#rumm

[rummybestapp]

Best rummy Apps

"Explore the best rummy apps at rummybestapps.com! Download now for an unparalleled gaming experience and endless fun. Don't miss out!"

[monkeyssalad-blog]

Grumman F8F-2P Bearcat 1088 G-RUMM BuNo 121714 United States Navy by Chris Murkin Via Flickr: Grumman F8F-2P Bearcat 1088 G-RUMM BuNo 121714 United States Navy Photo taken at the Imperial War Museum Duxford Cambridgeshire 13th September 2024 Battle Of Britain Air Show Fly in and Practice Day YYB_1614

[grimtoucher]

I have work tomorrow but my brain is blasting the fuck ojt of Pitbull rn

[ittybittybumblebee]

Vibing to the cats the musical songs stuck in my head

[thepiratefish]

MY MOOTS RAA!!

I've made so many in thr popcross Fandom and I love you all dearly

Tagging the first moot I made!

@therummonster

Reblog if you've made at least one friend because of a fandom.

[simena]

Rumm August

[soelvfisk]

Fakeprofilen var mega spam og den findes slet ikke mere og det er heldigt. Var meget rå lige dér, da jeg blev informeret om den. Fordi jeg jo var øm over at vende tilbage. Til internettet og verden på en måde. At føle sig øm og passet på det ene øjeblik og rå og udstillet og brugt det næste. Modsatte oplevelser på én gang. Midt mens jeg lå alene på en madras i den nye lejlighed uden hund og med kun to mandariner i maven. Sådan en “jaja, jeg kan selv” dag, som jeg slet ikke kunne selv alligevel. Det håndterede jeg ikke så godt.

Jeg var glad for tanken om en lejlighed og så blev jeg ængstelig ved tanken om at flytte ind. Det føltes meningsløst at prøve på at bo selv, når jeg havde det så skidt. Nu er det 7 dage siden jeg overtog lejligheden og i dag sendte jeg min opsigelse afsted til udlejer. Flytter ud i weekenden. Og bliver indlagt næste uge. Forhåbentligt. Psykiatrien har det med at sende mig hjem, fordi jeg er for “kær og venlig”…. Min default høflighed får mig åbenbart til at virke “rask”. Problematisk.

Føler jeg har en ret skarp 7 dages radar på boliger. Hvor jeg kan mærke at jeg har begået en kæmpe fejl. Og at det kommer til at ruinere mig energimæssigt og økonomisk. Men at jeg må ud. Denne gang var det en blanding af hvor skidt jeg har det og det fact, at min underbo er sådan en to meter høj restauratør der æder menneskers livsgnist til morgenmad. Det var ham der skældte mig ud på gaden. Han spiller højlydt far-rock der runger i gulv og vægge og jeg er ikke parat til at betale en hel masse i husleje bare for at få lov at føre krig mod ham. For jeg ved at han vinder. Han er ikke et hensyns-menneske. Han er et “jeg vinder, når jeg råber - du taber, når du græder” menneske. Og jeg græder hele tiden.

Jeg vil leve roligt og ubesværet. Og helst ikke i nærheden af mænd der kun lytter til andre mænd.

Flytter. Så har jeg flyttet 6 gange på et år. Udmattende. Tænk at jeg lod Stenen beholde mit drømmehjem. Som jeg havde knoklet for at finde. Ak. Tænk at jeg overhovedet brugte kræfter på det shit. Jaja. Jeg forstår mig. Jeg troede, der var noget at kæmpe for. Men har lært at man ikke skal kæmpe for ting, der giver én lyst til at dø. Not worth it. Man kan ikke redde en relation alene. Man skal ikke bevise loyalitet og trofasthed, hvis det indebærer så meget smerte.

Vil spare sammen til en iPad så jeg kan spille stardew valley. Vil besøge min kræftsyge mormor og skåle i de kalorioholdige drikke fra apoteket, som vi begge drikker. Vil tænke på min morfar. Har købt brevpapir med sommerfugle på, så jeg kan skrive breve til folk nu hvor det er så svært for mig at åbne og læse og svare på beskeder… og være online. Og så vil jeg forsøge at rumme verden bid for bid, så jeg på et tidspunkt tør ting igen. Vil så gerne vise min taknemmelighed og give tilbage.

Fortalte min mor i dag om tumblr. Vi græd sammen. Over situationen. Søde mennesker herpå. Som passer på hendes datter. Det var spcielt. Jeg fortalte om hvordan det er, når nogen ser noget i ens adfærd, som man er vant til bliver overset. Hun kunne relatere på en anden måde. Der blev bygget broer. Føler også der er broer her. Det er vigtigt<3

Nu går jeg i seng. Godnat tumblr. Jeg tænker på jer alle og håber at i lander blødt og drømmer sødt. Håber sådan at lige pludselig en dag, så kan jeg mere end jeg kan nu. Kram

[sloppyprincessness]

I'm hvsv bee n gone for d a while fuck9 NM k cuntss have been try9ng to keep p me sober r Ober but I'm an alcoholilicc slu th t . My gf broke u g up with me because in an alcohollccic. I'm d I'm so fuckigng done with v fuxk9n g slutsf I need to d r I drink alkd all the time an d I'm.

.dI'm I'm gond na

Fuckdk everyone that hate me for drin king mer and IL fuck anyone e

ImKnow inm a fuck9ng slu ut in sucjk a anchoh9lic vs m

I tried to sob d sober but I need to be b f drinking h f I'm d r dr dri k on a sfbottle o m bf R IN RUMM th t the bottle is d empty fucknvn me

I shpukf should peobable say I'm drink a lot super dru ml k

Sorry for b egg being so fuck ed up

I'm so wastx wastedc we

How m many bot t le s show shroud I dringh? N n?

Im so fu ink inklg wet from dri k inking

Who the fuckvb hatd drunk girl s is. Like meee fuck 29all the hat ers

I've been drinking and dunk dru lk for hours f I'm kcrying and drunk I'm sorry r g

I throw up om o in nrh myt bed I'm s o o gross I'm in im Hon gonns sleep in my mm puke

I'm du such and dru ink girl i

I cant end even hurt se myself I'm so wast ed ed

Fuck me s

Fuck me fuck me fuck me f u ivkme I hate mw myserfl

How own Manu bottles d s somebody savrr me fromd bring sober r e

I sic feel so so sicklll

I'm good gpnnnd puke in bed aga sind before in get upp I'm so sorry for everythingg

[stellarumm00]

my own son

i am my mothers child and my fathers daughter.

i love being one ,but i hate the other.

i have my fathers eyes, but not the colour.

the colour alone, that belongs to my mother.

my mothers hands and feet are mine to wash the dirt.

“i raised you” he screams, but you only caused me hurt.

“i raised you” i whisper, but i am not her mother.

i am always the other.

the other woman, the other sister,

always another’s.

i feared you’d be like me, so i raised you better.

i feared you’d feel like me, so i raised you to be better.

so that you’d be more your mothers child,

not your father’s daughter.

i am my mother’s child.

i hate my father’s daughter.

i want to be my own son, but i remain your daughter.

i have your angry tongue, my dear maddened father.

i am my mother’s child.

why was i born your daughter?

i am my mother’s child i am my father’s daughter.

-Stella Rumm

[lenaariewrld]

dream girl

iwaizumi hajime ending・ᡣ𐭩

“How are you feeling?” Iwaizumi’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts as the two of you walk down the hallway towards you dorm. Both of your arms are laden with numerous plush animals and small prizes you’d gathered, ready to fall out of your grasp should you loosen your grip while he looks like he’s easily carrying his own share. Were you planning on keeping every single plush and prize? Probably not, but you would cherish each one as if it was a personal gift from Iwaizumi. At least for tonight.

You look at him with a confused expression, your brows pinched together slightly. “I’m feeling fine?”

“I mean, in general. After… everything,” He says quietly, his eyes trained on the hallway and making sure neither of you drop anything.

“Oh,” You bite your lip. You don’t know what to tell him for a moment, unsure how to word how you truly are feeling. And you don’t feel like sugar-coating it for him. He wouldn’t believe you if you tried to, either. “Well.. despite all the stress and annoyances from two months ago, I feel pretty good. I’m better now, which helps. Safe.” You pause as you reach your door, letting him take some more of the haul so you can fish out your keys and unlock the door. He remains silent, his expression urging you to continue. You swallow, focusing on the lock.

“It helped that I had people around to support me… That you supported me,” You say, ushering him inside. “Seriously, everything you did was… more helpful to me than I could explain,” You add as you kick off your shoes and set everything down. Iwaizumi follows your lead and the both of you make quick work of dominating your couch cushions with all the things. Once you’d assigned a temporary home for everything, you head to your ‘kitchen’— which was really just a small section of the dorm room with the most basic kitchen amenities needed to cook the simplest of meals.

You prop open your fridge with your hip as you search around for a drink, leaning your head over the top of the door to glance at Iwa. “Do you want a drink?” You ask. He’s leaning against the doorway of the kitchen.

He looks relaxed, casual. Like he belongs here. Like he belongs in your life, just talking as you both go about your days and normal actions. He nods and accepts the drink you hold out to him with a grateful bow of his head, popping the cap off the beer bottle. You weren’t much of a drinker now, especially since you’d intentionally distanced yourself from the party scenes on campus, but you still enjoyed a glass of wine, or beer, or something simple every now and then. And it was university, where it was easier to get free bottles of beer than it was to get free vaccinations.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all that,” You admit, leaning back against the counters. Iwaizumi chuckles, taking a swig of his drink.

“You don’t have to thank me,” He shrugs. “I was looking out for you,” his eyes remain on you as he takes another drink. It’s calm as a beat of silence passes between you two. You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, likely with texts or some mentions you’re not too fussed about reading right now. In fact, you prefer this. A million words rush through your head and you find yourself opening your mouth slightly, lips parted and poised to speak but nothing coming out. You don’t even know what you want to say, it just feels like  you have to say something.

How do you deal with this? It feels like your heart might escape from your throat and run right to his hands, his gaze intent and buzzing as he continues to look you over, taking you in. Taking in the domesticity of it all. This felt right.

“A-are you hungry?” You settle on asking, turning away from him and setting your drink down for a moment. Your kitchen is small, yes, but it’s big enough for you to make a small dinner for two. Should Iwaizumi accept. He hums thoughtfully, his arms crossing over his chest after he takes yet another sip of his drink.

“Sure,”

You nod and rummage in your cabinets, producing two packets of instant ramen. The stovetop, not the microwave-able kind. “Can I help–?” Iwaizumi pushes himself from where he was stationed to offer any assistance but you wave him away.

“You just keep me company,” You smile sweetly, ushering him to the far end of the counter. “Want to listen to some music?” You ask as you set some water to boil on the stove, muscle memory making it easy for you to glide around the rather cramped kitchen. You can barely take a step and turn around fully before you run into the counter on the other side of the small space. And yet, it doesn’t feel that cramped even with the two of you occupying it. Iwaizumi props himself against the counter as out of the way as he can and watches you.

You choose to play music even without his answer, taking his silence as a go-ahead. You select a random playlist and turn the volume low, humming along to whatever songs you recognize. After two songs, Iwaizumi hums along as well. “I didn’t think you were such a romantic,” He says in a slightly teasing tone, though it’s near imperceptible from his usual way of speaking.

“Huh?” You glance at your phone, realizing that he was teasing you for the love song that was currently playing, the second one in a row if you had been paying as close attention as he had. “Sorry,” You flush in embarrassment, reaching for your phone to turn it down, but instead Iwaizumi places his hand over yours.

“No, don’t,” His eyes are soft as they continue to watch you. It feels like he’s drowning you, every inch of your body on fire under the heavy gaze he continues to target you with. “I liked it,” He says.

Your cheeks flush darker and you retract your hand away from your phone, your heart hammering fast in your chest again. It strains against your rib cage, pounding like a prisoner trying to escape from the bars holding them captive. You clear your throat. “It’s a good song,” And with that, you focus back on the cheap noodles you’re cooking, the kitchen falling silent between the two of you. Iwaizumi lets his hands fall back to his lap, and the equilibrium you both found returns as easily as the first time. Domestic and calm. Safe.

A few minutes later, you serve a couple of doctored-up bowls of your favorite noodles to him, reserving one for yourself. You hand him a pair of utensils and begin eating, a bashful smile pulling at your lips when he quietly thanks you and takes a bite. It’s peaceful and you relax against the counter on the opposite side of Iwaizumi, having pulled yourself up to have a makeshift seat.

You look up when you hear a distant boom outside, quiet crackling and whistles following and preceding them. “Fireworks,” You comment, assuring yourself of the source of the noises. You had gotten jumpy since you started here, wary of the potential for chaos. You didn’t mind chaos normally, but what you really needed now was peace, something easy and worry-free so that you could balance yourself again.

“You should see ‘em,”

“I like where I am,” You shrug in reply to Iwaizumi’s words, a tentative smile on your face. Now its your turn to watch him as you lift your gaze, noticing how his attentions are elsewhere. Namely, craning his head to the side and staring out of the singular window against the far wall to catch a glimpse of the fireworks. Your gaze never wavers, glued to his profile like you never want to forget this memory or how he looked. How he glowed in the lighting.

Iwaizumi stayed quiet.

Then he looks back at you, no longer entertained by the idea of seeing any of the fireworks. “I like where I am too,” He admits, his utensils swirling some of the noodles around in his bowl. He seems to contemplate what to say next, a few seconds passing before he speaks up again. “I like you,”

It makes your breath catch.

The casual tone of his voice, the assuredness in his features. Like it was any other conversation topic you two could discuss. He disguises his nerves well, his hands clenched in fists as he waits for your response. Time seems to pass like molasses and you struggle to find the right words for a moment. Finally, after what feels like forever, you smile and your heart soars.

This time, when you speak, you think you actually do feel it leap into his hands, your words unregistered to your ears.

Even without hearing exactly what you say, you see the way Iwaizumi’s tense muscles relax, his eyes widened just slightly. He smiles and sets aside his bowl, taking the two steps to stand in front of you on the counter, easily placing himself between your knees and pulling you close while you sit on the edge of your counter. His hands come to your waist, but before he can close the distance you beat him to it. Practically throwing yourself into him, you throw your arms around his neck, your lips crashing into his. 

A laugh escapes him alongside a surprised grunt and he takes a step back to make sure you’re not about to tumble off the counter. You giggle and move your lips against his, your breaths mingling as you settle into the kiss. It’s sweet and messy and a slight clash of teeth and tongues and lips, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because it’s real and it’s with him…

| three years later...

———

previous | masterlist

extras:

(post timeskip) iwaizumi has graduated while y/n is in her last year

iwaizumi was lying about the locations of the others (re; he was still with them but wanted to ditch for y/n)

taglist: closed

[christineforevigt]

dagbog søndag 15 dec 2024

kæmpede imod mit indre besættelsesinstinkt

det skete i falske glimt at jeg kunne slippe det

jeg synes jeg er motherfucking kedelig uden andre

ayy jeg er intetheden

jeg forstår intet og det hjælper ikke på kommunikationen at jeg sir noget højt

ordene vil altid føles bedre end stilheden selvom de ikke fører til noget godt

jeg taler uden at vide om du kan høre mig

du siger du bare er en rekvisit i mit liv

det er det værste du kan sige til mig

kan du elske mig selv hvis du er en rekvisit eller gør det mig for narcissistisk til at holde ud

jeg har kæmpet for at elske

jeg er konstant bange for at jeg bliver ligegyldig for dig

der var et før og så er der nu

jeg vil bare gerne have du rører ved mig for det er kun sådan jeg er sikker på du stadig vil mig

jeg kan ikke være ærlig så jeg er bare en dramaqueen

jeg tror slet ikke jeg kender min egen sandhed

men vid at jeg virkelig elsker dig

jeg får bare det hele til at handle om mig

og jeg kan ikke se lyset for enden af hvilken tunnel jeg end kravler rundt i

jeg lover dig at hvis jeg kunne føle mere og ikke være så bange

ville jeg stadig vælge dig frem for alle andre

er jeg det værd for dig? du skal kun gøre det for din egen skyld, du skal kun gøre det hvis du elsker mig

intet mere forfærdeligt end at du siger du holder af mig

for jeg vil have du elsker mig

*

jeg ramte lykken de dage jeg ramte lykken midt i alt mit white dropout fattige tabertrash

jeg blev en taber der elskede hele verden

jeg elskede at være en taber det gør jeg vel stadig

*

giv ikke op

*

nogle gange tænker jeg over hvorfor alle er så sindssygt vild med dig? jeg tror godt jeg ved hvorfor

*

jeg ved hvordan jeg kan gå i stå og du er en vej jeg kan følge

ned til stranden eller finde den største ro på dit værelse her kan jeg hvile mine rastløse ben i tusind timer

*

kan du rumme min usikkerhed lidt endnu? det er en del af mig og den er ikke til at slås med. men jeg håber jeg vinder

*

det er altid andre der har ret aldrig mig det er altid andre jeg skal lytte på for mine ord er kludrede og glemte og nogen gange når de aldrig ud af min mund

*

det er kedeligt ikke at elske, det er kedeligt ikke at være tæt på nogen, det er kedeligt ikke at kneppe

for hvad fuck skal jeg med mig selv? jeg kan lide min krop nogle gange og at performe et selv

lad mig slutte med at sige at du fik mig så tæt på mig selv som jeg har været siden mit hoved blev sygt eller måske er det bare bullshit

det værste er at mine ord og tanker aldrig rammer plet

*

jeg ønsker at se alt du er og være der for dig måske er jeg bare for selvoptaget

aner ikke hvorfor

sandheden heler ikke hvis den udelukker det du helst vil have

der er så meget af mig du ikke har set

jeg hader at skrive dagbog fordi jeg aldrig er sikker på hvad jeg mener så det føles som om det jeg skriver aldrig er helt rigtigt

*

hvis jeg er i dit liv, så er verden ikke så vigtig

det er ikke giftigt, det er fuldendende

[sterling-501]

𝒟𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝐵𝑒𝑒𝓇

SUMMARY: Wolffe’s raging possessiveness over you finally comes to fruition after months of pining

(Wolffe xFemReader)

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Working at 79s was a blessing and a curse. There had been many times where you’d had to call the police droids to break up bar fights, dragging out drunk shinies who got off their face after one drink and the occasional Weequay creep who wouldn’t know how to take no as an answer.

Tonight though, tonight was quiet, well as quiet as 79s could get. the bass boosted music still rumms your ear drums, the pining migraine forming at the back of your head still present as ever, but the clones tonight were tame. Grateful is an understatement. The abrupt slam of the door opening rips you from your thoughts, looking up from the bar counter you see a cluster of what looked to be a bunch of shinies, smug looks painted across their faces and by that look, this was their first time visiting the famous bar. Before you divert your attention back to the task at hand, something catches your way…well someone. His grey armor standing out against the plastoid white, strategic patterns painted across his shoulder pauldrons along with his grey kama hanging off his body. Wolffe. Stolen glances and touches becoming a secret language to you both. The Commander of the 104th had a hold over you and little did you know the feeling went both ways.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you frantically try to act unbothered by his presence, your shaky hands making that difficult as you pour the rank beer into the tall glass.

“first day on the job?”

As your head snaps up your eyes are met with a clone, not one that you’ve seen before either, a shinie. Your thoughts catch up to you as you plast a fake smile across your lips. “no fondly enough” you say through a breathless chuckle. You finish pouring off the glass and slide it across the bar in his direction but before you could pull your hand back, his clasps over yours, preventing you from drawing away. “y’know…you would think that being in a club full of men like me would have you nervous, cyare” oh great. You huff out a chuckle, deciding whether or not to play into his ego, the migraine in the back of your skull having you decide to take the latter. You try to pull your hand back but his clasp only grows stronger. “what? Are you proving me right, beautiful?” he smirks, his hand slowly tracing up the back of your hand to your arm. Heart racing and breath hitching your words start to fail you, his touch making your skin crawl.

And Wolffe saw it all, he saw through your polite but fake mannerisms, he could read you like a book. But through all that, he saw how that rookie was touching you, how his hands wormed up your arm, tainting your skin, infecting your space. He hated it. He bit the inside of his cheek as his heart pumped through his chest, jealousy making his blood hot. Before he knew it, his legs had carried him over to the barstool where the shinie was sitting, back facing him.

“trooper” the shinie whips around, pulling his hand off yours, body stiffening as he looks up at the Commander towering over him, his cybernetic eye pairing the same scowl as his pierce hazel one. “C-Commander” the shinie stuttered, his confident facade now failing him and being replaced with one of fear.

“don’t you have somewhere to be… rookie” The Commander implied, his tone laced with bitterness. The cluster of rouge shinies grouped around a booth near the back of the bar erupts in a loud roar as one seemingly chugs a beer as the others cheered him on. The shinie gulps nervously as he stands to his feet “Sorry Commander, didn’t realise the miss was yours” he stumbles “head out shinie” the Commander spits. The trooper scrambles his way off the barstool, tripping over his feet in the process. Once he’s out of ear shot the Commander turns his attention back to you. Your gaze drifts from the wandering shinie back to Wolffe, his gaze unwavering. Inhaling sharply you try to mask your nervousness, hide the fact that your heart practically goes into overdrive whenever he’s near you let alone looking at you. “thanks” you manage to breathe out, those being the only words that seem to escape your mouth.

“don’t mention it” he grazed, taking the now empty seat, leaning his forearms against the bar. Your gaze stills for a moment too long before reaching to grab the glass you offered the shinie moments before.Not until Wolffe reaches for it at the same time causing your hands to overlap and touch, a spike of adrenaline stuns your spine and squeezes your lungs. Eyes meeting and bodies stiffening, his gaze is once again unwavering. Attempting to at least still the tension you pull your hand back while nervously stuttering “oh you can have it- i mean i can make you something better but if you prefer that then that’s fi-” but before you can finish his hand pulls yours back towards him, rubbing his thumb along your skin. Looking down at his hand clasping yours back up to him you see an unfamiliar expression plastered across his face. “i didn’t like the way that rookie was touching you” Words clog your dry throat as your heart threatens to burst out of your chest. Any coherent thought or sentence seems to vanish, hell your brain itself has short circuited leaving you speechless. you swallow nervously trying to soothe your dry throat before you stutter out “i- uh…it’s fine- i’m fine, happens all the time” you shrug off, your hand still clasped under his. Your words didn’t seem to soothe his mind though, his eyes practically searing scorch marks on ur skin.

He grunts in response, his hold on your hand tightening slightly before letting go reluctantly, your skin starting to crave his absent touch. “and what makes you think i’m fine with it” he retorts. Your breathing becomes shallow as your heart pumps faster and faster, your mouth agape as you try to form a coherent sentence. “c’mere” Wolffe says as he stands up from the barstool, flicking his hand initiating for you to come with him, you place the dirty rag on the edge of the sink that you’ve been mindlessly fidgeting with “Wolffe i can’t, i’ve still got to finish my shift” Now fully stood across the bar counter his gaze once again scorches your skin “i don’t care” his voice stern and fixed.

You take a breath as you match his fixed stare before walking to the edge of the bar, Wolffe following you until you reach the double swinging doors “seriously Wolffe, this better be quick i can’t-” but he grabs your forearm interrupting you, leading you to the back of the bar near the kitchen.

He turns around and grabs you by the shoulders pulling you aside into the back corner, his frame towering over you. “Wolffe?” you breathe out, his chest practically pressed against yours as you look up at him. “Do you know how much I hate seeing those shinies crawling all over you” he breathes out, his face finally sharing a glimpse of genuine emotion, something that isn’t masked, something raw “they practically praise the ground you walk on cyar’ika” the unfamiliar name rolling off his tongue effortlessly, practically turning your knees to jelly “I don't like people touching what is so obviously mine” he growls, the butterflies in your stomach virtually going haywire. “cyare…” he pauses as he leans in, his gaze drifting to your lips before wandering back up to your eyes. “i hate it”

and amongst the jealousy and raging possessiveness, a glimpse of hurt flashes across his face. He reaches his hand up to graze the end of your jaw with his thumb, his touch setting your spine alight. It was the way his voice graveled, how his hand was slowly moving from your jaw to the nape of your neck while his other hand snaked along your waist, subtly pulling the hem of your shirt upwards to trace his fingers along your skin but most of all it was how he was looking at you. His gaze constantly shifting between your eyes and your lips, his expression a mix of raw vulnerability and pure jealousy. “I practically put myself through hell when i come here, seeing how those rookies look at you…they fucking undress you with their eyes” his voice laced with vexation but not towards you, it was towards those ammature shinies that think they could practically coy with you, and that made him mad.

And before you know it Wolffe’s lips are pressed up against your skin as he starts leaving a trail of harsh kisses along the nape your neck. Your breath hitches as you feel his teeth sink into your flesh, the sting being short lived as he soothes the mark with his tongue. You rest your hands on his chest as he continues “fuck cyare” he murmurs in between kisses, both of his hands now gripping your waist, his thumbs caressing your abdomen harshly. “You have no idea” he says before marking your skin again, lazily trailing up to your jaw “what you do to me sweetheart” he murmurs near your ear before pulling back, his voice low and vexing. All words and thoughts have seemingly vanished, your brain a pile of mush as you gaze at the man towering over you. Your faces inches apart, the feeling of his breath hitting your skin only provokes how hot your muscles feel, like feeding oxygen to fire. Wolffe’s lips curl into a soft smirk as he sees how much of an effect he has over you, which unsurprisingly spurs him on even further. His gaze shifts between your lips and back up to your eyes. You wanted him to kiss you, needed him to, your body writhing under his hands, your lungs desperately trying to catch a full breath. Wolffe’s hand reaches up to cup your jaw, his thumb caressing your under eye “let me?” he asks, his brows upturned in need, eyes saying everything that his mouth can’t seem too, want, longing. Rotations of built up pining and craving over you plastered across his face, it infected the blood that ran through his veins and controlled his limbs. Everything he did, everything he said was because of his need for you.

You gaze up at him as you swallow nervously “please” you plead breathlessly, that being all the confirmation he needed as his lips caught yours.

You felt everything and nothing all at once, you felt how his gloved hand held your jaw tilting your head to meet his, how his other hand gripped tightly at the flesh of your hip, how his chapped lips molded against yours. But against all that, your brain buzzed and your body relaxed into his, you felt like you were on cloud 9. The kiss was how you would expect a kiss from Wolffe to be, harsh, chapped, filled with hunger and need but somehow gentle too. He was taking full control just like you imagined the gruff Commander would.

Wolffe too had never felt his mind be so quiet yet loud, no war zone could ever make his body be this full of pure adrenaline, his spine burning with need. Pulling back reluctantly to catch his breath he gazed down at you, your kiss swollen lips and glazed eyes making you that much more beautiful to him.

“You have no idea how long I've needed that” he says breathlessly, his chest heaving as he rests his forehead against yours. Your lips curl into a coy smile before you move the palms of your hands up from his armored chest to the back of his neck, your fingers running through the nape of his hairline “i think i can take a guess” you retort with a brazen smile “oh yeah?” he smirks, his face softly admiring every feature that paints your face. “mmhmm” you hum in response “a long time”. Wolffe chuckles in amusement at the obvious statement “yeah you could say that” he says as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear. You gaze up at him for a moment before tracing your left hand to his jaw, gently rubbing at the scar that paints his under eyes, a reminder that this might not last forever, but knowing Wolffe, not even the darkest sith lord could keep him away from you “don’t die on me anytime soon” your tone laced with sarcasm, but underlying it all you both know that’s a possibility, something neither of you want to admit. He hums in response before saying “even if i were dead cyare i wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you”

[usafphantom2]

Pete Kynsey at the controls of The Fighter Collection Grumman F8F-2P Bearcat G-RUMM at Shuttleworth Military Fly Navy Airshow in 2022… @Flying_Legends @ShuttleworthTru @theshed #shed #spitfire #sea-hurricane #swissgarden #discoveryhub #lysander #annec

@ShutterbugWGC via X

[anmaje]

Så det er "Speak your language" dag, og jeg har her en liste af danske ord som jeg savner VOLD meget når jeg taler/skriver engelsk:

"Sin/sit/sine". Pronomet over alle pronomener! Jeg talte morsingbosk som barn(vi bruger bare hans/hendes/deres som på engelsk), og da vores dansklære fortalte os hvor vigtigt det var rullede vi øjne, men hun havde ret! Det er så rart hurtigt at kunne vide hvem der gør hvad.

Alle vores ord for sygdomme, kropsdele osv. Helt ærligt hvad fuck er en "appendix"? Engelsk er så højrøvet et sprog, og det ses især i navne på kropsdele og sygdomme. Det er en blindtarm, tak. Hvad er en "molar"? Det er en tand i kinden, kald det en "kindtand" for fucks sake. Vi har heldigvis dette tilfælles med tysk(Ich mochte Deutsch in der Schule nicht, aber es ist eine schöne Sprache).

"Fællesskab(fællessang osv)". Det er så synd for de engelsksprogede at de ikke har det ord. "Community" er tæt på, men den rammer bare ikke på samme måde. Der ligger så meget i "fælles" og et eller andet gammelt ord stjålet fra græsk eller latin har bare ikke samme tyngde.

"Nå". En klassiker. Behøver jeg at forklare? Definitionen af alsidighed.

"Hos". PRÆPOSITIONEN. Jeg elsker det her satans ord SÅ HØJT! Hos kommer af "at huse", altså at rumme. Det er så fucking cute og "with" eller "by" kommer ALDRIG til at holde samme varme og kærlighed. Hver gang jeg hører til Lyse Nætter har jeg lyst til at tude over "du er hos mig", for der er ikke noget så skønt som at være "hos" nogen. At overgive sig til en andens selskab og verden. Og vi bruger det så casually! "Vi startede hos Magnus før vi tog i byen." Magnus husede os! Han rummede os alle sammen! Magnus åbnede sin verden, sit hjem, sine fucking arme til os! AAAARRRHHHHHH jeg elsker det ord!!!!

Tak for at i kom til min Ted Talk. Hos er mit yndlingsord. Dansk er et fantastisk sprog, trods dets mangler.

[blackteastorm]

Fortsetzung: Allein unter vielen

Nach einer kleinen Weile kam der Wirt höchstpersönlich durch die volle Stube zu mir gestolpert. Er war ein dickbäuchiger älterer Herr mit einem pfausbackigen, freundlichen Gesicht. Der Schweiss rann dem tüchtigen Herrn in Strömen hinunter und verlieh seinen rosigen Wangen im Kerzenschein ein bezauberndes Schimmern.

Mit einem Rumms stiess er an meinem Tisch und sogleich schalte mir seine laute Stimme entgegen: "Was möchten's trinken? Schon gegessen? Unser Linseneintopf mit Speck kann ich Ihnen sehr ans Herz legen. Meine Frau, die Margrit, ist hier in der ganzen Gegend für ihre Eintöpfe bekannt. Sie macht sie immer nur mit den frischesten Zutaten und...", ich unterbrach ihn. "Einen Krug Most und da ihr ihn schon so angepriesen habt, auch noch einen Teller von eurem Eintopf."

Verdutzt über die Unterbrechung und meine klaren Worte gab der Wirt nur noch ein rasches "wie ihr wünscht" von sich und rumpelte auch schon wieder davon. So sass ich alleine in der brechend vollen Gaststube, doch fühlte ich mich an meinem Tisch in der Ecke sehr wohl. Von hier aus hatte ich einen guten Blick auf das Treiben des Volkes hier.

So langsam wurde mir auch wärmer und ich streifte meinem Mantel von mir. Auch meine Wildlederhandschuhe, welche ich vor zwei Jahren (in einem besonders kalten Winter) nicht weit von hier gekauft hatte, strich ich ab und verstaute sie sorgfältig in der Manteltasche. Aus jener holte ich dann mein kleines Notizbuch heraus, in welches ich immer meine Erlebnisse schrieb und indem ich immer las, wenn ich glaubte, den falschen Weg eingeschlagen zu haben.

Es zeigte sich, dass ich immer, wenn ich meinen gegangenen Weg in meinem Tagebuch nachlass, ich wieder ganz sicher war, dass ich mein Leben genauso gestaltet hatte, wie ich es immer wollte. Dabei ist wahrscheinlich an das exakte Gegenteil von dem zu denken, was sich die meisten für ihr Leben wünschen, obgleich eigentlich auch nicht.

Sehet, ich bin ein einfacher Mann, der wenig sich wünscht, ausser seines Seelenfriedens. So wandere ich immer auf der Suche. Auf der Suche nach was eigentlich? Wenn ich das nur so genau sagen könnte.

Wie dem auch sei, ich glaube, wir alle streben nach denselben Dingen, die uns glücklich machen im Leben. Nur die Wege, die wir dabei einschlagen, sind verschiedene. Alles scheint seine Vor- und Nachteile zu haben, doch ich für meinen Teil bin doch sehr zufrieden mit dem Los, das ich gezogen habe.

Meine Gedankenblasen wurden plötzlich von einem köstlich riechendem Dampf erfasst und sogleich hinfort getrieben. Der Wirt war angekommen und hatte eine grosse Schüssel seines hochgelobten Eintopfes, zwei Scheiben Schwarzbrot und einen Krug Most dabei. Er stellte alles mit einem lauten Knall auf den hölzernen Tisch, so dass die Kerze darauf fast umgefallen wäre. Es war keineswegs böse Absicht, der Arme kam unter dem ganzen Geschleppe und Gerenne nur langsam an seine körperlichen Grenzen.

Ich bedankte mich ausserordentlich höflich und respektvoll für die Mühen des Alten, der mir ein wenig leidtat, gerade weil ich ihn auch bei unseren ersten Zusammentreffen so schroff abgewimmelt habe, wie wenn einer Knöpfe an der Tür verkaufte. "Lassen sie sich's schmecken!", antwortete dieser auf halbem Weg durch das Gewimmel hindurch und war schon wieder hinter dem Tresen verschwunden.

Ein paar Jahre musste er wohl noch und konnte er wohl auch nur noch bei dem vielen Stress hier im Wirtshaus, dachte ich mir. Doch die Jahre voller Arbeit werden sich dann gelohnt haben, wenn er von seinem Ersparten leben kann und sich die Füsse an einem warmen Herd wärmt und sein Herz jeden Abend neben einem warmen Herz einschlafen kann.

Gierig griff ich nach einem Stück Brot und zog die Schüssel mit dem Linseneintopf näher. Für heute war das alles, was ich zum Glücklichsein brauchte und um die Sorgen von morgen werde ich mich morgen kümmern.

Erzählungen aus dem Leben von Wolfgang A.

[efteraarmanden]

at rumme...

et eller andet sted, så kan jeg ikke sådan rigtigt rumme andre mennesker lige for tiden. Jeg kan dårligt rumme at være i mit eget hovedet. Men når det er sagt, så savner jeg lidt at være nær med en person, så hænge ud sammen, måske snakke sammen, putte, se en film. En som ikke er en nær kammerat. Men what to do... Så er der arbejde igen igen i morgen. Bonus at det er mandag så der er voksen aften i glostrup svømmehal så op og svømme lidt og ligge i noget varmt vand bag efter. Det bliver rart