#in their universe that's what Dubai looks like

[swan2swan]

I love learning new things about production!

I saw Dubai on B's computer in the prior season, and figured it might come up...personally, though, complaints about the Dubai skyline seem to be just people trying to find problems without thinking. The view is different from an angle. The events that predicated Jurassic Park's existence led to different buildings. Masrani's investments in the early millennium put up different buildings.

The very existence of Isla Nublar and the Five Deaths changes the world they live in.

Seen a few critiques of the Dubai skyline at it appears in the show. Which, I'm gonna be real, is a pretty... asinine thing to critique in a general sense.

But! The reason for it, I believe, is that for legal reasons, we cannot match the skyline to how it appears IRL. This has actually come up on a number of animated shows I've worked on (especially when I was doing the production side of things).

I'm not exactly sure WHY the exact skylines can't be used for legal reasons -- in addition to just how hard and complicated it would be to match the skyline from an artistic perspective -- but... yeah... that's likely the reason.

(Any production folks feel free to chime in if you had a different perspective.)

[cheriladycl01]

Hiiii could you write about Carlos Sainz that he has a secret relationship with an Arab Muslim girl (she doesn't wear hijab) 24 years old, Y/N and Carlos' little sister her friend because they go to the same university from Madrid and Carlos always bothered her, he was always around Y/N whenever she was talking with a boy Carlos made them run away and that's how they became a couple but secretly it was due to Y/N's religion and Carlos likes to annoy her by teasing her face to face or sharing a message by pinching her side because she is ticklish and she also annoys him.

Thanks youu 💖

Romeo to my Juliet - Carlos x Reader

Plot: After studying at the University of Madrid, and making friends with Blanca Sainz you were constantly around her older brother Carlos who was … obviously obsessed with you!

A/N: Ive done research before writing this on Muslim culture and struggles, however I am not a person of colour, and do not want to cause any offence when writing this! Also the wording of this request did confuse me a little bit so I’m hoping I’ve got everything that you’ve wanted in here!

Carlos and you were two people you wouldn’t pin together. You were quiet and reserved whilst he was loud and expressive. You were shy, whilst he was confident. But it was those differences that actually made you the perfect pair.

Being in a secret relationship with the Carlos Sainz wasn’t easy, and neither is the story that came with it.

It started when you first applied to university. You got into the University of Madrid and your parents couldn’t be more happy as your father had work in Spain taken from the Middle East, so it wasn’t a difficult family move.

You were a very stylish girl despite being shy and with your outfits it wasn’t hard to catch the eyes on campus. And that was how you met Blanca Sainz.

It was a colder day in Madrid, around November and you were in one of your favourite winter time outfits that’s kept you warm and cozy, still not completely used to the cold winters Europe have compared to the Middle East.

You had this Burberry scarf on, a gift from you father and a gust of win caught you, immediately your hands grabbed for your skirt leaving your scarf to fly off from around your neck.

“Oh my gosh” you gasp as you tried to reach out for it but it just flew off into the distance. You started to run after it, until you saw it hit a girl and practically strangle her.

“I’m so so so sorry! The wind … and it just … and oh my gosh I’m so sorry, it hit you!” You gasp at the girl who looks over you before laughing.

“It’s … a scarf I’m fine” she giggled.

That day you guys got coffee on campus before getting to know each other and you’d been fast friends since.

It wasn’t until the end of your second year in university, your mum and dad had moved back home to the Middle East. And you didn’t know what to do about summer break.

Blanca actually invited you to her family trip to Mallorca and to stay with her in her family home.

You felt bad, so you suggest the first few weeks are spent in your family home in Dubai. And she definitely didn’t want to turn that down.

So of course you guys spent the summer, tanning, in your pool playing games with your mum and dad when they were free and going to get ice cream.

“Your house is insane, what the hell does your mum and dad do!” She asked looking around the 6 bedroom Villa your family owned.

“I don’t actually know, but he’s a business owner of some sort” you giggle, always too bored to listen to your father explain his career.

“There’s an aquarium in your kitchen island …” she points at it, mouth open wide.

“Yeah, excessive i know but my dad adores his fish”

“And your house it on the beach! AND there’s a pool? I don’t even know if I want to see the garage!” She exclaims.

“Mmmmmm yeah my dads also a car collector. He actually left some in Spain in the house there” you offer.

“Your like so humble though! I - WHAT?” She asks in shock and you just laugh her off.

You guys definitely enjoyed your time in Dubai and your parents loved her, she was invited back for the Christmas holidays too.

Then when you got to Spain you met the rest of her family.

“Mum dad, this is my friend Y/N” Blanca offers as you enter the home which was a beautiful Spanish Villa.

“Ah Y/N we’ve heard so much about you from Blanca when she calls” her mother smiles. Ana comes running down the stairs immediately pulling her sister into a hug.

“Ah you must be Y/N? Yes, you are gorgeous! Where are you from!” She grins pulling you into an unexpected hug.

“I’m from Dubai!” You smile and that night guy guys all get to know one another through board games.

It got to just after sunset when you realised that it was time to pray for Maghrib. You calmly excused yourself from the family. Blanca at this point knew when you had to pray and was always very respectful and actually intrigued at the way it all worked. She would be with you on campus in the pray room, or in a random corner of a cafe you guys were studying in and offer you her coat to kneel on if you didn’t have one.

She was the sweetest and most understanding friend you’d ever had.

However, this was the time you met her older brother Carlos. You were just finishing up, in Blancas bedroom when someone came into the room.

“Sorry Blanca, I didn’t mean to be long if I was!” You smile turning round only to see a confused man behind you.

“Erm sorry can I help you?” You ask and he still stands there with his big brown chocolate eyes just staring at you.

“A-sorry you must be, Y/N right? Blanca’s friend that she brought home?” He questions and you nod standing up, reaching out to shake his hand.

He looks down at it smirking before lifting it up and placing a gentle kiss on the edge making you gasp and go wide eyed.

“Well, welcome to the Sainz household. Are you excited about Mallorca?” He smiles and you nod, of course you were, you’d be waiting all summer for it.

And it was an unforgettable summer.

Carlos was ALWAYS around. He was like this little lost puppy and the only time you don’t think he was around was when you showered or slept. He bothered you the whole summer, interrupting you and Blanca when you were trying to tan, or would splash you in the pool when you were lounging on a lilo. He was a menace, but there was a certain type of endearment to it.

He was also insanely protective over you. Whenever you all would go out to bars or restaurants or clubs, you got a lot of male attention, which to Carlos wasn’t surprising.

You were the most beautiful person he thinks he’s ever seen, and he wants you all for himself.

“Hey Bonita, why don’t you come downtown with me, and I’ll show you a good time?” A random guy from the island had said to you in a club.

“I’m fine thank you, I’m here with friends” you smile pointing behind you to the table where Carlos Blanca and Ana are sat.

“I’m sure they won’t mind, come on. ¡Vive un poco!” He exclaims looking over you.

“She said she was fine, and I would mind” Carlos said in a gruff voice coming to stand behind you and hand on your shoulder.

The guy swiftly left, seeing who it was. You’d gotten used to the fact that Carlos would be noticed in public, you tried to stay out of it as much as possible. Whenever a fan came over you’d practically glue yourself to Blanca’s side.

But all the guys that came talking to you Carlos had them running away for one reason or another. Whether it was just him, being Carlos Sainz, or the look he gave them or what he whispered to them when you couldn’t here. They always left.

That was how Carlos and you ended up together. You were a modern day Romeo and Juliet. You knew your parents wouldn’t approve of the Spanish race car driver, just based on all the tabloid articles about him.

“We should leave” he said in a huff, he was always like this and a lot of the times that you left was because of Carlos’ changed mood.

“But we didn’t get here long ago!” You offer and he huffs again, getting more frustrated.

“Just, let’s just go home!” He says again, not touching you but giving you a look as if to say, I will drag you out of here.

“We need to get Blanca and Ana, we can’t leave them!” You say as you start to look around the club for the two girls, hoping they would protest to Carlos wanting to get you to leave.

“They’ll be fine, let’s just go. They are pretty preoccupied anyway” he nods towards them with their boyfriends and how they are dancing.

Next thing you know Carlos was dragging you home, poking at your side saying how you broke your good girl demeanour just to leave the club with him.

“I was in a club, I can’t be that good of a girl” you tease him back and he looks over at you with a sparkle in his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t even there and it was just from the street lights, but he looked so happy and content in this moment that you couldn’t help but stare.

After this summer, you and Carlos hide your relationship from everyone, you hated hiding it from Blanca the most as he would often come find you in Madrid after race weekends to keep you company.

And don’t even start about him at family venues. Despite Carlos wanting to keep the relationship as secret as you did because of the media, and your parents, he wasn’t very good at keeping his gestures subtle.

“Carlos, I haven’t seen you for a while. And whose this, a girlfriend?” One of his aunts comes over seeing you together chatting at a family reunion his mother had hosted after his race win.

He pinched your side teasingly as if to say that you guys must look good together. And as you look up at his face you can see that.

“No this is Y/N Blanca’s friend from university” he offers keeping up with the secret. And your look down smiling to yourself. It was fun in a way keeping up a little white lie that you were with Carlos.

“Shame, she’s a dime and you two would look great together” she winks before fluttering off elsewhere in the house.

“See someone else who thinks we look great together” Carlos says leaning down to meet your eye level making you blush.

“Carlos leave Y/N alone, you tease the poor girl enough you’ll give her a heart attack one day. Come on sweetie” his mother guides you away, you turn round to catch Carlos’ eye before poking your tongue out in a childish manner.

He shakes his head with a slight chuckles as he watches his mum pull you away to a different crowd of people and introduces you.

When you and Carlos would admit your relationship was unknown, but you knew you’d never been happier than you were with Carlos Sainz Jr.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[itsrlymine]

idk if you’ve answered this before or if it’s something you may not want to answer but i was wondering how your journey from the early stages of finding out about manifesting up until knowing you’re the operant power and your full potential was like

my manifesting journey so far

Hello my love! I think I just haven't seen the question yet but I would love to answer!

As far as I'm concerned, I knew manifesting as manifesting around the time I was 18 and in my first year of university. But ofc, I was manifesting the whole time before. The university I went to had the lowest acceptance percentage ever but I still managed to get in even with my grades that didn't meet their requirements and i didn't even do the college essay that everyone else had to do. I remember just deciding over and over that I would go there no matter what anybody said. I was told it was expensive and I didn't care, I was gonna go anyways. It was $40k/yr at the time and I got $36k worth of scholarship....... I just thought that was just luck.

Before then, I was obsessed with One Direction and 5 Seconds Of Summer like y'all it was bad! I wanted to see them in concert so freakin bad, it was like my life depended on it. I literally manifested them coming to my state and to a city that people don't really tour all the time and yall!!!!! I was like right in front of them and I def passed out hearing Zayn sing live. I saw both bands live together, it was incredible. I used subliminals to clear my skin in high school as well but eventually forgot about them.

I think having my dad tell me I could do anything I wanted is what lead me to believe that if I wanted something, it was automatically mine.

In college, I would always have s*x with the guys i wanted just by visualizing or saying they wanted me sooo bad (still works now!). I would make up friend groups in my head and then find that i would be in them not even two weeks later. I watched "The Secret" in my first year and that was really transformational for me bc I always felt like I was failing God and my family bc I didn't want to go the medical route/even finish college.

The summer of 2021, I was 22 and at home with my parents and broke asf and i said no more! I started consciously manifesting again even though I didn't know that's what it was called. I decided I would get a job in marketing that would pay me over $70k/yr even though I had one month of experience and only certifications in the field. Did that matter??? Of course not!!!!! It was remote and had unlimited pto and i could go on as many vacations a year as I wanted. I found out about the law a month after I started my job but for some reason, it felt so complicated and I found myself trying so damn hard rather than just reminding myself how I got what I wanted before. literally inner conversations, visualizing and talking out loud about my desires.

What made me realize I could manifest anything was when I changed my menstrual cycle and went to Dubai for free twice. What the 3d looks like never matters especially when it came to my cycle, I deadass couldn't see how my internal organs would change according to what I wanted but ofc they changed anyways. it was shortened and I haven't had cramps in months. Going to Dubai for free by imagining Abdullah slamming the door in my face and telling me I was in Dubai. I literally made a pinterest board of where I'd go in Dubai and I went to every single place. I would tell myself over and over that I'm gonna leave my wallet at home because everyone was gonna pay for me bc we are rich asf duh!. When I tell y'all that's exactly what happened!!!!

I've manifested so other "crazy" stuff but yea these ones definitely altered my brain chemistry.

[johnbrand]

The Stages of Arabization

With @next-pharaoh

“Jeez, it’s so bright here,” Henry oriented his phone up in front of the sun, hoping to block out a few of the direct rays.

“Well, you are closer to the equator,” his boyfriend, Alex, joked. “Dubai is a bit farther south than Boston.”

Henry rolled his eyes, “What would I do without that intelligence of yours?” 

“Too bad you don’t have your own.” They both laughed at that remark. The pair had started dating in graduate school, with Alex venturing down the path of mathematics and Henry following the racial trends of Sub-Saharan Africa. Everyone joked it should have been the other way around, given Henry’s geeky, pale exterior fit the math nerd stereotype better than Alex’s lanky, darker frame. But Henry loved his studies, so much so that he had been invited to a conference in the United Arab Emirates to talk on them.

Suddenly, Henry received an email notification from one of his sponsors. “Dang, looks like I have to get back to work. Just received an essay to review before the next presentation.”

“How long do you have?”

“Barely 30 minutes.”

“Well forward it to me,” Alex replied. “We can tag team it. I know this isn’t my strong suit but at least I can help cover more ground.”

Henry thought that was a great idea. Without a second thought, he redirected the email and wished his boyfriend goodbye. Alex would send his thoughts over text when he had finished.

“‘The Stages of Arabization’,” Henry recited aloud. He was planning to head inside to read–gingers burnt way too easily in the direct sunlight–but he noticed the writing was pretty short. Barely even a page. Henry was surprised to realize the essay was in Arabic, but he quickly utilized a translator app to resolve the issue.

Stage 1: Islamization  Islam becomes the majority religion or state religion.

Strange formatting, but Henry understood the statement as rather truthful. The historically successful Arabizations of Morocco, Algeria, and Egypt had followed a similar suit. Even some of the countries he had studied had shown signs of this progression.

Stage 2: Linguistic Arabization Islam brings fixation on Arabic language, thus the Arabic language becomes central to the society's identity. Arabic becomes the state language.

Henry found this statement agreeable as well. There was something so methodical about the Arabic language, how it melodically ebbed and flowed in such a way that it twirled through the hearing canals directly into the brain. Anyone who listened to it almost became entranced, as if captured by its beauty and awakened by its fluidity. Henry closed the translator app before continuing on. 

Stage 3: Cultural Arabization Arab cultural practices become common due to Islamization. Own cultural heritage is deemed closer to ages of ignorance and thus gradually forgotten and replaced with Islam.

Henry had followed this trend through his research. Many of the countries he had analyzed over the years had demonized their traditional practices once introduced to Islamic culture. It was like watching a child being given a new toy; the original quickly discarded for one deemed far more superior. These assimilations had even started to appear in Henry’s life. Thobes were the new fashion craze among his fellow researchers, midday prayer rooms had taken over labs, and even the cafeteria had become completely halal.

Stage 4: Ethnic Arabization Planned migration of many Arab tribes and deliberate suppression of the numbers of natives, consequently major demographic shift. Media encourages Arabs to multiply and mix.

This too had arrived in the workplace. Rapidly, it had become obvious that the university was prioritizing hiring Arab and Arab-American employees. Political discourse on abortion had suddenly disappeared, instead dropping birth control from medical insurances and advertising “Reversion Through Fertilization”. Luckily, Hussein had not been influenced much by this change. In fact, he almost felt as if he was somehow a part of it.

Stage 5: Fully Arab State Arabs and the Arabized become elite and majority. Non-Arabized are shunned and pressured to revert until no opposition remains.

Hussein smiled with pride, closing the essay he was sure to give high remarks to. His best friend Ali had a similar response, a text from him glowing with praise about the truth in the writer’s words. The essay was eloquent, thought-provoking, and would become mandatory literature at his lab, and soon throughout the reverting world. It reflected the future, similarly to his own phone screen: masculine, virile Arab men. Hussein felt a divine sense of conformity with Islam, one all were soon destined to see.

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 25. messed up

chapter tags/warnings: naoya fucks toji's ex-wife again. aggressive sex. creampie-ing. misogynistic! naoya. hurt/comfort. naoya views women as nothing but a hole. broken marriage. heavy angst. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. manipulation undertones. corruption. 

word count: 4.1k

notes: thank you always for all the support! on to the plot for our final arc! this beginning excerpt is a rewording from a line in “spy x family” (any fans out there?) that i believe captures the dynamics in our characters as well. enjoy! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

❝ Every person has a self that one conceals, a side not shown to anyone else. Not to friends. Not to lovers. Not even to family. Behind lies and painted smiles, individuals shield their true natures and desires…and, in doing so, the world thus maintains its thin veneer of peace. ❞

Who in the world was Toji Zenin?

The Toji that you had always known was Toji Fushiguro, so what was your husband’s cognomen doing besides your sex therapist’s first name on the latter's university diploma?

Even Google seemed to deny that Toji Zenin existed.

Showing results instead for ‘Toji Fushiguro.’

No, that was not what you wanted! 

One step forward in understanding this enigmatic man might as well be three steps backward because, each time you thought you had learned something about him, you only come to the realization that nothing much had been discovered at all.

But as investigations via search engines, social media sites, and Wikipedia pages proved futile, sources that could quell your curiosity dwindled.

So, you turned to your last resort.

“Who’s Toji Zenin?”

“What—”

Across from you, the raspberry macaron in Mai’s hand stopped by her lips as the girl snapped her focus from the pastry to your unanticipated question, with Maki visibly turning stiff in the adjacent chair. The three of you sat surrounding a small table in the twin’s private lounge, located in the northern wing within the Zenin residence. 

Visiting the central family property was not uncommon ever since your engagement and wedding earlier this year, but the architecture would never fail to impress you. The mansion itself resembled the Imperial Palace more than anything—an edificial centerpiece defined by the elegance and simplicity inherent in traditional Japanese design, with latticework embellishing the wooden exterior and, inside, carefully painted doors opening into tatami rooms.

Given that Mai and Maki were back in Tokyo for their summer breaks from universities abroad, the sisters established themselves as your close friends and had brought you into their tea room, adorned with European furnishings that would come off as atypical compared to the Japanese heirlooms elsewhere in the residence. On the table sat an imported tea set from England, at the center a French-inspired pastry tower prepared with caramel-topped croquembouches, chocolate-covered profiteroles, and the like. 

In great admiration, the sisters had been barraging you with inquiries about your life back in your bachelorette days, asking about your volunteering trip to the Philippines or the charity auctions in Dubai.

Now, with the shift in discussion, the sisters exchanged an uneasy look.

An entire conversation appeared to be held in the way they traded glances. The usual sparkle in their eyes faded, which must mean the girls were remarkably uncomfortable, but Mai forced a polite smile as she placed down her macaron. 

“Y/N,” she began carefully, “May we ask how you know Toji?”

Even though she tried to spin the question as casual curiosity, her apprehension could not be more obvious. 

“I don’t know him, really,” you lied. While dishonesty went against your morals, watching the twins’ shoulders fall with relief was enough to assuage the guilt. “He’s just…” My friend, to put things in the mildest terms. “He’s just a name I have heard. That’s all.”

Maki dabbed at her mouth with a lace handkerchief, not making a big deal as she added, “Toji’s a cousin.”

So, the Zenin last name on his diploma was not a coincidence at all. 

Such a groundbreaking discovery should have thrown you into a whole whirlwind but, to be frank, the realization did not come off as too surprising at all. If anything, Toji as a member of the Zenin family was the perfect explanation to why Toji seemed so astute, why he would talk like he knew more about Naoya than you, and—as Geto had once said—why Toji was ‘not where he could possibly be.’ 

While Toji’s reason for opting for the Fushiguro name remained a mystery, what you did know now was that he was indeed affiliated with the twins before you by blood, which—by extension—must mean that Toji would also be a cousin to…

…your husband. 

Wait.

An unsettling chill ran down your spine.

“Cousins, as in,” part of you didn’t want to know the answer, “distant cousins? Or…?”

“No,” the older twin interjected matter-of-factly, not knowing the full background behind your seemingly innocuous question. “First cousins.” 

Ah, so the closest type of cousins possible, which was exactly what you had hoped not to hear. With this additional information, you tried to hide the clamminess in your palms. What would be the best word to describe this void now? Did you feel disappointed? Misled? Betrayed? Toji certainly had known that you were wed to his younger cousin, yet he willingly chose to hide his background as he kissed you, touched you, and fucked you.

A reversal from your sentiments before, you currently felt both disgusted and hurt.

Why did Toji keep this information from you? What sick person derived satisfaction from having sex with his first cousin’s wife? You were so damn stupid for placing all your trust in him. Looking at the situation now, he was just another iteration of the same manipulative and disrespectful man you had been trying so hard to avoid. 

“Are you close with Toji?” 

Mai shook her head. “No. We don’t talk to him anymore.” Her comment struck as odd. Anymore? Had they once been, then? Before you could ask, her gaze darted around in caution before she leaned forward and said lowly, “For your information, Naoya got into a huge dispute with him earlier this year.”

That’s quite recent. 

You understood that Mai and Maki had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped as they did not want to slander the family heir in front of his wife. Blissful ignorance was what the twins must be thinking, hoping to preserve the peace between you and your husband. However, what you had yet to reveal was the broken marriage that had been masked for everyone’s sake, disguised by a pretense that all was well.

Which was why, on that note, the timing could not have been more perfect as a tall young man with ombre hair and hazel eyes flung open the door in one unforgiving slam, rattling the fine china and startling the seated individuals inside.

“There you are, you whore!” 

Your eyes widened with shock upon seeing Naoya Zenin in the entryway, your husband’s scowl icy and malicious. He came stomping toward you as his eyes held a dangerous hostility that was impossible to ignore, and you could oddly sense an impending doom when he stormed with zero regard for anything in his path, kicking aside a potted plant and toppling over a ceramic vase.

Standing up, you tried to hide the confusion that befuddled your already mish-mashed brain. 

Today was Tuesday.

Was he not supposed to be at work?

“Naoya,” you began calmly, cognizant of the onlooking sisters behind you, “this is not the right place to—”

“You’re such a fucking desperate bitch, aren’t you?” His words were sharp and bitter, his glare filled with hatred like a fire doused with gasoline. Before you could request clarification, he stopped steps away and swung his right hand up, pressing a black business card to your stunned face, the paper crinkled from his intense grip and rendering you petrified in your stance. 

No, this couldn’t be…

From your peripheral view, you watched Mai and Maki place their hands over their open mouths as they read Toji Fushiguro’s calligraphed name on the business card that also had in obvious words: 'sex therapist.' Shame racked your stomach. Merely minutes ago, you convinced the twins that Toji was to you nothing more than a name, and now, karma bit you back like a bitch. 

With your voice evaporated, you croaked.

“Where did you find that?” You had been sure that you placed the badge away.

Naoya used his anger to crumple the card and tossed the now useless paper ball to the side. “In your purse,” he gritted, “How long were you planning to hide this from me?”

The ensuing guilt suffocated you. “I—” I don’t know.

Sensing the weakness in your will, Naoya burst into a maniacal laughter that cracked through the air, creating a disconcerting symphony. He bent forward, shoulders convulsing with every diabolic and mirthful guffaw. 

“You’re so god fucking pathetic, woman. Do you have any idea who Toji Fushiguro is? That bastard is Toji Zenin, you ignorant slut—he is my cousin. Well, I guess I never told you about him, though, because he doesn’t fucking matter anymore anyway. I don’t know how you ended up crossing paths with him, but this is hilarious!” The man kept cackling and roaring like he had gone insane. “Were you two brewing shit about me? Actually, let me guess since you’d gotten hold of this business card: did you have sex with him? Did you have sex with Toji? Going around fucking your husband and then your husband’s cousin is nothing to be proud of. Tell me, did you meet the other sex therapists as well? Did you get stretched out by them, too? Whose dick did you like best? Whose? Whose? Is that what you like, being passed around and used like some sick trophy? What a fucking animal! How dare you disrespect our marriage. How dare you disrespect your own hus—”

Your hand lashed out before you could suppress the impulse and delivered one resounding slap across Naoya’s face. You watched him shut up and stumble backward, clutching his cheek. 

"Ow!"

For a moment, the world seemed frozen still: the sisters gaping in complete stupefaction, your husband staring at the ground wide-eyed, and you heaving from the incoming emotional onslaught.

”How dare you…How fucking dare you disrespect me!” The coalescence of anger, agony, and resentment—bottled up in your heart for months upon months—was now being released as you dissolved into tears. “What the hell is wrong with you?! How could you say such messed up things? You are sick in the head, Naoya, you know that? Out of respect for myself, how could I possibly respect you?!” The only sound echoing in the room became your uncontrollable cries, sobs that escaped past your lips in raw and muffled bursts. Torn apart by sorrow, you could hardly breathe from how constricted your throat had become, your knees wobbling and weak. “Y-You have no idea how lonely and miserable I have been since I walked down that aisle. For the past six months, you—as my husband—have done absolutely nothing but make me feel like a rat in my own home, a mistress in my own marriage!” 

“Fantastic! Exactly what I wanted to hear, I am glad I have made your life horrible!” Naoya snarled, not caring for how everyone else’s eyes widened at the scathing statement. Unbelievable. Truly, painfully unbelievable. Did your husband really just say that to your face? He could not give a shit that you wept pitifully, instead catching your shaky wrist in the tightest grasp possible as he added on, ��My only regret is that I had not made your life even worse.” 

“What the fuck!” you heard Mai gasp as a gut reaction.

What the fucking fuck, indeed.

While you had been subject to Naoya’s verbal harassment during these many weeks, for him to tell you that he wished he had tortured you further was beyond heartless. The searing ache that burned your skin might as well be fatal because your respiration turned erratic like someone had trapped you inside a bubble.

Hyperventilating, you subsisted on shallow gasps.

“Don’t go around thinking that you’re any better, alright? You’re calling me pathetic for sleeping with your cousin, but have you considered that I had been placed in that position because, since the start, you’ve been cheating on your wife?” 

Yelling at his face allowed you to release more tears from your lachrymose eyes. Now, Mai and Maki must truly be appalled at all these revelations. What happened to the fairy-tale marriage you had told them about? Well, that never existed to begin with, and with these thoughts in mind, you found a sadistic satisfaction in watching your lawful spouse fume with deep-seated rage. 

“That’s right,” you mused with derision, “we’ve been two sides of the same coin all along.”

Naoya clenched his hands at his sides, disgusted to have been compared to you. “Do not put me on the same level as—”

“No. No, you don't get to talk! All you have done since we have been married is for you to talk and complain and bitch about everything, but now, this is my turn,” you screamed in return. “I…I hate you!” and you pointed right at him, “In fact, I despise you. You never tried to see what I had to tolerate to stay with an asshole like yourself because you had been too busy sticking your dick into another woman while you could hardly look at me! No wonder your cousins worried about me. No wonder Toji told me to file for a divorce. Because you, Naoya Zenin, are a total piece of shit!”

His momentary pause hinted at the tiniest self-actualization that flickered within him. Perhaps he finally realized how you had been feeling now that you freely spat out all the turmoil that had been chaining your soul. He took one additional step toward you, torn between whether he should keep up with his anger or succumb to remorse for hurting you.

But, knowing this man, he—of course—opted for the former. 

“I never,” he seethed lowly, “wanted this marriage.” 

Maybe you truly have become deranged or maybe you genuinely found his statement funny, for you began to emit tearful cackles in your laughter.

“Now, that is one big fucking lie.” Since your earliest encounter, Toji had suggested that Naoya solely regarded you as nothing more than ‘a sweet, innocent fuck,’ and the longer you had stayed with your husband, the more you began to acknowledge how these accusations were all true. “We all know that you’re going to be nothing without me. A CEO who could hardly keep his wife for half a year? What a loser. What makes you believe that I wanted to be married to you? Who do you even think would want to do business with you after this? You never had respect in the real world because all that respect rests upon me.”

While you never fully understood Naoya, your words must have snapped a particular chord in him because he suddenly lunged forward.

“Fucking cunt—” 

But before he could get too close, you darted away from him. “Don’t touch me!” you shrieked, voice shrill from the top of your lungs. “Do not ever touch me again. If you want to lay your dirty hands on someone, go touch your girlfriend instead!”

That’s right, he had another woman who he doted on far more than he could appreciate you. This wedding band, this engagement ring on your left hand meant absolutely nothing. Toji had been spot on—why the hell did you cling onto stupid shit like this, twisting the jewelry as if that would save your messed-up union? Without further empathy, you slid off the two rings and hurled them toward your husband’s chest before the circlets clinked upon hitting the ground.

At first, Naoya scoffed. He watched the ludicrous scene with a comical gaze, and when his brain processed what he just saw, he quickly fell onto his knees. All at once, he tossed his head back and let out a chortle—a full-bodied cachinnation that took the room completely aback—as his hysteria mounted.

“Good, good, good!” His screeches were like those of a maniac, his chuckles haunting, throaty, and lacking in sanity. “I’m glad that you’ve come to show the witch that you have been all along! Look at yourself! No wonder no one wanted you!”

Unable to be a bystander any longer, Mai stood up and hurled toward her cousin. “Shut the hell up, Naoya!” 

But the said man was quick, using one powerful movement to punch the older twin first. “You shut the hell up, scum. Unless you want to be pummeled to the point where people will feel sorry to look in your direction.”

“Watch what you say!” and when Naoya turned to the new voice, the evil glint gleaming from his brown eyes appeared ablaze.

“Oh? Someone’s bold, too. Shall I bully you first then, Maki?” the timbre in his disdainful laugh crescendoed into unhinged amusement. “Say one more word, little girl,” he taunted, his imp-like face riddled with mockery. “C’mon. I dare you. I will throw you into the courtyard and beat your ugly face up. That’ll bring back warm memories from the good old days, huh?”

The younger twin gritted her teeth, her sister reaching for her arm as a signal to back down and stay levelheaded.

Meanwhile, once Naoya rose from the floor, he nonchalantly kicked at the rings because those emblems of your union had always been meaningless garbage anyway.

“If wanted to leave this badly, then fucking leave,” he deadpanned, his tone the calmest he had been this whole time. “I don’t give a fuck anymore.” 

Those were your husband’s last words as he walked away, leaving you sobbing and shuddering with a lost soul and sore heart. While weeping and gasping, you had to endure watching his figure fade from view, all while wanting to stop the uncomfortable distress that heightened with his departure. You were huffing, panting, trying to stop your trembling.

The second Naoya slammed the door behind him, Maki ran up to your side and embraced your shaking form, all while you bawled and clutched at yourself. Her expression remained strong, but her palms were damp as they pressed onto your back, her arms quavering slightly as she soothed your cries.

“Sh, don’t cry. My sister and I are here, okay? Mai and I will protect you. Everything will be alright.”

Despite her reassurances, she sounded nearly as broken as you appeared, especially when your hand violently trembled because nothing could save you from the agony that drowned your tattered soul. You felt the disgusting urge to throw up—you were completely broken inside. In a futile attempt, you sought to regulate your breaths with one deep inhale.

Yet, at some point, Maki peeled back and she mouthed something.

Was she talking to you? 

Why…why could you not hear her?

She sounded so muffled, as though you were underwater.

Why did everything sound so far away?

With your throat constricted, you could not breathe. Gagging. Gasping. Big, huge gulps of air, but the oxygen failed to enter your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. You could not fucking breathe. 

You gripped the fabric by your chest and your other hand sought for something else to hold, but you ended up on the ground anyway. Choking. Coughing. Was something foaming at your mouth? Something warm and wet spilled from your orifices. Were you vomiting? Why were you vomiting?

Holding your body upright, Maki was the only reason that you had not remained on the floor like a fool, but even she stared at you with concern and…horror? Why did she look so scared? Was she screaming? She looked like she was screaming, but her face appeared all contorted like you were looking at her through a fish-eye lens. 

After a while, you could not even see her or her sister anymore because your vision turned spotty and then black. 

See! 

Open your eyes, and see! 

Why could you not see?

When your hearing returned to some degree, the sounds that filled your ears were frantic shouts and endless clamor.

“Call Toji! He’ll know what to do. Hurry, where is your phone?” It was Mai. Scrambling. Bags were being opened. Items being tossed. “Call Toji, now!”

A phone started to ring.

Buzzes and buzzes and more buzzes as the waiting intensified.

Then voicemail. 

Hello, this is Toji Fushiguro.  

“He is not picking up!” 

Unfortunately, I am unable to pick up the phone right now. 

“Get…”

But please leave your name and number—

“Get Megumi.” 

—and I will return your call as soon as possible.

“What about Tusmiki?”

“Tsumiki is still in London at university, idiot! Call…Call Megumi!”

“Okay. I know, I know! I’m calling him already!” someone screamed back. Was this Mai? Was this Maki? You could no longer tell, but the same person shouted, “Wait, wait. He is calling back. Toji is calling me back.”

“Then pick up the phone!”

“Toji…” one of the twins started, the cracks in her tone making her sound like she was weeping too, and her words composed your last bits of memory before the world dissolved completely. “Please…help us.”

Even labeling Naoya Zenin as ballistic would be far too much of an understatement.

The rage, wrath, and sheer indignation that swelled in his every capillary surpassed the twenty-five years' worth of virulent rancor that he had for his fucked-up family.

Since when did you get so goddamn arrogant? Naoya wanted to hurt you, ruin you, and do everything in his power to sabotage you. 

Not just you, though. Because that would be too easy.

But also his father, his cousins, his ex-coworkers, and—most importantly—Toji. 

Such ill feelings were what led the Zenin CEO to practically leap into the Mercedes-Benz that awaited him at the entrance to his family home, and he immediately ordered his chauffeur to press on the pedal toward a very certain condominium several kilometers away.

Fifteen minutes later, a very surprised Mari opened her door and an enraged Naoya greeted her, shoving her against the wall and colliding his lips into hers for a fierce kiss. His actions lacked passion, only charged with aggression as he stripped her and threw her onto the living room sofa. He could hardly care that he treated the woman as though she was nothing more than a prostitute, while the latter mistook her boyfriend’s rage for desperation, and she begged for him to pull at her hair and force his tongue down her mouth. 

At some point, Naoya drove his mistress’s face into the couch cushion and dragged her hips to have her ass raised high. He was too clouded by fury and too blinded by anger to think twice before he forcefully penetrated the woman. He fucked her raw and held her close, jostling her body as though she was a ragdoll, eliciting her loudest mewls that cried for his name. 

“J-Just like that!” she whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he pummeled into her dripping hole, paying no mercy for destroying her with his ruthless pace. Her knees gave out from under her, and she crumbled from the sofa and into the carpet, only for him to tumble too to follow the socket he needed to keep his dick soaked. 

“I need to break you,” he hissed.

Fuck, he was going to come soon. 

His nails left crescent marks on her flesh, his hands burning her scalp as he tugged her strands and met her buttocks with hard thrusts, and he knew he was going to come. 

Feeling the first of his seed trick into his mistress’s life-giving cavern, he toyed with the idea of giving Tsumiki and Megumi a baby sibling. That would be fun. He could then imagine the subsequent mortified reactions from his deplorable cousin and from his wretched wife (whom he would hardly call himself married to anymore, anyway). The fantasies, everything that he would do to spite those who had wronged him, had Naoya cackling as his viscous cum spurted from his tip and deep into his mistress’s womb.

He pulled out once he made sure that every single drop had been milked from him, his ejaculate dribbling from her pussy like someone had taken a bite from a cream-filled donut.

Rolling into the carpet and onto her back, a panting Mari took two fingers and pressed his precious seed back into her cunt. “That was so hot.” A lazy smile pulled across her face. “Thank you for the unexpected visit.”

Naoya completely dismissed her comments as he tucked himself back into his pants, not in the right mood to respond. 

“Cool. Clean this mess up,” he demanded instead, “I’m leaving for work.” 

He ignored the woman’s ensuing pleas to stay at least five minutes longer. Unlike her, he had better things to do, and he rushed out as he fetched his phone from his back pocket and surveyed for any messages he might have missed while he had been away. 

But when he turned on his screen, his most recent notification had his blood turn cold.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: The absolute fury in the argument, the complete panic between the twins, and the maniacal temperament in our husband…so much packed in this chapter! If you can’t tell already, my favorite POV to write from is Naoya’s, ha. Also, I took some creative liberty here to convey the intense emotions, so let me know what you think! Hugs to all.

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[the-kr8tor]

In Pursuit of Blood: A trip down goblin lane.

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Vampire hunter! Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis: You, an amateur vampire hunter, find it really hard to kill the one vampire you were tasked to kill.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), same universe as the WWDITS series, CW blood, TW violence, CW suggestive, Mockumentary AU, established relationship, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @al1x00 (ly fr) for the idea! Happy 1k! 🫶 (Enjoy my attempt at humor lol)

Navigation

Hobie's Masterlist

The camera focuses on a leather clad man sitting on a patchwork armrest. His long leg is crossed over the other, metal clinking against each other when he moves. He places his elbow on the armrest, hand under his chin, ringed fingers tapping on his cheek—bored and clearly disinterested. Red eyes lined with dark eyeliner, piercings glimmering under the camera lights, sharp nails painted, he makes the crew suck in a breath.

He's the perfect picture of a rockstar.

The dimly lit gothic home provides the perfect backdrop to the ‘confession booth’, various books, knick knacks from far flung places are littered all over the living room. A grand piano stands proudly to his left, dark oak polished and well taken care off. Tapestries from the sixteenth century are tacked on the walls next to seventies and eighties band posters. His coat rack is full of jackets that look like they come from different times in history.

The producer nods at him, asking for the man's name, his voice just above a whisper so that the microphones don't catch the sound.

He sighs, jaws tighten for a second. “Name's Hobie, Hobie Brown.” His voice shakes the crew's bones. The blond haired producer clears his throat and Hobie rolls his eyes like a spoiled celebrity. “And I'm a vampire.” he says flatly.

The blond gestures for him to continue, asking him how old he is. “Fuckin' hell.” Hobie says under his breath. “Were you not taught manners? Come off it, you don't ask a vampire their age.”

The clipboard holding man, who pretends to be important, asks him why he agreed to the interview if he's so disinterested.

“Fine,” He smiles, showing his sharp fangs, the simple act makes the documentary team's heart skip a beat. “Before you say ‘m following a trend of vampires givin' interviews and a ‘peak behind the cape’ like the wankers in staten island or the lovebirds in dubai. ‘m not, ‘m only doin' this because,” he points dramatically at the clipboard holding man. “Your director told me all proceeds from this goes to charity. And it better be—”

Something thumps outside. The camera sharply turns to the closed floor length curtains.

“Oi, eyes back ‘ere.” Hobie exclaims, the camera whizzes back to his figure. “Again, vampire, been alive for…” he inhales, “a long bloody time. Been a pirate, a cowboy, hell even a rockstar. But always an anarchist.” He says proudly. “I've been rebelling against the one who bit me for centuries,” the camera zooms in on his scowl. “Hate that knobhead.”

Something falls right outside his windows, a groan and a curse sounding out, voice muffled by the walls.

The crew expects Hobie to hiss or even deal with the intruder but he smiles, posture loosening up.

“That,” he points at the source of the ruckus. “That’s a vampire hunter.” Smiling, the crew could hear a muffled ‘fuck you’ behind the walls. “She's been hunting me for a few years now. She—eh, hasn't been close.”

The cursing was louder, camera swishing towards the source, your angry face peeking out from the curtains. The boom mic captures your annoyed growl clearly as you place your face as close as possible on the glass.

“Fuck you, Hobart!”

He chuckles as the crew's face grows with concern. “Don't worry, she's—I guess bad at her job. She's interestin’ though. Y’know what, let me just show you.” He stands up, the cameras and the entire crew follows him through the hallways of his home.

The cameraman almost trips on a stray guitar on the floor. “Careful now, that was a present from some rockstar in the seventies. That's why I leave it on the floor, it works best as a boot scraper.”

Hobie stops in front of double doors, scenes of a love story are carved on the wood.

“It was a gift.” He addresses the doors, “not my first choice but where else would I put the bloody thing?” With a small push, hands braced on both doors, he reveals the expansive room lined with hundreds of paintings and photographs.

He sucks in his teeth. “The entire house is a gift, I'd rather live in a boathouse honestly but this works fine I guess.” Shrugging, he points at the oldest looking wood carving hanging on the wall. A man kneels in front of a woman, rose in his hand as she looks down at him with glee.

“Yes, that's me courting. The wood carver fucked up the scene though, it was more like me ravaging– uh” he clears his throat “…this won't show in pbs right?”

The people behind the cameras shrug as Hobie looks to them for an answer.

“I'll tone it down then, for the children, just in case.” He continues down the lineup of pictures.

Stopping by a large painting of what looks like Hobie in medieval clothing. The painted version of him is surrounded by flowers and trees. His antlers protruding from his head, webs clings to his arms.

“This was when people thought I was fae.” He makes a face, “everyone was tripping on shrooms back then.” walking towards the middle of the room, passing by a few more paintings and tapestries, He pauses on a yellowed painting of a woman who looks similar to you, only less angry.

“Look at her,” sighing, the vampire has heart eyes while looking at the painting. “this was before she was cursed by that bitcharse jealous witch. Now every descendant of hers is cursed to never harm me or any of my spawns, which is bad because they all think I killed their ancestor, and all they want is to kill me. A consequence of dating a vampire hunter during the fifteenth century, I guess.”

“The curse is a two way street, they can't kill me, I can't hypnotize them. It's not that I want to anyway.” he continues.

Another ruckus echoes throughout the house. Hobie smiles again. “I believe she doesn't know about it, so hush, yeah?” He does a double take. “Wait, can you cut that part out?”

—

The second crew runs towards you as you climb the tresses of the house. The camera lens zooms in on your clumsy climbing. Looking down, hearing leaves crunch underfoot, you yelp in surprise.

“What—?!” Losing your hold, you fall on a bush, landing directly at his wild flowers. “Ow! Who the fuck—?!”

—

Now sitting down on a lawn chair, leaves stuck in your hair, face and clothes covered in dirt, you scowl at the producer behind the camera.

Sighing, clicking your tongue, you answer their questions with another question. “Who the fuck are you guys?”

You raise an eyebrow at the words ‘documentary crew’ uttered by the producer.

“Seriously? Who would want to interview Hobart? Scratch that, is it because of those fuckers in staten island?”

A cameraman answers, ‘for charity.’

You blink in surprise, “charity? You fuckin' kidding me? Well if it's for the kids then.” sighing, you resign, looking directly at the camera with disdain, you say your first name. “And I'm a vampire hunter, I mean obviously I am just looking at all the stakes and holy water strapped to me. I look like I'm very fun at parties.” You say jokingly, “and church, probably. Dunno never been.”

The camera cuts back to Hobie still in the large room full of paintings and memorabilia.

“— I didn't do anythin’ wrong. They're absolutely mad at me for no reason—” he stops, thinking. “But I guess I was the reason their family was cursed innit?”

He changes subjects, showing the camera a painting near the end of the room.

“Oh this? This is when her great great great great grandfather almost got me, memories huh? He was mighty fit.” The crew zooms in on a gorgeous painting of a man trying to put a stake through Hobie's heart while he smiles up at him like he's smitten.

“Good times.” He chuckles.

—

“Fuck this.” You say, standing up from the chair, grabbing the mic off from your shirt abruptly. The camera follows you as you grab the lawn chair that you were just sitting on. You then proceed to throw it at a stained glass window. Giving you entry to his abode.

“It was gaudy anyway.” Entering the house, your shoes crunch the broken glass.

—

“Huh, she's inside. That's a record.” Hobie says almost excitedly. “I'll show you the rest of the room after this—.”

The double doors burst open, the camera swivels to you and the camera crew behind you. Holding a stake, you scowl at Hobie.

“Hello, darling, how was your commute?” He genuinely smiles.

“I have a car now, fuck you!” You lunge at him.

Lightning fast, he grabs your wrist right before the stake kisses his chest. The camera crews film on the sides, avoiding getting hit themselves.

“Good for you, finally saved up then?”

Lifting your legs, you kick his chest, you tumble, landing on your feet, staring at him menacingly. “Yes! It's a kia!” you scream before you run full speed at him.

“You got a good deal on it? Automatic or manual?”

“No!” You swing at him, he dodges. “I think I got swindled!” Kick “And it's a manual!” Punch “I’m not a pussy!”

Hobie clicks his tongue, avoiding the pointed edge of the stake. “Point ‘em to me, love, maybe I can get you your money back.”

Stepping back further away, you pause while he stands at the end of the room. Changing your hold on the sharp wood, you throw it at him, he leans slightly, dodging the projectile. it hits the wall right next to your ancestor’s portrait.

“You'll just drink him dry like the last guy!”

He shrugs, making a face that makes you want to punch him harder. “Not my fault he was a knobhead.”

You bounce on your feet, pouncing at him. “He was my dentist!”

He moves to the side, seeing you running towards one of the paintings, in danger of getting smashed by you. In his panic, he raises his arm to stop you, accidentally clothes lining you. His wall-like arm hits you right on your face.

Falling harshly on the floor, you're completely unconscious.

Hobie looks at the cameras with concern. “Shit.”

—

You wake up on an ancient looking couch, it's soft despite its appearance. Lifting your head with a groan, headache punching through the back of your head, you grimace loudly at the camera crew still filming in the corner.

Falling back on the couch, you hide your flustered face with your arm, pulling the blanket further up your chest.

“I promise I'm not that bad at fighting.” You murmur, still hiding your face from the cameras. “You just caught me at a bad time.”

Hobie suddenly appears with a whoosh, he holds a metal tray with tea and a hot compress placed on it.

“Who's giving you a bad time?”

You audibly groan. “No one.”

He places the tray on the coffee table, sparing a quick glance at the camera. “I caught you lackin’ you're not always that bad. Tea?”

Wordlessly reaching up, you flip him the bird. Hobie smiles softly, tapping your legs to give him space on the settee. The documentary crew is surprised that you actually move to give way to him.

He sits by your legs, preparing your tea just like how you always take it. Two sugars and a dash of milk. The entire production staff is perplexed to say the least.

With a clink of the tea spoon against the cup, you sit up, wincing slightly. “Can I get another sugar cube?”

Hobie raises a brow, “it's that kind of day huh? What's bothering you, love?”

You scoff, taking a cube for yourself then plopping it in your tea cup. “Nothing.”

He flicks his eyes at the camera with a knowing glance. Resting his elbow atop his thigh, chin placed on his hand, he pokes at your leg using his foot. Wordlessly having a conversation. With a sigh and a frown, you sip at your tea.

“Ex kicked me out. Now I'm living with the family again.”

Hobie's nonchalance drops, hand instinctively reaching out to you until he realizes what he's doing, he retracts his hand back.

“Shit, ‘m sorry. Their loss.”

“Mm-hmm, consequences of living with someone you've only dated for three months.” You finish your drink in one gulp. “‘sides, I don't have to pay rent anymore.”

“You've got shitty taste in partners.” You snort, half agreeing with him. “But you have to live with your psycho family so there's that.”

You laugh, the camera zooms in on Hobie's pleased expression.

“They're tolerable now, mellowed out after they took out count Belois.” You look at Hobie, copying his position like a mirror.

“He was an arse, did all of us a favour.” he stares at your eyes while the camera continues to film, yet you two don't seem to notice them anymore.

“Yeah, wish I was there though.” You say in a small voice. “They never invite me to those hunts. Always left watching outside.”

Hobie reaches towards you again, this time he actually holds you. Long fingers curling around your wrist, his thumb rubbing gently. “If only they know how hard you could kick.”

“You barely moved when I kicked you.” Chuckling, your eyes sparkle under the dim lights.

“Well it's me,” he inches closer to you in the seat, knee brushing against yours. “But if it was any other vampire out there they would have flown.”

You scrunch your face. Laying your hand down to your thigh, Hobie intertwined his fingers around yours properly this time. The camera captures the confusing scene.

“Because they turned into a bat?”

He grins, showing you his teeth, you don't even flinch. “Nah, because you kicked ‘em too hard. Did you hit your head that hard?” Knocking his knuckles against your temple softly, you move back like lightning has struck you.

“No, I'm actually okay, thanks.” You take your hand away, eyes flitting nervously at the camera then to Hobie. “I gotta go, dinner with the psycho family.” Standing up, you take your belongings from the floor. “You know how it is.”

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression, “yeah, I know how it is.” He says forlornly.

Patting his shoulder awkwardly, your hand lingers for a half second. “Bye,” you stare at the crew in the corner, “bye to all of you, I guess. Don't get eaten.”

The camera pans towards Hobie who just shrugs, fangs poking out of his lips.

—

Hobie eats alone in his empty dining room. The table is long, made of strong narra, designed to sit a dozen or so people. He sits in the head of the table, utensils scraping against the bloodied plate. His goblet is full, untouched.

He looks up at the camera on the other side of the table, observing his every move.

“The table's a gift too.” He says before continuing to eat silently.

—

The camera follows Hobie throughout his day. Roaming aimlessly around the house, he floats above the ground, hand and feet sticking on the wall while he dusts pictures that's placed on the highest shelf.

In the afternoon, he writes music on his piano while he flashes back and forth towards the drums and guitar, testing the music he wrote.

The crew captures Hobie burying something in the backyard. Jacket off, tank top and bare arms in full display. Moonlight illuminating his skin. His necklaces clink together as he shovels in dirt, packing the hole in tightly. The producer asks something about familiars and Hobie scowls at the word.

“No, just no. ‘m fully against havin’ familiars, it's fuckin' wrong.” He sticks the shovel harshly on the soil when the producer questions him again. “Ask me again and you'll be the one ‘m burying next.”

The camera shuts off abruptly.

—

The small supermarket's repetitive jingle from the nineties irks Hobie as he shops for some meat. But what irks him more is the documentary crew finding him especially after he went out of his way to hide from them.

He tosses a box of your favourite tea in the basket, annoyed at the team behind the cameras and boom mics. “Do the lot of you have a tracker on me or somethin’?” Shaking his head, he stomps down the aisle, heavy boots thudding loudly on the floor.

With his leather jacket plus all the metal and spikes on him, Hobie looks like a regular punk shopping for groceries. But if you looked closer, stayed too long in his presence, your flight or fight response kicks in, rendering anyone frozen on the spot.

His ruby eyes scan around the soap display, trying to ignore the cameras and people trailing after him, he gets a whiff of a familiar scent: strawberries and cream, it's you.

Hobie's feet move on its own, carrying him towards your direction. He spots you standing in the fruit section, weighing a watermelon in your hands, knocking on it then listening to the sound closely like you're trying to eavesdrop.

“What's the watermelon saying?”

“Christ!” You jump, dropping the watermelon.

Thankfully he catches it before the fruit splatters on the linoleum. “Just me, love.”

Clutching your chest, you take deep breaths. “I thought I smelled something rotten.” He raises a brow at your comment. “What are you doing here? This is far from your place.”

“First of all, I smell like sandalwood and fresh linen, fuck you.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “And ‘m tryin' to avoid them.” He points behind him, towards the cameras.

“Augh, they're still following you?”

“Apparently I signed a contract, it's not a one time thing.” He places the watermelon back to the crate, taking one that is riper and sweeter just for you. He then gently drops it in your cart, you nod a thanks.

“I told you before don't sign anything when you're drunk off of alcohol filled blood.”

“You're right, lovie, should've listened to you. Can't blame me when I only hear music whenever you open your pretty mouth.” He leans on your cart nonchalantly, giving you his signature smirk that has people falling over themselves for centuries.

“That's not much of a compliment.” You grimace, unaffected by his charm. “Listen, since we're in a public place I'm not gonna try to kill you so please get off my cart, I've got some shopping to do.” Shaking the trolley, he leans away, dismayed. “Also, the owner seems to like me, which is rare enough, so I don't want to ruin my relationship with the old lady. Shoo, Hobart, I'm off the clock.”

“You've got two people who like you now. One more than the other, I suppose.”

You narrow your eyes towards the vampire. “Who's the second one.”

Hobie walks backwards, arm wrapped around his basket, smile blinding everyone in its vicinity. “Me, darling, isn't it obvious?”

The bright fluorescent lights shouldn't do him any favours but by god, he looks amazing under it.

You don't answer, the camera zooms into your hands gripping the handles of the shopping cart, chest heaving, swallowing thickly.

He leaves, going towards the cashier to pay for his groceries. And you spot a sign that's labeled ‘50% off on garlic!’ you glare at the camera, pushing the cart towards the display.

—

Hobie sits on his work table, pieces of a TV are jumbled out on the table as he tinkers with them. His hands shake slightly, he should really feed.

“—‘m pretty good with technology, not like the other vampires. I've adapted well with—” he sniffs, “wait, what's that smell?”

He opens the door to find thousands of garlic circling around his house, “what—?”

“Tada!” You pop out from the side, hands carrying bushels of garlic, no doubt smelling like it too. “Wait, no, not tada, that's in poor taste because you hate them.”

Hobie gags at the smell, eyes watery and irritated. “This is a bad idea!” He rubs at his eyes, tears fully streaming on his cheeks.

“Why? Because it's working?!” You cackle, throwing the vegetable like confetti, one lands right on top of your head.

“Because it attracts—!”

You screech when you feel a sharp tug at your coat. A little green creature shrieks at you, the sound rings your eardrums, almost breaking the boom mic. Its eyes are dark and glassy, ears pointed, teeth sharp.

“A Goblin?!” Falling on your ass, you crawl backwards, watching as more and more of them appear from the bushes.

“I'm a goblin.” The one with a worn out party hat says, voice cracking like foil.

“What are you a Pokémon?!”

Hobie runs after you as fast as he can with the garlic hindering him. “Get inside!” He yells, dragging you towards the door. His hands sizzle atop your arms, the garlic searing his skin.

The creatures skidaddles towards you, towards the smell of garlic. Waves upon waves of green skitter and crawl on all limbs, eyes hungry, mouths agape.

“Hobie!” You hold on to his wrists as the ground scratches your back. Kicking an incoming goblin, you yelp as the door closes at the nick of time.

Claws scratch at the windows and walls. One of them even bangs its head hard on the glass just to get to you.

Hobie hides you behind him, eyes still stinging and skin aflame. “Get to the basement!” He screams when one breaches the house with glass shattering. “Go!”

Running down, Hobie lets you and the crew go first. He grabs a cutlass from the wall, chopping one that comes a little too close to your leg.

You look back at him with worry. “Hobie!”

“I'll be there! Just go!” He grabs one by the neck, throwing it away haphazardly.

It yells a faint ‘whee’ as it sails through the house.

Reaching the large basement, you search for the light switch, a cameraman beats you to it and you yelp at the sudden brightness.

The basement is full of things from different centuries. An iron maiden lays discarded on the corner, its steel rusted and brown. A sculpture of a woman sits on a shelf, it looks like it's a long lost work of Rodin. There's a large tapestry depicting a vampire war that is now collecting dust on the wall.

But the thing that catches your eyes is the massive metal cage that sits in the middle of the room. You would gawk but the swarm of goblins are nearing the basement. The familiar thumping of boots shakes you with relief.

“Cage!” Hobie grabs you effortlessly, you have no time to react as he carries you like a duffel bag by your waist.

The crew follows frantically, closing the metal doors shut behind them just as the swarm gets close. They shriek and bang on the bars, little arms trying to reach towards you.

He lays you back to your feet, dropping the drenched sword on the ground, palms still healing. He cups your face, searching for any injuries.

“You alright?” He heaves, out of breath, legs covered in goblin bites and palms searing but he looks at you like you're the one who's bleeding.

Staring at him with your irises blown out, mouth slightly parted, you embrace him to his surprise and the crew's.

“I'm okay,” you lean away before he could hug back. Hands placed on his shoulders, nails digging into him like he's about to be yanked away from you. “Are you?”

Hobie forgets about the other people inside the cage and the goblins trying to nibble at him. It's only you in his hands, even though the pungent smell of garlic makes his nose itch. Eyes tender, touch gentle, he could only nod.

“Yeah, I'm good now.” His voice lacks the usual charm.

You can finally breathe. “I thought…I'm the only one that's allowed to kill you.”

Chuckling, he traces your jaw with his thumb. “I know. You're first in line, darling.”

The crew stands near the sides awkwardly.

—

The goblins are trashing Hobie's basement, and based on the sounds from upstairs, they're also wreaking havoc in the entire house.

You sit back to back with Hobie in the middle of the cage, away from the bars, hands braced to your sides, his own are mere inches away from yours. He's glad that the garlic smell has wafted away from you, but not enough to get rid of the goblins still hankering for your flesh.

The crew stays away from the openings of the cage whilst a handful of the creatures try to grab at their equipment. It's been hours since the initial attack and everyone's getting hungry and thirsty, including Hobie.

“Why do you even have a dungeon in your basement—? Wait, scratch that, don't answer.” You try to pass the time.

“It was for your great great uncle—”

“Ew!”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says flatly, hands shaking from hunger. “I got it so he has a safe place to transform every full moon.”

“What? Huh, so that's why that branch of the family is so hairy.”

He changes the subject. “What were you thinkin’ with the garlic?” Hobie lays his head right on your shoulder, craning his neck to face you, he uses the closeness to memorize your face. His crimson eyes are dimmer than you're used to.

“I dunno, I thought it was a genius idea back then. Y’know, trap you inside, starve you then when you're weak enough I'd put a stake through your heart.”

“It's a good thing you're bloody fit.” He murmurs, chuckling quietly. “You almost got me though.” Your ears pick up the fatigue in his voice.

“And here I thought you fancy me for my amazing personality.”

“That too.” He smiles weakly, feeling the ache in his bones. “We need to get out of here.” His jaw visibly tightens, wanting to get away from you and your scent. Unfortunately it's not so easy when you're trapped.

“I know,” You sigh, Hobie sits up, covering his ears with the heels of his palms. “You okay?”

“I can hear your blood rushing through your veins.” He bites the inside of his cheeks. “Fuck, we really need to get out of here.” Standing up on wobbly feet, you help him up while the crew stands as far as they can without getting slashed by goblin claws.

“You're hungry.” You state the obvious.

“Starvin’” his red eyes flick down to your neck, already feeling guilty from the simple look.

You swallow thickly. “When was the last time you drank?”

“A couple days ago.” His vision blurs.

“Why are you starving yourself?” Scolding him, you guide him back down on the cold granite. “Hobart.”

“Why do you keep callin' me that?” Cold hands against your own, his eyes zeroes in on your face, avoiding the veins in your neck. “You sound like her when you call me that.”

Your eyes soften, warming him with your palms atop his cheeks, you worry. “You haven't answered my question.”

He groans, head lolling backwards. “Got busy, forgot what day it was.”

“Busy with what?” You click your tongue, lifting his head back up with your hands under his head. You search his hungry eyes, making a decision you could regret in the long run.

“If I let you feed, will you be able to get rid of the goblins?”

That has him picking his head back up, waking him up from his hungry stupor. “What—?”

You reiterate, voice determined. “If I let you drink from me can you get your strength back and get rid of the little fuckers?”

“Y/N, I can't let you do that.”

“I know what happens if you don't feed and judging by how the goblins are devouring your entire house like some frat, they aren't leaving soon enough.” You ball his shirt in your hands for emphasis. “I'm letting you drink, just this one time so we could all go home.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Just don't turn me into your spawn, deal?”

Hobie cracks a smile, fangs glinting off the basement lights. You suddenly feel your nerves kicking in.

“I promise I won't. Just tell me if it gets too much, yeah?”

“Okay,” you inhale deeply, tugging down the collar of your shirt, showing him what he needs. “Don't drink me dry.”

“That depends, for all I know you taste brilliantly.” His joke alleviates your fear a little. You're both unaware of the cameras watching, recording everything. Even forgetting that they were there in the first place.

His hand is on the back of your neck, the other is gripping on to your arm like his life depends on it. Eyeing your skin, lips brushing along it, fangs barely piercing, he gives you enough time to lean away.

“Hurry on with it, I need to pee.”

With a deep chuckle, he sinks his teeth in you.

Gasping, you bite down on your bottom lip, stifling any sounds. But Hobie can hear them from your chest, feel how your body quivers with every suck and nip from his teeth.

You whimper and he holds on to you tighter.

He wants to devour you whole, his instincts tell him to ravage you until you're dry and limp in his arms— to rip you apart with his bare teeth. But he doesn't, he's careful and gentle like he's drinking nectar straight from a flower.

“F-fuck…” you let out, hands shaking, sliding down to the back of his neck, pressing him closer.

He turns warmer with your crimson flowing through him, not letting a single drop of the precious liquid dribble from his mouth.

Hobie feels like his dead heart beats once again after centuries.

Eyes closed, you feel like you're on cloud nine. You look like it too, eyes hazy, lips parted, hand holding on to him weakly.

Before he could drown in you, Hobie carefully eases his teeth out from your pierced skin, maw covered in your blood, thumb pressing down to your wounds to stop the bleeding.

It will scar, but you're alright with that thought.

He feels anew. His eyes are sharper, adrenaline coursing through him like your blood in his system. His ears perked at every breath you let out. Eyes blown up like the size of dinner plates, his warm breath fans your cheeks.

Half of him regrets doing it, now that he has gotten a taste, he can't go back to biting random rich assholes. His other half delights in your after taste, so sweet and nectarine that makes him crave more.

You crane your neck slowly like molasses to look at him sweetly through your half lidded eyes, and a soft yet tired smile on your lips. Still clinging into euphoria, vision swirling and heart beating a thousand times per second. You feel like you've ascended and you'll never go down from it.

Licking his teeth, Hobie resists the urge to dive back in. But he's more than that, you're more than a blood bag.

“You alright?” He whispers, he smells like you.

You hum, smiling giddily like a child who just got what she wanted.

“‘m gonna go and kill some goblins now. Stay here for me?”

You hum a tune that sounds like a rendition of ‘happy birthday.’ Giggling, you pat his cheek.

“Yeah, you'll be alright. I'll get you some orange juice after this.”

“Orange sounds nice… such a pretty color. And cookies, yum.” You chortle like you just heard the best joke. “Oh handsome, so handsome. I'm gonna bite you back one day.” Staring up at him, your eyes roll back, falling unconscious.

“Lookin' forward to it.”

Hobie gently lays you down on the floor, standing up, ears listening to your fast heart beat, but it's not enough proof for him. Eyes observing your chest, watching it go up and down, making sure he didn't go too far. Satisfied, he points at the crew cowering in the corner, their cameras still rolling. The documentary won't air anywhere at this rate.

“Watch her.” He says sternly, eyes glaring.

They all nod frantically.

With a swift kick to the metal door, he strikes down every goblin he sees.

—

You sit on the same patchwork armchair, sipping on a warm cup of tea, comfortable and content in your seat. The two pin prick scars on your neck peeks under your collar. The camera has you in the spotlight, zoomed in on your freshly washed face.

“Do you know about the curse?” The man behind the camera asks, his voice wavering with every word like it's taboo to mention it.

“What curse?” You watch as their faces morph into panic. “I'm fucking with you,” you laugh at their expense.

“Of course I know about it. Why do you think I hunt him down? For fun? Well, partly because of it but we broke that curse like five generations ago when my ancestor figured it all out and made friends with the witch.”

Smiling fondly, you continue. “She's my godmother now. Don't tell him.” You warn. “Hunting him down is an initiation for us really, a tradition to try and kill him, just really doing our best to cause damage. He's pretty powerful.”

Laying your elbows on your knees, you look directly at the camera.

“I mean you've seen the room right? He's fucking obsessed, someone has to off him or just—I honestly think he should just move on.” shrugging you sip your tea that he made for you.

“Is that why you're living with him?” They ask unabashedly. The camera zooms out, showing you still in your pajamas, complete with fluffy slippers.

“Uh—”

Hobie appears in the corner, leaning on the doorway casually, a similar pajama pants hanging low on his hips.

“Darling, have you seen my good jumper—?”

You take your crossbow from under the chair, twisting in your seat, you aim it at his head, shooting, the arrow whizzes past him, he ducks down as the arrow imbeds into the oak.

Hobie laughs on the floor, lifting up a black and red jumper. “Found it!”

“Goddamnit.” The word is laced with endearment. You turn back towards the crew, eyes narrowed at them. “Wait, why are you guys here so early?”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Thank you for reading! And happy 1k! 🎉

[theragethatisdesire]

"nel bene e nel male" - eren x reader, 18+!!!

i have several other wips working right now but i fell in love with the "ti penso" universe so i wanted to follow this eren x reader a little further down the road. i wouldn't call it a series but....i love them. this is from eren's pov, so we get to see how he thinks of reader, their relationship, etc. and it was SO fun to get in his head. i love ti penso eren sm and he's adorable, so i hope u guys like this one as much as the last!

pairing: eren x afab!reader

wc: 4.8k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), knife (not in a sexual way like a cooking way bu still), consensual hook-up, established relationship, unprotected sex, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving) penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby), crying, cheating (don't worry it's a trick), multiple orgasm, creampie, aftercare, eren being a nervous wreck

title means "for better or for worse" in italian i LOVE these two mwah xxxx

Eren isn’t really a middle-ground kind of guy. The world’s black and white the way he sees it, so he either loves something, or he hates it. He hates the soreness settling in his bones, loves seeing the familiar city lights again after the last few days.

He’s been in Dubai on business this week; loved the food, hated his hotel room, loved the locals, hated the plane ride, and while the loves outweighed the hates enough to make the trip great, it didn’t compare to what was waiting for him in New York. Eren’s fortunate enough to be coming home to a little slice of his own personal heaven, ready to open his apartment door to find you in his favorite position: wearing one of his old t-shirts, snuggled up on the couch, reading if he had to put money on it. Maybe he’ll get lucky, and you’ll be cooking. God, he’s so sick of hotel food and airport food he could cry. 

In the elevator, sliding up through the building to the seventy-first floor, he gets a rush of elation at the familiarity of it all. He studies the mirrored wall, smirking to himself when the memory of him pressing you against it, two fingers deep in you, surfaces. That’s something else he loves: unraveling you where someone could see, watching how flustered you get. Eren’s first order of business, he decides, is to shower. His second order of business will be to bury himself between your legs: cock, face, fingers, whatever you prefer. He’s feeling generous and homesick.

The smell of garlic and oil hits his nose when he opens the door; Eren has to bite back a groan. After Ymir and Historia’s wedding, you two developed a bit of a love affair with Italy, and had returned enough times for you to master the cuisine. Italian food now reminds him of you, of that first indulgence in years against the wall of his villa apartment, and his legs nearly buckle at the sensation of it all.

“Missed you.” Your back is to him when he ambles into the kitchen, cutting tomatoes, so he settles for pressing himself up against your back, cradling your hips in his hands. Your little sleep shorts rub against his crotch, and Eren hopes he has the willpower to at least make it through dinner without tearing you open.

“Mm,” you hum noncommittally, letting him grope you. Eren frowns into your hair; that wasn’t exactly the enthusiastic welcome he was expecting.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” you shrug. He peeks around your shoulder; your cheeks are wet.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Eren grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him. When he recognizes the look in your eyes, he almost wishes he hadn’t.

When you’re angry, you shout, you cry a little, normal stuff. When you’re really angry, you’re cold. The look in your eyes tells him he’s done something very bad, a look of icy apathy, disinterest. He hasn’t seen it since you left him on the sidewalk outside of your last apartment together, before Italy, before the last two years of domestic bliss he’s enjoyed with you amidst your crazy work schedules. Eren’s heart drops to his stomach.

“Baby…”

“Who’s Anna?”

Your question nearly knocks him on his ass. He’s vaguely aware that his face must show that feeling, making him look more suspicious than he really is. How the fuck is he supposed to explain Anna without ratting on himself?

“Who?” Idiot, Eren thinks to himself. Who? is never the right question when your girlfriend asks about another woman in your life, Eren knows that by now. The pure shock has turned the sensical part of his brain off.

“Who,” you repeat, scoffing and turning back to your cooking.

Very aware that you have a knife, Eren rounds the counter so he can see you, monitor that look in your eyes while also putting some space between himself and the nine-inch blade in your right hand. “I know it sounds cliche, but it’s not what it–”

“Looks like?” You cut him off, eyes down towards the cutting board. “I’m sure the nine zoom calls I found on your personal laptop are nothing, nothing at all.”

Eren swallows, thick around the lump in his throat. He should have had his fucking assistant do this, he thinks, shouldn’t have been so picky with everything, but it was something so special, so personal, he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. Hell, he hadn’t even told Armin and Mikasa yet.

“She sent you a very vague email, but I’m sure you’ll get the message. She said she has some ‘really special’ things picked out for you, if you missed it,” your gaze finally meets his, chilling him to the bone and boring into his very soul, “La Perla or Agent Provocateur? You’ve always preferred the Perla, but–”

“It’s nothing like that,” Eren mumbles, twitching where he stands. “I’d never cheat on you, you know that.”

“I’m sure,” a mirthless laugh slips from your pretty lips. Eren wants to cry; if only you knew, if only he could bring himself to tell you, but that would ruin the point of it. If you’d just understand– “My bags are packed either way. Booked a flight to London, too. I’ve always wanted to live there.”

Eren’s heart drops further from its tight pit in his stomach; it’s surely fallen out of his ass onto the floor now. “Bags? Baby, no, just let me exp–”

“Let you what?” Here’s your anger, refreshed and fiery in your eyes, rearing its head. Eren balks.

“Well, I– I can’t really explain, but if you just trust me…”

“Trust you? I did trust you, all the way back in Italy!” Your voice cracks at the same time as Eren’s heart. “I took a chance on you, and you fucked me. Do you remember how afraid I was to dive back into you again? And look where it fucking got me.”

Another furious, disbelieving chuckle. Eren hates that laugh, hates it so much he can feel his skin prickle. Against his better judgment, he scowls.

“You actually think I’m cheating on you? When the fuck would I even have time?”

“Is she from Stockholm? Paris? Skinny bitch from LA, maybe? You spend an awful lot of time on the go,” you hiss. Eren rolls his eyes.

“I fucking love you! You’ve never been able to get that through your thick-ass skull,” his voice is getting louder, but he can’t stop himself. If he was thinking rationally, he knew he could make you understand, but he’s not thinking rationally. Eight days of jet lag and work are catching up to him, and his temper leaps out ahead of his words.

“Well, I hope Anna does. I hope you love her, and I hope she fucks you good,” you sniffle, another hot rush of angry tears streaming down your face. Eren hates that too; can still feel the visceral pumping of his heart where it’s sitting discarded on the floor.

“She doesn’t love me,” he grits out, “and she definitely doesn’t fuck me.”

“Well yeah, I’d assume you fuck her,” you snap, chopping into a tomato furiously. Maybe it’s your tone, maybe it’s the tears, the finality in the chopping, he doesn’t have time to acknowledge what breaks something in him, but he feels it tear into two. He can’t stop himself.

“She a fucking ring designer,” he nearly shouts, hearing the cabinets rattle from the timbre of his voice, “a ring designer from Tiffany. That’s who Anna is.”

He’s hardly even aware that the words have left his mouth until he sees your reaction. Everything in your body tenses, your hand clenches down tight around the knife. Your mouth– Eren can’t help but sigh inwardly at your perfect little mouth– drops slightly ajar, the tears themselves seem to freeze where they’re rolling down your cheeks.

“A…what?”

Eren’s defeated now, and his sigh shows it. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, not feeling any better now that he’s been forced to ruin his own surprise. “Didn’t want to tell you this way, but yeah.”

“Like, a…”

“An engagement ring designer,” Eren says quietly, barely able to force the words out. Sure, he may have solved the initial issue of his nonexistent cheating, but now he has your commitment issues to work with. His breath is lodged firmly in his throat and not a sound passes between you two. He can see the gears in your head turning, brow furrowed in concentration as you try to think through your feelings.

Ordinarily, Eren loves that look, thinks it’s so sexy how your forehead wrinkles, your tongue darting out between your teeth while you write or do your morning crossword. Now, he’s watching you with that look on your face, not able to breathe, feel, or even think.

The hesitation is setting in, panic gripping him. What was he thinking, proposing to you? You hate to be tied down, married to your work. He’s hurt you so many times; God knows it was an uphill battle just getting you to let him love you again. You’re a flighty, easily-frightened creature, but he does what he can to keep you with him, keep you as happy as he can. He lives and breathes you, doesn’t know if he would survive you leaving him again.

He couldn’t help himself, though, never could when it came to you. For years he’s been needing more, more touching you, more fucking you, more loving you. This is just that in a new sense: seeing if he just could get the right ring, make the right plan to keep you forever. He’d never admit it, but he’d even gotten hard at the thought of you wearing his ring day in and day out for the rest of your life. He couldn’t resist making you his wife, his life partner, putting his babies in you–

Eren pockets that thought as soon as it crosses his mind; now is not the time for an erection. He knows you inside and out, knows how your chest rises and falls while you sleep and has the scent of your shampoo burned into his olfactory nerves for the rest of his life, but you manage to surprise him, just this once.

A small smile toys at your mouth. “An engagement ring designer?”

Eren’s chest decompresses so violently he thinks he might pass out. “Yeah. I was thinking–”

“About proposing? You’re serious?” Your face is still puffy and wet, but the grin growing on your face is worth everything Eren could ever think to own, eyes practically glowing.

“God, of course I’m serious,” Eren rasps, the air gone from his lungs, “fuckin’ love you. I’ve wanted this since the day I met you, how do you not know that by now?”

“Are you like…” you trail off, looking meaningfully at him, then the floor. Is he proposing?

Eren doesn’t even know if he is, brain foggy after the whirlwind ten minutes that’s just gone by. A lifetime with you flashes behind his eyes: a beautiful wedding, definitely in Italy, signing the papers and buying a home together, filling it with as many curly-haired babies as you’ll give him. When Eren comes back to reality, his body’s moved without consulting him, and he’s on his knees, holding your thighs– God, your perfect thighs– in his hands. He’s fairly sure he’s supposed to just be on one knee, but he doesn’t care; he’s not asking, he’s begging.

“Yeah– fuck, I think I am,” Eren laughs at himself, breathless, “I am.”

“Oh my God,” your hands are over your mouth, holding in the wet little hiccups shaking your frame, “oh my God, you are.”

And right there, all of Eren’s anxiety melts off of his body in a clean sheathe. Looking up at you, the fresh tears welling in those beautiful eyes that turn him to putty whenever you need to, he’s sure. Even if you say no– which now, he doesn’t think you will– he has to try. He owes you that, all of himself.

“You know I love you, I– I live for you. Want you to be mine, forever. Will you have me?” Eren’s voice has a waver to it, bending and wobbling under all of his emotions. The slightest inclination of your head gives way to an excited nod, and Eren practically leaps to his feet, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you, just like a movie.

“Eren, ow– s’tight,” you giggle, wheezing in his grip.

“Can you blame me?” Eren laughs back, feeling like a child instead of a full-grown man who just made the biggest commitment of his life, but as painful as it is to release his grip, he sets you down. “You're fucking serious? You’ll really marry me?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “yeah, I’ll marry you. You better get me a big-ass rock, though.”

“I’ll get you the biggest one in the world, spend every dime I have,” he says, and you’re in his arms again, legs wrapped around his waist and arms thrown around his neck, his face might burst, “you can show it off to all your friends, show ‘em just how much I love you.”

“Oh, Eren,” you trail off, kissing him in lieu of words. Eren doesn’t think your lips have ever been so sweet against his, doesn’t think he’s ever been so hungry for your body.

He’s got the path to your bedroom memorized, especially under his current condition: wrapped up in a tangle of limbs, stumbling clumsily and desperately trying not to lose his footing as you kiss your way down his neck. A low groan rumbles in his chest as he fumbles with the knob, throws the door open, practically tackles you onto the plush bed. Eren doesn’t even care that he stinks like plane and airport and travel; the scent of you envelops him.

“Love you so fuckin’ much, baby,” he mutters offhandedly against your collarbone, pausing from the bruise he’s sucking into the skin, “now you’re all mine, forever.”

“Forever,” you agree, chest heaving beneath him. Eren makes quick work of the silky sleep set you’ve chosen, has a brief moment of clarity to think how funny it was that you picked a sexy pajama set to argue with him. He loves you, God, he’s overwhelmed with love, dizzy with it, out of his mind.

Eren mouths his way around your tits, palming with one hand and pressing the other against the small of your back, pulling you up to him. He hates the idea of space between you two. You’re his forever now, his to push and pull and kiss and bite. 

“My pretty little wife,” Eren feels a grin stretch over his face, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your breast. You moan under him, music to his ears. Eren loves a lot about you, but the little simpering sounds you’re making might be his favorite.

“Like that,” it’s just a whisper above him, but it catches his attention.

“Like what? My mouth?”

“Like when you call me that.”

Eren’s grin grows wider, feral. “Call you what?”

“Eren!”

“Say it,” he slides back up to your mouth, licking into it, “want to hear it out of this pretty mouth, not mine.”

“Your wife,” you give in more quickly than he expects, warmth radiating off of your face. 

“So mean to me,” he hums, giving you one last kiss before traveling down, letting his hand come down to rub insistently at your clit. He swallows a throaty groan; you’re wet, soaked even. Just for him.

“Fuck, Eren– ‘m not mean to you,” you’re pouting through the little whimpers coming out of you, eyebrows knotted on your forehead.

“You are,” Eren insists, nosing at your clit. Jesus Christ, he thinks to himself, you smell delicious. He plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh, nibbles a little at the sensitive skin. “Picking a fight with me, thinking I would ever, ever, go looking at anyone else. How could I? Already got the best pussy in the world right here.”

That earns him another long moan from you, your hands coming to his hair and shoving him insistently towards your center. He’ll make you wait, he decides, still in control enough of his faculties to engage in his favorite pastime: teasing you to the point of tears, leading you to your breaking point and shoving you up against it.

You urge him to you, still pulling on his hair. Eren, a devious grin across his face, resists, blowing cool air on you instead. You whine, hips canting at him temptingly. Eren’s willpower falters just slightly, and he gives you a quick, tentative lick up your center, earning himself a satisfied whimper.

“Need more, baby?”

“You know what I fucking need,” you grumble. Eren chuckles.

“See? Always so mean to me. Can’t have what you want when you’re mean, you know better.”

“Please,” you breathe from above him, voice urgent at his threat, “please, Eren, I can’t take it, I–”

“There you go,” he settles himself in between your legs, pulling you to his face by your hips. If Eren loves one thing in his black-and-white world, it’s having his mouth on you. It’s probably embarrassing how often he asks to sink his tongue into you, how pitifully he begs day in and day out, but he’s beyond caring. It’s well-established in your daily routine: you have your crosswords to keep you content and clear your head, and Eren has your pussy.

He’s gone eight long days without it, and he licks into you like a starved man, hell, maybe he is. Eren groans into you, echoing your own pathetic simpering.

“Can’t wait to put a ring on this pussy, my beautiful pussy,” he speaks into your folds, tickling them in a way that you evidently like, giving him a garbled agreement. Eren relishes your cunt, sucking on your clit and tickling just at the entrance to you with his tongue, working you the way he knows will have you spiraling towards your end.

Without fully realizing it, Eren’s hand is sliding down to palm himself over his pants. Before he knows it, he’s rutting into his own hand like a fucking teenager, couldn’t keep himself together with his face between your legs. Eren prides himself on his stamina, but with the heightened emotions and the week without you, that's gone right out of the window. He’s riding a little too close to the line; he desperately wants you to cum on his face, but at this rate, he’ll blow in his pants if he lets you.

Steeling every ounce of willpower he possesses, Eren pulls his face out of you, takes a deep breath. You whine, reaching for him unsuccessfully.

“Sh, I know,” Eren shushes you, chest swelling with pride at your open need, “so needy for me, aren’t you?”

“Please,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling his mouth to yours.

“Gonna fuck you, okay?” You nod urgently into his shoulder, legs already hooked around his hips. Eren’s head’s spinning like it never has before, drunk on you. He manages to get half of his cock into you before he has to stop, grinding his jaw and trying to think about anything other than how your cunt’s milking him.

“Eren,” you plead, trying to urge him forward with your ankles. A deep inhale rattles practically his entire body.

“M'trying not to cum, hold on.” He’s created a monster out of you, he thinks, and maybe out of himself, too.

“I need– fuck, need to…” you slide one hand down your body, rubbing frantically at your clit. Eren’s stuck watching, watching your perfect body swell and shrink with your heavy breaths, watching you try to make yourself cum only half-full.

“Do you think you can?” His words are hardly a breath; he winces when you clench around him harder. You’ve always had trouble cumming without being full, usually finding your release with Eren buried fully inside you, nudging at your cervix. You’re always begging for more, just one more finger, want to be fucked a little harder. The fact that you need him so badly you’re willing to try, make the most out of what you have, makes his heart and his cock pound in tune. Poor thing. 

“Yeah, I, I need to cum so bad, Eren, it’s– shit, so bad, I just–”

“Go ahead, do it then,” Eren firmly interrupts your babbling, a bit of a tell that you’re getting close. If anything gets you off, it’s authority. He leans down, painfully aware of the extra inch of him the new angle pushes into you, trying to focus, trying so hard not to cum yet. He takes your face roughly in his hand, forcing your heart-filled eyes to bore into his. He bares his teeth in a disbelieving, probably half-crazed grin. He loves you so much, needy little thing that you are.“Make yourself cum on me, fucking brat. Can’t even give me two seconds, can you?”

Your bottom lip trembles as you shake your head, more tears welling in your eyes. Eren can feel the quivering of your legs around him, any second now.

“Love me so much, don’t you? So impatient,” He tsks, thumbing at your lip and throwing in a couple light smacks to your cheek for good measure. “Can’t wait to be mine, can’t wait to cum, can’t wait for me to marry you and fuck you everyday, that’s it isn’t it? Gonna fuck you as much as you want baby, my perfect little wife.”

That does it; Eren has to close his eyes when you cum, cunt tightening vice-like around him, but he can feel you squirting on his lower abdomen, feel the cum practically gushing out of you. God help him. You squirm and tremble underneath him, crying out for him to fuck you. He knows you need him, need him to move, and somehow, some way, he does.

He bullies his way into you, feeling you pulse around him and growling deep in his chest. Your eyes fly open at the movement inside of you, flitting between his face and where he's rolling his hips into you.

“Yes,” you hiss, “yeah, please–”

“That’s better, right?” Eren’s in heaven, losing his grip on anything around him that’s not your pussy. “My girl needs to be full, yeah?”

“Mhm,” your eyes are rolling back into your head, drunk on the way he’s pumping in and out of you. Eren’s in awe of you; you’re such a perfect, needy creature, and now you’re all his forever. Shit, he’s not going to last, he can feel it. He slides a hand down your stomach, thrumming insistently at your clit, making you squeal.

“Fuck! Eren, I just– shit, I just came, s’too much.”

“You can cum again, right? Can't be selfish, now,” Eren huffs, stomach tightening with the signs of his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna spend all my money on your fucking ring, and you can’t even cum one more time for me?”

“Eren…” you’re whimpering, damn near crying at this point, tears streaming down your temple. He feels you clench, somehow makes himself thrust faster. Eren loves this part. He’s got you now, and he knows it.

“You say love me, now you gotta show me,” he just needs a few more seconds, come on, “if you want that ring so bad, you gotta cum for it baby.”

Your back arches so violently that had he not known better, Eren might think you’ve been shocked; your pussy squeezes the life out of him, triggers his orgasm along with you. The sound he emits is inhuman, but he’s too lost, too gone to care, shooting rope after rope of cum deep in you. He collapses mid-orgasm, clutching your convulsing body to him, some unconscious part of his brain is directing him to kiss your shoulder, bite into it, and he does. He tastes that salty sheen of your skin, eyes rolling back into his head.

Neither of you speak, just lean into each other for a minute or two. Eren’s vaguely aware of the cum leaking out from where you’re still joined. He hasn’t bothered to pull out yet; pulling out of you is on the hate list. His cock twitches painfully, though, still interested in where he’s buried so deep he can feel your heartbeat. His dick might be aching for a round two, but Eren’s pretty sure he’d knock out in the middle of things if he tried. He groans and rolls off of you, sliding out with a pang of regret.

He props himself up on a shaky elbow, tucking a few of your stray hairs behind your ear. He wants to see your face, your perfect face, sweaty and blotchy and fucked out. You grant him a sleepy smile– oh he loves that face, quickly takes a mental picture to file away.

“You good?”

“So good,” you answer, stretching your arms. “Shower?”

Eren wrinkles his nose, not entirely thrilled at the prospect of washing this gorgeous, post-sex shine off of you. Your face grows insistent. “Shower, Eren.”

“Fine,” he pouts.

“What? You stink.”

“Not that bad,” he lifts an arm, sniffs. Oof, yeah, “not that bad” indeed. He lets you lead him to the shower, waits patiently as you test the water, even lets you rub some of that scratchy body-scrub crap that you swear by all over him.

“Better, right?” You raise your voice over the high-pressure water cascading around you, grinning knowingly. Eren hates conceding, hates admitting when he’s being a bit of a brat, but God, does he love you. He smiles crookedly.

“Much better.”

“So, about before…” Eren’s heart skips a beat, his throat closes. Is this the part where you regret saying yes? Thought he was joking? He should have found a different way out. No, damn it, he should have stuck with the plan, the flowers, the sunset, the quartet– “Can I meet the ring designer?”

Oh. “Um, if you– yeah, if you want. Thought you would like it better as a surprise.”

You cock an eyebrow. “What do you know about my taste in diamonds?”

“Mm, big?”

“Well, yeah,” you giggle, “but do you know what carat I’d prefer? Cut? Setting?”

Eren blushes, frowns. So he has been doing this all wrong. Figures. “That’s what the ring designer’s for, isn’t she?”

“You can still help,” you soothe him, a soapy hand brushing over his cheek, “I’d just like a say, if you don’t mind.”

“Are you mad?” He gives a voice to the fear thudding inside of him, the insecurity clawing at his ribs. You cock your head at him, confused and cute, but even that’s not enough to make him feel better. It’s a black-and-white world, and he needs to hear you say it, perfectly clear.

“Mad? Eren, this is…the happiest day of my life. Why would I be mad?”

“Because…” he scrambles for the words, suddenly sheepish, “I had this whole thing planned for it– for you. We were gonna be on the Empire State Building with a rose wreath and singers–”

“Eren,” you cut him off, serious as he’s ever seen you, “are you actually being serious? Like, actually?”

His face is hot, God it burns with embarrassment. “I mean, sort of.”

“It was perfect,” you sense his discomfort, running a stray hand through his hair, “okay well, not perfect per se, but it was us. We aren’t…we aren’t flowers and Empire State Building people. We’re stupid fights and long distance and hot sex people. That’s our life, and I am beyond okay with that.”

All of the unease evaporates from his body. How do you always have the answer, the words he needs to hear? You’re always right. The quartet may have been a bit much, he reflects, pulling you to him.

“If you’re happy, I am,” he means it, and places a kiss to the part of your hair. You hum contentedly against him, purring against his chest.

The shower goes on as all of your showers together do: you manhandle Eren into shampoo and conditioner (hate list: burns his eyes, slimy), grab miraculously toasty towels from the warmer by the bathtub (love list: cozy), convince him to climb into bed still half-wet, limbs heavy with exhaustion (hate list: his side of the bed’s going to smell like wet dog tomorrow), throw on the Kardashians’ new show (love and hate lists: depends who's asking).

You knock out before him, unaffected by jet lag, drooling into the cavern between his pecs and making a very unflattering face that he makes sure to snap a picture of. You need an updated contact photo in his phone anyway.

He feels unusually contemplative, staring out at the big city from your own little corner of it, making a mental list of all of the people you need to call tomorrow, and what order they should go in. Eren’s world might be big sometimes as he jetsets around, might be small when he’s buried inside of you, focus narrowed on the heat pulled tight around him. It’s always one way or the other, though, and tonight, practically his entire world is laying on his chest, glowing a bright, bridal white.

- tagging @philliamwrites as u requested for my next piece! hope u love it bestie <3

[graceofagodswrath]

Ok ok ok your "Humans of Transformers franchise are space orcs" rant is out of this world.

I detest with passion when humans are reduced to pets and plot devices when instead the story could be about two alien species finding one another equally amazing/terrifying for their own respective reasons.

Here is my question: do humans and Cybertronians see how eerily similar they are? They have love of music, familial relationships, similar urban infrastructure, societal structure, financial systems, competitive entertainment, organized societies and war, colonialism, recreational intercourse, marriage...

Not to mention, why was it never addressed how similar both species look: bipedal, waists, noses, cheekbones, 5 fingers, chins, facial expressions and sense of aesthetics and beauty? Sure, humans have hair but in rather strategic places.

Veins and wires, blood and energon, metal and flesh, nanobytes and blood cells, Sparks and brain impulses, sexual organs...

Imagine Autobots arrive on Earth for the first time expecting some primitive cave-dwellers, only to encounter a less advanced mini-version of Cybertronian cities (New York, Singapore, London, Rome, Tokyo, Rio, Dubai...) and societies running on scientific, artistic and philosophical development which has no right existing on the ruthless, all-organic planet such as Earth is. Societes run by creatures who 4.000.000 (the duration of their war) years ago were hanging from the trees btw.

Autobots would be terrified.

Lemme make sure this response saves this time, cause it took me a minute to answer cause my first deleted and I had so much written I got unbelievably angry and refused to even look at the tumblr app.

But here we are.

So, this is EXACTLY what I have been thinking about for who k owe how long. It’s also the intro to this wack as fuck universe idea I’ve had in my head a while, and have kinda hinted at in my other works, but I’ve never gone into detail about.

And I still won’t.

Anyways, yes. It’s crazy that we backlit humans so much when any other sentient species is about. Transformers, TMNT, etc (I’m on a one track mind, feel free to jot down any other fandoms I can’t think of). The main theme of these stories? HUMANS SUCK. And that is severely unfair. People want to cry about how much our generation doesn’t give a shit anymore. Have you SEEN the media we feed kids???

That’s why I live Humans are Space Orcs so much. It really puts into perspective how unique and batshit our species is.

So, onto the Transformers vs humans concepts. The ONLY reason (forgoing technoism and general hate towards organics) cybertronians don’t see humanity as an imminent threat, or one in general, is because of size. WE BE SMALL AF. Can’t blame them, I get it. We do the same. Insects? Fuck them mfs.

But have you seen a botfly or tick burrow into your skin? The infection that comes form that? Have you seen ants jump a small animal as a colony and absolutely shred it? Or a spider only biting you, and the horror the venom causes (recluses and huntsman’s specifically). We have a good fucking reason for disliking these mfs.

But transformers? These are organic experiences. Worst they go through are rust infections, spark death, the works. They are not at risk the same way we are. That is why they view organics as small and inconsequential. They have no idea how hard we fight to simply stay alive.

And now the similarities. It’s understandable that they wouldn’t immediately recognize the physical, cultural, and psychological similarities between our species. Transformers are an incredibly diverse race, like any other. But specifically in physical form. Your average cybertronian holds a similar appearance to your average human. We tend to have the same features, just with different names. Eyes, noses, faceplates, ears, two arms, two legs. Sure that’s average for them too. But they are unique because of the fact that they have two forms. Vehicle mode. Their mode decides what they’re second mode looks like, which can create extreme diversity is appearance. Small, large, many limbed or not.

So the immediate similarities probably wouldn’t jump out to them in an odd way. There’s also the idea that because they’re so spread out in the universe, they’ve seen other organic races that are also similar. Pairs of every body part could be the common denominator among species.

That goes culturally too. War, love, music, government, politics, it’s all a natural form of sentient evolution. Another common denominator. It’s how it’s done that makes it unique. And the similarities between human and cybertronian culture is uncomfortably familiar.

I think that’s why cybertronians are seen being closest with humans rather than other species in the shows and comics (obviously because the audience is human and they need relation to characters but shhhh forget that for a sec). This is where the theories start.

Let’s say cybertronians begin to recognize the weird similarities between our species. The really, really weird stuff. The itty bitty details. Like:

- how we also mainstream kissing on the lips as the top tier romantic gesture.

- use verbal tone and cues for our language.

- have intensely complicated interpersonal relationships in the exact same manner.

- suffer from extreme mental health issues like depression, anxiety, PTSD (I totally headcannon that forms of adhd, autism, and ocd exist in cybertronian society, have y’all not seen my boy rodimus prime??)

- will also destroy each other in the name of our gods, until we have a common enemy.

That’s just the basics I could come up with. The only time I actually saw a moment where a transformer genuinely take a moment to realize that humans can be a threat, was in transformers prime. Episode 6 of beast wars (I think, correct me if wrong), where Miko beats the ever loving fuck out of an insecticon (I think) and upon Megatron hearing this, just goes blank Kubrick stare for a hot second. Man had an ugly realization that did not fit in with anything he had experienced his whole life.

AND THEY NEVER FUCKING ADDRESSED IT EVER AGAIN. Sick of this shit. Could’ve had the most badass character development, where the humans actually proved useful and did something (it would have fit Milo’s character so perfectly too) and scared the utter shit out of the transformers. BUT NO. They continue to be annoying as fuck.

One thing I loved about TF Prime was that it canonically turned Unicron into Earth. And humans came from the earth. Which relates humans beings and cybertronians so hard. Cousins Fr. We are the cybertronian equivalent of organics, and transformers the inorganic equivalent of humans. The individuality, the chaos, the culture, it clicks. There is so much material to really go into it.

But they never do. Don’t get me wrong, I love Transformers lord and just discovering more without humans being involved. We’re just annoying af at this point. But there is so much u tapped potential in transformers actually taking the chance to LEARN about us. But we’re just friends (pets) to these mfs.

That’s why I love TF Earthspark so far. Transformers ingrained into human culture because they’re not from Cybertron, and cybertronians having to adapt to human culture because they have no where else to go. Granted, it’s a kids show. There’s only so much they can do. But I’m excited for where it’ll lead. It really shows how much of threat and ally humans are, and how we are just as diverse as cybertronians.

I need to write another fic about cybertronians meeting humans their size from our world tho. Need to continue my old piece. Would give me so much life. Y’all help motivate me, college draining my ass.

[alwynwitch]

Raglan James or... Marius de Romanus?

Okay, so I still believe for like 80-90% that Raglan James is Marius. Mainly because of two clues:

1) The connection between Marius's painting in the Dubai dining room and Real Rashid

At the end of episode 4, Daniel searches for Marius in the Talamasca art folder. We get a full-screen picture of Marius's painting. This is a hint for the viewers: the vampire Marius (who was properly introduced in this episode as Armand's maker) has a painting that is in Dubai!

Why is this important? In this season, we saw the painting when Real Rashid was introduced in episode 1. This is the first shot of Real Rashid we get:

I'm here to serve, positioned between Marius's painting and Daniel. He is here to serve Daniel... on Marius's orders?

And later on, when Daniel held his speech about disguise and hiding, we see again a close-up of Real Rashid and Marius's painting:

In episode 6 we see that Raglan James and Real Rashid know each other and they seem to be working together. Or better... Real Rashid works for Raglan James? He serves him... like he was telling Daniel he is here to serve with Marius's painting in the background. He is hiding the person he really serves: Marius.

2) Roman Weiss Publishing House

Daniel's memoir was published by Roman Weiss Publishing House:

Sounds like a reference to Marius, the "wise Roman". And Raglan James starts talking about... publishing: "We can help you find a publisher." A publisher? Like Roman Weiss Publishing House? Hmmm.... Suspicious.....

In the books Marius tries to take care of Daniel when he lost his mind. Maybe this is the AMC!Universe version of this plot?

Bonus

This Raglan James guy is just too much. It's almost like he is giving some hysterical imitation of the Talamasca and the body swap comment was also very much in your face and over the top. It could be that Raglan James really is this hysterical, though I would expected him to be more subtle. Or it could be that Marius is giving a parody of him? We know Marius is socially awkward and bad at flirting. He talks not WITH people but TO them. Who knows...

Why would Marius do this?

I'm not sure, but I see some clues for his motivation:

Firstly, he likes to spy on Armand and he loves Daniel. And he meddles sometimes with Armand's life:

For though I had spied upon Amadeo more than once, I saw nothing in him, but the same heartbreaking sadness that I had known in Venice. (Blood and Gold)

"And it's my blood, ancient and powerful, that's filled them to the brim with power so that they can be your worthy companions and not the pale shadow of your soul which Louis always was." (Marius to Armand in The Vampire Armand)

Secondly, Marius is thematically connected to the Talamasca, because his maker co-founded it and he corresponded with them as well (Raymond). So it would not be weird if they introduce him in this context. Maybe they will even give Marius a more active role with the Talamasca in the show?

Thirdly, I sense a certain self-destructiveness in Marius regarding Akasha and Enkil. He played an active role in making the secret of vampires known to the public. He decided to tell Lestat all his secrets. I think he underestimated Lestat, but part of him seems to encourage it:

For one desperate selfish moment, I looked at Akasha and I thought, I shall give you over to Lestat if that is what you wish! Only tell me how to do it. Rise against Enkil with me! (Blood and Gold)

As for the second resurrection, it was Lestat again, but I am as much to blame myself. (Blood and Gold)

Maybe in the AMC show Daniel's book Interview with the Vampire will bring attention to the existence of vampires and stirs the vampire apocalypse/great conversion further which will rise Akasha. And so Marius plays his role in it: in the books by showing Akasha Lestat's rock music videos and in the show by helping Daniel publish his book?

[avelera]

Gif courtesy of @apaethy

I just finished re-watching the first season of Interview with the Vampire because in light of what's going on as of 2.6 of S2, I felt I needed to, because this moment above is driving me crazy.

Why is Armand staring straight at Daniel during Louis' declaration? And why is it that, to me, he almost seems to plead with his eyes for Daniel to get him away from Louis?

My thoughts on the matter:

Doylist reasons (aka, out of universe, production, practical reasons): this is a big reveal that "Rashid" is actually Armand. It makes sense, from that angle, as an acting choice that Armand-no-longer-Rashid would look straight at the camera so we could get a good look at him.

Thing is, it's certainly a choice.

Because I would argue the more logical choice when having one character declare the other is the love of their life is for those characters to look at each other. Even a passing glance, a faint smile, a little bit of heart eyes.

Louis just gave a pretty romantic declaration. Actually, even more haunting as of 2.6, Louis just said out loud that he loves Armand in this straightforward, unambiguous, but frighteningly passive way that he refused to do back in Paris, what Madeleine had to cajole him into saying. Now Louis drops the L word all casual, almost as a challenge, right in Daniel's face??

Daniel Molloy voice: Nuh uh, I don't buy it, not for a second.

Ok, let's get into a meta reason this is a really freakin' weird moment and scene that they chose to use as the final note of Season 1, and therefore I think it's meant to be important and, as of Season 2, I think we're seeing the crux of why it's the end of one season and the set up of the next.

Metatextual reason: Armand is not the fucking love of Louis's life in the books. He's barely a footnote, unless that footnote is labeled, "THE VAMPIRE WHO KILLED CLAUDIA". Louis and Armand's relationship, such as it was, soured immediately after her death. They didn't stick together for decades, from the text they barely stuck together a few years after that. Armand wasn't at the Interview with Daniel (but he did pick up Daniel later, when kidnapping him when Daniel went to investigate Lestat's house and look for evidence to corroborate Louis' story).

So as a book fan, I sat up in my chair and audibly shouted, "What the fuck?" at that line. Because as I'm sure anyone who has read this far knows by now, in the books Louis is not the love of Armand's life.

Daniel is the love of Armand's life.

Daniel is Armand's only fledgling, ever.

So not only is there a weird declarative quality to the almost nonsensical (to book readers) statement that Armand is the love of Louis's life-- I don't know how else to explain it except it's like having a revival of Romeo and Juliet where they didn't die and Romeo's early girlfriend Rosaline show up to say that Romeo is the love of her life in Juliet's face. Do you see what I mean? Daniel/Armand is Romeo and Juliet, Louis the temporary fling. Having Rosaline tell Juliet that Romeo is her love would give a similar level of dissonance as I got hearing Louis/Armand was a thing over and above Daniel/Armand.

So to go back to Armand's creepy eye contact here (as if he has any other kind).

Watsonian Reason (aka, in-universe, what the story is going for): We are setting up the plot that becomes much more apparent in S2: Daniel was invited to Dubai to be the wrecking ball in Louis/Armand's relationship.

Which means the big canon divergence moments from the book are:

1. Louis and Armand didn't break up right after Paris, but stayed a couple for several decades longer.

2. Regardless of whether or not the Devil's Minion happened already (or if it's going to happen later in this story), Armand didn't turn Daniel into a vampire soon after meeting him a few years post-Interview with the Vampire. That event got pushed back.

My money is on Armand and Daniel had their fling but Armand refused to turn him. It's a fairly logical canon divergence beat because Armand didn't want to turn Daniel in the books either so in this universe, he just actually followed through and did the responsible thing.

But, I think Armand pined. And pined. And pined.

Whether or not Armand is Alice turning down Daniel's proposal (I at this point disagree with the theory) or if he was just stalking Daniel closely enough to read Alice's thoughts in that moment, he clearly has been keeping tabs on Daniel.

In my opinion, Armand is finally done with the relationship with Louis.

The interview is meant to passively accomplish these things:

Remind Louis how much he loves Lestat.

Remind Louis how much he loves Claudia and by extension if/when it "slips out" just how culpable Armand actually was (as the mastermind, not a bystander) for her death, it will give Louis the impetus to finally leave.

Bring Daniel back into their life. Because whether or not he'll admit it to himself, Armand has been pining for him over Louis for a while now.

I've kind of already explored this in another post but the more I watch of S2 and re-watch of S1, the more certain I am that this is Armand's actual goal. The pining looks he keeps shooting Daniel's way, the way Daniel seems to lose his train of thought whenever he looks at Armand, the palpable tension between them...

Basically, Romeo and Juliet are getting back together soon. We just need to get Rosaline out of the picture first, and that's why Romeo is having an interview that digs up what a shitty boyfriend he was to Rosaline so that Rosaline will break up with him first so he can get back with Juliet.

[cheriladycl01]

So, you lied to me? - Lando Norris x Tourist! Reader

Plot: Going on a travel year you end up in Monaco, the plan wasn't too fall for the man who helped you to the British Embassy and gave you a place to stay when someone stole everything from you ...

You took a gap year before university and decided to travel you'd started off the New Year on a flight from London, to Qatar to New Zealand. You travelled around New Zealand and Australia for the majority of January, before moving on to Papa New Guinea, Fiji and Samoa.

You then travelled round the South Asian countries, like Indonesia, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam and the Philippines and Taiwan all throughout February. You then moved onto China, doing both Disney Parks while you were there and sight seeing. You did South Korea and Japan.

Coming into April, you moved onto Sri Lanka and India, and The Middle East, doing Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Bahrian, Qatar, Oman and Saudi Arabia.

Afterwards, now having done 2 continents, you moved onto Africa, you spent the end of April and the majority of May travelling here, before leaving for Europe.

A nice 2 weeks island hopping around Greece, before a week travelling up the boot of Italy.

It was when you drove to Monaco in a rental car that things got difficult.

You were walking along the harbor where all the expensive yachts were docked wishing that one could be yours. You didn't have all your bags on you, the larger ones left behind in the hotel room you'd booked for the night. But you had your important stuff on you, like you passport, your drivers license and all your travel documents.

You were taking a picture on your nice Canon camera of the yachts and the street that had weird red corners rounding it that you put down to being measures to just help drivers slow down round the corners, but they were definitely an eyesore.

Every time nice cars drove by there was whistles and claps that made you look at what car it was, you could never tell what model it was but they looked nice and you guess you could say sporty.

As you were distracted taking your pictures a guy comes up to you with a small, parcel cutting knife in his hand. He slit the straps of what you thought was a really sturdy bag and the weight notifies you to the loss of the bag. You let your camera drop as you turn to see the guy now holding your bag and starting to run away with it.

"Hey! Stop" you shout before running after him.

"Aide, Aide" you shout as you continue to follow him, your minimal French not helping as people scold you for being a bustly tourist.

You aren't really looking where you going and you loose him at a busy intersection of people, you spin round looking at every possible direction he could have gone in.

"Shit!" you whisper to yourself quietly tears coming in your eyes. You spin round a little to quickly, bumping into someone who drops the bag that they were holding.

"Désolé, mon erreur" you try looking at the young gentleman you'd bumped into in a hoodie and jeans. He looks at you with a confused look, a smirk coming onto his face.

"Oh sorry, tu ne parles pas français? Maybe Italian, erm fuck scusa, parli italiano?" you ask with again the bare minimum of Italian you know.

"I speak perfectly good English" he smiles, laughing a little as your expression turns to shock.

"Oh! Oh I'm so stupid. Hello!" you smile looking at the very attractive man in front of you, you blushed a little looking up at him.

"You look panicked what's wrong?" he asks.

"I was tacking pictures of the harbor and some guy took my bag. It has everything in of mine and I don't know what to do" You say to him looking a little more panicked.

"Everything as in money ... because I can help with that" he says placing a hand on your arm.

"I don't care about the money, but he has all of my documents. My passport, my drivers license everything" you cry a little.

"Oh! Erm, I have a friend who was born here, and let me get him and he can help us file a police report. Then mmm the British Embassy is all the way in Paris and you cant get a flight so we'll have to drive there..." he starts to rant and your face turned shocked.

"We?" you ask, confused as to how this guy has just inserted himself into your life drama's.

"Oh yeah, I've gotta help you out now. You got that whole damsel in distress thing going on right now! Any way damsel, what's your name?" he jokes and you look over at him offended.

"I am not a damsel in distress! And Y/N" you retort.

"You so are, the tear stains, the wide, helpless eyes, the guppy fish face your pulling right now, the butchered French and Italian to a strange man who actually is British... Y/N" he laughs making you pout and push him a little.

"I don't even have a place to stay after 3pm today and I cant check in anywhere without ID" you say rubbing your head, looking around as if the man would randomly pop back up and hand you your bag back before saying how sorry he was.

"You can stay at my place, I have two spare bedrooms" he smiles and you look at him in shock.

"You live here, in Monaco ..." you ask.

"Yeah, I moved here a few years ago, for ...work" he offers, he phones his friend walking off for a few seconds alone before he pulls you along one of the side streets and too a quiet cafe he went to, to keep under wraps.

"Okay, Y/N this is my friend ... er Percy" he says pointing to Charles, so far you hadn't shown any signs of knowing who he is and he didn't want you to catch wind of that.

"Hello Percy, its nice to meet you" you smile and he looks at you with a vacant yet confused expression.

"Oh and whose this you are beautiful" you compliment looking at the girl behind him.

"Y/N this is my girlfriend Alex" Charles indicates to Alex behind him who smiles and pulls you in for a kind hug that you definitely needed. You could hear both of their strong accents as they introduced himself.

"Oh, I never got you name, what's your name?" you ask turning to look at Lando, who freezes for a second.

"Erm, my names Robert, but you can call me Bob" he smiles and you raise and eyebrow at him.

"Hmmm, you don't look like a Robert... or a Bob. Interesting choice" you voice your opinion making everyone awkwardly laugh.

Charles, Lando and Alex took you to the nearest police station in Monaco, Charles translated what they were saying and you answered to which he and Alex would help translate back.

Charles explained that they were escalating it because you are a tourist in need, but you picked up some words that made the sentence not sound like that at all.

You were asked if you had a place to say and Lando explained you'd be staying with him until everything was sorted out.

The Monegasque police got in contact with the Paris British Embassy for you, they explained that the police had sent over you information and if you wanted to hold off on a new passport for a few days to see if it would turn up you were more than welcome, but right now your passport was on lockdown.

And that was how you ended up spending the end of July and all of August with Lando, it was strange really. For a man who had and extremely nice collection of clothes and a very large apartment he didn't go to work often. There was one room you weren't allowed in which is where he often went, you assumed it was a man cave or gaming room where he played with his friends because you heard lots of shouting and aggressive banging.

He'd been so sweet, he took you on dates from going out to dinner, to picnics, to going swimming and lots more. It felt like more than a summer fling. Especially once he asked you to be his girlfriend, which you immediately said yes too.

But he got a lot more twitchy after he had.

Eventually, Lando or Bob as you knew him took you to Paris so you could get your passport. He explained that he travelled a lot for work and he would need to leave soon and you explained that before you bumped into him you'd been on a gap year travelling the world.

"Baby, why don't you come with me?" he asked randomly as you were both lying on the sofa, cuddling while watching a film.

"You wont even tell me what you do for work Baby! And besides I had a schedule that I'm already behind on. A week ago you said you didn't mind going our separate ways for a little bit until Christmas and then you'd come to England with me" you say playing with his curls.

"Okay, I'm going to be honest with you now... my name isn't Bob" he says shyly and you sit up at the speed of light turning to look at him.

"I knew it! So you lied to me?" you exclaim laughing.

"So, what's my boyfriends actual name?" you ask looking him dead in the eyes, he leans up on his elbows before sitting the full way up.

"Lando, I am Lando Norris" he smiles.

"Hmmmm, Lando... Lando. I could get used to that" you smile.

"You aren't mad?" he asks looking over you, brushing you hair back and tucking it behind your ear before kissing your cheek.

"I knew you weren't being completely honest when we first met... but I also knew you had your own reasons" you offer.

"I think its going to be easier if I just hand you my Instagram" he admits with a gulp as he hands you his phone. The first thing you notice is how many followers he had, there was around 10million and he had nearly 2,500 posts.

You look at the friends list, and one peeks your interest. Charles Leclerc, who looked exactly like Percy who Lando had introduced you too.

You then go back and look at his bio, that told you his actual job.

"So, I'm dating a super famous athlete?" you ask looking up at him away from the phone to see his head down in his hands. He turns to the side to sneak a look at your expression, his eyes a little glossy.

"To be specific, a Formula 1 driver" you ask again and he nods.

"You are such a muppet, my god" you laugh before pulling him into a hug.

"How aren't you upset with me?" he ask unsure.

"Well, I agreed to date you, because you are you. I doubt you change into Mr Hyde when you become a what was is Porsche race-car driver? I fell in love with you, not Bob, not Lando, you. So whether that is Bob, who kindly helped a crying lady on the street who just had her passport stolen from her, or Lando a cool and amazing race-car driver. Whoever you are is the person I love" you grin and he pulls you into a hug.

"So you want to join me for the last few races? Or you want to finish this world trip of yours?" he asks.

"Well, looking at your calendar, I can actually meet you at the rest of the races, While travelling. I'll continue to do Europe until you have the Netherlands, and ill go back to Italy, just for you. I'll miss Azerbaijan and Singapore because I did that, but I'll knock out some of South America, I'll meet you for Austin, then we can do Mexico and Brazil together, then we can do Vegas together! And by that point I can call it done with my trip!" you exclaim and he looks like he considers it for a second.

He's shocked, he cant remember the last time a girlfriend tried so hard to link up their schedules like this, and proved that they'd be able to work despite some potential scheduling issues.

"I love you. I fucking love you" he grins pulling you back down onto the sofa kissing all over your face making you giggle.

A/N: I've been doing a lot of Lando recently, I don't know if you can tell but I love writing about him, he's my fav to write about right now.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @viennakarma

[nalyra-dreaming]

IWTV s2... an (emotional) recap

Between the spoilers dropping before the last three episodes and the content of the episodes themselves we really have gone through the emotional wringer.

I think I have rewritten this three times over, because my feelings kept changing.

I had hoped for more, I got more than I wished for, I wanted something else, they hit the nerve precisely...

And now with the season 3 announcement:))))

Maximum emotional carnage - indeed.

Everything ... up to that NOLA visit in episode 8 and the actual ending... is not the truth. Let that sink in.

The trial: scripted (and Lestat breaking out of it for the important bits)

Claudia's turning: So much... more raw.

Claudia's death: brutal. That final look between her and Lestat was one of the most painful things to witness.

Her diaries (pages): mostly unused. I am a bit unnerved bc of that wasted Merrick reveal and aftermath implementation tbh. Louis is not freed up after it, but... he should have been, imho. Though, that said, with Dubai likely a stand-in for Trinity Gate... maybe the arc fits after all - BUT I still think they could have done more with her diaries. I get why they wanted to escape the “white savior trap“ but this way Louis did not get that power-up that will ultimately bring him to where it frees him. But who knows... maybe they will implement a version of it all still.

The broadcasting and Loustat's relationship in general: Armand putting a fantasy retelling into Louis' brain. Holy shit.

Flashbacks to 1790: Self-indulgent fanfiction.

Dubai: Stepford Wives via mind gift. 💀

Daniel: Supposedly(*) turned out of spite. I absolutely get why DM fans are besides themselves with this and the comments after.

The story itself: More or less ending exactly where the first book puts us. I do NOT know why they kept that title a secret, it's not hinting at anything other than that simple fact, imho. :)

So.

You know, them using the movie "Gaslight" for the poster reference makes more and more sense now, because that is how I feel a bit at least: gaslit. Just a little bit.

Because... Nice reunion that you had there... too bad it will turn out to be the contested NOLA one, I would bet real money on it. 😅

......

Sarcasm aside, this is a brilliant show. But I am NOT looking forward to another two years of bullshit accusations (by some) because they were mostly/only spelled things out in the episode insiders, and only broke things up in the last episode. Or of people confusing the meta and social commentary level with the in-universe one.

Which, by the way, I'm happy that they went there. And I am relieved that they spelled things out in the episode insiders. Truly. But as experience has shown after season ONE... implied manipulations, episode insiders and interviews, and cast/crew/writer statements don't mean jack shit to some people.

So yeah, where does this leave us?

This was a dark season. I think I'm not totally wrong when I say that most of us did not get what we wanted from it, neither DM, nor Loumand, nor Loustat. Or Claudeleine.

"Locked together in hatred" comes to mind, though "hatred" is obviously (way) too strong a word. (But that quote fits so nicely 😏🤓)

We DID get some of what we wanted. But for a show which built so heavily on other books... to follow the first book then so closely?? I don't know, it leaves me a bit unsatisfied(**). It feels as if they just shut the book, to be done with it, you know?

I still enjoyed the season, there were brilliant parts in it. But it feels... bloodless. Sexless. Empty of affection. Harrowing. Which is, of course, the point.

This... is a depressing, hinting at suicide-through-vampires note.

Which won't happen, of course.

Because here we get to (**), which is of course ™️ them announcing s3 just prior to the last episode;))) And thereby making some things clear by that fact alone :)) 🙌🙌🙌

I said it before, I expect them to revisit... again. Given that this will be in what, 1,5 to 2 years from now? Well. Hopefully still in 2025. And I hope the arc they spun over these three seasons will be done then. And we can move forward.

I do hope this show will get 10 seasons. But for the first time since it aired I wished we'd already be ahead, in season 4 or something. 😅 Because this heap of loose endings is... taxing^^. Though definitely coming very softened as a blow now with the s3 renewal that’s for sure^^

Can't wait to hear your thoughts, if you want to share them. But these are mine. For now.

I'm sure there will be a lot of details, and analysis and meta to follow, and I'm looking forward to it. 🥰🙌

S1 and s2 were a tale... I mean we knew. But I would have preferred a bit more... truth.^^

Because that Magnus‘ tower scene?! No way. The metaphorical push off the tower??? No way, sorry Rolin but if they let that stay… that’s not giving agency that’s removing Lestat‘s suffering for their weird “toxic masculinity arc“ that Sam hinted at and which was - IN THE BOOK!!! - a misjudgment of Akasha.

AND it is removing Lestat‘s suffering to give more nuance to other characters. -.-

Given Hannah‘s episode 5 comments I hope they do not make a misjudgment of his character there. The red flags are there though, especially after the recent interviews, have been ever since that DV drop, and I have people come to me via DMs now to tell me they’re leaving the fandom bc they’re scared of another GoT…. which I get.

I… still have some faith. I know Rolin tends to put his foot into his mouth at times, he is a troll, and for all her takes on ep5 Hannah also wrote other brilliant scenes.

And we have Sam and Jacob as trump cards.

I‘m determined to enjoy this - this is what we‘ll get. I waited 30 years. I won’t go anywhere. I will enjoy what they give us.

I won‘t like all their decisions. That I am aware of.

BUT I will enjoy it, going in open-eyed, nonetheless.

(*) okay that is obviously bullshit, Armand would not turn him out of spite. Which is another hint I guess. But I talked about that in asks^^ At length 😅

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fake Love Part 4/8

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

18+

Reader is a kindergarten teacher. Nothing more nothing less. But following an accident whistle vacation in Dubai she somehow makes her boyfriend believe that she does somthing else for a living, something that earns her way more money than she has. Her boyfriend, Ruben, is just happy to have found someone who understands him so well, someone who doesn't want him for his money since money isn't an issue for neither reader or himself. Or so thinks. Would finding out the truth ruin their newfound relationship? Readers thinks so, and does everything to keep up the lie, although it has some bad people from the middle east looking for her.

Enjoy!

"Taxi!"

You called for one outside of the airport in London. You were tired from the journey and longed for a hot shower back at your apartment.

"Taxi!" You shouted, quite desperate for one to pull up.

"Y/N, chill." Alicia said. "Our ride will be here in a minute."

"Our ride?" You frowned.

Alicia nodded, phone still pressed to her ear. "I'm consulting the Siddiq family right now, see if they can send us a...."

Alicia's eyes widened with terror as you lunged for her phone, forcing her to hang up.

"Whatta fuck Y/N!"

"Are you crazy?" You hissed

"Am I crazy, are you crazy Y/N? Give me back my phone for fuck sakes."

You held her phone behind your back, refusing to return it. "Alicia we are not doing this. We can not continue spending somone elses money. It has to end. Right now."

"Why? They owe us don't they?"

"No Alicia, they owe us nothing, especially not you." It was not her leg that grilled in the fire. "The Siddiq family has shown us enough kindness then we deserve, this will not go on any longer, agreed?"

She didn't agree. However, she could tell how serious you were about this. "Fine." She said, stretching out a hand, demanding her phone back.

"Who are you gonna call?"

"Well, it's not Ghostbusters, is it? I'm calling a taxi."

You handed her back the phone, a sly smile on your face.

The days passed quickly there on, like your time in Portugal never happened. The burn on your leg healed but roughly, the skin not as smooth on that part of your leg. The only times it bothered you was when you got out of the shower, standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror. However, no one was gonna see you naked, at least not for some time. Yes, you felt guilty for giving Ruben a fake number, but you held your ground when it came to not live off of some rich business man in Dubai. It was the only reason Ruben was interested in you in the first place, because he thought you were rich like him. But no more lies. Meeting Ruben was a lie and even though falling for him felt real it was built on a lie and no relationship could ever flourish from somthing like that, right?"

"Miss?"

"Miss?"

"Yes, Simon?"

You snapped out of your daydreams, peering over your desk to see one of your kindergarten students with a pen up their nose."

"It's stuck." He said.

You sighed, rising from behind your desk. "Let's go to the nurses office shall we?"

"Okay."

You had one of your colleagues come in and cover for you whilst you escorted Simon to the school nurse. Yes, your life was really back to it's glamorous self.

"Hey, Y/N? Need a lift?"

It was Byron, seen crossing the school parking lot to get to you. You were really not in the mood, still adjusting being back to work. All you wanted to do was go home and lay in your bath.

"Sure Byron, why not."

He was considered a friend, although you know he never really got over your brief hook up in university.

"The kids are glad to have you back."

"Oh, thanks Byron. That's nice of you to say."

He drove you home the long way, avoiding the highway that would only take you ten minutes to arrive.

"Not only the kids." He added. "I missed you too."

Your smile was stiff, but at least it was something.

"When Nina told me what happened to you in Dubai I got so worried that I had to take a day off just to calm myself down, not to worry the kids that their teacher wasn't coming back to work."

"That sweet of you Byron. But it wasn't a serious thrid degree burn, my skin heald pretty quickly." Your boss Nina made it seemed like you lost a limb or something. Mainly because Alicia's dramatic Tik Tok's had people assuming the worst. Even your parents called you in concern after your brothers came across one of Alicia's vlogs from the hospital in Dubai.

"Well, I'm just glad you're back."

"Thanks Byron."

He was a sweet guy, not relationship sweet, but a descent human being sweet. You appreciate how much he cared for you as a friend.

"I have no problems giving you a ride to and from work, I mean we're basically on the same schedule."

"Thanks Byron, but I don't think that will be necessary."

Alot of people had offered to help you out,  even your boss suggested you'd cut back on your hours a work, however, it wasn't necessary. You needed something to take your mind off things. With things you meat, your agonizing thoughts of what could have been between you and Ruben.

Arriving home, you grabbed yourself a light snack from the fridge whilst waiting for your hot tub to fill with water. Once it did you, stripped yourself of your clothes, slipping I to the scolding water, allowing the heat to relax your muscles. You did not stay relaxed for long though, seeing as there was an incoming facetime call from your phone. "What?" You grunted, since now was not the time to hear about the latest gossip at Alicia's workplace.

"Hey, gorgeous,"

You stiffened at the sound of his voice.

"Ruben?"

You were looking into the screen of your phone, in disbelief of who was staring back at you. It was Ruben, with his hair sprouting in every direction as he looked to lay back in a bed, one arm draped behind his neck. "Um...hi." You stuttered, not really sure how any of this was possible.

Ruben smiled "I just wanted to see how you're doing and see if you're missing me as much as I'm missing you."

"Um, how...?"

"Did I get your real number?" He chuckled.

Heat rose to your face.

"Well, after calling "your number" over a hundred times, Fabio let me get in touch with your friend who told me what was going on."

"Alicia gave you this number?"

"Mhm." He nodded, tossing what looked to be a grape, into his mouth. "She told me that you thought that I wasn't that into you, that perhaps I was only out to screw you over or something."

"She did what?"

"It's ridiculous, I agree. How do you even come up with something like that? I mean you're the one who screwed me over by letting me call a fake number like an idiot."

There was a jab in your stomach as his tone was serious, laced with sincere hurt. "Ruben I'm so sorry. I didn't..."

"Let's not play the blame game." He waved. "Your friend made it clear that you haven't been dating for a while and that your game might be a bit stiff."

"Pardon?"

Ruben laughed.

"I am not stiff."

"I believe you." He said, although he had trouble talking between laughs. "I mean you look pretty relaxed in that bathtub back there."

You gasped when you realized. "Oh my god. Ruben I'm...." Embarrassed. You were terrible embaresssed, sinking deeper into the water to cover yourself. You and Ruben hadn't talked for days and the first thing he sees is you slipping him a nipple.

"It's okay, Y/N, really. The view is great from here."

"Oh shut up."

You put the phone away, letting Ruben have a good view of your bathroom ceiling. The tub needed more water, and bubbles, lots of of bubbles.

"There you are." He exclaimed, once you returned to the screen, now neck deep in in the water. "Thought I lost you for a sec."

"Ruben, maybe now is not the time." You said, tormentented by how stupid you must come across to him.

"Y/N." He said, his voice now restrained.

"What?" You muttered, trying to stare at anything but the screen.

"Look at me."

Your eyes looked up, meeting Ruben's kind gaze.

"You're good, okay. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable by calling unexpectedly. I just...." He sighed, a hand running through his already messy hair. "I can't seem to get you out of my mind."

You sunk deeper into the water,  biting down on your lip. "Me too. I can't stop thinking about you either."

"Well, when can we meet?" He seemed excited that your feelings were mutual.

"Ruben, I'm not sure I'll be going back to Portugal anytime soon. I mean I have a job to do and..."

"Y/N." He said. No. Chuckled.

"What's so funny?" You frowned

"You really don't watch football do you?"

"What do you mean?"

Ruben sat up in bed, showing off the tracksuit he was wearing. "You said you've heard of Manchester United, no?"

"Yes, the English team that you told me played in the Premier League."

"Right. Well I play for their arche rivals Manchester City, meaning I live in Manchester, England."

"Wait what?"

"Yeah."

"So, you're not from Portugal?"

He chuckled. "I'm from Portugal Y/N, I was born and raise there. But just like you I was just on vacation. I got back to Manchester yesterday."

"So what you're saying is that we're both in England as we speak?"

"Yes. And my team has fixtures in London all the time, meaning I'll be able to come see you between games."

"Right."

The problem was that you had once again lied to Ruben when he asked you were in England you lived. You figured London sounded more suitable abode for a business woman, not Chells Way, Stevenage.

"Y/N, you alright?"

The downside about facetime was that your emotions were all on display. Ruben clearly caught your reaction to his offer and it was not what he had expected.

"Of course, there is no pressure for us to meet." He said, clearing his throat. "I just thought, that it was something that we both wanted."

"I want to meet." You nodded, although your voice betrayed you. "I just...my job, you know?" It was another lie. You were piling lie upon lie on this fake love of yours. Nevertheless, Ruben ate it all up, nodding understandingly. "I get it."

He was so kind. He didn't deserve this from you, from anyone.

"Ruben?" You whispered, following a moment spent in silence.

"Yes."

"I really missed you."

A muscle jerked in the corner of his lips. "I missed you too."

"Tell me." You sighed, leaning back against the tub, splashing water around yourself. "Tell me how much you've missed me."

Ruben froze for a brief moment, seeing you redirect the camera angle in a way that revealed more of your body.

"Alot." He gulped, watching you dip a hand between your legs.

"Yeah? Tell me more."

He couldn't see all of you through the murky water. But as the layers of bubbles disappeared with your slow shifts, the swell of your breast resurfacing.

"Oh, baby don't do this to me." Ruben's head fell back against his pillows as he too adjusted his camera angles. You watched him slip a hand down his sweatpants and stroke whatever he was hiding in there. "I missed you so much, wishing you were here, with me." He moaned, chest heaving up and down with his heavy breathing.

"Ruben, please. Tell me what you want to do to me." You up the pace of the movement between you legs. You we drawing small circles against your clit, the sensation sending chocks of lightning to your body's nerve endings.

"I want to fuck you, hard." He groaned.

"Yeah, and?"

"Fuck you hard and watch your tittes bounce when you ride me."

"Yes, and?" You were squinting your eyes, primitive moans leaving your mouth, echoing throughout your bathroom.

"And..." He grunted on the edge of something. His movements down his pants were faster than yours, unable to contain himself.

"And, Ruben? Please tell me."

"Baby, I can't. I'm close." Ruben's camera shook with the bouncing of his bed. You watch him please himself, please himself to the image of you.

"Me too baby, me too." You arched your back in the tub, one of your legs going over the edge, opening yourself up wider. "Look at me baby, watch me come for you."

He seemed unable to multitask, having to slow down as not to make himself come before you. He watched you please yourself to the point of screaming his name, you're fingers buried deep inside of you.

"Fuck." He groaned, staining his bedsheets with the erruption of his cock.

"That felt good." You smiled, regaining your breath, coming down from the high. "I can't believe I just did that."

"Me neither." Ruben said, no longer in his bed. He looked to be in a small bathroom, washing his hands. "Sametime tomorrow?"

You shook your head, unable to hide your smile. "Goodbye Ruben."

He smiled, a cheeky smile. "Goodbye Y/N."

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter Three I It's Nice To Have A Friend

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 2498

Warning: I have literally no clue how football works.

A/N: Hey fellas! I hope things are going well for y'all and that you're enjoying the story! I am like a puppy dog and thrive on words of affirmation so if you're enjoying pls let me know!

Prologue One Two

            “She said what?” Keely gaped, looking up from her laptop at Jamie.

            “She said that I made her feel like… like she didn’t deserve to be here,” Jamie repeated, leaning back in his chair.

            “Aw, poor girl,” Keely pouted at him. “What did you say?”

Jamie shrugged. “Nothing, she walked away before I could say anything.”

            “Well, what would you have said if she stayed?” She pressed.

            “I… I don’t know,” Jamie admitted, after a second. “It just made me think about… me dad.” Keely frowned at that. She didn’t know a lot about his dad, Jamie had always stayed mainly private about that part of his life, but what she did know wasn’t great. He continued. “I was just such a dickhead.” Keely snorted. “What? I’m opening me self up to you. Can you try not to laugh at me?”

            “No, Jamie, no! I’m not…” She cleared her throat, trying to appear serious. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just, I’m pretty sure you’ve called yourself a dickhead about a hundred times since you’ve been back.” Jamie rolled his eyes and leaned forward in his chair. “Have you talked to Dr. Fieldstone about it?”

            “Yah, I have. She said I need to forgive me self so I can let them forgive me. Cause if I won’t forgive me why should they. Whatever the fuck that means.” He was frustrated with himself. It was like she could understand what the ball was doing before it even moved. Why couldn't he just tell her that. “I just want her to know I’m sorry. It doesn’t help that the rest of the team hates me to.”

            “Well Jamie, they aren’t going to just forgive you. You have to show them you’ve changed.”

            “Ted said not to buy them all PS5s.”

            “No, not like that! Just… let them show you how to make it up to them,” Keely clarified.

Jamie looked at her for a second processing what she said. “…. Keely?’

            “Yes, Jamie.”

            “Can you return 30 PS5s?”

            “Oh, Jamie.”

The next game was against Coventry City. The coaches didn’t usually spend a lot of time with the lads before games, but I loved the energy in the locker room. I walked around the room, talking with the boys, giving last minute tips, handing out fist bumps. I could feel Jamie’s eyes on me as I did. Every now and then I would glance over at him as he tied his shoes. I warded him off with a small smile, but I didn’t dare get too close to him.             

“(Y/N)! Look at this!” It was Colin, excitedly showing me his boots. “Had Will shine these bad boys this morning.”

            “Yes, Colin your shoes look great,” I rolled my eyes whilst giving Isaac a fist bump.

            “You’re not even looking!”  

I turned a looked at Colin. They did look really great.

            “You know what Colin, those do look great,” I conceded, reaching over to give him a high five.

Just then the sound of stretching tape caught our attention. I turned to see Sam pressing black tape over his Dubai Air logo. Someone cracked some joke about Dubai Air not paying him enough but he quickly explains that it was more than that. That Dubai Air owned by a compnay that was destroying the environment in Nigeria. There was silence in the locker room.

Then Jamie stood up.

I eyed him, ready to step in if he decided to make a stupid decision here. But instead, he stretched the tape and put it over his own Dubai Air logo.

            “Gotta wear the same kit,” he explained. As if it was simple. As if it was expected.

He patted his jersey before tossing the tape into the center console. I studied his face, looking for any signs of mockery, but there was none. Soon the whole team had stripes of black tape over the kits. The whole game, all the focus was on Sam, even though it was Jamie’s big return. But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he celebrated Sam when he returned from the post-game interview. We lost the game, but no one seemed to mind.

            “All I’m saying is that objectively, this red looks better than the blue boots,” Colin insisted, motioning to his feet.

            “Colin, the red is going to get dirty so much more easily than the blue,” I counter, pointing at my own shoes.

            “Now that’s just- “

            “Hey, (Y/N), can I talk to you?” Jamie interrupted.

Colin and I took simultaneous sips of our beer, making eyes at each other before I nodded. Colin took that as his cue to leave, giving Jamie a cheer as he left. Jamie looked down at his shoes, looking a little nervous.

            “What’s up, Jamie?” I asked, trying to force him to meet my eyes. Then he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was a ticket. “What is this?”

            “It’s my ticket to your final game at Imperial,” he explained, motioning to the ticket.

Surprised I looked down. Imperial College. Where I had gone to uni and played football all four years. This final game I lead my team to the league championship.

            “I-I don’t under- “

            “Me and some friends had heard about this crazy talented football girl,” he began, still not meeting my eyes. “I thought, there was no way a girl could be as good as they were saying.” He laughed a little. “So, we bought tickets to see you play. And you were that good. Like… even better than they was saying.”

My mouth was agape with surprise. I looked down at the ticket, shaking my head in disbelief.

            “Jamie, I- “

            “Wait, let me finish, please,” he interrupted, again. “You really were incredible that night. I thought I would see you in professionals but.... your name never popped up. Anyways, when I found out you were coming to coach here, I suppose I thought that I needed to prove me self to you. Make myself look bigger and better. But it was really because I was intimidated by you. I was dumb, and really stupid. And I know I’ve been saying it a lot but I really am sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t good enough for us because the truth is, you’re really better than most of us.”

I was shocked by his sincerity. “Thank you, Jamie.”

He finally looked up at me. His eyes were big and searching, it almost broke my heart. I smile at him and raise my beer towards him.  

            “We’re okay, Jamie,” I reassured him.

His face broke out into a smile, that stupid cocky smile that I had seen so many times before.

            “Good, good,” he clinks his beer against mine. We both took a long sip of the beers looking around at the room.

            “You know, what you did today, for Sam, it was really good of you,” I told him, sincerely.

He shrugged. “Any of the lads would have done it.”

            “But they didn’t, you did,” I press, nudging his shoulder. “It was good.” He kept his cocky smirk, but I could see his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. “Doesn’t excuse you playing like rubbish out there today.”

            “What? I did not!”

            “Oh, yes you did!”

The two of us sat there bickering and chatting about the game until long after everyone else had left. But I barely noticed. Jamie was funny. He was sincere and honest in a way I didn’t expect. It was too soon to tell but I felt my heart jump. The same way it had that night with the ghosts. Maybe, just maybe, that Jamie was here again.

I had a routine. Since moving back to Richmond, I stayed in the same schedule. I woke up at 7:00am. Get up, get a quick workout in, shower, eat breakfast, and get to work early so I could have some time on the pitch. Occasionally, when I was leaving my house, I would run into a pap or two asking me some inane questions about my place in the league and what I was doing to single handedly fix sexism in the football industry. Keely just told me to keep my head down and keep walking.

But now there was a new part to my schedule. Now when I arrived at the pitch, Jamie was there waiting for me. We’d play against each other, throwing sharp jabs at one another for whatever tiny mistakes the other would make. It was fun. Jamie was a fun friend. Wasn’t that great. Friends? Almost best friends, I might say. It was distracting.

            “So, hows that puzzle coming?” Ted asked, as I walked into the coaches room after my daily session with Jamie.

            “Huh? Oh! Good, I suppose? He’s doing well,” I responded, sitting in my seat. “He’s a fun guy to be around.”

Ted gave an understanding grunt. “Aint, that just great. A new friendship. Beard, didn’t I tell you I knew what I was doing.”

            “Don’t gloat,” Beard grunted from behind his book.

            “Hooh! I love it when he gets bitter,” Ted giggled, smiling at me. “Turns his eyes a lovely shade of hazel!”

Beard lowered his book just enough to show me his eyes. They did look lovely.

The game that weekend didn’t go great. We ended up in the video room watching the loss on the television. Isaac’s leadership was taking a steep turn. His fear was coming out in aggressive rages on the field when his teammates didn’t make the plays they were supposed to. After one particularly bad defensive move by Jan Maas, Ted paused the tv.

He began his motivational speech. This time about romcommunism. An interesting play on words about getting through the dark forest of the season.

            “What about aca-teamwork?” I suggested referencing my personal favorite romcom.

            “Oh, that is a Pitch Perfect comparison,” Ted quipped, snapping his fingers. “Becca thought she was cool by trying to be independent but what she needed was teamwork.”

            “But wasn’t the real lesson in Pitch Perfect the understanding of sisterhood and how surrounding yourself with people you love creates strength?” Colin pointed out.

            “Exactly, Colin,” I agreed, leaning back in my chair.

Ted came to sit next to me as the lights went down. I scanned the lads to watch their attention levels when my eyes landed on Jamie. He was smirking at me. When he caught my eyes, he gave me a fist pump a la The Breakfast Club. I shook my head at him and motioned for him to pay attention.

As the boys were changing and packing up for the day, I erased the strategies off the board.

            “Good call today with the Pitch Perfect reference, I love that movie,” Colin shared coming up behind me.

I capped my marker and turned to look at him with a smile. “It’s only the greatest romantic comedy in the 2010s!”

            “I agree. We don’t talk about the sequels, though,” he pointed out.

            “What sequels?” I joked, raising my eyebrows. “I’m still waiting on Becca to choose a song for the next auditions.”

            “You get it, alright, I’ll see you around girlo!” He gave me a pat on the arm as he walked out of the room. As I watched him leave, I noticed Jamie sitting on his bench listening to us talk. I quirked an eyebrow at him.

            “Something to add, Jamie?” I asked, grabbing my bag.

He picked up his own bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Nah, I ain’t seen that one.”

            “What! You haven’t seen Pitch Perfect?” I gaped. Though I knew it wasn’t super surprising that Jamie hadn’t seen it.

            “I prefer 10 Things I Hate About You, I like… what’s his name…” He approached me as he thought about the name. “Heath Ledger’s character.”

            “Patrick?” I offered, shocked that Jamie knew about one of the best rom coms of all time.

            “Exactly!” He started towards the door. I followed him, walking close enough that our shoulders were brushing. “What are your plans for this weekend?”

            “Uh, beating Sheffield Wednesday?” I replied, raising my eyebrows at him.

            “I mean besides that.” He rolled his eyes.

            “Dunno, maybe sleep in for once? Eat a French fry?” I shrugged. “What about you?”

As we rounded the corner to leave the room, I spied the newest sponsorship that Keely had hooked up for the boys. Keurig coffee makers.

            “Woah, maybe make too much coffee with my brand-new coffee machine,” he gloated, picking up his coffee.

            “Change of plans, I will be at your place drinking too much coffee with your new coffee machine,” I joked, glaring jealously at it.

He laughed. I decided I loved that sound and smiled at him. When I went to follow him, I heard a loud throat clearing. I turned and saw Rebecca and Keely looking at my expectantly. I frowned at them and turned back to Jamie.

            “I’ll see you around, yeah?” I called after him.

He turned back and for a second it looked like real disappointment on his face. But it cleared up quickly when he saw Keely standing behind me.

            “Oh alright, see you at Sheffield,” He turned to walk away but not before calling out, “Bye Keely!”

I don’t know why but it made my heart drop to hear him address his former girlfriend. I waved at him before turning back to face the two women behind me.

            “What do you two want?” I pouted, leaning against the wall next to Rebecca.

            “You like him!” Keely shouted, clapping her hands excitedly.

I snapped my head in their direction. “What are you talking about?”

            “She’s right,” Rebecca concurred, starring at her phone. “Everyone can see it.”

            “Everyone?”

            “Everyone,” Keely concluded. “Except, apparently, you and Jamie.”

I looked incredulously between Rebecca and Keely. I do not like Jamie. JAMIE! Of all people. Just a few weeks ago I couldn’t stand him and now they think I like him.

            “Seriously, that is just ridiculous, Jamie is just my friend,” I clarified, shaking my head.

            “Your friend that you go to work with, hang out with while at work, and walk home with?” Rebecca inquired, finally looking up from her phone. Her stare as piercing. But no, there was no way that I liked Jamie like that.

            “I think the two of you need to get laid,” I finished, pushing myself off the wall. “Instead of getting in other people’s business.”

I walked away from them, back to my office where I could pretend to be mad at them. I wasn’t mad, not really. Just annoyed. So, what I wasn’t able to have a friend in Jamie? I wasn’t able to admire his physique in a friendly way? Or laugh as his naivete and honesty? I finally felt like I had someone who respected me in this field. That’s all he was. A friend.

Tag list:

@optimisticsandwichgladiator, @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo, @ajax-petropolus-wife

[blorbocedes]

honestly the current grid have absolutely no vibes or swag. back in the day you had the likes of jenson button, who dated numerous models and was a bit of a james hunt style playboy, kimi raikkonen, who gave no fucks and went to drink on his yacht after dnfing in monaco (also both of his wives were unbelievably hot), schumacher, who i guarantee ate pussy like a god and married a competitor's girlfriend. demon twink seb who gave his cars weird sexual names and had a psychosexual relationship with his teammate whilst winning four championships back to back (and winning like nine races in a row even though he'd already won the championship), nico who speaks five languages, turned down an offer to study engineering at one of the best universities in the world, could drink and party all night and was so beautiful that he was nicknamed after a sex symbol.

now all the drivers do is stream themselves on twitch or play golf, which has to be one the most boring, least sexy sports of all time.

where's the glamour, the mystique, the sex appeal? sure, the mouse is pretty, but he dresses like a colourblind child. carlos is good looking but the daddy issues overshadow any sex appeal he might have. i genuinely believe that george russell has the smooth genitalia of a ken doll. not one of them is giving even half of what the early 00s or 2010s grid did.

honestly the daddy issues heighten the carlos sex appeal but that's just me...

i do think the current grid have such a sanitized, PR trained presence -- esp on social media. where is the "sitting in cop car until dad came. now in Dubai cycling" tweets.... where's beefing with your teammate and posting his telemetry online. nico and lewis CARRYING the being messy on twitter that's why they were besties fr

Ofc I understand the social landscape has changed, and any driver wld be rightfully called out if they call their car Kate's Dirty Sister or w/e...

but ykno. some traditions last, much like michael max stole a competitor's gf and seat.... pierre like his hero senna dating a teenager...

you're richer than god and you choose to GOLF 🥱 or you're writing paragraphs on discord about your video game..... hate it here fr

[rjzimmerman]

Do the recent or right-now-ongoing crazy global weather scare you? Bother you? Interest you?

I'm pulling this from various media sources, because there is so much crazy weather happening now, or that has happened within the last couple of weeks, it seems like no single media source is picking it up.

From Heatmap AM:

Houston’s floods – More than 400 people in and around Houston, Texas, evacuated their homes over the weekend due to flooding. At least one person, a child, was killed. In one nearby county, more than 21 inches of rain fell over five days last week. The rain has tapered off but the cleanup has just begun.

Brazil’s rain – In Brazil’s southern state of Rio Grande do Sul, days of intense rain caused the Guaiba River to overflow and flood more than 340 cities, including the region’s capital of Porto Alegre. At least 78 people are dead and more than 115,000 have been forced to evacuate. One climatologist calledthe catastrophe “a disastrous cocktail” of climate change and the El Niño effect. “It looks like a scene out of a war,” said Rio Grande do Sul governor Eduardo Leite. 

Chile’s fires – Fires in Chile’s Valparaiso region, fueled by an intense heat wave and enduring drought, have killed at least 51 people and burned more than 64,000 acres.

Kenya’s deluge – Flooding and landslides in Kenya from unrelenting rainfall have killed more than 200 people. It is still raining and the weather is forecast to worsen throughout the month of May.

Southeast Asia’s heat wave – A lengthy heat wave has shattered temperature records across Southeast Asia, forcing many schools to close. One weather historian called the heat wave “the most extreme event in world climatic history.” 

From the Associated Press (AP):

A weekend spring storm that drenched the San Francisco Bay area and closed Northern California mountain highways also set a single-day snowfall record for the season on Sunday (May 5) in the Sierra Nevada. The wet weather system had mostly moved out of the state by Sunday morning, but officials warned that roads would remain slick after around two feet (60 centimeters) of snow fell in some areas of the Sierra. “Did anyone have the snowiest day of the 2023/2024 season being in May on their winter bingo card?” the University of California, Berkeley Central Sierra Snow Lab asked on the social platform X. The 26.4 inches (67 centimeters) of snowfall on Sunday beat the second snowiest day of the season — March 3rd — by 2.6 inches (6.6 centimeters), according to the lab.

From Yale Climate Connections:

For the first time since the 2010s, a high-risk outlook for severe weather (level 5 of 5) has been issued for parts of the Great Plains. The outlook was put in place at 8 a.m. EDT Monday, May 6, and updated at 12:30 p.m. EDT Monday by the NOAA/National Weather Service Storm Prediction Center, as a busy few days of severe weather moved into high gear. Dozens of tornadoes could erupt by midweek, including in and near Oklahoma on Monday and across a broad swath of the mid-Mississippi and lower Ohio River valleys on Wednesday. Many of the worst tornado U.S. outbreaks of recent years have played out across the Mississippi Valley and Southeast, but multiple rounds of twisters have hammered the Plains since late April, taking at least seven lives and wreaking what will no doubt be hundreds of millions of dollars in damage.

From Wikipedia:

On 16 April 2024, heavy rains caused floods in the United Arab Emirates, affected cities of mainly Dubai and Sharjah, the northern Emirates, and different areas of the Emirate of Ras Al Khaimah. According to the National Center for Meteorology (United Arab Emirates) , this was the country's heaviest rainfall recorded in 75 years. The floods in the Emirates were a part of the greater Persian Gulf floods.