#i could use a little bit of love and so i am asking for a little bit of love

[bunnys-kisses]

hi can I please make an order of crème caramel, berry trifle, mango sorbet and a spicy upside down cake with a side of lemon water served by Max Verstappen please? Sorry it's a bit long tho...

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu, i'd love to hear your order! and thank you to everyone who submitted orders! i am working through them!!

crème caramel ("oh. you thought you were getting away from me?" ) + berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + mango sorbet ("you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?") + spicy upside down cake ( "let's play a game: don't get caught.") + lemon water (university/college au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, university au, bully!max, mean!max, semi-public sex, library sex, fwb gone horrible, dirty talk/degrading language, obsessive!max, oral sex (max receives), choking/deep throating

"where are you going, schat?" max loomed over you like a heavy cloud as he placed his hands on your hips. he held you like he owned you, and in all fairness... sometimes it felt like he did.

you thought the one time you'd try to have a one night stand that everything would go swimmingly. but you picked the wrong man on campus.

graduate student, about three years your senior. with hands like bear paws and about the same strength as one in his grip. and he held you in the middle of the library.

"you just came in and now you're turning around in leaving? surely you had something to do here today. it was close to eight in the evening, the library was next to dead. you remained silent for a moment before he added, "oh. you thought you were getting away from me? is that it, you thought you could leave before i found you?"

you swallowed and lied, "i forgot something."

he chuckled as he leaned in a little closer, "was it your panties? because i found them in my car yesterday. pink with flowers? they kept me busy all of last night when you were ignoring my texts." he held onto you a little tighter, "it's not polite to ignore me, liefje."

the issue was that you wanted a one night stand with someone outside of your little english department. so you ended up with a geography graduate student... however, after that night, max became your shadow.

"what did you do to my panties, max?"

he let go of you and turned you in his arms. he smiled at you, the kind of smile that most at the school would trip over themselves to see. but you could see something else in those blue eyes, "don't worry, i washed them when i was done." then leaned in to kiss you on the cheek.

you pulled back a little, but couldn't go far as he had you basically trapped against him. you could call for help, but the student librarian at the front desk was more occupied with her phone.

max pulled your attention back to him as he said, "why don't we study together? think of it like a date."

you'd never date someone like max. not even as his thumbs tried to push up your t-shirt a little, you managed to get away. you swallowed, you could run and hide. but, max had more eyes on the school than cameras. someone would catch a glimpse of you somewhere on campus and max would find you.

max verstappen was denied very little in his life. and he wasn't going to start of trend of not getting his way.

"so why were you running away, my love?" he asked as he pressed himself up against you. his strong arms were around you middle as he pressed you to him. he smiled was threatening and you felt a cold chill down your spine.

"i told you. i forgot something." you tried to use the last bit of fight in you. but those eyes of his were all knowing.

"wrong. try again." he said before he went in and kissed you on the cheek, "i remember our first night together. you made me feel like nothing else could. you made me feel alive. i hate when you run away from me." he kissed the corner of your lip softly, "now, why don't we study tonight."

you looked up at him. he was a bit taller than you and for sure stronger. the gaze in his eyes warmed up when you nodded, accepting his offer for studying.

see, you knew what max needed. he wanted to be closer to you, he wanted to feel you all over. he even wanted to take you out on dates and make you the center of his world. he was obsessed with you, and you just needed to see that he loved you. but that meant less struggling.

he led you into the back of the library, the furthest part with two chairs in a desk. there was no one else around for a good while. most had left for the evening. which left you alone with max.

"liefje." he said as he sat on the chair and unzipped his fly, "come here." it was a siren's call before he sank his teeth into you. before he ripped you to shreds and drag you under the waves.

you knew what you had to do, you were thankful that the pants you wore were comfy because you knew that one round, even in a semi-public space, wouldn't be enough for max. you knew another pair of your panties would end up in his car.

he watched you lower to your knees and licked his lips, you looked like a doll to him. he said quietly, "let's play a game: don't get caught." before he ran his hands through your hair.

your face was up against his cock and you shuddered a little bit. the size of it was impressive and it made your mouth water a little. this was how he trapped you. the allure of his heavy cock in your face.

with a small whine he pushed your face further against his cock and you had no choice but to take it in your mouth. but few pleasantries were made when he got the tip up against your throat. you whined a little bit, it was almost a whorish noise as you relaxed against his grasp.

mad max, mean max, whatever you wanted to call him. you felt almost at home on your knees in front of him. he was your hook up gone wrong. horribly wrong.

his voice was a curl in your brain and made you shift a little bit on the carpeted ground, "you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?" he knew you had to take an extra semester because you failed a course. in a slight fairness it was max's fault, he wouldn't let you go write your final exam. too busy bruising that cunt of yours well into the morning.

even if you tried to write the exam all your brain cells were gone due to how hard hew as fucking you. even now, with his cock in your throat, you felt a loss in most brain activity. no higher thinking while he was choking you on his cock.

you felt amazing around his cock, there were few words to describe how it all felt. he could feel the flutter in his chest as he rammed his cock up against your throat. and when you made a choking noise, he told you to "shut up." before he kept battering his cock up against the back of your throat.

you looked up at him, your eyes looked so innocent as he pressed his cock into your throat as deep as it would go. he still had a lot to teach you about deep throating, but for now he'd take a small pleasure in your choked noises.

"such a pretty girl." he said, "you look so good on your knees. is this how you were passing all your courses? pretty blouses and dick sucking lips." he chuckled lowly as he gripped onto your head further.

you whimpered a little bit as you held onto his strong thighs as you worked yourself onto his cock. you felt the buzz in your head as you continued to move your head.

"this is how i like you. i don't get why you don't understand that. most would kill for a chance to be in your spot. but you get it so easily." he said in a low, harsh tone.

you whined a little bit and arched your back. you felt your body splashed with heat. you trembled a little bit with a certain want. max verstappen knew how to play you like a fiddle. he knew how to take you apart and put all your pieces back together as he liked them.

"such a good girl for me. i'm glad i got a hold of you before you became a slut. now you can't cum on anyone's dick but mine." he said harshly.

in the back corner of the library you gave him head. your brain felt unfocused as he bullied the tip up against your pretty throat. he wanted to bruise it so you couldn't talk for a few days.

"no need to speak words, liefje. not when your boyfriend could do all the talking for you." he said and the words marked on your brain and made your core soaked.

"max." you tried to say with his cock in your mouth.

"shush." he said.

you looked at him once more before his grip on you started to tighten even more. he pushed his cock up against your throat once more, you knew it would be bruised come morning.

you whined and relaxed yourself enough for him to finish down your throat. he groaned and held onto you as he finished in your mouth. you tasted the saltiness down your throat. and your mind went little a blurry for a moment.

when you got your mouth off his cock, you rested your face on his thigh and looked up at him. max was almost sweet when he brushed the side of your face.

"you should be studying how to make me feel good. stupid little thing already knows enough about english." he pinched your cheeks, "be my bride."

you pouted a little, your lips glossed with spit and pre cum, "no, max."

he sighed before he gripped your hair again, "enough thinking. get on the table. i'm not done with you." max knew you inside and out, no other man on campus could compare to him. he'll teach you eventually, that his love was the only one you needed.

[thesummerestsolstice]

Notes on Keeping the Children Alive, by Maedhros Feanorian

One of them tried to bite me yesterday. A spirited effort, but doomed to failure. I will teach them how to do it better– their teeth are certainly sharp enough for it.

Woke up with flowers growing through the crack in my bedroom window. I suspect this is their doing. They are not very good liars.

Letting them climb on me has proved an effective bribe for good behavior.

They appear to like being tall. (possibly related to being descended from Turgon and Thingol??)

They stopped being afraid of me faster than most adults. Am I losing my touch???

Disregard previous note. Eldritch monsters recognize each other.

Am teaching them how to make the most of their shapeshifting abilities for political intimidation. They are shaping up to be menaces. Good.

Twins are old enough to begin swordfighting, and clearly eager, regardless of what Maglor says.

I have taught the children to argue with Maglor. I am certain they will eventually wear him down.

Gave the children more blankets so they would stop using my cloak as a blanket. New blankets have been resolutely ignored.

I am sure they'll stop commandeering my coat if I ask them.

I have decided not to ask them. (They are very cute when they are asleep)

Children are now attempting to negotiate their way out of bedtime.

Small animals appear to like the children. Especially birds.

They found a kitten in the stables yesterday. They would like to keep it.

Teaching the children to argue may have been an error.

Children asked whether it was possible to have three fathers. I am uncertain why. (Thingol homophobic??)

One of the children called me "Atar" today. Definitely did not cry about it. Not even a little bit.

It appears the children were asking about three fathers because they would like to be adopted.

I informed them that two fathers was the limit, but that Maglor could be their second mother, if they like.

Kano was too stunned at being acknowledged as the children's parent to correct them about calling him "Amme." Another successful plan.

(Kano, if you're reading this, then yes, this is payback for referring to me as a "brooding drama queen" for patrolling Himring's walls, in a very un-dramatic way, like a normal, responsible lord)

(Also, you of all people do not get to criticize me for being dramatic)

The children's Quenya is finally good enough for them to start reading higher level diplomacy treatises. I couldn't be prouder.

The children have never done anything wrong, ever, in their lives. I know this and I love them.

[scribblestatic]

Eyo, back on my amputee!SY agenda bullshit

Lesgo.

Prev: Part 2

---

When Luo Binghe married Shen Yuan, he was named the First Husband. But now, with his new crowning, he'll become the Empress, a position given to none of Luo Binghe's wives, not even in PIDW. Though, he's already come to terms with the fact the world isn't the same as the book.

Mostly. It's still perhaps a bit too easy for him to suggest torture for someone despite his modern world sensibilities because it's easier to think of anyone facing against his husband (AAAAAAAAAA) as some no-name NPC rather than someone with a whole life full of experiences.

But anyway, he's becoming an empress. Which is wild to him.

And it dusts up a lot of his insecurities. And not, like, the kind where someone asks their significant other if they would still love them if they were a worm. No, it's more along the lines of, "Hey, would you still love me if it turned out my soul wasn't transmigrated at all, but was simply, like, disconnected from itself and I really am Shen Jiu, but I also lived as and firmly feel like I'm Shen Yuan, but some piece of me really had done all those terrible things to make your innocent life more miserable?"

He pops the question while Binghe's combing oil through his hair, his left eye gazing anxiously at the bronze mirror to look at the demon emperor's expression.

Luo Binghe thinks, humming a little as he doesn't falter while combing his hair.

"...Would Shizun love me if I killed some of my wives?"

"Huh?"

"Would A'Yuan love me if I killed some of my wives?"

"I mean...sure? I'm sure you'd have a reason for it."

"Then, would A'Yuan hate me if I killed and ate demons in the Endless Abyss?"

"What? No. Survival was extremely difficult. You only did what you had to do."

"And if I still had a taste for demon flesh?"

Shen Yuan's face scrunches, but his response is still immediate.

"Then, I suppose we could find which ones you liked? I mean, I don't think I could do it with you, and we'd need to respect their personhood. So, maybe we could find a group where cannibalism is a norm for them? I think that'd be difficult...ah! We could also see if the Red-Dipped Manfruit could be bred to taste like the demon's flesh. Demons that eat humans use it for minor sustenance when natural human flesh isn't available, so surely--"

Ah, his expression had scrunched more with thought than disgust. Luo Binghe doesn't interrupt as he goes on his continued tangent, smiling as he listens. He only speaks again after he seems to be trailing to another subject.

"Then," he pauses, leaning forward and looking down at Shen Yuan, "if A'Yuan can love this one as I am, even at my ugliest, how could this emperor not love my A'Yuan at his most beautiful?"

Shen Yuan stares up at him, his lips slightly open as he listens, as he sees the depths of the light and love in Binghe's dark eyes.

"Even if you are Shen Jiu, back then, this disciple wanted the affection you now freely give. I have always cared for and about you, for better or worse. And your attention was always on me, for better or worse. This Binghe likes to think that, now, we care for each other, not just for the better, but for the best."

"Ah..."

Shen Yuan stares up a bit longer before he quickly turns away. Binghe puts the comb down as he hears a sniffle, and when he kneels beside his seat, he pushes the long, inky black hair away from Shen Yuan's eye, catching sight of his ruddy cheeks and the mistiness in his eye.

"...Shameless."

"Indeed, I am. A'Yan should punish me."

He just shakes his head, and he doesn't lean away when Binghe leans forward and kisses his lips. They linger softly, pulling apart slowly as they share each other's breathes. Their faces remain too close for them to see each other properly, lips still just barely touching.

"...Then, I'll only kiss you two more times," Shen Yuan mumbles.

Luo Binghe chuckles.

"How cruel."

They only remember to get back to combing Shen Yuan's hair several minutes later.

--

The remains of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect had not been invited to Shen Yuan's crowning ceremony, but they still heard of it happening regardless.

Demons, previously unaccustomed to some of the more casual aspects of living with their means more easily available, and humans, always seeking new methods of entertainment, became very entranced with the gossip surrounding Demon Emperor Luo's harem. The fact pieces of it were steadily dissolving had originally been a gripe against him, as though he was losing his touch. However, when some of the wives were members of their own race or species and they returned without harm and with a hefty sum of money, well, the bridges hadn't been burned, and suddenly, "losing his touch" simply became "being less loose" or "finding lasting love."

So now, with the crowning ceremony ramping up, of course the gossip mills were churning at rapid speeds. Eventually, word of who would become empress despite the emperor's known track record of wives was absolutely scandalous.

"His shizun, of all people?"

"The one he had imprisoned, even."

"Must've driven the man mad."

"I don't know... I saw them recently. Shen Qingqiu looked quite sane."

"He has no limbs and is missing an eye, he can't be that sane anymore."

"He certainly wasn't groveling. If anything, he seemed quite untouched. Save for...well..."

"His eye is quite sharp, and he is quick-witted. I don't think he would be bad for an empress."

"The cultivation sects are going to implode."

And, just like the news of the crowning ceremony spread around, so too did the news that Cang Qiong Mountain Sect sent a letter to Demon Emperor Luo, demanding an audience in light of his proposal to a lord from their sect.

It was, to many demons and a few humans, a wasted, and perhaps misguided, effort. Yet, they wouldn't protest against the meeting.

It would be incredibly entertaining, after all.

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3: here

[vivisecti]

important confession:

i used to be tumblr user Vivisecti. i deleted my account because in a psychotic episode i said vile and indefensible shit about "recovering" pedophiles- because i genuinely thought at the time that they could be "cured" and that i could cure them.

my mental illness is no exucse for such a sentiment but i hope to explain why for those hours/days that i held that belief.

i have believed for a very long time that i was sent by God to rid the world of pedophiles, planning murders and even mass murders to do so. for a breif time during my grandiose delusion i believed that it was possible to "cure" them through therapy or medication.

it is not. there is no cure. they should be euthanised.

part of my words, which i apologise for and deeply regret, was me thinking that i could "cure" my pedophile father- which was delusional denial- and i projected it onto others in an irresponsible and reckless manner.

i will never and have never defended pedophilia. i want to make that abundantly clear. my issue was that i thought it could be cured. this is an extremely dangerous lie spead by pedophiles that say "Im in recovery/ im cured though" in order to lower your guard.

pedophiles use mental illness as an excuse or explaination for their abuse- but pedophilia is a set of ACTIONS that you CHOSE to do, and not a mental illness (i dont care what the DSM-5 says.)

when i say "mental health isnt an excuse for pedophilia" i am also saying "pedophilia is not a mental health issue, and to say so is to soften the evil of it and try to make it sympathetic."

i am also very sorry for not telling you who i was earlier- i pathetically wanted you all to like me again, and it was an absolute breach of your boundaries to follow and mutual people who previously had me blocked. i dont have the right to ask you to listen to me or read this, and i am disgusted with myself for being so parasocially needy.

i would especially like to apologise to @rottenfleshnbones who was the victim of my vile words. im so fucking sorry for what happened last month. the anons i sent to you were not enough to express that. you dont have to forgive me or even read this but i just hope it comforts you even a little bit to know that i do not hold those beliefs anymore, and never held them in a sane mind to begin with.

i have hurt others and i am so sorry. i wasnt lying when i said that as an adult i want to work with children who are victims of incest. all i have ever wanted (even in my schizophrenic haze) was make there be fewer pedophiles and less child sexual abuse. i went about it in completely the wrong way and was delusional and in denial.

i really really love you guys and want to be friends.

-vivisecti

[lightlycareless]

The perfect girl by mareux = Naoya and y/n

( if you listen to the lyrics you’ll understand !!🤭)

Hi!!!

First of all, I'm so sorry it took me a while to get back to you! Between answering other asks and writing snippets here and there... well, I got busy. But I will always do my best to respond to all!!!! And now, here I am. Moving on...

Omg this song I heard it everywhere but I never really gave it much attention—AND NOW, IT FITS NAOYA AND Y/N VERY WELL.

Now following the lyrics and song itself, I get a sense of being so irrevocably in love/obsessed with said girl that’s being sung about—just about the words I’d use to describe what Naoya feels for you haha.

warnings: fluff. a bit of highschool au. in my mind, that's how they officially met.

I always believed that the reason why Naoya fell so hard for you is because you were completely different from his world. And somehow the sentence strange girl takes me back to when you and Naoya first met.

Naoya obviously knew that once the year ended, they’d be a bunch of new students gracing the school grounds. Nothing that he would’ve normally cared for outside of observing if there were any girls that might catch his interest, but this time around he was forced to be attentive all thanks to your annoying siblings who had made such a big deal about your enrollment.

“Another idiot to join their shenanigans. Great!” He’d say, just about the usual harsh words he’d use towards them, because he hated them.

Kind of. Mostly. Depending on the context. He did not get along with them, at all; yet again, nobody did.

But then, when the fated day finally comes and he gets a glimpse of you… all preconceived notions were promptly thrown out the window, becoming immediately smitten by you.

He just… couldn’t peel his eyes away from the strange girl that honored the hallways with her hypnotizing presence. There was something so intoxicating about your appearance, a sense of purity that showed you had remained largely ignorant of the cruelties of life. Or at least those that are usually bestowed to members of the jujutsu community.

And that just made you stranger before his eyes; odd that someone like you, part of a somewhat important family, was still capable of being cheerful, with both yourself and others.

But as unusual as it was… Naoya was still enveloped with a grave urge to protect you. Shelter that same innocence he had been unwittingly stripped away from, while hoping he’d keep getting that same gentle demeanor you’ve always bestowed upon him when possible:

The way you were always so eager to tell him about your endeavors, whatever mission or school assignment you were tasked with—either to complain, or seek advice, he didn’t care for what as long as you went to him—always considering him above others it seemed, when the rest wouldn’t even bother to look at his direction if not to seek advantage of his title, or simply avoid him…

The way you’d softly call his name, imprinting the moment it happened the first time in the back of his mind: the tone of your voice, the look in your face… like you were happy to see him! When was the last time he could say that about anyone? Not even his own father…

The way you’d compliment his work; a sincere appreciation that didn’t come from recited words out of fear of reprehension or interest in obtaining favors. You saw what he was capable of and took interest in it with hopes of improving yourself, or to simply encourage him.

And of course, the way you took your time to get to know him. Not the heir, not the talented sorcerer, but the man himself; Naoya. Having little no to interest in his family outside of comparing lifestyles, see if he too grew tired of pestering elders and overbearing parents, or if he even got along with his siblings.

…

Naoya felt human for the first time in his life with you, your words filling a void he could never satisfy with the empty gestures of his surroundings… So how did you not expect him to fall in love?

“You’re a strange girl, Y/N.” He’d disclose to you one day, the moment he finally came to terms with his feelings for you, much to your horror.

“Oh, is that—is that a good thing?” you fret, for such adjective was rarely used in positive prospect.

But to Naoya, that word only meant you were beyond good.

You were perfect.

I'm sure Y/N did most of the approaching and Naoya just stood there like the tsundere I always envisioned him to be; it's not until he grows comfortable that he becomes the suave, teasing guy we all know and love (I mean, in my mind hahahaha) but yeah... it's safe to say that to him you were a strange little thing that he ended up falling in love with 🥺

Hnnnnnggggg this was so sweet to write, though the song kind of went more into a dark aspect ngl, or so that's how I felt it 🤣

Anyways, thank you so much for your patience!!! I really love it when I get sent songs that reminds y'all of Naoya and YN, ajgkhasjkghajksgas it adds depth to their relationship you know?

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!!

[boobabietch]

Chapter II: "A Rookie’s Obsession, A Legend’s Indifference: Is Diana Taurasi ready for Victoria O’Hara?” | Diana Taurasi x OC

Warnings: fight fight fight!! And a tad bit narcissistic Diana

A/N: I’m having a shitload of fun writing this lmao, so here’s another chapter I hope you like. As always English is not my first language so if you find something wrong tell me so I can change it asap, I can’t wait for y’all to read this and the next chapters I’m so excited. Likes, comments (!!!) and reblogs are highly appreciated and my ask box is always open. Love Sof :))

Making headlines masterlist

There’s a funny thing about being the best in women’s sports. People either love you or wait for you to fall. But when you’ve been around long enough, it doesn’t matter what they think. You know your place. And you protect it.

That’s what I’ve been doing since my debut in the WNBA. Owning the court. Owning the pressure. Every game, every season, everyone expects the same thing from me: perfection. Winning is never enough because when your name is Diana Taurasi, nothing is ever enough.

Then, she showed up.

Victoria O’Hara. The rookie everyone wouldn’t shut up about. Reminded me of me, hungry, talented, a little too much attitude for her own good. The first time I saw her was just before our game against San Antonio. I’d heard her name, knew she had something. But there’s a difference between hype and reality.

May 19, 2017

Game day. I could feel her eyes on me during warm-ups, it was cute honestly, I could see the gears working hard on her mind, probably wondering what it’s like to be me, to dominate the way I have. They all wonder. But what she didn’t know yet is that being good in college doesn’t mean shit here. Welcome to the W, kid.

I didn’t give her a second glance. What was there to say? Another rookie trying to prove something. I’ve seen it all. I’ve been that girl. But this one, this woman, had something extra in her. I could see it the minute the game started. Every time she took a shot, it was like she was aiming at me, if I didn’t know she wanted to rip my throat out I’d say she was in love. Every drive, every step, was a challenge.

I could hear the yelling in the crowd, I’d hear her teammates tell her to relax, feel the energy shift. People loved watching us, golden veteran vs. golden rookie. A fucking classic. O’Hara wanted to make a statement. I could tell she was on the edge, burning herself out just to prove she belonged. And every time, I’d remind her, I’ve been there. I’ve fought harder battles. If she wanted to be the next big thing, she was going to have to earn it. She was good, but I wasn’t worried. I’ve dealt with players like her before. They rise fast, burn out faster. But this one... she kept pushing.

Every game we played after that, it was like she had a personal vendetta. I couldn’t walk on the court without feeling her eyes drilling into me. She was obsessed. It was funny, really. This kid was trying so hard to beat me, to make me see her.

I saw her. I always see them coming.

July 7, 2017

We were in San Antonio. Close game. O’Hara played her heart out, I’ll give her that. But we still won. After the game, I found her slumped on the bench, wiped out. I should’ve just left her there. But something in me couldn’t resist. The kid had fire. I respected that.

“Not bad, O’Hara. Keep it up, and you might actually be a challenge someday.”

Her face said it all. She was rattled, but she had that spark. I liked seeing it. She looked at me like she was trying to figure out if I was serious. I was. Kinda. Then, she shot back:

“Someday? I’m already a problem for you.”

I almost laughed. Her confidence was impressive, misplaced, but impressive. I glanced down, smirked. Let her have that moment.

“Of course you are,” I said, walking off.

Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I never said that, lucky for everyone I did.

July 30, 2017

Maybe I overestimated how in control I am of everything; the game, the rookie, and my body.

We were playing again, tensions running high. It was bound to happen. O’Hara wanted her moment, wanted to prove herself. And me? I wasn’t giving her an inch. Then, somewhere in the third quarter, it happened.

I saw her coming, her eyes locked on me with a mix of defiance and determination. She made a quick drive, cutting to the basket with an intensity that almost made me respect her. But I wasn’t about to let a rookie get one over on me. I slammed into her, blocking her path with enough force to knock her off balance. She hit the floor hard, her elbows scraping against the court. The whistle blew, and for a moment, I watched her lay there, her frustration almost palpable.

“Get up,” I muttered, standing over her. “You’re gonna need more than that to take me down, rook”

I saw the anger in her eyes as she pushed herself up, pressing her chest on mine. Damn, was she this tall the whole time? The way she glared at me, it was almost as if she was daring me to push her further. “You think you’re untouchable? Just fucking wait.”

My smirk didn’t waver. I’d seen that fire in rookies before, puffed up, ready to prove themselves. “I don’t think, O’Hara. I know.” I said with the most arrogant tone I owned.

“Oh you’re just a fucking bitch, aren’t you?” Before I could react further, she shoved me hard. Everyone erupted into chaos. I felt the rush of adrenaline as I moved to shove her back, but the moment I lunged, my teammates were already there, hands gripping my arms and holding me back.

O’Hara wasn’t any better off. Many of her teammates were swarming around her, trying to pull her away from me. I could see the frustration in her eyes as she struggled against their hold, her fists clenched and ready to throw.

Fun fact about fights: when you need the strength of 4 pro basketball players to hold you back, it makes you look really fucking dangerous.

We both tried to break through the human barriers restraining us. I could almost feel the impact of our fists connecting, the unfinished fight burning in my veins. But with every struggle, every strained push against the hands holding us back, the reality set in: we were not going to get to finish this here.

I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the cameras, the refs, or the impending technical. All I cared about was feeling that fire she was throwing at me. I wanted her to know what it felt like to face me, to try and break through the wall I’d built around myself.

Eventually, the refs managed to get us both under control, leading us to opposite sides of the court. As I was pulled away, I couldn’t help but glance back at O’Hara, her eyes still blazing with that same fire. Despite the chaos, a small part of me felt a twisted respect for her, a rookie who was not just willing to challenge me, but was ready to throw down if necessary.

The arena buzzed with excitement and disbelief as we were separated, but the fight between us was far from over.

That was the moment I knew this kid wasn’t going anywhere. And maybe, just maybe, I’d finally met someone who could keep up.

Little did I know.

Fucking Victoria.

"Rivalry Ignites: O’Hara and Taurasi Get into Fiery Altercation During Friday Game"

"San Antonio Stars Victoria O’Hara Adidas Grey and Black Edition Player Jersey | SOLD OUT"

Requests are Open!

Masterlist

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 17th

OK HERE WE GO I AM MENTALLY PREPARED TO LEARN ABOUT LUCY’S DEA —

Lucy Westenra's Diary.

Nevermind that. Guess I’ll have to do it all over again.

Four days and nights of peace. I am getting so strong again that I hardly know myself. It is as if I had passed through some long nightmare, and had just awakened to see the beautiful sunshine and feel the fresh air of the morning around me. I have a dim half-remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing; darkness in which there was not even the pain of hope to make present distress more poignant: and then long spells of oblivion, and the rising back to life as a diver coming up through a great press of water.

The pain of hope alright…

To-night Dr. Van Helsing is going away, as he has to be for a day in Amsterdam. But I need not be watched; I am well enough to be left alone.

‘Cause here we go, go, go again 🎶

Thank God for mother's sake, and dear Arthur's, and for all our friends who have been so kind! I shall not even feel the change, for last night Dr. Van Helsing slept in his chair a lot of the time. I found him asleep twice when I awoke; but I did not fear to go to sleep again, although the boughs or bats or something napped almost angrily against the window-panes.

EVERYONE. IS TRYING. SO HARD.

Anyways BACK TO RENFIELD:

Suddenly the door was burst open, and in rushed my patient, with his face distorted with passion. I was thunderstruck, for such a thing as a patient getting of his own accord into the Superintendent's study is almost unknown.

Right. But he did escape the facility itself twice, including once with your complicity. So maybe the safety protocols need a liiittle bit of reassessing here.

Without an instant's pause he made straight at me. He had a dinner-knife in his hand, and, as I saw he was dangerous, I tried to keep the table between us. He was too quick and too strong for me, however; for before I could get my balance he had struck at me and cut my left wrist rather severely.

FIGHT!!!!! FIGHT!!!!! FIGHT!!!!! FIGHT!!!!

He was lying on his belly on the floor licking up, like a dog, the blood which had fallen from my wounded wrist. He was easily secured, and, to my surprise, went with the attendants quite placidly, simply repeating over and over again: "The blood is the life! The blood is the life!"

Renfield’s DYI Guide to Vampirism: now available in a bookstore near you!

I cannot afford to lose blood just at present;

This is a terrifying and strangely sweet thought and I will be reusing this turn of phrase.

Happily Van Helsing has not summoned me, so I need not forego my sleep; to-night I could not well do without it.

Telegram, Van Helsing, Antwerp, to Seward, Carfax. Do not fail to be at Hillingham to-night.

Now that’s what I call comedic timing.

Anyways back to… Lucy again… Oh…

I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact record of what took place to-night. I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the doing.

Talk about an emotional roller-coaster.

Presently the door opened, and mother looked in; seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, came in, and sat by me. She said to me even more sweetly and softly than her wont:—

"I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that you were all right."

I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her to come in and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay down beside me;

SEE WHAT I MEANT LAST TIME. Yes Ms Westenra is dying but she still wants to watch over her little girl! Yes Lucy is a grown adult but she still needs her mum! It’s all about love

After a while there was the low howl again out in the shrubbery, and shortly after there was a crash at the window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor. The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in, and in the aperture of the broken panes there was the head of a great, gaunt grey wolf. Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a sitting posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would help her. Amongst other things, she clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr. Van Helsing insisted on my wearing round my neck, and tore it away from me. For a second or two she sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange and horrible gurgling in her throat; then she fell over—as if struck with lightning, and her head hit my forehead and made me dizzy for a moment or two. The room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my eyes fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back, and a whole myriad of little specks seemed to come blowing in through the broken window, and wheeling and circling round like the pillar of dust that travellers describe when there is a simoon in the desert.

OK OK not to (surprisingly) turn into your local Mrs Westenra Defender™ but. But. If this exact ordeal happened to you and you did not have the benefit of knowing the lore, would your natural conclusion not be that the flowers attracted the wolf? Because that sure as Hell would be mine.

I tried to stir, but there was some spell upon me, and dear mother's poor body, which seemed to grow cold already—for her dear heart had ceased to beat—weighed me down; and I remembered no more for a while.

WAIT SHE’S DEAD????? WHAT ARE WE BLAMING HER FOR EXACTLY????? SHE FUCKING DIED

The maids shrieked, and then went in a body to the dining-room; and I laid what flowers I had on my dear mother's breast. When they were there I remembered what Dr. Van Helsing had told me, but I didn't like to remove them, and, besides, I would have some of the servants to sit up with me now.

I WAS TOLD LUCY’S MUM THREW THE FLOWERS AWAY AND THAT DIRECTLY CAUSED HER DEATH. THAT COULD NOT BE FURTHER FROM THE TRUTH. WHAT HAPPENED

My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all four lay helpless on the floor, breathing heavily. The decanter of sherry was on the table half full, but there was a queer, acrid smell about. I was suspicious, and examined the decanter. It smelt of laudanum, and looking on the sideboard, I found that the bottle which mother's doctor uses for her—oh! did use—was empty. What am I to do? what am I to do? I am back in the room with mother. I cannot leave her, and I am alone, save for the sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf through the broken window.

WHO WHAT AND HOW

The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the draught from the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do? God shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper in my breast, where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!

LUCY NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO —

Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra (Unopened by her.)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

My dearest Lucy,—It seems an age since I heard from you, or indeed since I wrote. You will pardon me, I know, for all my faults when you have read all my budget of news.

Why don’t you twist the knife even deeper Bram.

Well, I got my husband back all right;

A little bit of light in this God-forsaken world

'My dears, I want to drink your health and prosperity; and may every blessing attend you both. I know you both from children, and have, with love and pride, seen you grow up. Now I want you to make your home here with me. I have left to me neither chick nor child; all are gone, and in my will I have left you everything.' I cried, Lucy dear, as Jonathan and the old man clasped hands. Our evening was a very, very happy one.

And twist the knife deeper he did.

So here we are, installed in this beautiful old house, and from both my bedroom and the drawing-room I can see the great elms of the cathedral close, with their great black stems standing out against the old yellow stone of the cathedral and I can hear the rooks overhead cawing and cawing and chattering and gossiping all day, after the manner of rooks—and humans.

Windows! Parallels and contrasts!! Something monstrous VS something divine and most of all human!!! I’m fine this is fine we’re all fine —

How is your dear mother getting on?

ALRIGHT BRAM THAT’S ENOUGH TWISTING.

and Jonathan wants looking after still.

🥺🥹 (<- Hanging on by a thread)

And now I have told you my news, let me ask yours. When are you to be married, and where, and who is to perform the ceremony, and what are you to wear, and is it to be a public or a private wedding? Tell me all about it, dear; tell me all about everything, for there is nothing which interests you which will not be dear to me. Jonathan asks me to send his 'respectful duty,' but I do not think that is good enough from the junior partner of the important firm Hawkins & Harker; and so, as you love me, and he loves me, and I love you with all the moods and tenses of the verb, I send you simply his 'love' instead. Good-bye, my dearest Lucy, and all blessings on you.

Yours,

MINA HARKER.

(Thread snapped)

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[michelasnook]

NOBODY'S SOLDIER

Sergeant Francesca Herrald doesn't like being in the military. She is one of the best snipers and the most meticulous medic. But at nineteen she desires to just live her teenage years. Inside the Fourth Squadron she just has to work. And she hates it.

Lieutenant Johnathan Price sees in the sister of his Captain a sad teen that wishes to escape that reality of blood and death. Even if she works with extraordinary focus and energy. He tries to make her life a bit more cheerful, but just when he thinks he is doing some progress, she turns and leaves. However, he just can let her go.

Now, something is wrong with her, more than usual. And he will do his best to understand her.

Words (for the chapter): 2503;

Warnings and tags (for the whole story): Lieutenant John Price, angst, depictions of violence, age gap, eventual smut, fluff, brother-sister relationship, panick attacks, minor character death, eventually more warnings.

A/N: So I started writing this story and I am now ready to start publish it all around. I fell in love with Francesca since the first chapters, and I hope I can manage to bring this story to conclusion (I've never finished a story in my life, but I feel confident). English is not my first language, but I hope there aren't any errors.

I. The Emptiness Machine

LONDON , 23rd of October, 2009. 

   I can imagine them all screaming my name, in unison, and then headbanging at the rhythm of my music. Even if my eyes are closed, I can see them all, while I move my head and strung the chords of my imaginary guitar. The riff is hard, but I know I'm nailing every note, making them all scream in awe. 

   I reach the most difficult part, my left hand going up and down the air and pressing on the right chords, with the right pressure, and when I almost nail it completely- one of my earbuds falls.

   No, it doesn't fall: Elia has yanked it out. He is looking at me, slightly disappointed.

   The pub all around me takes form again as the other people at the table chat. I sigh and pause the music on my iPod.

   "Care to grace us with your presence, Franny?" Elia asks me with a smile. I respond with a playful face, sticking my tongue out. He chuckles, turning back to his beer as the others laugh and talk.

   I swirl my shirley temple and then take a sip from the straw. I hate when my brother forces me to go out with our squad. He wants for me to socialize outside our job, but it's hard if you can't even drink alchool and all you want to do is just read and listen to music. It's even harder to try and make friend at base if everyone sees you Captain Herrald's little sister, or as the child of Major Herrald and Colonel Pearson-Herrald. Yet here I am, Sergeant Medic of the 4th British Squadron.

   I pluck the cherry from my drink and pop it into my mouth, just as Lieutenant Price sits down beside me with a dark beer in hand. I glance at it, wishing I could take a sip.

   "It's a Guinnes, right?" I ask, clear longing and sadness in my voice. John turns with shy smile and nods to me, then turns towards my brother and checks him. Slowly, without drawing attention, he slides the pint over to me. Grinning, I take a quick, satisfying sip before handing it back.

   "Thanks" I mutter, still savouring the dark tones of that good and cool Guinnes on my tongue.

   "Didn't peg you for a beer person" he says taking a drink from the same spot I pressed my lips on.

   "I enjoy a fresh Guinnes," I admit, "It's harsh to just drink it every now and then only when you pass me illegal sips." I pocket my iPod and earbuds in the big and old hoodie.

   He chuckles deep and smiles, shifting on his stool. "So, are you in on this mission?"

   Lieutenant Jonathan Price is the only one in the squad that actually tries to empatise and understand me. All the men and women at the table have enrolled because they wanted to, because they needed to give all their life to our country. But me? I don't want to risk my life only to save people I don't even know.

   I enrolled in the military academy at sixteen, but already at twelve I was trained by my father and deep in medical books under the scrutinous eyes of my mother. They wanted for me to be a military medic, a trauma field surgeon. And they got that, even if every night, at least until at seventeen I accepted my fate, I cried until I fell asleep. Under the command of my brother they now have total control of my being. Them and the United Kingdom, even if I just want to disappear in my old room in Bournemouth reading stories of dragons and fairies.

   John doesn't know the full story, but he listens when I talk. He's my sounding board when I need to vent, and I ignore his growing nicotine addiction as a form of silent gratitude. Sometimes, we share a cigarette when my brother isn't around.

   "I have no way out, so Afghanistan here I come!" I say mocking a tost and then take another slow sip. "Again, I suppose".

   John doesn't laugh, but just tries to smile to encourage me. "You can still leave, you can't stay out of coercion" he whispers, trying to not be heard by my brother that is just in front of him on the other side of the table. Elia is laughing at some joke Private MacGavin has said.

   "Except I can't if I want to stay in touch with all my family and not be disinherited" I suck even the last drop of my drink and then push it with the other glasses that have gathered from the others. "You know, I still would like some kind of family. So... I am stuck".

   I have two families: my actual blood and all family, and my gunpowder and injuries family. If I walk away, I would lose them both.

   "You wouldn't lose me, Sonne" he says, cues another one of his cute smiles. But I cringe at him for using my code name. 

   "Oh, don't worry. My brother would make sure of that" Elia thinks exactly as my father, even if he is more pleasant to be around and he cares about me more. 

   Elia and John are best friends, my brother has took the young Lieutenant under his wing, almost making him de facto his second in command. There isn't one single thing John wouldn't do under Elia's command. 

   "I have a mind of my own. Elia can make sure of whatever, but I think I'll never stop sneaking you sips of Guinnes" he chuckles at the end of the phrase and then pats me on my head, a few strands of ash blond hair falling on my forehead. I look at him, admiring him a few seconds. 

   If just he looked at me the same lovingly way I am looking at him now.

   "Thanks, Price" I say with a half sigh, then I turn to the little stage where three young teens are performing a Radiohead's song. I don't dare look at the Lieutenant for the rest of the night, not if I can avoid it.

-----------------------------------------------------

HELMAND PROVINCE, AFHGANISTAN, 25th of october, 2009.

   The base is rumbling with action: trucks rolling in and out, squadrons full of privateers marching around, weapons firing off in the distance. And the dust, there is too much dust, that is around our boots, that deposit on our faces and threatens to get in our eyes. It's not a place I like, it's not where I can find myself, opposite of my brother. 

   I look at him while he talks off in the distance with a Corporal that has orders to pass to him. His hands are on his hips, nodding and moving his hands if he needs to explain something. In his uniform and combact gear he looks the part; hell, he is the part. Elia thrives in this life. Meanwhile, I am here, just surviving it. 

   Captain Herrald returns with a piece of paper that the Corporal has given him, and looks at us with a sigh. He looks displeased.

   "The Chinook's been delayed. We're stuck here until tomorrow afternoon. They need us to work in the meantime. Franny, report to Role 3. John, head to JOC..." His voice is commanding, as always, but I barely hear the rest. I gather my gear and head to the Combat Support Hospital without waiting for further instructions.

   Role 3 is where I find a sense of purpose, if not belonging. After stowing my things in a small office, I report to Major Sheffield, the hospital's commanding officer. She's tall, redheaded, and carries herself with quiet authority. 

   "Seargent Herrald, I heard many great things about your operations. Care to walk with me?" Major Sheffield asks me, and I nod when she starts walking like she owns the place. Because she does, she owns the place. This is her hospital. 

   "So young and already putting your hands inside men's stomach to make them return home to their families, you must be proud" she says while we walk up the stairs and enter the surgical floor, where the many wounded soliders are awaiting their surgeries or to be discharged, ready to go home or back to action. 

   I mentally sigh when she saysthose words, because I don't know how to answer. But I smile, put myself practically on attention with my hands together behind my back and give her a cordial smile. "Yes, I am" I simply say, lowering my military medical surgeon mask. 

   "We have one surgery where we could really use another set of capable hands. Can I count you in?" she asks, while another doctor gives her a chart. 

   "If we finish before dinner, sure" I say with a smile, she returns it and leaves the chart for me to study. 

   Here I am, back to work. And the only thing I hope is that this base has good hiding spots. Even in this place, which should feel like my sanctuary, I still feel trapped.

------------------------------------------------------

   The desert wind feels fresh on my skin, like the vanilla ice cream I'm eating while sitting on the rooftop of our barrack. I can look at the stars clearly, like they've been painted just for me. One thing that I can surely be happy about this job is that it makes me travel around the world. Sure, it doesn't let me be a proper tourist, but at least I get to watch the sky from different parts of this planet. And this ice cream is actually really good. 

   I moan quietly with closed eyes when I savour in my mouth the last spoon of this wednesday's base dessert, then sigh at the sight of the empty cup. Even the small pleasure of life are short-lived here, and I am now left with the spectacle that is the base ahead of me. 

   It's dinner time, even if in half an hour everyone has to go to sleep, the base is still alive with activity. Everyone is busy with something, and me... I am just hiding. 

   Rooftops are my speciality, just like operation rooms. It's the duality of being a sniper and a doctor. I have two hiding places, but with time even these places feel so wrong to me. I don't belong. 

   I lean back on my elbows, listening to the rhythm of the soldiers marching below. I close my eyes and I take a big breath. Trying to convince myself that I belong here, that I am doing something actually right for me and for the people. But which people?

   Behind me, I can sense someone is climbing up the pipe to reach the roof, and then I hear the unmistakable sound of my brother's footsteps. Elia sits besides me with an non-alcoholic beer in hand. I didn't realise they would give beers out at base. 

   "Ugh, are you here to remind me that I'm still to young to drink?" I ask with a sigh. In response he hands me the green bottle. I smile and take a swig, but immediatly girmace at the taste and give it back in disgust. "Why do you drink this blonde shit?" I ask, wiping the drops around my mouth. 

   "I am blonde, we are blonde. Of course I am going to like a blonde beer" he says with a chuckle in his voice, looking out the base, but his expression is different from mine. 

   I can see it in his face, in his eyes. He is surveying his domain, his land, like a King. His dream is taking our father's position, rise to his rank. So yeah, he wants to be the King of this land. 

   "Everything good at the hospital?" he asks, still not looking at me, his diamond-like eyes reflecting the moonlight as his golden beard gleams.

   "I did four GSWs, a fasciotomy, and cleaned so many burns and immobilized so many fractures that I lost count" I say, groaning as my shoulders scream for rest. I give in, lying down with a tired sigh. "I was in the OR for nine hours, then spent the rest of the time in the trauma wing." My muscles ease as my back hits the ground.

   I open my eyes and see Elia's usual proud smile when it comes to my work. When it comes to be happy about what I accomplish, Elia does it for me. He covers joy and proudness for all my family, decanting my successes in the field, from the lives I save to the enemies I take down. 

   "You've been awfully quiet, Fran" he says, setting his beer aside and turning towards me for the first time this evening. 

   "I always am" I say, avoiding his gaze. 

   I look at his forehead, his cheeks, even his lips- anywhere but his eyes. If I look at him in his eyes he'll see that I am scared to be here, that I don't want to be here. Just like how when we were kids and he could always tell how much I hated our father's training. And he would take the beatings for me. 

   Elia doesn't know still don't want to be here. He thinks I found some deep sense of patriotism at sixteen when I enrolled. He doesn't know what convinced me to stay.

   I can't let him see how scared and angry I am. It would be misinterpreted as a lack of confidence in my ability, and even though I hate it, I'm damn good at my job. This whole setup is insane, but I can handle it.

   "If you are bothered in some way, you can talk to me. I'm here as your brother, not as your Captain" he says, trying to meet my eyes. My eyes fall on his collar, where his insignias are, then his chest, decorated with medals. 

   Here, he's just my Captain. He doesn't get it. He never will. This is his land, not mine. 

   "I am fine, Elia. Just need to get through this mission" I say with a deep breath, moving my eyes back up, to the sky, to the indifferent dying stars. 

   He nods, staying by my side for a few more minutes. Then he finishes his beer, pats me on my shoulder and climbs back down. I sit back up, look down and can see my brother meeting with his Lieutenant. 

   John looks relaxed, though a bit tired from the work day. However, he looks like he could do it all over again. He's twenty-three and already a lieutenant; at this pace, he'll have Elia's job in a few deployments.

   I see Elia telling him something, and then John looks up in my direction. I stay where I am and wave. He returns the gesture, touching the visor of his cap and flashing me a small, kind smile. 

   Oh, I really liked that smile. Damn as hell I need to get to Lucy after all this shit. 

[bri-does-art]

.

[termagax]

re: "good girl" i think they say it once randomly as a joke and its just one of those things that gets him wayyy more than they expected it would. so now its their secret weapon and they use it very sparingly and every single time he gets super embarrassed about it but it works ill tell you what.

[melhekhelmurkun]

The pain of watching Attack of the Clones in order to see Obi-Wan with long hair, but also having to deal with Whiny Angsty Kinda Creepy Teenager Anakin

[livvyofthelake]

i don’t mean this to sound homophobic or whatever but some queer people literally cannot conceptualize that they actively look down on things they consider “basic” or “straight” with an insane level of contempt no matter how much they say they support everyone and everything. like. if i tell you i love riverdale because it’s campy and fun and you give me that look of disgust because you perceive riverdale as some basic lame straight people show. that’s not very like. nice. and then you refuse to hear me out in my show’s defense… and you just wave me off with a “whatever like whatever you like” but you’re still looking at me like i’ve just ordered a pumpkin spice latte while wearing ugg boots and listening to taylor swift. like at a certain point when will you admit you’re not actually very nice about people’s interests that don’t align with yours.

[themyscirah]

Philippus? Wym philippus this is a wholeass other woman?????? She's white?????? Guys come on now

ALSO cursed white Euboea in this same sequence.... homeboy she's Asian please stop

Joe Phillips I'm sorry but this is some shitty ass guest pencilling how can you not know anything abt what these people look like thats literally your job... you also just needed to read the issue before this to know?

Editors should have caught this one these are major Amazon characters

[rosicheeks]

i do not know if i ever sent this to you. i have posted it. i hope you like it Princess.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Sometimes, I will come across your blog and read certain tags on certain pairs because, What? What? How are your thoughts my thoughts? How is someone else expressing (so perfectly) what I thought existed only in my head? The references (warm leftovers, please. Feel horribly proprietary over that poem.), the memes, the word choices. I know we all grew up on the same internet, but it's like we grew up in the same corner.

It rattles me each time it happens and yet, the next time I return, and wander through, reading along as if we were walking through my local arboretum and you were rambling and I was nodding along. Consider this ask my version of a reply in the arboretum world.

i-

when i got this i just had to sit there and read your message a few times because that is one of the loveliest compliments i’ve ever gotten and i hope you know i am overjoyed to be here rambling to you 💕 to have touched you in some way!! to form a connection!!! and all i can say is thank you and i love you and i would love to go for a walk in the arboretum with you any time

[yo9urt]

happy :)