#prague is calling my name

[starsainzjr]

Old Money

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x show jumper!reader Faceclaim: Jessica Springsteen

A/N: This one is incredibly INCREDIBLY self indulgent. Carlos is my favorite driver and I'm a show jumper and I'm projecting super hard

✷✷✷✷✷

yourusername Madrid, Spain

Liked by teamkpf, usajumping, carlossainz55 and 12,745 others

yourusername That jump off 😮‍💨 Never a dull moment in Madrid!

View all 963 comments

usajumping Yet another thrilling win!

teamkpf The Padawan becomes the Master

yourusername Never! You'll be world number 1 long after I'm dead

carlossainz55 Thank you for your hospitality! I hope to get you to a race sometime soon

yourusername My pleasure! Consider it a professional courtesy 😉

chiliwilicarlos Carlos??? What are you doing here????

jumpingtoconclusions Our QUEEN! Her rule of the ring will last a long, long time @/teamkpf you did a good job with this one

carlossainz55 Madrid, Spain

Liked by f1, yourusername, charles_leclerc and 427,745 others

carlossainz55 Bit of a different look this weekend. Thank you to @/yourusername and @/usajumping for hosting me!

View all 61,474 comments

yourusername Thank you for coming! My favorite cheerleader all season ☺️

carlossainz55 Come out to a race and take a turn!

yourusername Give me a time and a place and I'll be there!

usajumping Show jumping meets F1!

f1 Now this is a team up we can get behind!

chiliwilicarlos Stop that horse reminds me so much of Carlos why are they actually twins

blackfireproofs HELP WHY ARE YOU RIGHT

blackfireproofs Carlos and his old money era is continuous

yourusername Barcelona, Spain

Liked by usajumping, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 11,982 others

yourusername I think I did the cheerleading thing pretty well! Thank you @/carlossainz55 and @/scuderiaferrari for the invite!

View all 1,004 comments

carlossainz55 Red looks good on you! Glad to return the favor

yourusername You should see me in the Team USA jacket 😉

chiliwilicarlos The flirting is killing me

scuderiaferrari Swapping out horseshoes for tyres!

usajumping Are we going to need to figure out a shared custody schedule for our athletes?

jumpingtoconclusions ...I'm gonna have to get into F1 aren't I....

chiliwilicarlos I can become a show jumping fan. I can be a show jumping fan for them

scuderiaferrari Spruce Meadows

Liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, yourusername and 825,374 others

scuderiaferrari Different kind of paddock for C² this weekend! Thank you @/usajumping and @/yourusername for being the best hosts!

View all 87,645 comments

usajumping Did we just become best friends???

scuderiaferrari Give us the name of your catering and you've got a deal

yourusername Glad I could put on a show for you! Thank you for coming! ☺️

charles_leclerc Never seen Carlos that invested in a sporting event before

carlossainz55 Try being more interesting on the track if you want me to pay attention to you

yourusername Them's fightin' words 🥊

chiliwilicarlos I'm calling it now, these two will be dating by the start of next season

blackfireproofs Wait why is this actually so adorable I love this matchup

justaninchident Charles third wheeled hard this weekend

yourusername Prague, Czech Republic

Liked by usajumping, carlossainz55, brainmoggre and 14,468 others

yourusername Couldn't bring it home this time, but we'll go again harder next year. Thank you Prague for such an amazing opportunity!

View all 1,964 comments

teamkpf Keep your head up, kid!

yourusername Thanks, dad ☺️

carlossainz55 Good company in second place in the meantime

yourusername Little too much crying on the kiss n' cry for my liking

chiliwilicarlos 👀

usajumping An all USA podium is nothing to bat an eye at!

jumpingtoconclusions Calling it now, Yn will be the Max Verstappen of show jumping next year

blackfireproofs You've been doing your research!

chiliwilicarlos I've never watched show jumping before this but I can see why Carlos loves it! Yn is a powerhouse and even my inexperienced eye can tell that

carlossainz55 Prague, Czech Republic

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 614,194 others

carlossainz55 Nice to get a quick break, but it's back to the grind 💪

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charles_leclerc Carlos, call me.

blackfireproofs Ooooooh someone's in troubleeeeee

landonorris CARLOS. CALL ME.

chiliwilicarlos I would kill to be a fly on this wall

chiliwilicarlos Okay, I'm revising my bet. By Christmas.

jumpingtoconclusions So this is the man that has my idol's heart

blackfireproofs The way that I am dying for these two to get together

scuderiaferrari @/usajumping Our driver is in the wrong paddock

chiliwilicarlos ADMIN WHAT DO YOU KNOW

yourusername Yas Marina

Liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, usajumping and 31,037 others

yourusername Second place is the best place

View all 2,002 comments

carlossainz55 Next year is our year, chula

yourusername Gonna kick some ass, lindo

chiliwilicarlos THE NICKNAMES KILL ME NOW

charles_leclerc You're partying with us tonight tho right????

yourusername You couldn't get rid of me if you tried 😉

blackfireproofs Okay but the old money vibes with these two...

chiliwilicarlos The way she unabashedly posts him 😭 Girl is head over heels

blackfireproofs If I were this close to Carlos I would post him all the time too tbh

yourusername Mallorca, Spain

Liked by carlossainz55, teamkpf, charles_leclerc and 32,089 others

yourusername Rest and Recharge

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charles_leclerc Why wasn't I invited

carlossainz55 We were lost without our professional third wheel

yourusername I'll come spend a week in Monaco to make it up

teamkpf Kid, you don't tell me anything anymore

yourusername Sorry, dad

jumpingtoconclusions Oh she's gonna be unstoppable

justaninchident Charles is gonna become their kid mark my words

chiliwilicarlos I will protect them with my life

blackfireproofs Relationship confirmation 👀👀👀

chiliwilicarlos Even if they're not dating their friendship is enough to make me believe in love again

carlossainz55 Wellington, Florida

Liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 582,946 others

carlossainz55 Today we discovered that I'm allergic to hay

View all 41,046 comments

yourusername I really am so sorry

carlossainz55 I will brave it for you, chula

charles_leclerc I wanna meet the ponies 😭

yourusername I'll give Carlos' next ticket to you

carlossainz55 HEY

chiliwilicarlos I can see Carlos being a horsey boyfriend

blackfireproofs He would carry her ring bag with reverence

jumpingtoconclusions Our king and queen

usajumping Paris, France

Liked by yourusername, teamkpf, carlossainz55 and 3,183 others

usajumping Presenting Team USA for the 2024 Summer Olympics! These riders are heading to Paris! Kent Farrington, Laura Kraut, and Yn Yln will be the main team while Natalie Dean and Bliss Heers act as substitutes.

Let's cheer Team USA on to gold!

View all 491 comments

yourusername Let's go! See you in Paris!

teamkpf Get the countdown started!

carlossainz55 @/maxverstappen1 Can I borrow your jet?

maxverstappen1 You kidding??? I'm coming with!

chiliwilicarlos Yn won over Max too 😭

jumpingtoconclusions This is going to be the most star studded kiss n' cry ever

jumpingtoconclusions The sheer power in this team announcement 😮‍💨

yourusername Paris, France

Liked by carlossainz55, teamkpf, usajumping and 50,745 others

yourusername What a dream! Silver in the individual and gold in the team event! Could not be more grateful ☺️

View all 3,038 comments

teamkpf No one else I would rather share the podium with! You'll be kicking me off the top step soon

yourusername Still a long way to go to catch you! Best mentor ever

usajumping Now that's how it's done!

scuderiaferrari A member of the Tifosi is a gold medalist! Congratulazioni from everyone here at Scuderia Ferrari!

yourusername Grazie mille!

carlossainz55 So so proud! Cannot be happier to call you mi amor this weekend!

yourusername My biggest fan! Could not have done this without you mi vida!

chiliwilicarlos She called him her life 😭 I'll be sleeping on the train tracks tonight

carlossainz55 Paris, France

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 718,364 others

carlossainz55 Mi campeona

View all 42,748 comments

yourusername Mi amor ❤️ I love you

carlossainz55 Never been more proud ❤️

landonorris Damn, someone stole my bitch

yourusername I can share

carlossainz55 No, Lando needs to learn to share

charles_leclerc Professional third wheel reporting for duty

yourusername Thank you for your service 🫡

blackfireproofs Oh he's in LOVE love

jumpingtoconclusions But can we discuss the picture of her in front of the Eiffel Tower? Proud boyfriend moment

chiliwilicarlos THEY'RE SO CUTE IT CAUSES ME PHYSICAL PAIN

yourusername Zandvoort

Liked by carlossainz55, teamkpf, scuderiaferrari and 40,467 others

yourusername Proud doesn't even begin to cover it! The trophy shelf is getting crowded

View all 4,172 comments

carlossainz55 Mine can go in the closet, your gold medal takes priority

yourusername ABSOLUTELY NOT

carlossainz55 Mi amor ❤️

yourusername Mi vida ❤️

scuderiaferrari Our biggest flex is having a power couple like this in our garage

usajumping Ferrari garage 🤝 Team USA barn

chiliwilicarlos They love each other so much it's so damn cute

blackfireproofs The power couple we didn't know we needed

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All photos from Pinterest, Instagram, or Google Images

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz social media au #f1 social media au #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz #social media au

[cosmoschaotic]

Despair in the hotel lounge

The concert had been over for a few moments and his head hadn’t stopped pounding. Alex stood near his wife in the hotel’s private lounge as Matt’s girlfriend loudly praised them for their performance. God, he loved to see his mate happy, but was she annoying sometimes!

Specially now, when his head was pounding and he could feel all of the contents in his stomach swirl like a devilish soup. He felt lightheaded.

“Are you alright?” He heard his wife whisper in a worried voice. “Al?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved her off. “I’m good.”

Truth is: he wasn’t good, at all. His head had started bothering him a few minutes before the concert, but he would be damned if he was gonna cancel on such a short notice. Being married to a doctor had its perks: you learn a thing or two. And one things he learned from his wife’s notes and case reports was how to use light painkillers and antiemetics to completely abolish pain and nausea. He also got those two kinds of medication from her purse, although he refused to tell her about his state and worry her when she had just flown over. Which he would start to regret halfway through, when the music became too loud and he thought he would pass out from the pain.

“Are you sure?” She pressed further, and it felt like she really was testing his patience. His concert wasn’t what he thought it was gonna be and now, his wife was worried.

Great. Wonderful. Fucking fantastic.

“God, woman, not everyone around you needs your worry all the time!”

There was a certain silence in the room, a sort of shock. Alex had never raised his voice at his wife. It was new.

“That was so uncalled for, Alex.” So was her calling him Alex.

Ever since they met, she refused to use what she deemed to be his “fame name”. It was always Al, or Alexander, or Turner. Never Alex - everyone called him that.

So he felt a pang in his chest the moment that word left her mouth, and the hurt intensified as he watched her walk towards Katie, Jamie’s wife, who looked at her with a puzzled expression before glaring daggers at him.

As time went on, his situation got worse. He was more and more lightheaded and doubted he could walk to the hotel room if he tried. Matt was talking his ear off yet he couldn’t understand a word.

And Alex deeply wanted his wife to take care of him. Moved by the idea of telling her what was going on, apologising and going upstairs, he got up to walk towards his wife.

Only to come crashing down to the floor.

“Alexander!”

“Mate!”

He could barely make out sounds or figures, but he knew his wife’s hands enough to know she was the one examining him. And telling the boys to help her carry him upstairs.

“He’s dehydrated. But his pulse is fine, it’s probably just low blood pressure or his blood sugar. Has he eaten?” She fired off, before scrunching her forehead and whispering while looking at Nick. “Has he taken any drugs?”

While Matt would hide any information he possibly could from her, she knew Jamie and Nick would never. So when Jaimie shook his head, she knew that this could be ruled off. “Good. What about his sleep schedule?”

“I wouldn’t know, Doc, I’m not a grown man’s babysitter!” Matt snickered and Alex was sure Helders had absolutely no idea what his missus looked like when infuriated, which is why when he went quiet for a second, Alex assumed she gave him the glare while they lowered him on the mattress.

“Tour’s been hectic.” Nick told her. “Al’s been working nonstop for a few days. He wanted to be free when you got here, since you are only staying till Prague.” Alexander could feel his wife’s guilt from the bed when she saw the boys off, thanking Nick and Jamie for the information, telling Matt to take it out of his arse in a playful manner.

“Al, my love, what happened?” She stroke his cheek affectionately, starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. “Can you talk? Jesus, you are sweating too much. What are you feeling?” Alex did not have the strength to say it, but pointed at his head. “Headache?” He nodded before feeling her sit him up to take off his shirt. Alex took the moment to inhale her scent from her skin, while his weakened arms held on to her when she tried to move away. “Alexander, I’m going to take off your pants.”

With a lazy smirk, he gathered all his strength to snort. “Take me out first.” His wife just rolled her eyes.

“Oh, I will, Mr. Turner.” She said. “I’ll get you some medicine and give you a hot bath for your muscles, ok? Hang on in there.”

And she did. She gave him medicine and waited, to make sure it was going to stay inside and directed him to the bath. It’s was warm, but not enough to make his skin red with the heat. Just pleasantly warm.

Alex admired his beautiful wife, her hair in a bun, her focused eyes as she stripped to her underwear, got a bottle of liquid soap and sat behind him.

“I’m sorry for being such a dickhead to you.” He sighed as she dispersed the soap on his back and squeezing his sore neck muscles in the process. “You were looking out for me and I screwed it all up.”

“C’mon, Al, we’re good. Everything is alright, love.”

“It isn’t! It really isn’t!” He was getting worked up, she could tell. After a few years together, she knew him like the medical schemes she memorised through medschool. “George told me about the horrible shifts you had been havin and the awful cases in the morgue and how you were so tired you were taking the train instead of driving and all I wanted was for you not to worry when you were here!” He sighed, and she rinsed the soap from his skin, kissing his head lightly as he winced at his own volume. “To spend your time with me and rest.”

“Al, you are too sweet!” His wife nestled her face in his neck, kissing a bit of the skin. He intertwined their fingers. “You have absolutely no idea of how good it is just to be around you. How refreshing it was to get on that plane and know I was going to be in your arms soon.” She whispered in his ear, smiling like an idiot. “Thanks for taking care of me. Really. I could just see how tired you were, and wanted to take care of you too.” She got him out of the bathtub, drying his torso sweetly. “Isn’t that what marriage is? Two people caring for one another?” He smiled as she bopped his nose before sealing their lips together.

“But-“

“No buts, Alexander. You bought the flights, I shoo away your headaches, you sing me to sleep and I shower you in all my love and affection in the morning.” She laughed lowly as they layed in bed, his head resting in her chest. “You have no concerts tomorrow, right?” He just nodded. “Then, I proclaim bedrest for you for the whole day.” He hummed and she carded her fingers through his hair lovingly. “You are sentenced to a whole day in bed with me.”

“Clothes or no clothes?”

“Your choice.”

He hummed, as if analysing his possibilities.

“No clothes it is.” He declared. “Can you sing me to sleep today, love?”

“Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you, tomorrow I’ll miss you…”

@mywritingonlyfans @ohladymoon

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Daddy Knows Best, Part I

Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part I

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy?

Chapter Summary: You get acquainted with your body with the help of August.

Warnings: age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), pet names (Princess, Little One, Babydoll), Daddy kink, innocence lost, corruption kink, praise kink, dub-con, dumbification, dacryphilia, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (vaginal), dead dove: do not eat

A/N: This is different from my usual fics. I do believe that this would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still chose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is a completely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Spotify Playlist is here. 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

To say you grew up unconventionally would be an accurate description. Your dad was in the CIA, although you had no clue about this. Your mom was a government attache, she mostly acted as a liaison between the CIA and other branches of the government. 

That was how they met. On a mission, the whole one-bed trope. It would be cute if the future weren’t so tragic for them. 

You were homeschooled from the time you were 5 years old. Your Nanny only took you out to meet children your age on the weekends. And that ended when you started puberty. Your parents thought it would be too compromising to have you out with boys your age.

When you were 16 and a half, your Dad was sent on a mission in Prague with a recruit, August Walker. Your Dad was hesitant to try and get close as he had a wife and daughter at home that he wanted to keep safe. And getting close meant sharing personal details, and that always spelled trouble.

And wouldn’t you know? Soon enough, lines were drawn and so was a gun. Drawn on your father. By Agent Walker. It seemed your father had intercepted what he thought was intel on his partner, but it ended up being proof that Walker was a sleeper agent.

Your Dad, of course, promised he wouldn’t say a word. That no one would ever hear of this. But in Walker’s world? Someone’s word was only as good as the collateral they had against you. And your Dad had some good collateral waiting for him at home. A doting wife whom he would do anything for.

And you. Daddy’s little girl.

He was instructed to leave his wife and daughter and never look back. They belonged to August now. And he would be in charge of their safety. And if your Dad ever got out of line, then someone was going to pay.

You had just turned 18 when you met Mommy’s new boyfriend, August. She had been divorced from your Dad for less than a year and is already bringing her new boyfriend around. You weren’t a fan of his at first but he won you over with his charisma and his pretty smile.

Mommy had told you that Dad had to go away for a while and that August was going to move in and help out around the house. You missed your Dad, but it was nice to have August around too. He would sneak little treats to you and he called you Princess. And best of all, he made Mommy happy. 

One day, you noticed Nanny didn’t come around anymore. When you asked about her, Mommy said you were too old for a Nanny. And since you were past high school, you wouldn’t need your tutor anymore either. At first, you felt lonely without the company of Nanny or your tutor. But after a while, you liked the freedom of trying to fill your free time with activities.

When Mommy went to work, you stayed home and August kept an eye out for you. You spent most days in the summer laying around the pool and you couldn’t help feeling as if someone was watching you. But every time you looked at the windows on the back of the house, you could never see anyone. And it was only August home with you, why would he want to watch?

One afternoon, you forgot your towel when you came into the kitchen to get something to drink. Your wet feet left behind little puddles on the tile floor and almost caused you to slip as you were heading back out onto the patio. If it weren’t for two strong arms around your waist, you would have gone down easily.

“Princess, how many times have I told you to wipe off with a towel before you come back in the house? I don’t want you to hurt yourself, Little One,” His warm and calloused hands slide down your waist to your hips, steadying you to walk. He shakes his head at you and smiles, reaching a wet finger to boop your nose, “Go have fun, Princess. I’ll clean this up. And don’t stay in the water too long or you’ll get all pruney.” He pats your butt and you go back outside and lay on your lounger with your bottle of apple juice.

You woke up on your lounger a couple of hours later and your skin burned, the sun was still high in the sky and you fell asleep in it. You manage to walk into the house and make it to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen before you’re wincing and calling for August. You can’t reach the aloe and you’ll need help applying it.

“Oh, look at you. Stayed in the sun all day and now you’ve gotten burned. I assume you didn’t put on any sunscreen either? Princess, just because you have this pretty olive skin, it doesn’t mean you can’t burn,” He took pity on you, your hunched form indicating you felt stupid for falling asleep in the sun, “Let’s get the aloe on you and get you upstairs and in bed, Princess.”

August took great care in spreading the cool gel over your skin. You laid on your back in the sun so your front took the worst of the heat. As the gel cooled you, goosebumps formed on your skin. Your nipples grew hard under your bikini top and you got embarrassed when you realized August noticed. 

You tried to hide your face and he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding you to look up at him. With a sweet smile, he caressed your chin with his thumb.

“Princess, that is a completely normal response. It just means you like the feel of my hands on your skin. And that is never a bad thing, ok? After all, I am Daddy. And Daddy would never hurt you, would he?”

You hesitate when he calls himself Daddy. You don’t even call your father Daddy. But August cared about you. He wouldn’t hurt you. 

“D-Daddy would never hurt me.” You said, not knowing the gravity of the step you just took.

“That’s my good girl. Come on, let’s get you upstairs and into bed.” Grabbing the aloe, August led you up the stairs and to your bedroom.

“Alright. You sit down and Daddy will be right back, okay?” August left the room but was soon back holding one of his t-shirts and boxer briefs, “I got these for you to change into. Let’s get you out of this tight bathing suit. That can’t be comfy on your skin, Babydoll.”

He had you turn around in front of him while he untied your bikini top. It fell to the ground, the cool air of the room hit your nipples and you felt them tighten and harden. When he untied your bikini bottoms, his hand lingered on your hip and he turned you around to face him. Your left arm went to cover your breasts while your right hand cupped your netherlips. 

He bent over to pick up the discarded clothing and threw it into your hamper. “Now, look at my beautiful Little One. You know, you don’t need to cover up in front of Daddy,” He removes both of your arms and you swear you hear his breath hitch in his throat, “Daddy needs to see if the sun hurt you anywhere else.”

His hands glided over your breasts with the backs of his knuckles, slowly turning his hands so his palms make contact with your nipples. At your strangled moan, he pinches both nipples and you yelp. 

“Oh, Babydoll, did that hurt? I am so sorry. Want Daddy to kiss it better?” He was already leaning in when you nodded. 

His tongue swirled around one nipple while his thumb played with the other. When he switched his attention to the other, he moved a hand to the tuft of hair that covered your mound. Twirling a hand through your bush, he let a finger dip further and further until your thighs squeezed shut over him. 

“Princess, open your legs right now.” He kneeled in front of you with his hand caged between your thighs.

“But Aug–”

“I’m Daddy, Little One. Did my silly little girl forget so easily? Maybe she needs some reminding of who’s in charge,” He stood, forcibly removed his hand, and grabbed you by the waist to put you over his lap as he sat on your bed, “Stop wiggling and we can get this over and done with. I think you’ve earned three swats for your bad behavior. And after each one, I want you to count it and say my name. Am I making myself clear, Princess?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You sniffled, upset that you didn’t just let his hand explore.

The first spank is barely anything.

“One, Daddy.”

The second spank made your toes curl, but you barely moved in his lap.

“Two, Daddy.”

On the third spank, you heard the wind move before his hand connected with your plump behind. You jolted forward and felt as if white-hot fire exploded across your bum. You almost forgot your words, but the need to please Daddy was high.

“Three, Daddy!”

Only after you finished speaking did the urge to cry reveal itself. You tried to stifle it but when you sniffed and cleared your throat, you gave in. You began to sob and strong hands lifted you to lay across Daddy’s lap. He cradled your body with one arm while the other wiped away your tears. As he rocked back and forth, he spoke up.

“Oh Babydoll, Daddy doesn’t want to hurt you. Daddy wants the best for his Princess. She just has to listen to and obey Daddy when he tells her what to do,” He turned your face to look at him and he smiled down at you, “Daddy doesn’t want to make you cry but you are so beautiful when you do,” He wiped a tear with his thumb and then put it in his mouth, “Do you forgive me, Babydoll?”

“Yes, Daddy, I forgive you. I just never had anybody touch my…um, my–” You didn’t even know what to call it, but Daddy knew what you meant.

“No one ever touched your princess parts before?”

You shook your head and attempted to hide your face in his neck but a strong hand cupped your chin and tilted it upward.

“That’s because it is a very special place. Only you and Daddy can touch your princess parts, ok?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I think Princess has earned special kisses for being such a good girl during her punishment,” He picked you up as he stood and placed you on your bed with your head on the pillow. He climbed onto the bed and settled himself between your legs, “Daddy is gonna take care of you, Babydoll.”

He opened your legs and placed a kiss on the fuzz on your mound. You felt his hands open you before Daddy placed another kiss. It felt so sensitive but so good and you wriggled under his touch. He smiled up at you and stuck his tongue out before he licked that sensitive spot. He held your legs open when they threatened to shut tight over his face.

“Does my sweet little girl like it when Daddy licks her clitty? It feels really good, doesn’t it, Babydoll?”

“Yes, Daddy. I like it when you lick my…clitty. Um, can you do it again? Please?”

“Look at you, begging Daddy like a good girl. Yes, baby, I’ll take such good care of you.” He delved back in between your legs, he swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud before he started to flick his tongue up and down. 

Your breathing picked up, you felt so good and that’s when he changed his tactics. He placed little kitten licks on your nub and you moaned out his name.

“Daddy…”

He kissed your inner thigh before he spoke, “That’s it, Babydoll. I bet you feel like you’re going to explode. That’s exactly what Daddy wants.” He dove back in, and this time he sucked on your bud. Your breathing picked up again and you felt his finger in the slick wetness of your princess parts. 

“Daddy, I’m–” Your words were cut off as you let out a string of moans. Daddy’s finger was inside you and you could feel yourself explode around it before it moved back and forth inside you. For a moment, it felt like it would never stop.

But soon, Daddy’s finger slipped out of you, and when Daddy lifted his hand, you could see it was shiny with wetness. He reached up and spread a bit of it on your bottom lip. Your tongue slipped out to taste the liquid and you were surprised when it wasn’t terrible. Daddy slipped his finger between his lips and savored the taste of you as he closed his eyes.

“My Babydoll is so delicious. How are you feeling, baby?”

“I feel tired, Daddy.” You yawned as a testament to your exhaustion.

“You’ve earned a nap, Princess. You did so well.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Will you take a nap with me?”

“Of course I will, Babydoll. How does your sunburn feel?” He sat up and you followed suit.

“It feels better, Daddy. But can I have some more aloe?”

He nodded and grabbed the aloe from your bedside table. It felt heavenly to feel the cool gel on your skin. It felt even better when Daddy put a bit of gel on your sensitive bum. He helped you get dressed in his old t-shirt and boxer briefs.

You had laid down on your side and Daddy got in behind you, his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer to him. You hadn’t noticed how good he smelled until now. You tried to calm yourself but you were excited to be held so close. You wiggled to get comfortable and you felt something pressing against your lower back. When you squirmed against it, Daddy put his hand on your hip to still you.

“Stay still and take your nap, Princess. Daddy will have a special treat for you when you wake up, ok? But you have to be a good girl and sleep for now.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You calmed your mind before you pulled Daddy’s arm back around you.

You felt safe and cared for in his arms. You wanted to please him. And you liked the way he touched you. You felt his breathing even out behind you. You closed your eyes and snuggled into Daddy as you fell asleep.

A/N: Um, well, who wants more? 👉🏾👈🏾 Cuz I do.

Part II

**Tag List**

@raccoon-eyed-rebel @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @mrs-solo-walker [Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁]

#henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker smut #august walker fanfic #august walker x reader #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #mission: impossible fallout #mission impossible: fallout #mission: impossible fallout #mission impossible fallout #mission impossible #august walker x ofc #august walker x you #stepdad!august walker #stepdad august walker #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #tw stepcest #stepdad #stepdaughter #dark!august walker #dark august walker #dark! fic #dark fic #dark!fic

[yellowbluemoonshine]

Naoki Urasawa's manga "Monster" Interview;

Naoki Urasawa is one of the most successful manga artists in Japan, having not only been awarded the most important prizes in Japan, but also in Germany. He celebrated his international breakthrough with the thriller series "Monster", which he drew in the 90s. It's about a Japanese neurosurgeon in Düsseldorf who saves the life of a boy and gives up his career to do it - actually he should have operated on the mayor instead of the boy - and then gets into real trouble because he is involved in a series of serial murders and a conspiracy device. Andrea Heinze : How did you come up with the idea for the series? Naoki Urasawa: The drama “Monster” was created because I really liked the novel “Frankenstein”. That really interested me and I thought about whether I could bring the story into today. The second aspect was that at that time in the USA there was this film with Harrison Ford, “The Fugitive”. It was about a doctor whose wife was killed and I really liked it. And then I thought, I have to do something that involves a doctor who is being chased and has to solve a mystery. And then I was interested in “Frankenstein,” this old Gothic landscape, and I wanted to bring the two together somehow. And then we somehow came across Germany. Blonde boy as a contrast to evil Germany

I heard that people saying Johan was inspired by Hannibal and other psychopathic characters etc but it never make sense to me. (Maybe some characteristic sides makes sense but generally no, he is different). It makes sense that Monster is inspired by Frankenstein story because Johan is portrayed as more like someone who became the way he is because of his past. He is the monster created by the real monster. (Mostly its Franz Bonaparta who stole his and many others name, biggest sin a person can do). Its really combined between two stories because Tenma wasnt/isnt wrong to save Johan.

Heinze: And what does Germany have to do with it? Urasawa: I wanted to do something dark. And I don't want to say that Germany is the root of all evil. But if you look at the Second World War - and this is present in Japan, also because Japan was an ally of Germany at the time - there were a lot of dark stories in Germany and also in Japan. A lot has been clarified. But some things don't. I also came up with this beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed boy as a character. I think that's a good contrast to contrast with this dark, bad thing. And the more you delve into history, the more clear it becomes that the roots of the conflicts lie in the Second World War. If you add all of that up, the manga could only take place in Germany.

I am glad that real life stories was brought up but its really sad that this actually happenned somewhere.

Heinze: How did you research the story for “Monster”? Urasawa : I watched a lot of documentaries. In the 1990s there were also reports of neo-Nazi attacks on houses where Turks lived. I've seen things like that and they've also found their way into my story. I made up the rest. For example, the boy, Johann. He is raised in a children's home where many human experiments take place. And shortly before I finished my work "Monster," there was a documentary on Japanese television about the end of the Nazi era, and it also reported on a camp in which blonde, blue-eyed young people were herded together and essentially had to undergo elite training . And this boy who was depicted there was also called Johannes. I was then asked if I had known all of this before - but that wasn't true, it was all in my imagination. A person becomes a monster

This is insane....chills. Its so ironic that a lot of people remember Johan's character as some evil psychopath but not only he isnt written that way in story but also, his origin is literally coming from actual victim, a child. Intentional or unconciously or maybe coincidence but still, wow.

Heinze: How is it that Prague also became the setting for the story? Urasawa: Because everything that was east of Germany, all the Eastern European countries, was not even known in Japan in the 1990s. It's completely different today, but back then people hardly knew everything that lay east of Germany. While on the other hand, Germany and everything further west was already developed for tourism. And Eastern Europe had never been featured in the manga until then. It also fascinated and really attracted me as an illustrator. If you go to Germany or France, it is much brighter in the evenings. But if you go further east, in my case it was Prague, it was much darker on the streets in the evenings in the mid-90s. And I wanted to explore this darkness, this night, for myself.

No wonder story feels so real, with both its characters and places.

Heinze: What does the manga “Monster” have to do with Mary Shelly’s novel “Frankenstein”? Urasawa : Frankenstein is about a scientist who created a monster, and it's also about human responsibility. There are certainly things that humans are allowed to do and that they perhaps shouldn't be able to do. These thoughts can certainly be taken further, and that's what I did in the "Monster" series. It's about the Japanese doctor who saved a boy, and later the boy becomes a monster, a murderer. And then the doctor asks himself whether he is not responsible for the fact that this boy has become a murderer. This is a different conflict than in "Frankenstein", but the question of responsibility for one's own actions is also an issue in "Monster". Dostoyevsky novel using the means of manga

Though, story is inspired by Frankeinstein, Tenma is clearly right to save kid's life. He isnt the 'evil' doctor who is responsible for the monster. He is the real doctor who saves this boy from destruction at the end.

Heinze : For me, this doctor is an ideal example of the good in people. He even saves this boy against the wishes of the clinic management, who would much rather use their best surgeon to operate on the mayor. Urasawa: Every good person has places somewhere in their hearts that are perhaps not so good, and it was the same with Doctor Hämmer - in the hospital there were also some disagreements with the management, where he also thought: "Preferably I would like it if everyone were dead." And later Johann also tells him: "I have fulfilled what you wished for." Then the idea came to him that he had also caused all of this and was to blame for it. And I wanted to show in my work that there is something good and something bad in every person, and that is just human nature. Also, what I didn't mention: There is the classic manga "Astroboy" by Osamu Tezuka in Japan. There is a scientist whose son died and he then creates a robot that looks like his son and that also has feelings. But somehow he says: "You are not my son." At some point he neglects this robot. This scientist is basically Doctor Tenma. So “Frankenstein” and “Astro Boy” are the two sides that belong closely together. I especially consider the artist Tezuka with his classic “Astro Boy” to be my roots.

Here's the real message of Monster, that noone is just a monster and every person has monster in them and that story, Tenma is being parallels with father who neglects his son...I wonder is it him realizing that he was never supposed to kill Johan (the son), he was right to save him, trying to kill him is the neglect/him failing to understand him and end up saving him. Maybe i am reaching but its makes more sense that way. Btw i love how Tenma visits Johan even at the end. Despite everything, they really give that father-son energy.

Heinze: Osamu Tezuka is considered the founder of modern manga, what do you like about him? Urasawa: It's hard to say in one word. Maybe you can describe it like this: The manga were initially comics for children. But Tezuka did it differently, he practically wrote something like a Dostoyevsky novel, but using the means of manga. Something much deeper, and ultimately it's not about justice winning, but it goes even deeper, practically conveying the feeling that even winning can bring with it something sad and empty. This is something deeper. And he was able to convey that in the beginning of the manga. Statements made by our conversation partners reflect their own views. Deutschlandfunk does not adopt statements made by its interlocutors in interviews and discussions.

Its really deep story.

This is the source of this interview, i really wanted to make comment/analyze about it.

#naoki urasawa's monster meta #monster naoki urasawa #monster meta #johan liebert #tenma kenzo #interview #naoki urasawa #monster #frankenstein #crossover meta

[themculibrary]

Peggy/Natasha Masterlist

A Minor Distraction (ao3) - orphan_account E, 3k

Summary: Rumors about an organization experimenting with the super soldier serum bring Peggy Carter to Russia, where she meets a young factory worker named Natalia.

Better Together (ao3) - rearranged (her_ghost) E, 5k

Summary: Peggy adjusted to life in the 21st century because she had no other option. One trip across space-time was an anomaly, or so she thought.

When she was yanked into an alternate universe by a being with incredible power to help fight against a multiversal threat, Peggy realized the idea of finding a way back to her time might be an achievable goal.

The Watcher told Peggy that her world, and that time, needed their Captain Carter. He showed her why with a few detours on the way home.

Carter (ao3) - crackdkettle G, 1k

Summary: An AU in which Peggy is the Winter Soldier, and she and Natasha have a remarkably uncomplicated relationship over the years.

Co-Captains (ao3) - orphan_account T, 4k

Summary: This is starting to move beyond normal co-captain behavior.

Coming and Going (ao3) - Anonymous M, 3k

Summary: Natasha tilts her head to allow Eileen access to her neck and, god, Peggy can’t help staring at her, just a little, hair mussed, vivid red lipstick smeared slightly, she looks like… She’s looking right at Peggy.

Right. The mission. The signal.

Disposition (ao3) - Anonymous E, 2k

Summary: Natasha and Peggy learn more about the other than they expected when they go undercover at a retreat for couples.

i break wild roses (ao3) - halfmoonsevenstars M, 7k

Summary: It’s August 1950 and Peggy Carter, Director of SHIELD, is back in New York for the week, wrangling diplomats and soothing fractured bureaucratic egos by day. By night, Peggy goes out for drinks and dancing with Angie, but it’s a beautiful Russian girl she brings back to the hotel room.

(I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons (ao3) - Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye) E, 6k

Summary: I love you for sentimental reasons. I hope you do believe me, I'll give you my heart.

I may never go home but at least I have you (ao3) - ziazippy5379 T, 1k

Summary: Peggy finds a woman in strange clothes in the alley behind her apartment.

Match Made (ao3) - fluffharpy E, 16k

Summary: "What about you?" Peggy asked over a disposable cup of tea, the exasperation in her tone for once not coming from the fact that there was something subtly unnatural about trying to drink hot liquid out of a plastic lid. Her gaze locked on Natasha Romanoff seated across the table from her, full of righteous challenge. "Who are you dating?"

The look Natasha gave being called on her game, skeptical and just a bit petulant, was gratifying.

"If you're so eager to find me a date," Peggy said, imperious, "then you'll have to find one for yourself as well."

peggynat (ao3) - slayyybestie N/R, 3k

Summary: tumblr requests for peggynat fic

Remember When (We Used To Be) (ao3) - flipflop_diva T, 1k

Summary: Peggy stared, her heart thudding in her chest, her hand that was still holding the gun shaking. Those green eyes. Those beautiful green eyes. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. It was impossible.

“Natalia,” she whispered

“Who the hell is Natalia?”

show me how to fight for now (ao3) - hallowed (AMRainer) T, 1k

Summary: there's nothing as intimate as dancing ; and Natalia knows exactly which steps to take.

undercover in our overcoats (ao3) - Dayadhvam T, 5k

Summary: Prague, 1968. Neither Agent Carter nor the Black Widow would have called it anything like love.

what you can't bear to lose (ao3) - Melime T, 7k

Summary: A mission gone wrong leaves Peggy and Nat buried under the debris of an exploded building, and although they are rescued, the danger of the situation forces them to confront their feelings for each other.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #masterlists #peggy carter #natasha romanoff #femslash #f/f #peggynat #peggynat masterlist

[slutforsilverfoxes]

OH MY GOD can you please write sierra six smut i will literally pay you

Here at the house of slutforsilverfoxes, your pleasure is our payment 🫡

A/N: I am so sorry this took 84 years to write but I hope it lives up to expectations. I rewatched the movie for the third (!) time last night and this man makes me absolutely feral. I hope y'all enjoy 🥰

Tags: @buckysboobs

___

You strolled rather leisurely down the streets of Prague, admiring the orange hues painting the sky from the setting sun, the slight spice of smoke and cannabis pervading your senses and reminding you of home. Or rather, what you once considered home. Did people in your field really have a place they called home?

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you deftly hopped over the wrought iron fence of your target's overly expensive mansion, making quick work of the hedge maze you had memorized the night before courtesy of aerial recon. You watched from the shadows at the entrance to the maze as, like clockwork, the evening protective detail swooped in to replace the day team. You had told Denny you'd take this op under one condition: the target's wife and child had to be out of the country. Less guards, less collateral. You may have given up your life and body to the CIA, but you would cling to your own perverse sense of morality until your dying breath.

Even if you were still tying up loose ends from the shitstorm Denny and Suzanne had let wreak havoc across Europe over a year ago.

Approaching the measly crew guarding the maze under the cloak of falling night, you slipped your trusty weapon from its holster, screwed on the silencer, and fired two shots within the span of mere seconds, the sound of thudding bodies overlapping as the guards dropped lifelessly to the pristinely trimmed grass. Confident that the coast was clear and the rest of the protective detail were at their stations inside the mansion, you glided across the expansive yard, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the cursive letter mowed into the lawn. You would never grow used to the hubris of men like this target, who wanted to remain quiet oligarchs but lived in the biggest houses with the most ostentatious gardens and obnoxious (read: ugly) artwork and enough money to brand their grass with the first letter of their last names.

Perhaps you were bitter, or perhaps they were compensating. Creeping along the exterior of the house, you decided both scenarios were equally likely.

A curse fell from your lips as the lights went out, cloaking you in complete darkness. Snagging the windowsill above you, you pulled yourself up to see that the interior lights were out as well, save for a measly glow in the nearby hallway presumably powered by a generator. You could hear shouting in the distance, your target’s security detail assessing the impending threat and gathering to protect the man who signed their paychecks.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end alerting you to a presence at your six. Either this person was shit at their job or they were a friendly. Letting your body drop to the ground as you whipped around, you hissed out, "Who are you?," gun trained on the spot dead center between a pair of striking eyes that, had you not been working an op, would’ve stolen the very breath from your lungs.

"That’s a loaded question. Who are any of us real-"

The man merely blinked as a bullet whizzed by his ear. Glancing at the chunk of wall gouged out inches from his face and then back at you, the ghost of a smirk flitted past his features. "So I should change our relationship status to It’s Complicated I take it."

"It’s only fair for me to inform you that I don’t give second chances. Who are you?"

"Consider me the cavalry. I support you on this op, you get the collar, take the credit, we never see each other again. Job well done by all parties considered."

You cocked your head to one side, your gun mimicking the angle. "You’re Sierra." It was a statement, not a question.

"Once upon a time," he conceded nonchalantly. Realization dawned on you and your eyes flashed with recognition. Sierra Six. The silent assassin. The Gray Man. Every agent had heard whispers of his infamy despite the fact that the Sierra program, let alone the man standing before you in the flesh, simply did not exist.

"They let you back in this city after the international stunt you pulled last time?" you asked wryly, one eyebrow raised.

"You think they know I’m here? You wound me." He had an easy way about him that was equal parts unsettling, given your shared line of work and his supposed nonexistence, and incredibly attractive. "So now that we've been acquainted-"

"Hardly," you interjected with a slight smirk of your own.

"-what's your plan to breach, Agent Y/L/N?"

"You’ve done your homework," you nodded appreciatively, your playful banter coming to a dead halt as his words soberly reminded you of the task at hand: assassinate the target, collect the drive, and eliminate anyone standing in the way of priorities one and two.

You explained the layout of the mansion to him, detailing the number of entries and exits, hidden corridors, and possible ambush sites. Deciding that you would begin in the east wing and gradually make your way across the mansion, Six eased his magazine into his semi-automatic with a satisfying click as you slid your knife out to play.

The two of you approached the nearest entryway, your back to his as he expertly picked the lock. The door swung open with a soft creak and you tapped his shoulder twice to signal you were ready to breach. "I’ve got your six," you muttered, trying and failing to hide your cheeky tone.

He threw a look over his shoulder and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face at his silent confirmation of your earlier deduction before you followed him down the hall, light on your feet.

You moved in a silent dance, perfectly choreographed without having to so much as make eye contact, his movements sharp, yours fluid, his bullets flying, your knife singing. It was complementary and harmonious and downright beautiful how your bodies morphed into a single killing machine. Within minutes, you had reached the opposite end of the villa and effectively incapacitated the entire peripheral security detail. Crossing back into the heart of the building, you flanked the large wooden doors leading to the massive study, your target’s home headquarters and his current hiding spot from the mayhem.

Swiping the flat of your blade across your thigh to remove the evidence of your previous triumphs, you smiled at your impromptu partner. "Ready for round two?"

He shot you a wink in response. "Let’s get loud."

The doors simultaneously flew open with a bang as your feet made contact with the heavy oak. A series of shouts, muzzle flashes, and expertly placed cuts later, your first task was complete.

Nonchalantly stepping over the bodies littering the floor, you asked, "So what inspired you to leave the glorious Cunt Incapacitators Anonymous?" You snapped a picture of your recently departed target for your employers’ confirmation, thumbs flying across the screen to encrypt the image.

Six quirked an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth imperceptibly matching its angle in amusement. "You’ve gotta workshop that one, kid."

"You understood what I meant so it’s not that bad," you rolled your eyes. "And don’t dodge the question."

"Palm trees," he answered simply, rifling through paperwork scattered across the desk before you.

You huffed in annoyance at his measured response. "Seriously? Clearly you haven’t retired."

"What is this, Y/L/N, twenty questions?" The rebuke was enough to have your mouth sheepishly snapping shut. "I’ll check his body while you scan the furniture."

"Hey," you grabbed his wrist as he reached for the breast pocket of the target’s suit, the juxtaposition of the rough fabric of his glove and his surprisingly soft skin sending a jolt of electricity through your body, "don’t forget this is my op. You’re the self-proclaimed cavalry."

He stepped away from the body with his arms out in front of him, "We’ll switch then, Your Highness."

You offered a satisfied nod before beginning your thorough search, unfurling pockets, checking for custom made hiding spots, patting down to feel for items tucked away from plain sight and prying eyes.

"Unremarkable on my end," you called out. "Got a fancy pen that’s probably worth more than I have in savings, some mints, and a family picture," you dumped the items on the desk in front of you as you listed them.

"Didn’t peg him for the sentimental type," Six shrugged, popping up from his evidently uneventful search of the drawers. "No false bottoms here, either. Where next, my liege?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," your eyes rolled on instinct to join your biting comeback, missing the way his jaw ticked in response to your bratty display. Following the deceased’s line of sight to a painting on the wall opposite his desk, a catlike grin spread across your face as you stalked towards the art. "Only one painting in this big ass room? Rookie mistake." You turned back to Six and dramatically swiped at the frame behind you. "Is there a safe? There’s a safe, isn’t there?"

The sliver of moonlight streaming through the window offered you a glimpse of what you presumed to be a visage of respect.

"Don’t be too impressed, I do have three years of this under my belt," you teased, attaching a device to the electronic lock that offered hassle free entry.

"Three years? You’re like, twelve."

"I know you’ve read my dossier," you retorted as you triumphantly pulled the drive from the safe and placed it in a special containment setup with a faraday cage, "and I know you know I’m twenty-five."

"That’s quite the talent, managing to make me feel old in a mere four syllables."

You turned to answer him and felt your breath catch in your throat as you looked up to find his sharp gaze trained on you. With the small bit of light the moon was offering, you could see now that he had several fresh cuts and scrapes dotting his cheeks and chin, a deeper gash on his forehead. Had he come straight from another op to help you? Swoon. Physically shaking your head to keep that train of thought at the station, you let the playful lilt return to your voice, coming off much more grounded than you felt at present. "Well it’s nice to see you can still move, old timer."

You both turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows of your target’s study at the sound of approaching sirens interrupting your banter, faint blue lights dancing across the floor. "I’m guessing getting arrested by the Czech police isn’t covered in your exfil, Y/L/N."

"How astute of you, Six," you snorted, moving to the adjacent bookcase and running your fingers along its shelving for a hidden latch. "Come to think of it, should I still call you that?"

"You get us out of here without the Hansen special of blowing up half the city, you can call me anything you like."

Smiling triumphantly, you tugged on the bookcase and revealed a hidden hallway. "Anything?"

Your eyes widened as a glint of metal whistled past your face into the dark hallway behind you, just shy of the apple of your cheek. Turning, you found your knife- when had he taken it from the strap on your thigh?- embedded in the forehead of the last guard standing whose hands were still raised in a width that you suspected matched that of your neck. "Nearly gave me a haircut there," you joked, bending down to wrench your blade out before returning it to its rightful sheath on your dominant leg.

"Nah," he gently tugged at a strand framing your face, "it’s nice at this length."

A faint blush dusted your cheeks at the unexpected compliment and you were suddenly very grateful that Six had cut the power earlier.

You cleared your throat and stepped into the cramped tunnel, "So revisiting this whole ‘Anything’ concept before we were so rudely interrupted…"

He shrugged easily in response, following you into the dark space before swinging the fake door closed behind you, the inky black darkness swallowing you both immediately and blocking out the heavy footfalls infiltrating the mansion. "What can I say," his smooth voice oozed over your skin like warm honey, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine, "I like a bit of adventure in my life. Don’t you?"

"Six," his pseudonym tumbled from your lips in a whisper. You couldn’t see a thing in the pitch black tunnel, but your every sense was heightened to his presence. His smell. His stature. The power radiating off of him that had the air positively crackling with charged energy, a current flowing between your bodies just daring one of you to act on it.

So you did.

Down there in the dark, the full force of the Czech police mere feet away from you cordoning off the crime scene, you kissed the Sierra Six like you were drowning in an endless ocean and he was beckoning you up to the surface, up to the light. Your hands snaked their way into his blonde locks as his fingers pressed into your hips, backing you up, deftly stepping over the guard’s limbs until you crashed against the crude tunnel wall, his mouth greedily swallowing down your moans.

Feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen and his heady kiss, you reluctantly pulled back to suck some air into your lungs. His forehead pressed against yours, warm breath fanning over your face, arms protectively locked around you. "Can we- Should we- ugh," you groaned softly at your own hesitation. Your body count was more along the lines of murder than sex, and a sudden bout of nerves trapped the words in your mouth until you felt gentle pressure against your hips, spurring you on. "Can we spend the night somewhere, pretend to be normal people for once?"

"Like we didn’t just commit multiple counts of homicide?"

You merely grunted in response, taking his remark to be a rebuff of your offer.

"Hey," he laughed softly, gently removing your dominant hand from his hair and shaking it in his own. "I’m Court." His voice had a harshness to it as he said his name- his real name- aloud for quite possibly the first time in years.

You pressed your lips back against his, your mouths curving upward in twin smiles. Barely pulling away from him, you offered in kind, "Y/N."

———

You leaned leisurely against the doorway of the small hotel bathroom, arms crossed as you drank in the sight of Six-no, Court- shirtless, scrubbing the blood of the day from his palms and underneath his fingernails. You could think of no better word to describe him than beautiful, his blonde locks catching the light just so, his big, broad, purely masculine shoulders tensed with the weight of the day, the muscles in his arms rippling with the repetitive movements, the artwork adorning his upper body, the light smattering of hair along his abs that teased you with the promise of more beauty to unearth just below. He was a brute, an expert killing machine, a wall of pure muscle, yet goosebumps erupted over your skin at the memory of his gentle hands caressing your curves in the darkness during your hidden tryst.

His gaze met yours through the mirror and heat bloomed across your cheeks knowing that you had been caught blatantly ogling his body. But then his eyes scanned from head to toe and back again, systematically assessing your figure, clad in only shorts and a sports bra after your post-mission shower, in the dim hotel light. His lips, still a shade darker than their normal tint from your earlier assault, quirked upwards in a smile- you were even now.

You watched as he plucked his previously discarded shirt from the countertop and ran it under the faucet before wringing it out and bringing it to his face to address his most recent wounds. Pushing yourself off the doorframe, you ran your fingers along the mottled pink flesh on his shoulder, following in their wake with butterfly kisses. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you reached into the shelf beneath the sink and pulled out a fresh towel. His eyes tracked your every move as you draped the fabric over his hand and instructed, "Use this like a civilized human being."

"What part of this," his eyes flitted down to his body decorated with scars and a rainbow of bruises, "says civilized?"

You merely chuckled in response, relenting and tossing the towel aside before hopping up to perch on the sink counter. You slipped his black tee from between his fingers and delicately touched the cloth to the inch-long gash on his forehead as he smiled down at you, amused. "What?" you mumbled, tongue peeking out between your lips as you concentrated intently on cleaning the wound without applying too much pressure.

"I can’t remember the last time someone took care of me like this." His voice was low, almost haunted, and you found yourself wondering which tragic backstory the CIA had plucked him from. Collecting kids from broken homes or prison seemed to be their preferred modus operandi.

"When’s the last time you let them?" you challenged softly, daring to sneak a peek at his stormy grey-blue eyes and finding them already trained on you.

His nimble fingers, roughened by callouses from years of grueling combat, gently wrapped around your wrist, dwarfing your hand in his. He moved your arm from its spot between the two of you, then released your wrist and let his thumb come up to rub over your bottom lip as you splayed your hands across the taut muscles of his back, closing your eyes and trying to memorize the hard planes of his body.

"Court," you breathed out, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the sound of his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Not Six, not Agent, not You’ll Kill Who I Tell You To Kill Because That’s All You’re Good For, but Court. No one had ever said his name like that before.

Your nails gently scraped down the stubble dotting his cheeks and his eyes flew open. "You still with me?"

He nodded almost imperceptibly before surging forward to capture your lips in a heated kiss, his teeth tugging harshly along your bottom lip and eliciting a wanton moan from the very depths of your soul. For the second time that night, your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer to your body, fisting your hands in his hair as you shamelessly rutted against his quickly hardening length. His hands slipped under the curves of your ass, lifting you off the countertop and massaging your flesh through the thin fabric of your shorts as he walked you to the bed before gently laying you across the mattress. He stood at the edge of the bed, his glistening chest rising and falling as he watched your mirrored breaths almost reverently. You beckoned him down to you and he kneeled in the space between your legs, ever so slowly lowering his head to press kisses along your stomach. Gradually moving upward, he paused at your sports bra, tucking his fingers into the elastic band. "Can I-"

"Please," you cut him off with a whine, desperate to feel the roughness of his beard against your sensitive skin. The fabric was up and over your head within seconds, his mouth working on one breast while his hand massaged the other before the soft thud could even alert you that your clothing had landed on the other side of the room. The feeling of his lips and teeth and tongue and beard was absolutely sinful, causing you to involuntarily arch up into him and gasp at the size of him.

"Now I see why you’re so casual with big guns," you mused with a grin, your comment causing him to pause in his ministrations and smirk up at you.

"You handle them pretty well yourself," he countered, thumb lazily brushing over your nipple.

"Yeah but," you pushed at his shoulders until he fell onto his back beside you, offering you leverage above him, "I like my knife," you flicked open the button of his pants, "because it offers," you pulled the zipper down, slipping your hand inside to stroke his cock, "close contact."

"Fuck," he hissed out between gritted teeth, the single syllable causing liquid heat to pool between your thighs. You slid back off the bed and tugged his pants and boxers down with you, sitting up on your knees to press kisses against his thighs. Leaning up on his elbows, he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and shook his head. "You don’t have to-"

With a quick swipe of your tongue, you stole the words from his mouth. "Consider it a thank you," you muttered between kisses along his length before taking him fully in your mouth.

The strangled groan that left his lips was raw and guttural and quite possibly the most incredible sound you had ever heard. You wanted to hear it over and over again, so you hollowed your cheeks and took him even deeper until the tip of his cock was pressing against the back of your throat. He growled out your name as you eased back up, gentle and torturous, heaven and hell. You gradually worked your way up to a steady pace, one hand coming up to stroke the base of his cock, the other scratching lines into his thighs as he shivered under your touch. You could easily overpower a man twice your weight and a foot taller than your small stature, but nothing would ever make you feel as powerful as reducing this archetype of masculinity to putty in your hands.

You felt his fingers work their way into your hair, gently tugging you off of his cock. You sat back with a whine and he simply winked in response, moving to switch spots with you. He slid your shorts and panties off your legs before gently taking one foot in his hands to kiss your ankle, his beard deliciously scraping against your skin as he worked his way up your calf until your knee was hooked over his shoulder. You arched your hips upward, hoping to entice him to put his mouth where you so desperately needed his attention, but he placed one firm hand against your stomach, holding you down, taking his own sweet time working his way towards your core, your eyes fluttering shut at the onslaught of sensation.

"Y/N," he growled softly, deep voice bringing you out of your reverie. You picked your head up to find his gaze locked on yours, the sight of his lust blown pupils and reddened lips causing your breath to come out in sharp pants. "Eyes on me."

Your mouth fell open emitting a high pitched keen at the command seconds before his tongue slipped past your folds, forcing you to bite your lip to stay alert and obey him. "Fuck, Court," you moaned unabashedly, fisting your hand in his hair and trying to bring him impossibly closer.

"That’s my good girl," he praised softly as his fingers replaced his tongue and his lips moved to suck on your clit, the heady combination of his words and the way he was expertly working your body causing you to clench around him. The pads of his fingers gently massaged your walls as his tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves, your fingers sharply tugging at his short strands of hair in response to his assault of your senses. You called out his name in a whine as the familiar promise of ecstasy bloomed in your lower stomach, your legs beginning to shake with the pressure of trying to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Stop fighting it," he mumbled against your clit, the rumbling vibration of his voice sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. "You’re safe with me, you can let go." A single tear trickled out of the corner of your eye at the intensity of it all and the force of his words; you couldn’t remember the last time you had let your body relax, let your muscles unwind, let yourself simply feel.

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, and Court allowed his thumb to take over for his mouth so he could kiss you freely. Maintaining a steady pace with his fingers as his thumb languidly circled your button, he brought his other hand up to grip your chin, swallowing down your moans as you scraped your nails along his back and finally gave yourself permission to let go.

Stars exploded behind your eyes and you pulled back to catch your breath as Court gradually slowed his movements, drawing out your orgasm. Cupping his cheeks between your hands, you pulled him down so you could trail your teeth up his throat and along his jaw, ending with a searing kiss. 

Letting your leg slide off his shoulder, you patted the space next to you to indicate he should lie down. The head of his cock brushed against your still sensitive pussy as he shifted his weight back and you whimpered at the contact. Unwilling to wait any longer, you straddled his lap and ground your hips down against his as soon as he was settled, his thick cock easily sliding through your slick folds. "Y/N," he gritted out, curling his fingers around your throat and squeezing ever so lightly causing your eyelids to flutter shut, "don’t tease."

You lifted your hips just enough to guide the head of his cock to your entrance, then lowered yourself inch by inch, allowing your body to adjust to his size. Your head fell back, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut at the exquisite stretch, just on the border between pain and pleasure. You rested your palms against Court’s pecs, grounding yourself in reality and feeling his hands come up to cover your own. He squeezed your hands gently and you opened your eyes to find his locked on yours, his cheeks flushed, lips parted letting out soft pants of air. Beautiful.

The blush decorating his cheeks darkened and he mumbled, “You think so?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled in response, the vibration rumbling from his chest through his body to where you were intimately connected, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath at the sensation.

You leaned down to kiss each of his tattoos, then his burn marks, then his scars, and finally his lips as you lifted your hips before dropping back down, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he moaned.

His lips curved upward in a smile at your little power play which ended as soon as his fingers worked their way around your throat once more. He swallowed your high pitched whine as he won the battle for dominance, mapping out the sensitive areas of your mouth as he planted his feet on the bed and rocked his hips up against you. His grunts and your mewling blanketed the sound of skin slapping skin as you met him beat for beat, his heart steadily thrumming under your fingertips as you clawed at his chest.

His pace became almost brutal as he fucked up into you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. For once, you welcomed the bruises that you would no doubt wake up to tomorrow.

"Court," you panted, feeling him twitch inside you and sensing that he was close, "I want you to cum inside me."

"Y/N-" he began protesting, ever the gentleman despite the way he was absolutely ravaging your body.

"Please," your voice caught as his head brushed against your cervix, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Remind me that we’re still human, that we still have feelings," you begged, leaning down to mark his neck so that he, too, would have a reminder of you in the days to come.

Your teeth grazed against his pulse point, causing his hips to stutter and pushing him over the edge as he called out your name, his hand splaying across your belly so that his thumb could rub your clit and send you hurtling into oblivion right behind him.

You kept your hips moving as you kissed him again, neither of you wanting or willing to move.

He brushed your hair back from your sweaty forehead, smiling at you as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. "Was that enough feeling or do you need more? Cause we’ve got all night."

You snorted out a laugh against his skin, his fingers trailing along your spine and his warm chuckle like a blanket on a cold winter’s night.

Not one to back down from banter you countered, "Give me some more feeling and I’ll make a shirt- I survived sex with Sierra Six!"

"Smartass."

"I win," you hummed contentedly, running your nails along his beard as you pressed gentle kisses to his jaw.

Your phone buzzed nearby followed by a string of incessant notifications on his own device, effectively breaking your spell. With his lips against your forehead he mumbled sadly, "Duty calls."

You checked your new assignments and dressed in silence, the two of you slinging your go bags over your shoulders before walking to the door. He stopped with his fingers on the handle, catching you by surprise with one last sweet kiss. You let your thumb trace along his lips, committing them to memory before you both crossed the threshold of your sanctuary, returning to the real world.

After parting ways at the end of the hall, you abruptly turned on your heel and called out, "Court?"

He looked over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, eyebrow raised in question.

"What if I need my cavalry again?"

His eyes lit up and his mouth morphed into a familiar smirk. "I’ll find you."

"I could be halfway across the world tomorrow, how will you even know where to look?"

"Trust me, I’ll find you."

Satisfied with his response, you indulged in a smile. "Be careful out there, old timer."

He winked at you in return. "Make sure to watch your Six."

#sierra six #sierra six smut #sierra six x reader #sierra six x y/n #sierra six x you #court gentry #courtland gentry #court gentry x reader #court gentry x y/n #court gentry x you #courtland gentry x reader #courtland gentry x y/n #the gray man #court gentry smut #court gentry x female reader #Sierra six x female reader #assassin!reader #agent!reader

[neylo]

Bienvenue!

My name is Nelyo, but my Napoleonic friends started calling me Neylo so it stuck. I currently live in Prague and I am finishing my neuroscience degree.

Fandom oriented main: @ofmiceandwomen

This is a side blog dedicated solely to the history matters, unlike the fandom-focused main. Be not afraid - I am as crazy with history as with "normal" fandom stuff.

What will you find here?

I took up historical sewing recently so I will share my progress. If I have a critical need for procrastination or a bright moment of inspiration, I will post some art. If I am really desperate, I shitpost.

Who will probably appear more often: Arthur Wellesley, Michel Ney, Joachim Murat, and his fashion abominations, Jean Lannes, that little bitch Horatio Nelson and his flag captain Kiss-me Hardy.

#welcome post #housekeeping #neylo talks

[californiasplit]

ive always felt that my calling was to live in different places to travel and see but i really really love prague so much. i love this city. i love this place so much that. all the news of war around the world makes me both grateful to live in peace and afraid because those people living in destruction never predicted it either.

and i simply cannot comprehend it. how could anyone take a step to destroy a city. a place where people live and love and are born and die???? why do that. there is so much meaning and i love it all. the human lives all weaved together into a metropolis, for better or for worse. i love every tram stop and every spiderweb and every underfunded railway station and every dog poop bag dispenser. the man who got out of his car at a red light to ask me if i was okay crying at the crosswalk. the ferry boat operator who is inseparable from his black lab. all my neighbors in my apartment block with their dogs and their cats and children and weed smell and endless drama. the crowded post office and the corner shop owners whose name i dont know but have seen once a week for years. every rushed walk to work trying to navigate past elementary school trips on the sidewalk and tourist groups from god knows where. the old women who glare at you if you take a microsecond longer than is acceptable to notice them and give them your seat. the fact that the southwestern riverside smells like raw pizza dough half the year from the industrial brewery. the teens they hire to stand around and tell people where to go when the metro isn't going. the ukranian man with a tesla who drove me home from work cause we live close together and why not. the bar owners who are too drunk to calculate your total so you gotta spend three minutes doing napkin math. the karaoke nights that i never go to but i know theyre there... the flight schools operating out of small strips in the outskirts and people blocking the road packing their van for their weekend camping trips and the coffee festivals and the opera nights and the outdoor theatres and the riverside "beach" resorts and the concert halls and the fire stations and the doctors outside the clinic smoking cigarettes on break next to the gym receptionists an drug store owners....

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Joining in with the group excited about oddduck! - maybe Bruce asking Clark’s permission to take reader to a gala that’s sponsoring something she’s interested in just as a thank you Clark it’s not a date stop looking at me like that

"Hey," Clark said, frowning at the sounds of glasses clinking and people laughing over classical music, "Lois and I were wondering if you were free tonight?"

"I'm a little busy-"

"Oh is the school doing a thing? We could-"

"I'm in Prague, actually."

"Oh with- why?" His frown deepens. Over the phone he can hear your heart kick up and you sound tense.

"I-"

"Y/N?" the deep voice calling your name made Clark freeze for just a second and he almost dropped the phone. "Everything okay?"

"I've gotta go," you tell him, putting your phone back in your bag, "I'll text you."

And when the line goes dead, Clark growls to himself. "That son of a bit-"

"Clark? Is Y/N coming or-"

"She's in Prague," Clark growled, "With Bruce Wayne."

"Oh I hope she wore the red Velvet dress- she looks so pretty in it-"

"Lois."

"Clark," she snorted. "She's a doctor. She's your age. If she wants to go to Prague with a Billionaire who probably read all of her books this week and hangs on her every word... What's it hurt?"

"It's not- he's not-"

"Jesus Christ, Smallville," Lois snorted. "You're not her dad. She doesn't even know her dad-"

"But-"

"If he breaks her heart, you can hold him while I hit him. Until then let her live. What's the worst that could happen? He pays for her to bounce around and follow rabbits down holes to her heart's content? You gotta watch them kiss sometimes? She gets to be loved like she deserves?" Lois smiled a little. "She's stronger than you think she is Clark. And Bruce won't let her get hurt."

__________

"Everything Alright?" Bruce asked, offering you his jacket against the chill.

"Fine," you answer, smiling a little, "I- Clark called and it's usually better to answer. He worries."

"Can't imagine why," Bruce chuckled, "Hard to see what trouble you could get into-"

"Depends," you answer, "I did sprain my ankle at Versailles once and gave myself an appalling cold researching at a castle in Bavaria when I got caught in the rain-"

"Harrowing ordeals indeed-"

"And then there was once where I got kidnapped in Berlin and the time I nearly got arrested in Istanbul. And the Time I did get arrested in London-"

"How?" Bruce asked incredulously, chuckling in disbelief.

"I'm very accident-prone," you tell him, nodding earnestly. "Except for the kidnapping it was mostly just a series of misunderstandings."

Bruce smiled and started to lead you back inside, snagging you a glass of champagne, "I'll have to keep an eye on you then. I'd hate for something to happen before I get to read your next book-"

"You read-"

"Of course I did," he said, cheeks darkening. "Your research and narrative flow really- I mean. I'm just ashamed I didn't read them sooner."

"I- oh- um-"

"How do you do it?" he asked, "make all that so easy to understand?"

You look down, feeling flustered. Embarrassed. And take a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't laugh. "I just tell the stories I wanted to read when I was little." And when he doesn't laugh. When a gentle hand tucks a lock of hair back behind your ear, back out of your eyes, you look up slowly.

"Beautiful and brilliant," Bruce hummed. "Lucky me."

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #odd duck!reader #ask answered #minors dni

[artemis-potnia-theron]

for the pagan ask meme: 🎭❤️🏛🔥

🎭 - What is an emotionally impactful or a silly worship-related experience you've had?

When Artemis revealed her name to me. I had been worshipping her under a different (and incorrect) name for years, and it never felt right. I commissioned multiple tarot readings to try and get a different perspective. I was on a plane when I opened the results, and her name showed up in every single commission. A light turned on immediately. After so long trying to find my way to her, it felt like a path had finally been cleared. It was similar to the feeling of falling into your mother's arms after having a nightmare. I also burst into tears and starting crying on the plane lol which was very embarrassing (P.S. I love you my Lady, but couldn't you have waited until I was in private? 😭)

❤️ - What's one memory of your practice that you reflect the most fondly on?

Dude I have so many. But off the top of my head, I remember when another tarot reader told me that the Queen of Swords - which I thought represented Artemis - was actually a representation of me in the divination sessions between she and I. I'd been drawing that card for years and never got the message. She'd been calling me strong for years, and I never realized. It was a very 'I've been trying to tell u this forever and u never listen to me' moment from Artemis 🙃. But it was also such an honor to know that this is how she saw me.

🏛️ - Do you have a favorite statue or temple to your deity(ies)? If yes, what is it?

Yes!! This one!

I got her in Prague during an especially spiritually important summer. But I lost my luggage travling home, and for two weeks, her statue was just flying around, trying to get back to me. I had resigned myself to the reality that I wasn't going to get her back when the luggage was miraculously found!! The employee I talked to said he'd never been a bag get that lost and still be found. Every time I see this statue, I think about how incredible and rare it was to have found her at all - both the statue herself and worshipping her in general. And I've adorned her with a lot of important things - my mother's old wedding ring is her hairband, my favorite childhood hairchip make up the feathers, she's has a deer antler and coyote claw around her neck (two of my favorite animals) and lots of other little trinkets 💜

🔥 - Do you have a favorite myth or tale from your pantheon or others?

Oooooooh dude just one?? All of Artemis' myths are important in my practice, but Iphigenia's story - especially the whole 'replacing her with a doe and then whisking her off to safety' is so touching. Just thinking about it makes me fall in love with Artemis all over again.

Thanks for the ask!!

- Taylor

#ask #ask game #artemis #artemis deity #artemis goddess #artemis worship #artemis devotee #artemis devotion #deity work #deity worship

[tomorrowusa]

What Russia can't win on the battlefield it will try to accomplish with disinformation, propaganda, and plain old bribery.

A Russian cabal operated a propaganda site masquerading as a news site called the Voice of Europe. In addition to publishing items designed to undermine confidence in various European governments, it outright made payoffs to various EU politicians.

Investigators claimed it used the popular Voice of Europe website as a vehicle to pay politicians. The Czech Republic and Poland said the network aimed to influence European politics. Voice of Europe did not respond to the BBC's request for comment. Czech media, citing intelligence sources, reported that politicians from Germany, France, Poland, Belgium, the Netherlands and Hungary were paid by Voice of Europe in order to influence upcoming elections for the European Parliament. The German newspaper Der Spiegel said the money was either handed over in cash in covert meetings in Prague or through cryptocurrency exchanges. Pro-Russian Ukrainian oligarch Viktor Medvedchuk is alleged by the Czech Republic to be behind the network. Mr Medvedchuk was arrested in Ukraine soon after the Russian invasion, but later transferred to Russia with about 50 prisoners of war in exchange for 215 Ukrainians. ' Czech authorities also named Artyom Marchevsky, alleging he managed the day-to-day business of the website. Both men were sanctioned by Czech authorities. Poland's intelligence agency said it had conducted searches in the Warsaw and Tychy regions and seized €48,500 (£41,500) and $36,000 (£28,500).

"Money from Moscow has been used to pay some political actors who spread Russian propaganda," BIS said in a statement. It added that the sums amounted to "millions" of Czech crowns (tens of thousands of pounds).

I went looking for the Voice of Europe site but it is now missing (Hmm. We’re having trouble finding that site). So I held my nose and visited their Twitter account and nothing new has been posted since the scandal broke.

We need to be careful when looking at news online. Recently a series of fake sites pretending to be legit US news sources was uncovered.

Russia-Backed ‘Fake News Organizations’ Revealed Across the U.S. in Bombshell New York Times Report

The fake news sites have names that sound like they are legit but aren't. Examples: D.C. Weekly, the New York News Daily, the Chicago Chronicle, and the Miami Chronicle. There is a legit New York Daily News – note the different word order from the fake. There once was a newspaper called the Chicago Chronicle but it folded during the Theodore Roosevelt administration.

Google News searches spew a lot of crap. In a lot of cases the "news" sources on Google are just the proverbial guy in his underwear in his mom's basement posting bullshit. They may not be Russian but they are often dubious.

It's best to create a bookmark folder of known legit news sources. There are still numerous good sources not behind paywalls. And many countries have public broadcasters who post news in English. Just a few: NPR, BBC, DW, CBC, ABC (Australia), RFI, YLE, Radio Sweden | Sveriges Radio, NHK-World, and even EER in Estonia.

When running across a news story which sounds peculiar, check to see if it's being reported in known legit media before posting or sharing it.

There are national elections this year in a number of countries including India, the US, and (probably) the UK. Don't inadvertently assist Putin's effort to spread disinformation and sow chaos.

#russian disinformation #russia #propaganda #fake news organizations #voice of europe #bezpečnostní informační služba #agencja bezpieczeństwa wewnętrznego #polska #česko #viktor medvedchuk #artyom marchevsky #дезинформация #артем марчевский #виктор медведчук #россия #владимир путин #путин хуйло #україна переможе #stand with ukraine

[ssareiddiculous]

Chapter 1

Warnings: alcohol consumption

"To your new life!" my best friend Amelia lifts her martini glass between us.

I take my drink and clink it with hers: "To my new life!".

We have just finished moving all my stuff into my new apartment and are celebrating at a bar nearby. For the first time in my life, I am looking forward to Monday.

I have spent the past five years working as an undercover agent for the FBI and loved every second of it. I loved becoming another person, assuming the name and life story of a totally made-up human I had to bring to life. I loved waltzing between personalities, cover jobs, passions, and hobbies. What's more, I was doing it to catch the evilest criminals in the world. I lived for the rush I felt every time I was able to extrapolate information or click the handcuffs on their wrists. I loved that I could live in so many places in the world.

For the past year, however, I felt it start weighing on my shoulders more and more. The rush of successfully completing a mission had started to last less every time. When I caught the last criminal a month ago, I felt nauseous at the thought of having to start a new undercover mission. New name. New country. New chase. I used to be so excited about the new possibilities it'd bring, but now I wasn't sure I could do it anymore.

On a cold January night in Prague, Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI called, offering me a position on his team, and I didn't have to think twice before accepting. I was ready to live a life where I didn't have to constantly look over my shoulder, scared somebody could suspect who I really was. I didn't have to live in a Bureau provided house decorated to the taste of the person I was portraying at that moment. I could finally have my own apartment and decorate it as I wanted, with light-colored furniture and many plants. I was so glad I could finally tell Amelia what my real job was, and I was happy I could live closer to her. I was ready to put down roots. When I landed in DC, I felt like my life was finally going to be exciting again.

"Oh my God, Y/n!" Amelia's voice snaps me back to reality. "I swear what is probably the hottest man I have ever seen just walked in!"

I roll my eyes with a laugh: "You see The Hottest Man You Have Ever Seen-" I draw quotation marks in the air with my fingers-"probably two times a day."

She looks at me with the most serious expression her drunk brain could produce: "I am not kidding. Omg, don't look!". She stops me before I can turn my head completely. "I think they are coming here. Okay, act normal!".

I give her a side look and giggle. It's probably a good thing that I am starting to feel the three lemon drop martinis I have downed so far.

"I just want to be upfront and say that I visually enjoy you."

A tall guy wearing a shirt two sizes too small stretches out his hand to Amelia: "Hi, I'm Derek, and the pretty boy right here is Spencer." His friend lifts his hand to say hi, keeping his lips tightly closed together in an embarrassed smile.

My friend looks at Derek and shakes his hand: "I'm Amelia, and this is Y/n." Derek shakes my hand, too, but he is obviously more interested in Amelia. He strikes up a conversation with her, creating a bubble between the two of them from which the other guy and I are excluded. She seems to be very much enjoying the attention, but I check in on her anyways. She winks at me with a smile. She's okay, so now it's just me and the other guy. The silence is awkward, the music of the bar bumping in my ears. I guess I should probably talk to him. I try very hard to remember his name. Steven? No. Shane? Doesn't sound right. Whatever, I'll make it work.

I turn around and he is still standing exactly where Derek left him, hands in his pockets, looking at his shoes. I run my eyes from his feet to his head. He is tall and lean, with curly hair falling to his ears. He is wearing a slim black suit that looks custom-made, with what I think is a Comme de Garçon cardigan underneath. I can't help but notice the striking difference between him and his friend. Derek is beautiful like a Calvin Klein model, all muscles and cheekiness. Guy is beautiful like snow glistening on a moutain top. He looks like someone who would wrap me in a blanket when I'm cold and make me tea. My cheeks get flustered. He is making me nervous. What is wrong with me?  I hate that he makes me feel like this and I don't even remember his name. I refuse to give in, I'll just try and wing it; it is not like I am ever going to see him again anyways, right?

I turn to him with a smile. "Would you like a drink?" He looks surprised I have even asked.

"Uhm, yeah! I, ehrm, I'll have a Brandy?" His answer sounds like a question, and his cheeks turn red. God, he's so beautiful. I order the drinks and offer him the seat next to me.

"Would you like to join me? It looks like our friends will be busy for a while." I point at Amelia and Derek with my thumb. They are giggling at some joke he made, and their bodies are very close. Guy nods and gives an embarrassed smile, sitting next to me.

I feel rude asking for his name, so I just introduce myself again. "I'm Y/n." I smile and my eyes meet his. I was expecting him to move them away quickly, but, surprisingly, he holds my gaze. Intriguing. His big chocolate eyes are mesmerizing and I feel sweat forming on my palms. Fuck. I give him half a smirk and he breaks eye contact.

"I'm Spencer," he replies with a slight smile. His voice is deep and mellifluous, even if a bit slurred. Oh, so that's what his name was. I like it. I don't know if it is just the alcohol goggles speaking, but he had to barely say a word get me hooked. He clears his throat and takes a sip of his drink and the sight of his lips on the glass is the closest thing to porn I've seen in months, his eyes are on me  when he swallows. I feel very,very warm.

"So, are you guys celebrating anything special tonight?" I make sure to bat my eyelashes. I don't know if I look seductive or absolutely ridiculous, but at this point, I am so drunk I don't care. He fidgets with his long fingers, and I find myself hypnotized by his movements. I can see some of the veins in his big hands and notice he is wearing a watch. I really can't explain it, but wearing a watch is the most attractive thing a man can do. He is a walking jackpot, at least for the night, and I'm all in.

"We were just hitting the bars with our friends. Derek and I were on our way home, but he insisted he absolutely needed another round." He looks amused. "What about you guys?"

"That sounds fun!" I touch his arm lightly. "I actually just moved back to DC, and Amelia helped me with the move. Derek is lucky, she's an engineer and she's really amazing. Anyways, yeah, she lives close by and..." He lets out a chuckle. I realize I have started rambling, which always happens when I'm drunk or nervous, and in this case, I am both. I can't believe that me, the most successful undercover agent of the past five years, known for being a lethal weapon of seduction, is nervous because of a pipe cleaner with eyes. 

"This makes me feel better, I was scared she was gonna be a serial killer preying on hot men." Wow, a joke! It's unexpected and I let out a laugh. If he has noticed my awkwardness, it doesn't seem to bother him. I

 "Why did... hold on, is that a square root of two tattooed on your arm?" He asks, genuinely surprised.

"It is indeed. My favorite irrational number." I take a sip, my eyes studying his face, waiting for the comment about my nerdiness that usually follows the tattoo reveal.

"You have a favorite irrational number?!" His eyes light up, and he seems to get excited. He even stops fidgeting. He has the cutest child-like expression of wonder on his face. I let out a laugh and swing my hand out, faking a condescending tone.

"You don't?" His eyes shine in the dim light.

"Of course I do, It's pi! Wrote my whole PhD thesis on it." 

"You have a Ph.D. in Math? Me too!" 

He moves on his chair, barely able to contain his excitement. "I can't believe it! What was yours on?" His voice raising a pitch, cheeks flustered.

I tell him about my research on Hilbert Spaces, while he stares at me, his eyes full of wonder and, wait, is that desire? My heart is racing faster than Schumacher at the Indianapolis Grand Prix.  

We talk about this for what seem hours, but our brains are so fogged out by the cocktails we've had that we can't keep the conversation focused on the subject. I don't know how, but we somehow morph our mathematical conjectures into full-blown flirting. I guess that's what happens when two nerds meet each other. If I wasn't this turned on, I'd probably find it pretty funny.

At a certain point, I share a theory he doesn't seem to agree with. Suddenly, his tone becomes more authoritative and his voice deeper. I see his pupils dilate, turning in eyes into a midnight. I am attracted to him like iron to a magnet, and I slide closer without even noticing. For what is probably the first time in my life, I don't try to fight his opinion, actually, I am not even listening to it at all.

I absent-mindedly glance at my watch: It's almost midnight and I'm suddenly brought back to reality. I look around, there is no trace of Amelia and Derek, and the bar is mostly empty. I can feel his hand on my knee, which must have travelled there as the conversation proceeded. My skin underneath is burning, and I hope with all of myself that he is feeling the same way. I look at him, and behind his alcohol-hazed eyes I notice lust and a bit of challenge. This cocktail of math talk and lustful gazes is driving me insane. All I know is that he's extremely smart and hot and that I haven't been touched in a while. "Do you want to leave here?" my mouth blurts out before I can stop it. There you go, great job Y/n. Hope you like rejection. I try to fix the situation by looking at him seductively. At least I think that's what I look like. He looks at me with glossy eyes and a huge smile:

"Yes! My apartment is 5 minutes away if you want to go there." He seems surprised by his own words, but excited, and he doesn't stop looking at me. I let out an internal sigh of relief and hope I won't regret this later. I get up and grab his hand, stopping his nervous movements.

" Let's go."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #david rossi #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #bau!reader #criminal minds smut #bau

[nalyra-dreaming]

is that restaurant photo the only reason people started this rumour about Justin Kirk being Marisu? because it's kind of weird to me.. was there anything else? First of all in that restaurant photo that person does not look like Justin to me at all... and also why would he even be there? we are still on "Interview with the vampire" storyline in season 2 so 99% Marius would not be in the show or filming yet at all... and yes I know they can sprinkle in stuff from other books but i don't think they would bring in character like Marius and introduce him in "IWTV" season for one or two shots only... and he would be already so close with the cast he's going out with them?

All of this is such reaching lol and it makes no sense...

Mhhh. I have to disagree.

It does make sense, and I believe that it is far from reaching given the leaked posters etc. 🤷🏽‍♀️

And yes, there was more. So let's recap, shall we? :))

I think there was this post a while back, that kicked the rumor off. Somewhere there was more, wrt him mentioning that if the show gets it's seasons he would come back in season 4 and 5, I talked about it here, but seem to have not tagged it (sorry). There were various posters from Prague mentioning him (or his name):

And then there was this blurry photo I reblogged earlier, and to me that does look like him in makeup.

*shrugs*

We will see.

He definitely has the range and the props to do Marius justice, and I do think he would be a fantastic one - he does carry that arrogant patrician air if he wants to, totally apart from his acting skills, which are immense.

Now, wrt to your question as to why he would be there....

Marius has been mentioned already in season ONE. In book canon Armand being able to stand the sun but Louis cannot places us in a very specific time frame. Armand is on the phone to someone (not using his mind gift), one of Marius' paintings hangs in the apartment and the "prime minister", a title Marius has in the later books, has been mentioned. We know they are taking from Prince Lestat and Blood Communion at the very least.

Marius is, as his maker, a big part of Armand's backstory, and we know that some of the flashbacks in season two will be to the 1790s... so they have to be from Armand's POV.

Marius also had a big part in the backstory Lestat has already mentioned, with Those Who Must Be Kept. Depending on what that groan in Dubai basement is... he might be very close, actually.

The show does not follow the books, at least not too closely, apart from reaching the emotional story points and using the beautiful prose and the emotional... carnage. They are taking from other books already, Rolin Jones has held 6? 7? books up to the camera to indicate what they're using.

The show being called "Interview with the vampire" is imho a concession to the "Vampire Chronicles" being too close to "Vampire Diaries"... and of course honoring the format, but it does not mean they are restricting themselves to the content of the first book, in fact they have already said that they used things from The Vampire Lestat and The Vampire Armand for the second season, because the content needed to be expanded.

All that has been mentioned in interviews again and again, and so it is very far from reaching imho, to expect Marius to show up.

And, I mean... I go out with my clients at work, too? Especially if you know that you will work with them again that's something that's actually a good idea. I've done that very often myself.

(Also… Assad and Sam did that too? 😅)

#Anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #justin kirk #marius de romanus #I do not understand why this riles people up? #this rumor has been out there for months #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #rolin jones #iwtv s2

[amtskind]

die herrlichkeit des lebens (2024)

with kafka's 100th death day approaching this year, 2024 is full of new media about our favourite author.

@sepulkralkreatur and i watched yet another take on kafka's life:

"die herrlichkeit des lebens" (the glory of life) is a movie about kafka's last year, beginning at the baltic-sea and ending by the death-bed. it centers around kafka's romantic relationship to dora dymant and his outbreak from family and prague as a whole - with him moving to berlin. unfortunately, his tuberculosis progresses and he has to move to a sanatorium, where he looses the ability to speak, eat and drink - until he finally dies, with dora being next to him in his last moments.

i got to say, i feared that this movie might be full of kitsch and focus on romance rather than franz kafka - and my initial thought wasn't far from reality in the end - unfortunately.

while the kafka series had this darker and yet funnily-absurd touch to it (which was very fitting for him - kafkaesque!) and strictly followed every aspect of his life, the kafka-feeling in the movie was reduced to fragments of his writing, other people from his life and sporadically added biographical elements - like his illness.

all of this sounds so negative - but let's view the movie from a different perspective: maybe i shouldn't compare the series with the movie in the first place; the series included more facets of biography and had a larger variety of characters and themes - because it was intended to be a biopic.

the movie on the other hand, was based on a novel of the same name by michael kumpfmüller - which dealt with kafka's last year with dora. although having many biographical references, the novel still remains a form of fiction - which makes the movie more distant to the state of a biopic. we shouldn't view the movie as a biography, but rather as a romanticized adaptation of kafka's last year.

the movie features max brod, ottla and elli (kafka's sisters), as well as elli's husband karl hermann. although the characters make phone-calls with kafka's father - he isn't seen anywhere. he remains an oppressing, invisible power towards kafka throughout the whole movie. despite this being a possible, well done metaphor - i would have wished to see more of other characters, with more insight into their feelings in these hard times. but yet again - the movie wasn't made for this intent.

and it is worth considering, that not much is known about his time with dora, since her belongings, including possible letters and memories to franz, were confiscated by the gestapo in 1933. similiar to the legend about kafka's doll (which funnily enough was also mentioned in the movie, that was wholesome), fiction is there to close those holes in his life - and we have to be aware of the fictional nature to the movie.

although i am not the biggest fan of romance-movies and this one didn't necessarily scream "kafka" in your face - i enjoyed it. the actors did a great job and brought some sort of lightness with them. the sets and scenes were full of details and beautifully arranged, making it very lifelike. the following may sound a bit grotesque, but even the medical treatmant and dying-scene was done very realistically, making his suffering even more gruesome. and of course - my favourite thing: the metaphors. the hospital-beds at the beach instead of loungers made dreaming of freedom during a serious illness very impactful.

thank you henriette confurius (dora) and sabin tambrea (franz) for the movie and paying tribute to wonderful people 100 years ago!

more posts:

comparison of the actors and their roles

#franz kafka #dora dymant #kafka #movies #kafka movie #die herrlichkeit des lebens #the glory of life #henriette confurius #sabin tambrea #dora diamant #1920s #movie recommendation #movie review #german movie

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

about that guy I met on my European vacation--

OK, don’t get too excited, nothing that crazy or illegal happened. But I learned a few things about myself in the process that I thought I’d share. GET READY BECAUSE SHE A LONG ONE

So here I am on my 35 day European tour of a lifetime, starting in Barcelona and ending in Greece. When I get to Barcelona I have to meet my tour director after driving from the airport because he has the keys to our rooms. I knew he was Greek beforehand in the group chat--I’ve seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding about a million times and also I’ve played Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, and his accent confirms it. “I like your name,” he says when I introduce myself, and it’s from this point onward that I have two missions for this trip. Number one: have an amazing time. Two: avoid this man at all costs, except when necessary for the tour. 

Avoiding him is simply about survival, even if he seems personable and truly wants to get to know all of us on the tour. I know I’m not that interesting a person and he is quite good looking and also really charming. If I’m not careful, I’ll catch feelings. I know me. He’ll just be doing his job and I’ll mistake it for attraction. I’ve lived through this song and dance before. It’s the curse you wear when you’ve grown up in a body that society doesn’t deem as good enough. Even if time has made me what society would call “prettier,” old thoughts of you’re not pretty enough for him are going to linger, lines forged by the likes of my grandmothers and casting directors. I am the funny side character, not the romantic lead. Hell, in college I wasn’t even on the stage. I remained in the backstage area as the helper. The funny side character stays on the sidelines. She provides funny banter, not the romance arc. She has to protect herself. 

Yet there’s a moment after Barcelona before we head to Paris where he ends up having dinner with me and my friend, myself terrified when he plops down at the same restaurant we’ve chosen. I don’t do much of the talking, my friend does, asking him all sorts of questions about his life I wish I could have asked, and some brazen ones in my mind anyway like are you married or attached? he’s not, come to find out. I glean he’s sort of a wayward traveler and content with that, but he admits he’s getting a bit too old for this tour directing thing. He also lets me try his food. It’s a small kindness I wouldn’t have expected from an American man. I feel brave. I tell him I like the way he says my name. 

“That’s what I said,” he says, twinkle in his eye. (No, it’s not. I let it be. I like the way he says it. To Europeans I even begin introducing myself via his pronunciation.)

Time passes without incident. I follow my promises in Paris, London, and Amsterdam. I know my other friend L likes him a lot and says she danced with him in Paris where they connected. It’s probably true, but I don’t know--I also can’t help but feel there’s something in the way he looks at me. A glimmer of something or other that some part of me recognizes, but doesn’t think can be the case. Not for me. I know my place. Then Prague happens. 

A lot of things happen in Prague. The morning of our tour through the city I get an email asking if I’m still interested in joining the company I applied to before my trip. I can’t believe it. I’m in Europe, and when I come back there is now the possibility I won’t have to go back to teaching. The day goes on, a terrible heat wave in the city. He takes the group out to a medieval dinner--sort of an interactive renaissance fair. We’re all as a unit, very drunk and ready for more drinking and dancing. It may be one of the best days of my life. Here I am in Europe, a world away from last year in the deepest pits of my depression and anxiety, drinking beer with an amazing group of travelers who I get to call my friends. We hit one bar, and then another, an Irish pub where he is, of course--he loves his Irish pubs and makes no secret of it. He flits around and some of my friends chit chat with him, but I of course don’t say anything. Of course we want to keep the party going--so we head out to this eighties dance club where he follows. I admit my eye is on him during the night--he helps out one of my friends who gets so drunk she can’t walk. (And he avoids her attempts to hit on him as well) but mostly I dance and I dance and I dance and I drink and I let loose in a way I don’t think I ever have. I feel beautiful. I feel free. And hell, when I see myself in the mirror--I am beautiful. Later, my friend tells me how cute I was drunk. I let loose. She’s right. Everything is perfect, except for the nagging realization I have to pee.

Upon what I call the pee test, wherein you get to see how drunk you are in the bathroom, I am moderate. I can stand but things are a little wobbly. Not the drunkest I’ve been, but pretty drunk. I emerge from the bathroom. There he is. 

He grabs my hand. He doesn’t let go. He stares into my goddamn soul. One of my friends is prattling on about going to another bar, I think, but it’s so loud because “Here Comes the Rain Again” or something is playing. He is insistent I come along too to this other bar with them all, still looking into the depths of my soul and holding my hand. In my drunken, yet still somewhat lucid state, I ask him why on earth he’s standing outside the girl’s bathroom. No answer, but my hand is still in his, and his eyes are still looking into the depths of my goodman soul. I feel really fucking pretty. So pretty, part of me realizes a good looking man is holding my hand. I hold on tighter.

We don’t end up going to another bar, we end up staying, but still holding my hand he takes me away from the girl’s restroom, finally, and eventually a tentative arm is places around me, something I reciprocate until more people crowd around. Shots are bought. We take a shot together before back to the dance floor we go. He dances with me, our backs turned in this shoulder-to-shoulder sort of shimmy, and I am vaguely aware of my ass grinding against his. When it’s over I am horror-stricken. People definitely saw me grind with our hot as hell Grecian tour director. But I’m in it too deep. I want to dance with him again, and I throw out some joke as I shake my hips about how they are going to hurt tomorrow--to which he laughs. It’s at this point another girl notices and literally throws herself on him. I watch with my mouth agape as he fights off her advances, and watch as he eventually untangles himself and leaves. 

I can’t sleep that night. Number one there’s a heat wave and I’m on the top bunk, and two, I’m swimming with thoughts of what the hell just happened. He started it, but why? The funny side character shouldn’t be treated like the romantic lead. The morning comes and the girls in my room mention his behavior from previous cities after noting how the other girl danced on top of him. They mention behavior I haven’t seen, and are concerned about his professionalism and if tour guides should go out dancing with tour groups. “I think I danced with him,” I say. “You did,” my friend replies. I  can’t help but feel judged. 

We move on from Prague in our trip. In Switzerland I decide to accept the new job. I see more glances from him here and there. He watches me get hit on in Venice. Then there’s this one particular look he gives me before we drive to Florence that I can’t shake away. I tell him good morning and the way he replies, you’d think I made his morning. 

Once in Rome I end up crying. We are deep into the trip and I want to talk to my Mom about my new job and also what happened. It’s confusing and I don’t get it and is this lack of professionalism true or something that should bother me? My friend L tells me a rumor he kissed a girl in Barcelona in our group and confessed his life story to her--and she says she doesn’t like him anymore, albeit for different reasons. I never ask. But there’s something ingrained within me that senses shenanigans will happen, even that night after I kiss an Italian boy. 

I’m right. It’s the second night in Rome. I go to a bar with two other friends. Apparently this is his favorite Irish bar in the whole of Europe, and of course he’s there. He plops beside me, deriding my choice in drinking Heineken when I should get an Italian beer. He asks me what I’m going to do when I come back to the states. I joke about ice water. He teases me. I tell him the truth, that I want to talk to my mom about a few things. I think about Prague, but leave that out and tell him about my new job, and how it’s everything I wanted but I’m nervous to leave teaching and also take a decrease in pay, but it’s also exciting because my head will be clearer to write more during the day, and I get a foothold in a career that’s interesting to me. He’s happy for me. 

From there, we talk, and we talk, and we talk and do occasional shots with the others I came with. The night is a blur, I can’t say everything we talked about--movies for one where he’s impressed I know who Laurence Olivier is. (”Of course I do! I’m a Shakespearean!”) and places he’s been to. he loves architecture, and tells me I could pass as Italian, and even Greek. (He’s right, I get mistaken for Greek a lot a little later) I show him a picture of my grandparents, and when my friend next to me starts showing pictures of the various colors she’s dyed her hair, I casually mentioned I stopped dyeing my hair. “Why would you?” he asks, “it’s a pretty color.” Once, he offhandedly mentions he’s self-conscious about his accent. I tell him I like it. Rather bashfully, he thanks me.

He takes a picture of us in the bar and posts it to the group chat. More people arrive. We kind of remain by each other’s side. He buys me a beer separate from the rest of the group. At some point I have to pee. On my way back from peeing I end up smooching another Italian man. He uses too much tongue too quickly for my taste. On my way back, he follows me. You know who sees this whole exchange and is very amused I got hit on, apparently. I think I mention something or other about my therapist telling me to kiss boys in Europe. Then he’s gone--gone without saying goodbye, and I’m a little upset but mostly I’m elated. I talked virtually all night with a man I find attractive, and not once did I run away. My good mood is only spoiled by the fact that I learn when I call home that my grandma was placed in the hospital.

The next day after the Vatican I’m eating with my friend L and a few others, and she casually mentions how he tried to get her to party with him yesterday. Driven by tiredness and also my news from the previous night, I go to my hotel room and cry. I don’t feel like he played me, but more so that I played myself. I’m just the funny side character after all. Why would I think I’m special? We’re going to Greece in the morning, and my body is just so tired I have no desire to go. 

But go we do, and once in Athens I just feel very, very happy. I can’t even really describe why the city makes me so happy. but I feel safe there. I feel like maybe the past life reader I emailed back in April was right, Greece was once my home in a time before. One thing is sure, I am not wasting my time on my tour director anymore. I’m just going to enjoy the rest of the trip. 

Except he’s eating lunch the same place me and my friends decide to eat at. We leave him be but he’s as amiable as ever. And then later that night when me and another group of girls decide to go for drinks at a rooftop bar---he tags along. I don’t really speak to him much, other girls in the group dominate the conversation, but I try my best to look wistful and unbothered. He lets me sip from his beer, and when I ask my smoker friend for a cigarette puff  he beats her and gives me a puff of his. He mentions the Irish bar in Rome and how I was there with him. I feel a sort of electricity when he plops by me to smoke and he’s pointed toward me. 

The next day at the Acropolis he gives me this sort of playful, dreamy look I don’t see him give anyone else, and I ask if he thinks I look silly in my hat. “Yes,” he says, and I laugh. Another dreamy look in Paros when we’re by ourselves by the sea for the briefest moment. He looks at me like I’m a revelation. It makes me laugh. It makes me feel like the romantic lead. One last wistful look the next morning before we return to Athens when he tells me “good morning.” Again, I feel a sort of revelation. My friend tells me later there’s a rumor he slept with a girl in our group. I kind of don’t care.

At our last dinner in Athens before we all must leave, I give him his tip. We embrace, we take a photo. He wants me to send it to him. I do, and he gives it a little heart. He comes out dancing with the group, one last time. I don’t see him for a bit, but when he bumps into me in the club he asks me where my drink is. I ask him if he’s going to buy me one to replace it. He teases me before agreeing, and then more people crowd around and suddenly we’re taking shots. It’s at this point I see the rumored girl he slept with in our group cuddle up near him, to which he doesn’t reciprocate. I give a certain look of disgust, one he mirrors. “What happened to the Irish bar?” he asks me. I am possessed. I put my hand on his cheek and I tell him I’ll always remember it. He will too, he says. That’s his favorite in all of Europe. 

I remember that souvenir I bought in Athens a few days ago, my name on a necklace in Greek. He’s supposed to give it me at some point, and when I ask he says he’ll just keep it if he forgets. YOU’RE GOING TO KEEP A NECKLACE WITH MY NAME? I ask, and he just looks sheepishly at me. I know I have to leave soon, so I say my goodbyes. “If I don’t see you, when I leave in the taxi to the airport,” I tell him, “I will kill you.” And then I embrace him again. I kiss his cheek. 

Such a simple thing, a kiss. I always thought I would have to be deliberate about it, because I imagined kissing his cheek in parting before. I wasn’t so. I was possessed, automatic. When he kisses me back on my cheek, an immediate response, it feels like an I see you, you were beautiful, I enjoyed my time with you. It feels romantic. 

So we part a few hours later with an embrace--nothing too crazy. But when I’m home, I message him because he asked us to let him know when we’re home safe. I thank him in Greek, and thank him for everything. I tell him I’m glad I stopped waiting around for someone and did what I always wanted to do. He thanks me. Am I going to leave it there? He lives in Greece, I live here. He told me he wouldn’t live in the US. Fuck, I’d move to Europe for true love, though the chance of him being it for me are very, very slim. I do know he said he’d mention if he was in the US, and asked me to mention if I was in Europe. Of course I’ll go back to Europe. I’ll always return. And I may need to message him. Some of my stories take place partly in Greece. I need research help.

In my therapist’s chair upon my return, she tells me who cares if the rumor about him sleeping with someone is true or not, I know what happened between him and I. He’s a tour director and he probably lied when he said he would never do something like that in Athens. At the end of the day, he’s European, and Europeans have different sensibilities. Good for me for kissing him, and after all, it’s not really about him. It’s about how I felt confident, I felt beautiful, and I held a man’s attention. She’s right of course. She’s always right. This story isn’t about a romance, it’s about the funny side character coming into her own, and knowing she can be the lead. It’s about how I got to know this amazing, incredible woman, and now I know I can’t be without her. And, my therapist says, it’s time for me to write my book. 

I used to be sad I didn’t have a partner, how I would look at pictures of my cousin’s family and be jealous. But I see them now, and I see how beautiful it is, but I also see how that’s not what I want. Not quite yet, I still want to travel. I must, for me. For my soul. For the art that I will make. 

And as for my tour director, I waffle back and forth now that I’m home. I know I can live without him. I’m ready for the man I will marry, but I also don’t want him yet, weirdly enough. There are things I have to do. I learned that in Europe. I learned that with my tour director, talking with him, exchanging heated looks with him he didn’t give anyone else. I was careful to observe that. I admit, there are parts of me that have this knowing that there’s more and I haven’t seen or heard the last of Nikos.  

I guess time will tell. I’m happy either way. I’m still the lead.

#personal #DO NOT REBLOG PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT IS HOLY #FUCK WHY DID I WRITE AND PUBLISH THIS #this is long #warning

[kendrixtermina]

Misleading Claims about Gaza I’ve seen flying around

So I want to speak to a set of claims I’ve seen flying around that, while not 100% lies, get presented in a hugely misleading way.

I, a rando with an internet connection, was able to find with a simple google & wikipedia search that they were severely taken out of context.

1. They threw a gay person off a roof

Never happened.

This is a clear echo off of roof-related execution done by ISIS meaning to conflate the orgs in the mind of an uneducated westerner who doesn’t know how ME political groups are different.

There was indeed one (1) case of a person being accused of being gay & then executed (not by being thrown off a roof) – but that was among a long list of other crimes, & their relatives say it’s a pretext/slander to cover internal hamas power struggle.

Not great, part of a larger tendency to be repressive toward some rival factions, but hardly „systematic persecution and executions of gays“.

While it’s not exactly Amsterdam, there is no systematic or legally encoded persecution. There are cases of ppl being shunned or kicked out by their family, but you can say the same about, say, Alabama.

I’ve come across various posts by LBTQ people who travelled there and were not especially harassed. One even wore a flag pin.

A common thing you hear is that ppl are too busy just surviving & ending their more general oppression to worry too much about stuff like holding a pride march.

2. It’s forbidden to teach the holocaust in Gaza

This should have you very suspicious if you’re aware how little control Palestinians actually have over their education system and how they’re often handed textbooks with pro-zionist curriculums that present the Nakba as good (!) - to the point that arab students in mixed town hear their teachers call them the „enemy“ & younger palestinian educators often have not heard of famous palestinian writers & poets.

Indeed the claim probably goes back to a single dispute about a single UN course on human rights where Hamas officials expressed concerns about a curriculum that might include the holocaust for fear of indoctrination & zionist propaganda.

(Not an unreasonable fear, if you’re aware of the racist textbooks issue.)

During the discourse, there was an individual Hamas official who made some statement to the effect that the holocaust was probably just another lie made up by the Zionist to justify taking their country.

The man hasn’t been in power for years, btw (a good thing, seeing as he seems ignorant & incendiary) – genuine L for that guy & Hamas for hiring him. Not defending him at all, that guy is an idiot. But its NOT a comprehensive ban on the subject at all (indeed many Palestinians you see online seem quite well-informed)

But note how the claim is often presented in a way to evoke western neo-nazis who have long been motivated to explain away the biggest argument as to why their ideology is a bad idea.

Can you really compare these situations, though?

Make no mistake: The holocaust defo happened.

But why do I know this? Because I’ve read books by survivors as well as accounts of US & russian soldiers who found the mess. I’ve been to Dachau on a school trip & the walls of the gas chambers still had nail marks on them. I’ve been to that house in prague where all the walls are covered in victim’s names. My grandmother saw the infamous auschwitz human skin lamp with her own eyeballs. Heck, her father in law narrowly survived by jumping out of one of those death trains.

Now, does an older arab guy in a besieged, impoverished enclave have access to that proof? It’s not like he can travel to europe & go to a museum.

Also, as someone who went to an european school, I remember being told precious little about the middle east and some of it was stereotypic bullshit. So why would an arab guy living under a much worse-funded education system know much more about european history?

He’s used to the zionists spouting 2+2 = 5 lies, propaganda & spin all the time, so if he doesn’t know a lot about europe, he might jump to the conclusion that this thing they use to justify the conquest of his home is probably a lie as well.

Quite different from an european neo nazi denying mountains of proof out of wounded pride. (or because he actually thinks it was nbd but can’t say so publicly)

It’s kinda like the way radfems refuse to believe that men aren’t making up all their problems...

Again, it’s an L for that hamas guy, kids have nothing to fear from learning accurate facts about foreign countries, I'll always be against censorship & pro free information.

But one (1) idiot politician saying something offensive does NOT equal the subject being explicitly banned from discussion in all gazan schools.

The claim also leaves out the context that since Hamas also provides schooling & welfare there’s a bit of a rivalry/power struggle between it & the aid orgs (golly gee, I wonder why a population utterly abandoned by the international community would distrust foreigners...)

Something that was very telling about the post is „liberate gaza so they can finally learn about the holocaust!“ like its this all-important thing - I mean, it IS very important… if you’re european or jewish, cause in that case it massively impacted your civilization and your own family history. But it wasn’t the only mass murder nor the worst by method (rwanda) or number (stalinist purges) & doesn’t have this magic objective value, europe isn’t the navel of the earth & the ppl aren’t wrong not to want eurocentrism shoved down their throats.

I do think everyone should be taught about the evils of discrimination but probably a more natural place to start might be the armenian genocide, since Palestine used to be Ottoman. Or examples of discrimination in the arab world (including against jews)

I mean in that instance the guy was most likely being paranoid & advancing some power strugle agenda, & I’d say he was in the wrong, but the touchiness & concern about indoctrination has a reason & one instance of complaining about one course does NOT equal a general ban on the subject in schools. (many of which, are, after all, run by international orgs)

Frankly, a people living in a walled ghetto probably already know more about the evils of discrimination than anyone who doesn’t.

Also, it’s very ironic for Israel to go accusing others of denying atrocities when even mentioning the Nakba can cost you your academic career.

There’s no Israeli teens going to Nakba Museum and indeed school books portraying it as good that are forced on the arabs as well.

Imagine if a Romani, Jewish or Polish person in modern day Germany were forced to look upon textbooks full of common Nazi apologia like „Hitler built the Motorways“, „But Dresden!“ and „We only lost WWI cause the socialists backstabbed us!“ (For the record, all of those are all bullshit.)

3. When Israeli settlers pulled out of Gaza, the first thing they did is raze the synagogues

Again, this is deliberately phrased to remind westerners or diasporic jews of neo-nazis throwing molotovs and the like (if only our governments did as much against those as they’re presently doing to slander anti-war protesters… ), to trigger immediate sympathy for Israel & portray gazans as a bunch of vandalizing hatecrimers.

As the previous claims, this is „very loosely based on a true story“ as in it technically did happen but there’s a lot of context missing, such as:

Israel demolished TONS of Mosques & Christian Churches during the Nakba, or worse, turned them into warehouses bars & factories.

Settlers did horrific violence to ppl in Gaza. In one example, a house was burned with a toddler still inside. Settlers mocked & harassed the kid’s grandfather

When they pulled out, they destroyed the entire settlement, infrastructure & farming equipment so the locals couldn’t use it

They even considered destroying the synagogues themselves but then left them as the only buildings standing & tried to have them declared unesco heritage (possibly a ploy to maintain a presence in the strip after all or leave a backdoor to return, creating a strategic incentive to destroy them so the settlers wouldn’t have an excuse to come back)

We are talking about blocky cement structures a new as the settlements, NOT historic buildings (unlike the destroyed Mosques & Churches)

religious symbols & cultic objects were removed when the settlers left. Obviously. Why would they possibly leave it?

So what do we have left?

Some people vented their rage at empty concrete buildings that had no religious items in them, had no history and were never going to be used again. - which they were somewhat justified as seeing as symbols of domination leaving their mark on „their“ home, like a cat’s territorial piss markings, so it might as well be interpreted as an act of defiance against colonial power.

Still technically vandalism against a religious building, not very diplomatic, do not recommend etc.

but at the same time rather different from the idea suggested by „the first thing they did is raze the synagogues“… for once thing, there was nothing else left to raze cause the Israelis already did it themselves, it was retaliation for Palestinian sacral buildings being trashed & a response to finding out that israelis would destroy good farm tools rather than let them have it, and it was an interchangeable concrete block empty of actual synagogue stuff. - whereas without the context you are probably imaging hooligans singling out the synagogues out of useful, intact buildings, a unique historic building being thrashed or the cultic objects & holy books being broken & desacrated, similar to historic cases of nazi arson or russian pogroms. That just didn't happen.

The double standard, too, is very telling: This act of vandalism means gazans are evil hatecrimers out to get all the jews & means they can't be negotiated or made peace with, but Israelis’ much more widespread & systematic destruction of churches & mosques is assigned no such interpretation. Golly gee I wonder why.

Again, the point here is NOT to portray local government as perfect & flawless (what government is?) or to say that none of this stuff was bad. But sporadic events are being inflated into nonexistent systemic patterns, as well as misrepresented to appeal to very particular tropes & cliches to blatantly manipulate ya'lls emotional reactions.

#gaza #free gaza #palestine #free palestine #israel #zonism #hasbara