busy, but she always picked the restaurant. So, you’ll have to be my tour guide,” he says. 

You amble around downtown because you’re not decisive like Ashley. You didn’t prepare anything besides the matching set of lace under your clothes. In June, the sun stays up late, and though they say that certain crimes of the flesh are only committed at night, for the two of you daylight can be far more dangerous. 

Simply fucking in his hotel room one night was well within the boundaries of whatever “this” is; however, kissing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial when the sun begins to set makes you feel like a teenager, being romanced for the first time and risking your overbearing parents finding out your dirty little secret. But, none of this is secret. Leon’s wife knows, passersby know, the statue of the 16th president of the goddamn USA who sits behind you knows. 

But what truly feels wrong is how chaste it is, how his hands cup your cheeks like a chalice. In a crowded bar, you drink gin and tonics for the Eucharist. Tomorrow, you deal with the unholy hangover. 

Still, you’re not sure if this is romance or friendship until you’re walking side by side and your pinkies inch their way closer until they brush against each other. You interlock them playfully for a second, but Leon pulls away rather than grabbing your hand fully. The one time he does take your hand, it’s to guide you through a crowd. He does not interlock fingers with you. He does not kiss your knuckles before he lets go.

Later you end up at your favorite bar because you are his amateur tour guide. 

“If this is your favorite, then why weren’t you here the night we met?”

“Would you have preferred I were?”

“No. I’m just curious.”

“The other bar is closer to home. Quieter, too.”

You’re practically yelling at this point over the band that’s playing. It takes two drinks for you to stand up and dance. It’s not some sort of high school prom slow dance. It’s stupid and drunken, but Leon spins you around and his hands are on your body - the less intimate parts - for most of the duration. He doesn’t have to flirt with sensual touches because he doesn’t have to lure you into bed. You are already planning to accompany to his hotel room. 

Usually, he is in town for a week at most, and busy for the majority of the time. You see him for a night or two each visit. However, one night after the usual routine of going to the same bar, drinking old fashioneds and Leon picking up the tab, he takes you to the apartment that he’s renting for the next 3 months.

“Three months?” you ask.

“Thought you’d be happy,” he says. “After you admitted that I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

“Cocky much?”

“Wanna find out?” He raises an eyebrow, daring you to take him up on his offer. He’s still unpacking in the bedroom, but you don’t find that out until later because you don’t make it that far into the apartment. You end up fucking on the couch. And then on the living room floor.

What you have is not romance but it’s dangerously close. You realize this when you accidentally take one of his t-shirts home and you wear it to bed again that night before washing it. Because it smells like him and you miss him. That’s not something you ever plan to admit to Leon, and because you don’t say it aloud, it’s not real. It’s only real when he says, “you should just keep a toothbrush here.”

So nonchalant that it catches you off guard. “What am I, your girlfriend?”

“Sorry for being logistical.” He huffs, though you can’t tell if he’s really mad or not.

On his next run to the pharmacy to buy condoms, he gets you the toothbrush.

It’s summertime and Leon has a balcony that overlooks the Washington Monument, so naturally, you eat your dinners outside. Leon cuts back on his drinking, so you often make lemonade instead – from scratch, like your mother used to.

Over dinner you ask him, “Why don’t you just move to D.C. if you spend so much time here?”

“I lived here for years – so did Ashley – and we both hated it. But her dad has a house in Vermont, and we spent our first anniversary there, and we realized we wanted to spend as much of our lives as we can there.” When he speaks, he doesn’t meet your eyes. He’s looking for the memory, reliving it with a smile on his face. You can feel the tranquility.

“Makes sense. If I had a father with a second home in Vermont, I would probably move there too.” Plus, I’m not tied to anything here. Except maybe you, Leon.

“It’s gorgeous in the summer. It sucks that I have to spend it here.”

“Wow,” you say, jokingly, “So, being around me really sucks that much?”

“No, you’re the only part of it that I like.”

You’re left speechless, flustered by his words, and you both know that he shouldn’t have said that despite the fact that it’s the truth.

“Anyway,” he transitions, poking at his salad, pretending to be incredibly interested in the lettuce in an effort to avoid your face. “This lemonade is great.”

“It’s my mother’s recipe. A little extra sugar.”

You take away the plates – his enthusiasm about his salad has faded. He stays on the balcony for a moment because he knows you want to do the dishes – “It’s kind of therapeutic,” you said to him. “Clean plates make you feel like your life is together”.

Regardless, when he comes in, he says, “You know you don’t have to do that.” because that’s in his nature. Other people make messes and he cleans them up.

“I know,” you say, and he doesn’t protest. 

You have sex because it’s either that or watch TV. It’s rough and impersonal, and over relatively quickly.

And then, it’s five o’clock somewhere, and somewhere is right where you are, so you pull out a bottle and toast to something stupid like the sex you just had or the TV show you’ll watch until you fall asleep.

Leon doesn’t drink but when he does (which is only when he’s with you. Ashley doesn’t let him indulge like that because she’s more sensible than you are) your conversations venture into topics that you would typically shy away from. You find yourself talking to Leon about his sex life outside of you.

“Do you guys fuck, like, immediately, when you get in the door?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Depends on how long I’ve been gone and how gross I am.”

“Do you think about it a lot? When you’re not with her?”

“Of course I do.” The question sticks in your mind: when we’re having sex too? “But we have phone sex,” he says, oddly prideful.

“That’s good. I’ve never been very good at phone sex.”

“If you’re horny enough it doesn’t matter.”

And that’s probably true. You have sex again shortly thereafter and you wonder if he’s thinking about her. You notice that he does not say your name when he cums.

February 2013

The next year you see him on Valentine’s Day. “Shouldn’t you be spending this with your wife?” you ask.

“I would be if I were at home.”

“You could go home or at least, call her.”

“I could call her, and I did, earlier today. But, it’s just a day. It’s not like it’s our anniversary or one of our birthdays.”

It’s just a day, so I’m spending it with you. It’s just a day, you’re just a girl.

“When’s your anniversary?”

“March 16th,” he says without missing a beat. Because he remembers things. As do you. For better or for worse.

“Are you going to go home for that?”

“No, she’s coming to visit.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” You probably don’t sound very convincing but you’re already making new plans for that week mentally – not that you had any explicit plans with him.

“You could meet her,” he offers, and you think he must be joking but it’s not that funny so you don’t laugh. He doesn’t laugh either because it isn’t a joke.

“Wait what?” you say. “Don’t you see how that’d be a little weird?” 

“She knows you exist.”

“Yeah, but-”

“-And,” he leans in to whisper into your ear because you’re in a relatively fancy restaurant where you probably shouldn’t be speaking too loudly about such topics, “I don’t know if you’re into women, but I think she’d be into you.”

It’s a blessing that your dress is black because you choke on red wine and it dribbles down your chest and onto your clothes before you can catch it.

“Sorry. I’m now realizing that sexuality is a sensitive topic and maybe I shouldn’t have broached the subject like that.”

“It’s not about my sexuality. It’s about the fact that you just asked me if I wanted to sleep with your wife.”

“Well, I was hoping to be there too in that hypothetical.”

“It’s your anniversary. I shouldn’t be there. You two should get some alone time.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

He asks you to help him pick out an anniversary gift for his wife. You study pictures of her to see what style of jewelry she wears. Apparently you’re good at buying gifts because you see a new picture of her as his lock screen in which she’s wearing the necklace you picked out.

It’s silver not gold, so it’s not the necklace you care about but the jewelry behind the glass that you gazed at while Leon talked to the cashier.

But before the necklace, before the picture, before Leon’s anniversary, you leave the restaurant together the same way you arrived except you’re covered in red wine. You complain about the way your heels leave blisters so he carries you to the front door - bridal style, ironically, but you’re the only one thinking about it. It’s just a name that comes from an old tradition. It’s like how Valentine’s Day is just a day. He gets down on one knee and because you’ve already imagined him in this position, seeing it play out in front of you startles you, but he’s just unbuckling your shoes. He sees the look on your face - you try to play it off - and he laughs because he knows what you’re thinking, but then again, he doesn’t know anything at all. To him, it’s a silly misunderstanding. To you, it’s a cruel joke you’ve played on yourself.

In his bedroom, where you spend most of your time together, he unzips your dress like he’s trying to save the wrapping paper on a gift. 

“It has wine all over it, and I got it on sale,” you say. “You don’t have to be so… gentle about it.”

“Would you prefer I rip it off of you?”

But it’s already slipping past your knees, dropping to the floor, revealing your bra and panties, revealing the secret - that you made an effort, that he is opening a gift, and the gift is a woman in lingerie. His face says enough, the way he looks you up and down, with arousal coursing through his veins but a certain fondness and admiration in his eyes. 

You distract him by unbuttoning his dress shirt - slowly because you’re pretty sure this is the one he likes. There’s no tie to undo, no tie to pull him into bed by. He doesn’t like things around his neck. Once, he tried to wear one and couldn’t tie it himself, and you had to help. He only kept it on for a second because he felt like it was suffocating him. 

You’re stuck in a mutual trance until you hear the neighbors fucking - not making love, fucking. You throw your head back laughing and Leon drags his hands down his face in faux-exasperation, laughter peeking through his fingers. 

“Way to kill the mood,” he sighs.

“Should I go get the broom,” you ask, intending to bang on the wall between apartments. 

“I think it’d be a little hypocritical.” Considering how much sex we have. Considering the fact that we’re about to have sex. 

“Okay, but we don’t sound like that.”

He shrugs with a stupid grin. 

“Oh God, do we sound like that?!”

“I hope not.”

“Leon,” you draw out his name, not quite whining, not quite begging. Not yet. 

“Here,” he says, and sticks a CD in his stereo, something he rarely uses. He prefers the quiet. There’s too much noise these days, he once told you.

"You sound like an old man."

"I feel like an old man."

When he stands in front of you in only a white undershirt and a pair of slacks, his belt lost somewhere along the way, while you’re freezing to death in black lace lingerie because he keeps his apartment at 70 degrees maximum, you let go of all inhibitions, and let your surprise be a pleasant one when you realize what album is playing. Grace. As if you have any left. 

“I love Jeff Buckley,” you say. 

“Everyone loves Jeff Buckley.”

“Not like me.”

The soft music doesn’t fully cover the sounds of your noisy neighbors but the sentiment does. All you can think about is Leon when he’s atop you. You make out like teenagers, savoring it in a way that makes it feel like there’s no expectation that the two of you will have sex. 

But slowly, it becomes more than that. His hands cup your breasts, his tongue flicks your nipple, his hands spreading your thighs, his fingers brushing over the fabric. And then the CD stops. It’s been 52 minutes. It’s like a parent knocking at the door, interrupting the magical moment. When Leon stands up to choose another CD, he sheds his shirt too.

Fade Into You plays as he walks back to you and you want to ask ‘How did you know?’, but you opt for taking off his pants instead. You lie face to face atop the covers with the lights only dimmed while he thrusts slowly in and out of you. You worry you’ll start singing along because you know all the words to this album. But Leon’s mouth rarely leaves yours - except when his face is between your thighs. 

It’s slow, intimate, undeniably romantic. Only urgent when you’re both nearing the edge and he picks up the pace. You cum together and wade through the aftershocks with heavy breaths. So Tonight That I Might See fades out and covered in sweat, you bask in the shared euphoria that tries to fill the melancholy air. You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. 

July 2013

Once, after a particularly terrible mission, you meet Leon at his hotel room and he fucks you so hard he has to keep his hand over your mouth for the duration to avoid a noise complaint. A second noise complaint.

Another time, he fucks you so hard the condom breaks. You’re on birth control but he has a wife, a wife that’s not you, so he offers to buy you the morning after pill, and since there’s no logical reason not to take it, you agree. Before you pop the pill in your mouth, you ask him, (mal)apropos of the situation, “Do you think you’ll have kids?”

You let him answer while you wash it down with a gulp of water.

“We’ve been trying actually.” You see the way he smiles and it makes you choke on the water. You wouldn’t have been surprised by a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, but you realize what his statement means: he would never buy her this pill. He wants to have a baby, but not your baby. He doesn’t love you like that. He doesn’t love you at all.

August 2013

You realize you love him right after he leaves. The best and worst part is that you do not see him until 2015. Almost 2 years later. You don’t hear anything from him or about him and sometimes you assume he was KIA, more optimistically, MIA. (Really, he’s just drunk and busy most of the time.) 

If Leon died would his wife send you an invitation to the funeral? Who are you - the mistress, a friend of the family, a long-lost somebody? 

Summer 2015

When he calls you in July, you half-assume that his voice won’t be the one on the other side. It’ll be someone else who recovers his phone from the ashes of whatever the fuck he’s fighting. You’ve started to forget what he sounds like and it terrifies you. 

“I’m gonna take some time off,” he tells you.

“You deserve it since you’re always working so hard.” You understand what ‘time off’ means. It means time away from you too. It means he goes back to where he belongs – in bed, beside his wife.

“I never thought I’d get a vacation – I tried, but it got interrupted. Bio-terrorists don’t care about vacation time as it turns out.”

“How long is your time off going to be?”

“I’m not sure yet. We don’t technically have paternity leave, but I think the DSO feels-”

“Paternity leave?”

“Yeah. I forgot to mention, Ashley’s pregnant.”

The “trying” they were doing finally worked. She must be so happy – they both must be so happy. You force yourself to be because it’s cruel to hate a child. It’s not the baby’s fault that you’re in love with its father.

“That’s… awesome, Leon. I remember you saying you were trying, so, congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he says, and the smile on his face looks genuine but you see his hands come out of his pockets, only to retreat. He was going to hug you. But something holds him back. Though she’s physically carrying the baby, he takes on some of the weight it seems.

“You’re gonna be a great father,” you say. And that’s the one statement that you mean wholeheartedly.

The next words to leave your mouth surprise you both. “How far along is she?”

“Not sure about the exact number of weeks, but she’s pretty far into her second trimester.”

“Does she have a bump yet?” “Can I see a picture?” “What about the ultrasound?” You’re just tearing your own heart out so he can’t when he inevitably leaves. Or, maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re curious to a fault. Maybe you’re genuinely a little bit happy because you do love him. That’s what makes it worse.

You realize that this is the last time you’ll see him. He’s not dying, and will likely return to DC, but his wife will call him, ask him to switch to video so she can show him the baby that sits perfectly on her hip. In your mind, she’s walking around their kitchen, still in frame while the phone sits on the counter and he watches, imagining the joy he’ll feel when he takes on half the weight of parenthood while he lets her sleep in on the weekends. 

You can’t be in the shower across the hall while he sings to a baby over the phone. You know he’ll sing. 

He has a better voice than one might expect and you know this because he once got drunk enough for you to convince him to sing karaoke.

“C’mon,” you say, nudging him in the direction of the stage. 

“I don’t sing,” he says, though he’s smiling. 

“Everyone sings.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me.”

“I’ll make a deal. If you sing, then I’ll sing.” He’s already holding your hands, you don’t have to shake on it. But you do (and he spits on his palm first to seal the deal and you tell him it’s disgusting but mimic the gesture anyway). 

You sing Like A Prayer, and though you can’t hear his voice over the surrounding noise, you can see him singing along by “Heaven Help Me”. 

He sings Jessie’s Girl, and you would be enthralled even if he completely bombed, but you’re a face in the crowd of dozens, singing along with varying BAC’s, you’d guess. You’re not Jessie’s Girl, or Leon’s girl, you’re just a girl. 

But the last night you spend together, you let yourself believe that you’re Leon’s girl when you fall into bed with him. When you interlock your fingers you pretend your ring is at the jewelers or on the bedside table. When he fucks you, he’s being quiet because you can’t wake up the neighbors or the baby in the nursery. In your mind, your husband is making love to you after he’s returned from the war. 

He explains what happened at Alcatraz and you’re Penelope, he’s Odysseus, except there are no other suitors for him to kill. No bow to shoot, no olive tree bedpost. 

But like them, you sleep together in a familiar room. Finally, fully, skin to skin, he gives himself to you. He gives himself to you temporarily, it’s sweaty and sickly sweet. You kiss until your lips turn red, catching your breaths forehead-to-forehead until you hold his cheeks in your hands like a pomegranate, ripe and rotting. 

He grips your hips until they bruise, and barely pulls out in time to spill his seed on your inner thighs, only a bit ends up inside. 

It’s not the first mistake you make together but it is the last. 

His trip is barely long enough for him to stand outside the bathroom and pray for one line while you sit alone praying for two. Silently, you show him the result. 

“What do you want to do now?” he asks. 

“Watch TV, I guess,” you say.

You sit next to each other on the couch. He leaves in the morning as was always the plan. You kiss him goodbye and with the same lips, he kisses Ashley hello. 

You were never Penelope. You’re Calypso, and he longs for home.

[kbagraces]

Give me Love - LN4 PART2

Lando Norris x fwb!Reader

summary: in his previous relationships he couldn’t protect them from the backlash of simply being with him. but will protecting only end up hurting you?

(not proof read)

Rain or Shine

loosely based off ROS by mac miller

‘Just wanna ask a question umm, have you, have you, have you ever been in love before?’

Lando found himself lost without you. That saying where you never know what you’ve got until it’s gone never read more true to him. He hated how he left you there at the cafe. He knew throughout your relationship together all you wanted was to be fought for. With him leaving like that, he confirmed every doubt you ever had in him.

His season continued at its slow pace, McLaren were disappointed with his lack of performance, especially since he was on fire in the beggining of the season, when he was with you.

He spent his post season down time keeping tabs on your social media, daily pictures of your cafe kept him in the loop. Dan would often make an appearance in the background of some. A presence he chose to ignore.

Lando had never felt so insecure of himself. He was so sure that keeping you at a distance when you shared those two years together was best for the both of you. But now, being on the sidelines, watching you live your life from afar hurt him. He loved you and he never got the chance to tell you. He never uttered those words to you before.

‘You should probably take your heels off, ‘cause you've been running through my mind’

He remembered when you said it to him the first time, a year into your semi-relationship, you said it so causally, but the way you said it, captured him by the heart, he was yours in soul but he was too cowardly to be all for you.

He still lived in the UK at the time and you’d wandered into his house on a cold December evening after work, kicking off your shoes at his doorstep. He didn’t hear you come in but he remembers how he screeched as you walked in on him wrapping up your Christmas presents.

He was so upset that you’d caught a glimpse of his surprise for you. You begged and begged for him to let you open them early, you knew what most of them were. He gave in saying you could open the smallest one, he rambled on as you opened it saying it was supposed to be a stocking filler.

You held in your palm a mintiture McLaren racecar, it was decorated with the chrome comeback livery. A nod to your support as you attended the British Grand Prix.

Your grin was wide, the Cheshire Cat would be jealous, “as we’re not together for Christmas I thought you could at least have a mini me around.”

“Oh my god. I love you. You’re adorable, this is adorable.”

You had said it so causally. He liked that, he liked that you never asked him to say it back, he wanted to so many times, but he never did. And now he was living with that regret.

He reminisced on every moment he had with you, every little thing reminded him of you.

He was back home for Christmas, he was sick of just seeing your cafe on a phone screen. He convinced himself he could just go on a quick run past the cafe, just to check in on you. He knew you’d be there bright and early before opening, if he could just catch a glimpse he’d feel closer to you.

He slows his pace as he nears the shop, glancing over the road he sees you in the cafe, unfortunately occupied by Dan. You were flailing your arms around, pointing at the sparse Christmas tree you’d added for decoration and then back at the man stood before you.

Lando’s brain couldn’t even catch up as his feel had already made the steps towards the front door.

“You’re so careless! How could you?!” You yelled.

“Get over it. Actually no I’m over it, over this. I’m done watching you pine over someone who doesn’t want you. I’m done.”

As Lando goes to open the door it swings towards him Dan storming out as he grunts “shops closed today pal” clearly not recognising him as he stormed past in anger.

Opening the door he finds you crouched on the floor, dustpan in hand. The ornament he gave you when you declared your love now in pieces on the floor before you. You mustn’t have heard him enter as you lower yourself to the floor sitting crossed legged, the mess in-front of you wondering if the pieces could stick back together.

You heard a creek of a floorboard behind you. Turning your head to see the last person you expected.

“I’m so sorry that I broke it.” You say still sat on the floor, glossy eyed.

“It’s not you that broke it, I wouldn’t worry too much. Maybe we can fix it? Glue it back together or something?” You felt as if he wasn’t talking about the decoration.

You stand up, brushing your hands on your sweatpants, “I don’t think it can be. It’ll have cracks and they’ll show and it’ll only break again.”

“Then I will buy you a new one. We can start fresh and you can chose any livery you wanted.”

He wanted to start fresh to prove to you he could give you you deserved. You deserved a whole lot more than him, he hated that he treated you like a dirty secret. You were beautiful, kind, passionate and forgiving. And he took it all for granted.

“Why are you here Lando?” You sigh, finally getting to the point. No more decoration analogies, you wanted to know why he came back.

‘Love is power, swear there's something about her that make me nervous’

He was in his head trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. He was never the best with words and even worse with his actions. He always relied on you knowing how he felt about you without having to break down his walls and show his ‘weaker’ side.

“I’m here for you.”

His eyes looking adoringly into yours, you’d swoon if you weren’t so hurt. You wished he would’ve been there for you when you needed him. You wished you were good enough for him from the start.

“I’m here, because I wanted to tell you that I’ve always loved you y/n.”

His words hurt, like your heart was being stung by rose thorns, pretty but painful.

‘Your love is not too kind to me’

“I don’t think you did love me until you lost me. I don’t want you to love me like that, your love hurts.” You’re picking at the skin beside your fingernails eyes welling with tears once more.

“I promise to love you differently, in the way that you deserve.” He breaks his rigid stance, stepping towards you, taking your hand in his.

I just want to be with you. Only you. I know there’s distance but we’ll make it through. I promise to you I will be better for you.

You shake your hands from his, pulling him into a hug, digging your face into his shoulder, his scent surrounding you, comforting you. You pull your head back slightly to look into his eyes, testing his sincerity.

Your lips touch as if it was the first time. It’s the first time he kisses you with love, not lust. The first time kissing you as if he needs it not wants it.

Although your past was broken scattered across the floor, there are new memory’s to be hung on next years Christmas tree.

‘And I will be yours through rain or through shine’

—

Taglist:

@norrizzandpia @letterlitter

[thefirstknife]

so like im lost, i didnt play any of Act 1 or 2 or read lore bc life happening (house fire+car crash+laid off+homeless in 2 weeks)

so like whats going on eith the whole

Maya → Lakshmi → Conductor → Maya again??

(or is it Lakshmi→Maya→Conductor???)

like where's one "start" and the other "end"

Oh I'm sorry this all happened to you. I see you have a donation link on your pinned post, if people are able to help, check it out!

Also! Lakshmi is not relevant here; it's just the face that Conductor!Maya is comfortable using. Lakshmi was a sort of copy of Maya that Maya made using the Veil, but her life is separate and she's gone. There's also the meta reason that it's easier to reuse Lakshmi's face than make a new model, though they did show us what Maya actually looked like back in the day (and Chioma too)!

It's still not entirely clear which Maya we're dealing with however, though this week's lore tab added a bit of possible context. In here, Maya is talking about her experience communing with the Veil and how close she got to the Vex Network from it and then she ends up completely crossing over into the Vex Network. I think this probably implies that when original human Maya died on Neomuna ("in the conductor's chair"), she crossed over into the Network.

She is very disoriented inside so we don't really know how it worked time-wise, because for Maya it was almost instant? She ends up in the Network, tries to understand things, shapes herself a body and is still excited to talk to Chioma about all of this, then realises that A LOT of time has passed and that Chioma is now dead. Then she goes wild with grief and decides to find her Chioma because she's convinced that Chioma would've kept looking for her.

There's also the question of all the simulated copies of Golden Age Maya with the other Ishtar scientists: 227 of them. Some of that is also talked about this week in the mission. From what I can understand, those Mayas are not part of the Conductor!Maya; as a matter of fact, that Maya on comms in the mission sounds a lot different to me.

I think the Conductor!Maya is a continuation of the real original Maya that died on Neomuna, though that could still change or remain kinda unresolved overall because a lot of the stuff this episode is about how much it doesn't really matter who is the "original." We'll see though. It's also possible that Conductor!Maya is a combination of the real Maya with an addition of some of her copies from the Network. We're probably going to get more stuff in the next two weeks about all of this, including the simulated copies.

Here's a post with some extra details about this week.

[satureja13]

Have I ever told you how much I like these crime games? Some of you might know how much I struggle to keep up with something due to my ADHD (a glorious exception are the Boys ^^') But I was able to finish this book for my games/current case! I haven't been able to craft a bigger project for a while so I'm very proud of myself lol and I thought I show you.

I can reuse this book over and over again for new cases and it's made out of stuff I already had at home: amazon packaging, printouts, envelopes, tea dyed paper, wallpaper, a belt, the lock is from an old suitcase I found, paperclips, stamps, fabric and the metal book corners are made from a tomato paste tube...

These games come with a bunch of documents and I like that I can sort them now and that I'm able to find them quickly instead of having them in a heap. It takes me a few days or even weeks (when I get distracted by someting else ^^') and with this book I can put everything quickly away and return as quick to my research again.

I also made little writing pads and a notebook. The most fun I had with the paperclips. You can make them so quickly and they are so pretty and useful (I use them as tabs and to keep the documents in place)! Just fold a strip of paper in a 'w' shape, glue the metal paperclip inside and decorate. Ready! If you are interested in doing sth like this, don't hesitate to ask, I'm happy to help and share links to to the amazing youtubers I learned from!

I came into crafting only late in my life and I have so much fun. I wish I discovered the joy of it earlier but I never thought it could be something for me. Art class in school was so discouraging and I always thought I don't have the patience/talent for it. Then I went into rehab and we crafted and I kept on crafting ever since ^^' (Maybe you remember when I posted about my tarot book I made a new cover for or my amazing tool case I posted a while ago?)

The box in the pic below is a chocolate packaging I glued some tea dyed paper on :3

I also made a little booklet:

Did you know that you can make tape out of almost everything by using doublesided tape? Here I used old book pages. The dangles are made from cardboard and napkins :3

That was a fun little project and it's also a nice gift. I printed out the AI edits from my Mount Komorebi screenshots to decorate the pages. When you look close you can see Kiyoshi and Kiri in the pic on the left.

[misaverawrites]

In the Heat of Your Electric Touch

((johnny silverhand x reader))

summary: you're the manager of SAMURAI, johnny talks to you about changing his image after some reflection since Alt died, you decide that he can do what’s best for him… and you might be it.

tags: no arasaka tower bombing, johnny is a good person, johnny has a body, rockerboy johnny silverhand, samurai stays together, fluff, alt’s death (mentioned), cursing, fluff, forehead kisses, NO PHANTOM LIBERTY SPOILERS

a/n: uhhhh, your honor, i am a 20 year old silly goose with a love for this man.

You stare out over the crowd from backstage, with wide smiles, music amplified by their singing as the bass vibrates through your teeth. You run a hand through your hair, just for a second, pushing away a rogue strand. You take a look at your phone, then back at the stage, where you find Johnny, looking at you with a wide and almost uncharacteristic grin, only to flash it back at the crowd, brandishing horns on his hand, the loud cheers from the crowd egging him on, bringing a small, but not, unwelcome smile to your face. Johnny loved what he did, no one could deny that, even if it seemed he only did it to further his own agenda at times. You knew better though, you and Johnny had spent too much time together on this tour for you to think too far against him.

“Alright, and we want to dedicate this encore to every single one of you!” You hear Kerry say from the stage, the wild roar from the crowd amplifying itself, you tend to watch the crowd more than anything during these shows, it was therapeutic, these people were the lifeblood of bands similar to SAMURAI , and you intended to keep them happy. As SAMURAI closes out their set, as well as Henry’s tab, some of the people start their slow, exhausted post-concert shuffle back out onto the streets of Night City, bags of SAMURAI merchandise in hand, you begin your clean-up, helping stage-hands move everything back onto the van.

“Hey, take a load off, they’ve got it.” You hear Johnny, and you shake your head. “Shouldn’t you be getting under the skirt of some barely-legal SAMURAI fangirl?” You joke and he rolls his eyes, “Fuck off,” he justifies himself, playfully all the same, until his tone gets a bit more serious in nature, “Besides, thinkin’ that’s not all too much my scene anymore.” You laugh, almost dropping the set piece in your hands. “Alright, I’m gonna hear you out, but it sounds like you just started talkin’ like one of those Maelstrom goons after they’ve had one too many implantations, what do you mean ?”

Johnny scoffs and takes the set piece from you, setting it down as he sits you down on the stage, the lingering fans vie successfully for Kerry’s attention, less so successfully for Johnny’s, his attention is all on you.

“I’m just… Fuckin’ sick of it, since Alt, since fuckin’ Arasaka, I don’t wanna ramble in those streets to a God who ain’t listenin’. Y’know?” You sigh and he puts his hand on top of yours, “I just want somethin’... Someone , even who makes me not want to shove an iron in my fuckin’ mouth.” You look at him, just for a second, as if he’s grown two heads, until you realize, from the way he’s looking at you, for once in his life, he’s serious . Your eyes widen a bit, does he mean you ? “It’s not your scene,” You say simply, it’s almost matter-of-fact in delivery.

“What if I wanted it to be?” He asks, that genuine tone of voice still there, he’s still Johnny, he knows what he wants, and he’s pushing for it. Not too hard, lest he drive you away, which is a change all in itself. “I’m the band’s manager, Johnny.” He rolls his eyes a bit, “You’ve been around Corpos a bit too long, babe,” You can’t help but love the way it sounds coming off his tongue, when it’s aimed towards you and not at another girl, “You know the fans don’t care, hell, they live for this stupid drama.” You can’t deny that. Your miles-long social media inbox, brimming with fans begging for any bit of gossip, said that all on its own. You smile a bit, “I mean, if you’re saying it could be your scene, then who am I to fight that, Johnny?” He grins, it’s a big, goofy grin unlike you’d ever seen before from him, “Shit, if you’re willing to allow it, then I guess I’d better not fuck it up.” You and him pause for a moment, not realizing how close the two of you are to one another, bodies pressed tightly against one another, you feel his eyes flicker to your lips for just a moment, until you, for once decide, fuck it . You pull Johnny in and kiss him, he’s warm, warmer than you’d expected whenever you thought about this, his hands meet your elbows awkwardly, he doesn’t know what to do here, and neither do you, really. His lips are chapped against yours and he tastes of cigarettes and tequila, a dangerously addictive combination that makes you want him more and more. You feel his hand suddenly brush against your hair and support the underside of your mouth, giving him more access to your mouth as he deepens the kiss, and everything else is simply null and void, besides him and you.

Until you hear the familiar sound of Kerry, clearing his throat, “Hey, both of you!” He calls, actually subtle for him, as the two of you pull away awkwardly, as though the two of you are teenagers, trying to act cool after being caught getting hot and heavy in a dark movie theater. “We’ve gotta go, bar wants us out, but you two can keep going on the tour bus, cool?” Your skin flushes and you avoid direct eye contact with Kerry, as Johnny chuckles awkwardly, despite himself, trying to keep any sense of his usually un-poised yet still collected poise. You nod, turning to look back at Johnny, who does the same to you, as you both share a small laugh with one another, you playfully push him without any real force, as he wraps his ‘ganic arm around you, kissing your forehead softly as the two of you get onto the tour bus together.

[ladywaffles]

icemav + reckless

a discord prompt written for @sluttyhenley A sappy little Top Gun New Year's Eve prompt I forgot to post last night! Happy New Year, my friends!

In just a few hours, it will be 1996.

It will officially have been ten years since he met Maverick.

They’re all holed up in some shitty dive bar with a jukebox that predates Reagan, and the alcohol is free-flowing.

It’s probably the last time that they’ll all be together for the foreseeable future; it’s a miracle that none of them have taken promotions that have put them on desk duty.

Slider throws an arm around his shoulders, Wolfman’s got a mischievous glint in his eye.

They’re well away from base in their civvies; no one wanted to get clocked today. It’s a boys’ night out, one last hurrah for the men of ’86 before orders come down the pipeline and split them up after a scant eight weeks working together, before their careers take them out of the cockpit and ground them for good, never to fly with each other again.

“You know, Slider,” Ice muses, just loud enough that Slider can hear him. “This reminds me a lot of that first night at Top Gun.”

“You know what, Ice?” Slider plays along. “I think you’re right!”

Wolfman flashes a sharp grin, tapping Hollywood to let him know he’s heading out.

Merlin and Maverick sit at the bar, none the wiser, enjoying their beers as the NBC live coverage of Times Square plays on the TV behind them.

Slider slips over to the jukebox as Wolf darts up to the tiny stage. He passes Ice a microphone, “with the longest cord we could find!” Wolf tells him. Slider shoots him a thumbs-up above the heads of the crowd, and Ice makes his way to his target.

“Excuse me,” Hollywood says dramatically, tapping on Maverick’s shoulder. Maverick furrows his brow.

“Wood, don’t tell me you’re already wasted this early in the—”

“Is this guy bothering you?” Ice interrupts, cool as can be. Maverick stops short in the middle of his sentence, then catches on.

“Ice, don’t you dare—”

The Righteous Brothers kick up on the jukebox. “Oh, my looove,” Ice croons to Maverick, “my darling, I’ve hun-gered for your touch!”

Hollywood joins in, serenading Maverick as his face turns bright red, even under the dingy light of the bar. Somewhere in the crowd, Wolfman and Slider join in, and then the entire bar is coming along, slightly off-key, a little too loud, singing “Unchained Melody” at the top of their lungs as Maverick, larger than life and slick as can be, tries to shrink into his barstool. Merlin won’t have it, though, and he forces Maverick to stand up at the end and accept the ovations from his adoring crowd.

The boys crack a smile, and Merlin vacates his seat so Ice can slide in next to Maverick, whose cheeks are still flaming red.

“You know,” Ice says with a grin, “I’ve never seen you quite this red, even when you’ve got sunburn.” He jabs an elbow into Mav’s side, but Mav pushes him off.

“That was very reckless of you,” Maverick says lowly, intending to scold but coming off somewhat impressed. “Singing to me in the middle of a civilian bar like that.”

Ice shrugs, bolstered by his success and the alcohol already in his system. “What can I say, I’m a natural at it.”

“I bet you do this for all the girls. Does that play often work for you?” Maverick asks. Ice winks at him.

“I’ve never done it before. You’ll have to tell me how I’m doing.”

“You think it’s going well?” Maverick says. His voice is still low, but for an altogether different reason.

Ice leans in, knowing smile on his lips. “Why don’t you tell me in the morning?”

Maverick groans. “I cannot believe you just did that.”

Ice calls for another round for him and Maverick, then closes out both their tabs. “Ten years it took me to get the full story out of you, Mitchell.” He downs his vodka in one go, fully aware of Maverick’s eyes on his throat as he swallows. “You can’t have thought I was going to let you live it down that easily.”

Maverick knocks back his shot. “So then, sailor,” he looks up at Ice. There’s two hours to midnight yet. “You in town for long?”

“Not for much longer,” Ice answers truthfully. “But if you’ll have me, I’ll come back to you whenever I can.”

Maverick smiles, a big toothy grin that makes him look like that fresh-faced punk of a lieutenant he first met ten years ago. “I’d like nothing better, Ice.”

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Another one that I start with news of a terrorist attack. -_- This morning, a terrorist started shooting at several vehicles driving down the Jordan Valley, one of which was a school bus. The driver of this bus confirmed that the terrorist was wearing what looked like an IDF uniform. According to Magen David Adom (Red Star of David) there are at least 3 people injured, one is a 13 years old kid, another is in serious condition. The terrorist has not yet been neutralized.

After Amit Soussana's testimony about being raped by Hamas, we also have a Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) terrorist admitting during an interrogation that he had raped a woman in her home in an Israeli kibbutz. It's not the first such testimony, but these are important enough that when they're published, they ALL must be heard.

The prosecution against the terrorists responsible for the massacre of October 7 has been expanded to include clauses which could end with the death penalty (I found a link to a journalistic source online, then I accidentally closed that tab, and can't find it again, but it's been reported on TV. The following tweet recounts the indictments, though the headline is misleading. A death sentence has not been approved, it's just now approved that it's a possible outcome of the trials, once they take place).

For those unfamiliar with the Eurovision Song Contest, it's an event that has been run since 1956, with the intent to help heal a post-war Europe, by allowing countries to have a friendly competition (instead of a bloody conflict), and also have a chance to get to know each other better through music. It's meant to be a unifying, and therefore also a-political fun music fest. This contest has since been expanded to include all countries that are members of the European Broadcasting Union, which means Israel also gets to compete since 1973, and has even won 4 times. I wrote this post about our entry this year, if anyone's curious. In recent years, the ESC has been used for annual anti-Israel propaganda, way before the war in Gaza. This year, a senior official in Israel's National Security Office had to issue a warning for any Israelis going to the competition in Sweden, to be careful and hide their identity as much as possible. I am passing along the warning, because wherever Israelis are in danger, so are Jews in general.

After Canada, Sweden, Australia and Finland, now France is also declaring that it will fund UNRWA again, proving that no amount of complicity in anti-Jewish terrorism will stop some European countries from passing along money to those who have raped, maimed, tortured and murdered us. But no worries! France promises it will ensure that their money won't go to terrorism. I will just remind everyone that France brokered a "deal" to pass along medications to Israeli hostages with chronic illnesses in Gaza, in exchange for an additional 1,000 packages of meds for Gazans. It then said they got reassurance that the meds got to those hostages (meaning, France quoted Qatar, which quoted Hamas, so this is the international diplomacy version of, "Trust me, bro. I'm a highly reliable antisemitic terrorist"). When Israeli soldiers got to a hospital in Gaza, they found some of the med packages for the Israeli hostages in its pharmacy, unopened and clearly not delivered to the rightful address. So... IDK about you, but I'm pretty sure even the French know their assurances about the UNRWA funding are just empty words.

This is 40 years old Mohammad Alatrash.

He's an Israeli Bedouin Muslim Arab, and father of 13, including a one month old baby. He was kidnapped on Oct 7, and has been held captive in Gaza since. Mohammad's uncle said the whole family's life has not been normal since he was taken hostage. Despite that, today several families of hostages had a tour of the attacked communities in the south, with Israel's and Belgium's Foreign Ministers, his brother Salem said that they're okay with Mohammad being released later, as long as Hamas frees the female hostages. "It's hell what they're made to go through there." Just a reminder that Mohammad is one of the Israeli Muslim hostages that Hamas could have and chose not to release even during the month holy to all muslims, Ramadan.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[archivedrage]

It’s 2:23 AM and I have so much to say that I think of actually starting a podcast. But that plan have many obstacles.

1. I don’t know how to start a podcast.

Like who would listen to a 23 year old who has zero idea what to do in life, who’s thoughts are so unorganised that she can be thinking what ice cream flavour to get and suddenly three stops later in her train of thoughts she finds herself as someone who is so useless that she is unworthy of ice cream. Someone who is lost in every possible aspect of life.

2. I’m not great with technology.

My laptop’s storage has been full for over a year now and all I do is close the notification tab. That’s how much horrible I am with technology.

3. I don’t have anyone I can talk to.

I mean who would even come on a show no body’s watching and I don’t know (or have) anyone who will come. Like how am I supposed to start THE EPISODE 1???

4. I don’t think I’m smart enough to start a podcast.

Jack of all and master of none. LITERALLY NONE. There is just so much I don’t know and there is so much I haven’t read. I know that I’m not smart enough to start a podcast that can create an impact and I know I’m not fun enough to start a podcast that’s something you can play when you can’t find anything to watch. I know I have a lot to say but I’m not sure I have the right words for it. Maybe that’s why I don’t talk to people much because I cannot seem to find the right words.

5. All of this motivation vanishes in the morning.

Every night I find myself with so much to say and no one to hear that I just want to start a freaking podcast (maybe that’s the reason I’m typing all this post. I honestly don’t know if I’ll post this. I’m weird like that. I write and write and write just to archive it in the end). But that’s the thing. Every night I get this small but strong breeze of motivation that makes me want to bring a change, maybe in my life or maybe in the world. But again every morning I wake up with the same thought that why isn’t this life over yet. And I’m very well aware that it’s a thought I should NOT be having so I feel guilty about it and then before I could do anything the day is over.

I don’t know if I’ll ever start a podcast or if I’ll ever find a way to start it. But for now I would like to start waking up not think about death but rather feeling grateful for this life.

[she-karev]

Birth (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister Imagine)

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Head canon Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

AN: Here’s the final chapter for the story you guys and I will try to post the next one as soon as I can and until then enjoy and I always appreciate and like and a reblog!

Editors Note: Hey guys so I just learned how to make GIF’s and decided to reblog this beautiful chapter with a GIF I made myself. Let me know what you think.

Summary: Amber gives birth to a girl with Andrew by her side and Dr. Montgomery delivering.

Words: 1441

October 20th, 2022

Simone Griffith stands outside Amber DeLuca’s delivery room peeking through the transom on the closed door. It’s been six hours since she and DeLuca found out Amber was in labor. She was curious on how her chief resident was after her water broke causing Dr. DeLuca to have her close after his surgery and couldn’t help but go up and see how they are.

Also, after witnessing her grandmother have an Alzheimer’s episode, she wanted a reminder that there were good things in this world too, like babies being born. Alex Karev walks down the hall with a welcome home baby girl gift basket from him and Jo to give to Amber. He spots Griffith outside the room and clears his throat causing her to stand back and look at him.

“Dr. Karev hi I-I was just uh-”

“Spying on my sister while she’s trying to bring a new life into this world right this second?”

“…It looks weird, doesn’t it?”

“Yes!” Alex confirms causing her to look down in shame, “Is there a reason you’re doing this very weird thing?”

“I just…I just needed a reminder that there’s good things in this world too. And watching a birth happen in real time works more effectively than faith in humanity videos.”

Alex grins at that understanding where she’s coming from, “Yeah there is something magical about my baby sister becoming a mother.”

“That is all I am saying sir.” He motions for her to step aside and she does so. He walks inside the room to find Amber lying on her side in her bed with Dr. Montgomery behind her inserting the epidural catheter. Andrew is standing by her side and holding her hand as she groans at the needle insertion.

“Hey kid how are we doing?”

“Terrible! You’re lucky your ex-girlfriend knows what she’s doing otherwise I would judge her based on her poor choices from sleeping with you.” Alexs eyes widen at his sister’s knowledge of his and Addison’s past relationship. Andrew looks at him in shock as well just learning about this.

“Is this true or is it the hormones talking?”

Addison finishes the insertion and looks up at Alex in disgust, “You told her?”

“No! I swear I didn’t.”

Amber groans and lays on her back on the bed, “Oh please the nurses keep tabs on your love lives and they love to gush with me. They could write romance best sellers with Alex’s disaster of a love life. I mean I’m still at the Ava/Rebecca chapter and it is a doozy.” She turns to Addison, “For the record you could’ve done way better back then.”

“You know I’m in the room, right?” Alex points out before putting the pink basket on the table.

“I’m gonna check how dilated you are.” Addison sighs and feels the need to clarify to Amber while she does her cervix exam, “And for the record I didn’t date him. I found him attractive, I was horny and he was there. It was one time and I judge myself for it enough as it is.”

“I’m his sister I know how shameful you’d feel sleeping with him when he was an intern and an asshat.”

Addison grins at that and looks back at Alex who averts his eyes from the exam looking at the wall instead, “I like her.”

Andrew asks trying to comprehend it, “Wait you slept with your sister’s OB and you didn’t think to mention it?”

“You slept with my sister and I had to find out after the fact.” Alex bitterly points out.

“I didn’t even know she was your sister man.”

“And I didn’t think my ex was gonna be delivering my sister’s baby over ten years later but here we are.”

Amber inhales and exhales in annoyance at their petty squabble, “Hey boys?” They turn to her and she looks disheveled while Addison checks her cervix, “I need you two to read the room because I have enough on my plate right now, I don’t need to mediate an argument between my husband and brother.” They quiet and look at her concerned as she continues, “I am just trying to squeeze a giant Escalada out of a compact FUCKING PARKING SPOT!” The boys look scared by her last exclamation.

“Very good.” Addison calmly says, “Swearing helps a lot, you’re at 7 centimeters.” Addison stands back up covering Amber with a blanket.

“Ugh I hate you tell me when I can start pushing this sucker out. Speaking of suckers exiting, Alex get out.” He looks offended by that as Amber continues, “You dropped off the gift and unless you can transport my daughter out of my body you are useless to me. And do me a favor. Let it be known that the only people allowed in this room are Dr. Montgomery and the people who provided genetic material to this baby otherwise they are gonna be in a world of hurt, now out!” Amber points at the door causing Alex to nod and pat Andrew on the back seeing the road ahead of him.

“God speed.”

Andrew nods, “Yeah.” Alex gets out of the room and closes the door behind him.

TWO HOURS LATER

I scream out loud as the next contraction comes and push per Dr. Montgomery’s instructions. While this happens, Andrew is by my side holding me encouraging me. My lower region is covered by blue tarps with Addison behind the curtain delivering my daughter, out of all of us I think she has the easiest job in the room because Andrew is no doubt in pain from me holding his hand with monster strength that’s coming from being in labor.

“Good Dr. DeLuca! Okay at the next contraction I’m gonna need you to really bear down but not until I tell you.”

I whimper at the never-ending cycle, “Oh god come on! I know my brother rejected you but don’t take it out on me!”

Andrew rubs my arm to soothe me, “It’s gonna be okay, you’re doing great, it’ll be over soon.”

I am too in pain and too mad at him to take in his soothing words, “If you think we’re having sex again after this you got another thing coming Andrew DeLuca!”

He chuckles at that and kisses the top of my head wiping the sweat off my forehead, “I think we’re stalled in the sex department until this kid goes off to college.”

I chuckle lightly at that but then I stop and gasp as I feel another contraction coming, “Oh god not again!” I scream as the pain courses through my body.

“Okay one last push Amber!” Dr. Montgomery instructed me and even though it hurts I do as she says, pushing with all my might. Andrew is holding me and encouraging me to push through my piercing screams. After what seems like forever, I feel relief in my body and slump back down on the bed panting for breath. I hear a baby crying and I felt my heart stop as I look down to see Dr. Montgomery holding our small, wriggling and bloody daughter already crying her lungs out. Addison is smiling and laughing in joy, “There she is!”

I’m so shocked by what’s happening I’m laughing and crying at the same time, “Oh my god.”

I can see Andrew laughing in joy too with tears glistening in his eyes, “Look at her oh my god you did that.”

“You helped.” I remind him. He takes the scissors from Dr. Montgomery and cuts the umbilical cord. After that Addison takes the baby to get her cleaned up and comes back a few moments later with our baby daughter wrapped in a baby blanket. She’s crying on the way until she reaches my arms and I hold her shocked at how tiny she is. I smile down at her still overcome with so much love and awe over this tiny human that made the last eight hours of pain I’ve endured so worth it, “Hi. Oh my god she’s…she’s…”

“She’s perfect.” Andrew finishes and I nod as he smiles. I can see the love in his eyes and grin at him.

“Here let’s go to daddy.” I carefully place the baby in Andrew’s arms and he handles her so carefully, no doubt shocked at how light she is too. He croons at the baby speaking words of affection in Italian cradling her head, “Ciao bambina, sono tua mamma e tuo papà.”

I sniffle and grin at the sight of both of them before cooing at our daughter, “Hi welcome to the world. Right now your the only pure and innocent thing in it at this very moment. And I promise we are gonna name you by the time you come home.” Andrew chuckles at that and we just enjoy this moment together as a family.

The Babys Name Here

[trulybetty]

Sunday Week In Review XVI & 2023 Wrapped

I feel like 2023 just started five minutes ago, am I the only one who feels like this year as passed by quickly but at the same time dragged its heels?

I've seen so many lovely end of year close out posts and years in review. I toyed with how I wanted to close out the year and what I could say that could sum it up sufficiently.

Betty rambles under the cut with this weeks reads if you're interested...

2023 has been a weird year if I'm entirely honest and somewhat isolating. I returned from mat leave, back to working from home, and having to scramble to make adjustments when things fell through. Which resulted in Mr. Truly and I working opposite shifts to ensure the S.S. Truly stayed afloat.

But during the last six months somehow I made it back to Tumblr, to an old account from way back when - pre-dating when the Canucks made it to game seven kinda old - I blew off the dust, cleaned house and made myself a little space. I still don't know 100% how it all happened, though I think it started with the Reddit forum.

You don't need to know the whole spiel about Pedro, because while we're here because of him, it's the community that holds us here. After floating and not really knowing what I was doing, I started to make connections within this community and finding a seat at the table (we'll come back to that) and I found joy again. I'd kinda lost myself in the fog that is half a dozen other titles/roles others looked to me as that had replaced just Betty.

I started writing, hadn't done that in years. I rekindled by love for graphic design, what I went to school for. I was reading books again, as well as so many great fanfics here. I even bought poetry books, something I hadn't done since I don't know when.

I've been really fortunate in my experience that I've encountered so many wonderful people. I may not get to be as social as I'd like to be, and I still have a fear of dropping into DM's & Asks unannounced. I have the shittest memory, if I don't keep a tab open or reply straight away it's sometimes days or weeks before I remember again. But I really hope that I've returned in kind what others have given me because I'd hate for anyone to feel like they don't belong here, because you do.

This community is a table (told you I'd come back) and it's size is immeasurable. It has no bounds and there's always room for whatever kind of chair you pull up and if you don't have one? We'll find one. Need to leave for a while? We'll save your seat. This my friends is a community, and if you're met with those who tell you the table is full, I'm telling you now, they're not a part of it.

Are there going to be those with more notes? Yes. Are there going to be people you're going to compare your writing to? Yes. Are you going to maybe want to pack it all in and delete your masterlist now and then? Yes.

But none of that takes away anything that makes you, you and what you bring to the table.

Life is hard enough without the added pressure of thinking you need to score imaginary internet points with stats and metrics that carry no value. I wish I knew the magic formula, because I'm still trying to figure it out myself, but let's try and be kinder to ourselves eh?

But I'm really going into 2024 with the goal of curating my own joy - whether it be indulging in the fanfics I want to write and read, more obnoxious coffees, a new fountain pen, giving myself permission to buy the fancy notebook, get back to baking or binging both seasons of Julia and pretending I can make one of her recipes.

So to sum it up, before this goes into a further incoherent ramble, this year has been about reaching out, starting connections and building something meaningful. I've met some amazing people that I am lucky to call friends and without their kindness and extending a seat at the table I'm not sure I'd still be around these parts.

Here's to more of that in 2024 - while I'm not always the best at replying to messages, my DM's and Ask's are always open, feel free to drop in at any time 💕

Pedro Tax™️ for your time...

T R U L Y  U P D A T E S . . .

December x 500 is complete-ish? Thanks to being sick towards the end of the month there's three entries missing, but I'm hoping to sneak them in during the new year! I'm looking forward to a quieter writing schedule that's for sure!

W H A T  I  R E A D . . . Didn't read as much as I wanted to this week - but I'm off this next week, so hoping to do a little more and get through some of my TBR list!

All I Want for Christmas (Frankie) by @morallyinept This was a delightful festive meet-cute that had me on the edge of my seat and also explores the character of Frankie and the ramifications of his actions on his friendships and his ex. 

All I Want (Will Miller) by @laurfilijames This was a bittersweet one-shot that touched on the idea that the festive season isn’t always for everyone and that you never know what’s going on with someone. 

I Put My Book Down to Be Here (Dieter) by @frenchiereading My first New Year’s Eve fic I’ve read this season and it’s so sweet and has a soft Dieter (my fave), who is still his chaotic self! I loved this from start to finish and such a great meet-cute!

Had Me Fooled (Dave) by @wildemaven Heidi has done such an amazing job with this mini series that can be read as a standalone or as a series. I love a soft Dave and Heidi does it so well. This last one had my toes curling in all their romantic glory and I will be revisiting this series again I'm sure!

Reunions (The Thief) by @ladamedusoif I'm behind on Rose's December prompts, but this was the steamy follow up to My Kiss, Only For You (go read that first, no seriously, go read it) and it was so delectable and my greedy self hopes we see these two again in the future.

Cookies (Tim) by @ladamedusoif Speaking of delicious things, this was as indulgent and sweet as the cookies made in this fic. Tim was one of the characters I didn't see becoming such a favourite this year - but I love seeing everyone's interpretation of him. This one here? In my top ranked versions 🫠

So here's to 2024!

Thank you for every interaction, reblog, or tag - every single one is held clutched to my heart in appreciation every time!

Stay safe, and whatever you're doing or wherever you are sending you much love!

[toast-tales]

okay. so. this might be a bit out of nowhere, but i think it's important for people to know the impact that their creations have, when they're brave enough to release them into the world.

so i discovered ITWOM roughly a week ago, and i honestly couldn't tell you precisely why, but i haven't been able to stop thinking about it. i have it pretty much permanently open on an AO3 tab, i've re-read it (+CC and the one shots) multiple times and it's never lost its luster, and i really have no idea what about it appeals to me so much, but i just wanted to let you know that it's honestly become a new hyper fixation? like, i've literally scrolled through almost all of the posts under the tag for it. your writing style, the plot, the arcs, the amazing characters and their development / relationships with each other—i love it all.

i eagerly await the return to this world, any AUs/new plots (that one snippet of danny and christopher stuck in the human world seemed so interesting), or even little head canons or details you post, because above all, i think one of the best things is that it's so clear just how much you care about this world and these characters you've created. that's an incredibly admirable and inspiring trait, and it shows in your work: which makes it that much more enjoyable to read.

tl;dr i like ur stuff a lot!! + can't wait to see what else you do ^^

Believe me when I say I nearly started crying when I read this. This is so sweet you have no idea 😭

It really means a lot to me that you like what I've made! Over the years the story has meant so much to me to write, and by this point the characters feel like real people I just catalogue the lives of, lol. For other people to find some meaning or worth in what I do as well, it's still amazing to me.

I wish I could tell you what I've got coming up, but I've honestly been pulling back a bit lately as real life has been catching up to me. Cursed Cravings is still on hiatus - not given up on! I will return to it eventually!

HOWEVER, I have an actual bazillion AU ideas, some of which I've enlisted the help of some of my close friends to write with me (looking at you, @luckyshotwrites ). While most of this writing is currently just for my own sake, or kept private, I do hope to share some of it in the future. For now, all I can do is share a collaborative drawing I did with @luckyshotwrites of a scene from one of those stories...one that I hope will be shared whenever we end up finishing it.

And, even if I'm not super active on Tumblr anymore, my ask box is always open and the ITWOM discord is still up and running. Headcanons, writing requests with my characters, questions about them or the world of ITWOM, anything - I'm more than happy to do any of that! I've expanded my worldbuilding a lot since finishing ITWOM.

And, again, THANK YOU so much for this. It really means the world to me. ❤️

(Sketch was done mostly by Lucky - she's super awesome with people and faces! She also helped with the shading, which again, she's super awesome at. I did the linework and coloring. This is Christopher, obviously, and her main character Lynette...though what's happening here, I can't quite say. Maybe one day 👀)

[shhh-no-ones-home]

thirst for life*

james "logan" howlett x reader

+++++++++

evidently i have a thing for disappearing for months only to come back, post mediocre smut, and then disappear again for another few months. either way, enjoy ;)

vampire!reader

* - this like mostly porn with a little bit of plot. shes a vampire so theres also talk of blood and ingesting it.

song: breakfast by dove cameron\

tag list: @hotchaosemporium

+++++++++

from the moment he walked in the bar i was intrigued. his smell was intoxicating with a hint of something unfamiliar. it was stronger than the other strangers in the packed establishment. which made me want to know more about him. or just to have him.

i watched as he sat down, looking from left to right before ordering a beer. i wondered who he would be looking for. or watching his back for. i tried to get into that pretty little head of his but something was blocking me. that made me more intrigued. and slightly irritated. 

i stood from my table, the girls i was there with looking up at me but not saying anything. they knew better. and more than that if i didn't find a toy to play with here one of them could end up the snack of the night. i walked slowly to the bar and sat down on the stool next to him.

"the usual please jimmy."

i sent him a look and he nodded. i owned most of this town, and they knew what i was. and most of them left me alone. i only fed when i needed to, but i had supply on tap here at the bar as well so i didnt have to. or at least not as much. ice cold blood just didnt always hit as much as warm 98 degrees did.

"you a regular?"

i heard from beside me and couldnt help the smirk making its way to my lips.

"you could say something like that."

i looked over at him as he took a swig of his beer.

"i havent seen you around before."

i noted, taking a sip from my glass.

"i just arrived into town. supposed to be passing through is all."

i raised a brow, turning on my stool to properly face him and crossing one leg over the other.

"you here on business?"

i inquired and he sort of nodded his head.

"you could say that."

he mocked and i squinted at him, watching him take another swig of his beer.

"names y/n."

he side eyed me.

"logan."

i took another sip, feeling the cold blood against my canines.

"well logan, i hope you stay a while. in our little new York town."

he laughed a little.

"most people dont have the same sentiment when they get to know me."

i bounced my leg up and down slowly, partially rubbing it against the back of his calf.

"most towns arent like this one."

he turned on his own stool to face me, pushing my leg to the side.

"jimmy, add his drink to my tab."

i said watching him close his mouth.

"not quite used to that are you?"

i teased and he faced the bar again, raising  a brow quickly and finishing his beer in one full gulp.

"almost makes me think."

i leaned forward, resting against my elbow on the bar.

"bout what? logan."

i said lowly, staring at him intently.

"your place or mine?"

he asked, turning his stool back towards me. i smirked.

"why wait that long?"

i asked, standing up and grabbing his hand. he allowed me to pull him off of his stool and across the bar. i caught him out of the corner of my eye glancing at the front door. i continued to pull him to the side door just beside the kitchen entrance. when we made it into the alleyway i turned around and let him push me into the brick wall.

there was only about a four foot space between the two buildings and there was no front entrance, only a back one where the freight trucks came through with their shipment dollies. this was the perfect place to feed... or do other activities.

"regular my ass."

he grunted as he started kissing down my neck hastily. i couldnt help the laugh that escaped as his hands roamed my hips.

"maybe a little more."

i breathed out, running my hands up his arms before pushing his jacket down them. it hit the ground with a thud, the leather heavy. he pushed forward, catching my lips in his and lifting me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"logan."

i sighed as he ground his hips against mine, his belt buckle pushing into me. he gripped my ass hard before working my dress up my thighs. i dug my nails into his upper arms, feeling his muscles tense as he moved. i could feel the blood rushing through his body making him warmer against my ice cold skin.

he kissed me harshly, fervently. i moaned again as he rocked his hips into mine, pressing his belt buckle into my core. it was cold in contrast to his warm body now only clothed by a plaid flannel button down that was starting to hang off his one shoulder.

"stop teasing."

i breathed out, reaching between us and grabbing at his belt. he looked down between us, grabbing the one end and helping me undo it. i could already feel the tent in his pants pressed against my inner thigh. i quickly undid the button of his pants and helped him push them down.

i held my panties to the side and watched as he guided his tip between my folds. i moaned as he pushed into me slowly, hearing him grunt and watching him look up at me. he looked between my eyes as he pulled out and rutted back into me.

"who's teasing?"

he smirked, doing it again. my mouth hung open and he leaned into me, kissing me harshly and pressing his tongue between my lips. i kissed him aggressively as he started a good pace. i readjusted against him, placing a hand flat on the brick behind me. he jutted into me, grunting as he threw his head back. in that moment i couldnt even think about what was going on between us.

his bare neck was mine for the taking. his veins were popping out like little rivers on a map. there were butterflies in my stomach but i wasnt quite sure if it was the insane blood lust or just the regular lust. i could feel my canine teeth poking out into my lip and couldnt help myself. i slowly traced my hand up his chest, placing it at the back of his neck and holding him steady and i leaned forward and sank my teeth into his exposed flesh.

he screamed through gritted teeth, holding me tighter to him. i squeezed my legs holding him in place. he turned us around so now his back was against the wall and i now looked like an animal that had stricken. my walls flexed around him and i could feel him moan as i drank from him. the taste was different than anything id had before. but then my focus shifted. his skin was trying to close around my teeth. i pulled back, my hands still holding him still, and watched the bite mark heel instantly.

"what are you?"

i asked, drawing my brows as he relaxed into the wall.

"im the wolverine."

he said, placing his fist against my stomach. the next thing i knew his metal claws were extended into my abdomen. i inhaled sharply, gripping onto his shirt like my life depended on it.

"thats not fair."

i smirked and he looked at me quizzically.

"you have no idea."

he said, retracting his claws, both of us looking down to see my own flesh healing in record time as well.

"well logan i think i have a solution to our little problem."

he raised a brow.

"and that would be?"

i rocked my hips forward, feeling him twitch inside me.

"fuck me as hard as you can."

i said darkly and he smiled.

"gladly."

he stepped across the alleyway and slammed my back into the opposing wall. i gasped, reaching my hand up to tangle in his already messy hair. he rested his head against my shoulder as he rocked his hips against mine. it was harsher this time though, and i could feel the bricks starting to crumble behind me as he pushed harder and harder with each thrust.

"fuck- logan."

i said through gritted teeth, his one hand reaching down between us to circle my clit and hold my panties further to the side. i lifted my one leg higher, pushing my knee into his ribs. he pushed deeper into me, biting at my shoulder to suppress his moans. then he let go of me with his other hand, placing it against the wall on the other side of my head. The only thing holding me up being the force he was pushing into me.

"im close."

he grunted, moving to bite more at my neck than my shoulder. i rocked my hips down into him as he jutted up into me again and again. we were both breathing heavy and i couldn't focus on anything other than holding onto him for dear life and the way his fingers against my clit felt mixed with him hitting deep inside of me and stretching me out.

"please."

i whined out, closing my eyes and tilting my head back, feeling my hair Velcro to the brick behind me. then i heard metal against it also. i looked over. his fingertips were hard pressed into the red tiles, claws fully extended and into the wall. his knuckles were white and there were now little indents in the brick where his fingertips rested.

i looked over at his face. his eyes were half closed and he leaned in to kiss me again. he breathed heavily against me, groaning into my mouth as i felt him twitch again. then i felt it too, my orgasm shooting its way through my body, his fingers never once stopping there motion against my clit.

i pulsed around him as he came in me, milking him for all he was worth. his pace got sloppier as he finished, riding me through my own orgasm, my walls contracting around him. i took a moment to catch my breath and he rutted into me again, pressing his fingers into my clit harder. i threw my head back, my legs shaking uncontrollably and my brain going fuzzy. 

i pressed my fingertips into him and i could hear him grunt again but i couldnt focus on that. all i could focus on was the intense pleasure taking over my body for a second time. as i calmed he stayed in me, holding me steady as i came back to reality. i breathed heavily, looking to the sky.  it was dark, like it was getting ready to rain.

"so, youre a vampire."

he brought me back and i looked down at him, wide eyed. he slowly pulled out of me and set me down.

"uh yeah."

i said, resituating my panties and watching him tuck himself back into his pants.

"whats that like?"

he asked casually, looking at me as he picked his leather jacket up off the concrete.

"im old, i drink a lot, and i cant be bothered with most people. but i own a lot of businesses and i enjoy little moments like this in my day to day."

he laughed as he swung it over his shoulder.

"sounds like you and i would get along great if youre done trying to snack on me."

i laughed as well, pulling my dress back down and opening the side door to the bar.

"if you plan on staying for a while i think i can arrange that. but dont blame me if i try again."

he sent me a look as he stepped back into the bar, pulling a cigar out of his jacket and lighting it.

"if it ends like that again i might be willing to make an exception."

i smirked as i followed him.

"youve got a deal."

[loiswasadevil]

This is my last straw I've been getting non stop asks from Smoleggon and his gang They just want to be my Catalyst by accusing me of having sex with my late brother and By being a pedophile all because I want to unite Family Guy fans. SMOLEGGON I DID NOT HAVE SEX WITH MY BROTHER AND I AM NOT A PEDOPHILE EITHER I DONT TALK TO ANYBODY OR HAVE ANY FRIENDS FOR A REASON. Everybody just wants to fuck with me and Laugh at me like I'm just some kind of fucking joke and I can't take it The only people who pretend to like me Only do it because they think it's funny when I hurt. I'm not a fucking joke I'm a Person I'm a living breathing Person with feelings and I am Effected by the things you say like when you tell me I am why my Brother died as if I don't think about that Every day and telling me I had Sex with my brother and telling me I'm a pedophile because Minors following me telling me I have to keep a tab on every single one of my followers it's so fucking stressful. SO SMOLEGGON AND HIS GANG NEEDS TO STOP SENDING ME THIS BULLSHIT TRYING TO BE MY CATALYST. I would never have sex with my brother that is Disgusting I have no interest in Anybody at all romantically or sexually EXCEPT PETER BECAUSE HE IS MY HUSBAND. SO SHUT THE FUCK UP. IM SICK OF YOU PERVERTS MAKING ME THINK ABOUT THIS DISGUSTING VILE THINGS I DON'T LIKE THIS. I DONT LIKE THIS I DONT LIKE BEING TALKED TO LIKE THIS I'M TIRED OF MY DEVIL HEART UNLOCKING BECAUSE OF DISGUSTING SHIT PEOPLE SEND INTO MY INBOX. CONSTANT DEATH THREATS FROM SMOLEGGON AND HIS GANG IN MY INBOX TELLING ME THEYLL FIND WHERE I LIVE AND HURT ME. I don't want to hurt anymore I'm so tired of my Devil's Heart. I wish I could be Normal like every body else but I'll just be Alone forever that's what connects me and Lois is nobody Understands her not even Peter the love of her life truly Understands how she feels inside and no matter how Many people she surrounds herself with she Will always be alone that's why I don't surround myself with Anybody anymore I tried with Joe and Bonnie but they were Fakers who pretended to be my friend Because they thought it was funny to make me hurt I try to keep Brian around but He never talks to me anymore I don't think he Cares about me I don't think he's faking like Bonnie and Joe but I do think he does not want to talk to me or watch cartoons like Family Guy and American Dad with me anymore even though he used to and Meg doesn't talk to me very often I'm glad when she does but we're not close she's just a Family Guy kin although I'm happy to have her around the only person who was ever close to me was Caleb and he was constantly my Catalyst just like Peter to Lois. But I miss Caleb I really do because even when he was Ignoring me I felt like I had somebody to talk to but now I'm Alone and after this slander Campaign by Smoleggon I'm scared that people will Believe these Lies they are obsessed with spreading because they're Obsessed with me. I just want to unite all Family Guy fans and I don't understand why I get this kind of hate I didn't do anything wrong no matter what Platform I go on I get hate even in real life when it was just me and Jonas I would get constant Hate from my Mom and Dad because of Family Guy they would beat me within an inch of my life because of Family Guy I would lay on my bedroom floor bleeding and crying and Jonas was the only one who was there for me and he would wash my Wounds and sing me the Family Guy theme song to calm me down I miss Jonas and I do feel like it's my fault he died because if I wasn't obsessed with Family Guy he would've moved on and we wouldn't have to Run Away to talk about Family Guy and play Family Guy outside or get sent to the Tent. Smoleggon when you send me asks about my brother and about being a horrible person it really effects me. I know you think it's funny to be my Catalyst but it Hurts. So I hope you see this post and realize I'm not that different from you and I hope you can sympathize and tell your minions to leave me alone and please Move on.

[blainecus]

What if it was Polites instead of Penelope?

Intro | Part 1 | Part 2

This is just a part 1 following my intro post cuz I don't shut up

I found this short and heart-wrenchingly beautiful fic by MythweaverArt

Which was inspired by this brilliantly painful idea by @little-cereal-draws

My brain played around with the two and then branched off into the thought of how the journey home would look with instead Polites being the driving reason for Odysseus' desire-turned-obsession to get home, and next thing I knew, I was knee-deep in several internet tabs on Greek mythology with nothing to lose.

I really did not mean to get so ahead of myself with this lol.

I made some personal changes to the mythology (ex. marriage to Penelope, Telemachus as Ody's son, etc.) and will likely also need to take creative liberties with Jorge's storytelling because while we have made it to the release of the amaaazing Wisdom Saga, there's more to come with Mr. Rivera-Herrans' brain that is unknown to me. Also Greek mythos can get zany.

So. Have fun with whatever I got ahead

Gotta start at home, so we cover Odysseus and family

Ody's Family and "Family:"

Odysseus was raised and taught by his parents that family was sacred; it was to always be cherished, honored, protected. It was worth suffering all consequences for, no matter the form that family came in.

Thus when his cousin Penelope entered into his family's lives after a tragic loss of her guardianship and relatives, she was quick to be treated as a sibling by him and his sister Ctimene and a daughter by their parents. And when she wound up pregnant (by someone who has now been grounded to literal dust and tossed like dirt to the wind for their crime) and gave birth to what became Odysseus' godson, Telemachus, her baby was wholly and without question recognized by the family as one of their own.

Coming off these teachings, Odysseus learned too throughout his youth and into adulthood:

When you spend many suns and moons in the close company of others building a sort of bond where you expect spirited conversation and/or heated debate, rounds of gut-deep laughter, the guarantee that a trust is kept and promises are met, and to share in a general purpose greater than one's self, you will see such bonds as strong as those you find in a family, minus the blood. These are bonds worth fighting and dying for.

It makes sense then that their time spent together in childhood, in training, in combat has Odysseus forge a bond with Eurylochus that can be equated to brothership. It makes sense then that the time Odysseus spent at war with a great many men has the captain include those same soldiers as his brothers too. It makes sense then that all the time spent together since children to grown men talking, laughing, whispering, crying, fighting side by side, and due to a particular keen interest, has Odysseus carve a place in his heart for Polites as his most special one.

Ody and Polites (and Eury!) are two lifelong childhood friends both terribly oblivious to the unresolved mutual pining between them that has only built more and more intensely so throughout the war and their journey home.

Polites’ life goals never pointed towards him being a fighter but his soul-deep desire to always be at Odysseus’ side and the encouragement, inspiration, and group-involved efforts brought on by his two greatest friends led him to train and join battle alongside them. All still knew and understood, however, that Polites would first raise his arms for an embrace before ever pulling a sword if he could.

Odysseus marks his friends, his family, and the soldiers in his retinue as people worth standing by and fighting for. Thus, reuniting all involved with their loved ones was treated as important a matter as was his duty to bring the city of Troy to its heel.

Note now that I get really into character/world building.

Intro | Part 1 | Part 2

[quietwisp]

Venti Headcanons II Venti x GN Reader

There's a bit of angst but there's a warning before that section (:

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A lot of people when doing headcanons for Venti seem to say that he wouldn't be very faithful in relationships and that whole spiel but I disagree. 

Venti would really enjoy having a lover, although I doubt it's likely he'd date/marry a mortal due to a fear of loss but for the sake of this Windblume is immortal. 

I can not see this man cheating or jumping around. He doesn't seem like the sorta guy to date for fun, I feel like if he actually manages to open up to you, he's gonna stay by your side of as long as he can.

(This one doesn't have the best characterization but I wanted to add it anyway) I like to think that if you request Venti to do so, he'll take his wisp form and let you put him in your pocket.

Petting small creatures tends to calm people down so doing this in a stressful scenario that he's unable to attend in his human form. (I might make another post on Wisp Venti headcanons if you guys are interested)

Wearing his hat & cape >>>>>>

After rummaging through Venti's wardrobe for several minutes, you've finally located his sacred beret and cape. Seating yourself on his plush mattress, you begin placing the beret on your head as you hear a knock at the door. Startled, you turn back to see Venti leaning against the frame, lovingly smirking at you. "Aww Windblume, if you wanted to borrow my clothes you could have just asked.~" he teases, taking the cape from your hands and draping it over your shoulders before leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

In a previous post I mentioned that I think Venti's main love language is Quality time but I think that is secondary one is physical touch

Venti has spent the majority of his life alone and has never had a lover (please correct me if I'm wrong on any of that.) I find it highly likely that he received a very small about of physical affection int that time frame, meaning our precious Archon is touch starved.

Now I don't think he's clingy. I see a lot of people say he's overly clingy, especially in public but as I've said I disagree.

When it comes to PDA he probably likes hand holding, putting an arm around you, vice versa, and innocent kisses but I don't see him as the over the top, cling to your waist, whining sorta person, unless he's doing it as a joke maybe but even then I find it unlikely.

He definitely likes leaning his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat, it reminds him that you're still here with him and that he isn't alone anymore.

He also enjoys playing with your hair, he finds it relaxing especially if it's soft. 

If you have curly hair or hair difficult to maintain I think he'd be interested in seeing and learning how you maintain it, possibly help if you'll allow him to. 

If you do not have any form of hair hon your head he just enjoys softly rubbing your scalp

He also loves just holding one of your hands and just sorta staring at it while playing with it  as he gets lost in thought.

Venti really likes having you in his arms and close to him. Just holding you close as he gently peppers you in kisses as you lazily doze off (hmmm it's almost like I'm writing a fic similar to this)

-----------------Angst Ahead-----------------

He may struggle a little bit with communication revolving around expressing his boundaries or opening up about his past at first but as you two get closer it gets easier.

When it comes to Venti I think that one of the most common arguments you two would have would be revolving around the tavern; to be more specific his drinking habits and his tab.

To make something perfectly clear I think that if Venti was to get into a relationship he'd likely start drinking a less but still drink

Depending on the sorta person you are this could cause some issues

I don't think Venti would ever get drunk to the point where he'd pass out (Can he get drunk!?!) But there's a chance, a very unlikely one but a chance none the less, a date or something of the sorts could have slipped his mind only for you to find him drinking the night away in the Tavern

Storming into Angel's Share, you glare around the room, spotting Venti pestering Diluc at the counter. "Come nowwww, just one more drink?" He slurred out. "Not a chance bard. Not until you pay down that endless tab of yours." Diluc rolls his eyes, preparing a glass for another customer. "Venti?" You murmur in an attempt to conceal your anger. "Ahh, Windblume!! What are you doing her- Huh?" Venti begins to sober up as he studies your face. "What's the matter love?" He whispers softly, approaching you. "You forgot, didn't you?" Your eyes dull as you make your way out of the tavern. Venti processes what you've said, his heart begins to ache with regret as he fumbles after you, "Oh my, Windblume, I'm so sorry!" 

He would feel horrible if he ever did do something like that, and I'm sure he'd come up with compensation to atone for his sins.

I am a firm believer in the fact that Venti would never raise his voice at his lover or physically abuse you when he gets angry. He's the literal anemo archon, he's above that. Any decent being is.

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I'm not very satisfied with my angst section of this fic though that's probably because I don't like angst though. I was gonna add more of my angst headcanons buuuut as I said I don't like angst much so I'mma wait till I'm feeling it.

If you guys have any suggestions or requests be sure to lemme know!!! I love hearing feed back from you my loves <3