#had some images but this is the only one new
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My Experience Buying eSIMs for Gaza by Maia Kobabe
instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my books
Full transcript below the cut:
Cover:
My Experience Buying eSIMs for Gaza
Project organized by @ connectinghumanity_
by Maia Kobabe @redgoldsparks
Page 1
In Fall 2023, I saw instructions on instagram for how to purchase an eSIM card and submit it to be distributed to someone in Gaza.
Download an eSIM app-> Select Middle East as the region-> Purchase-> Screenshot the QR code-> Do not activate-> send to [email protected]
Image of Maia looking at eir phone. “That sounds easy, I’ll buy one.”
I emailed an Airalo eSIM QR code to gazaesims on Nov 17 2023.
Page 2
By January 2024, it hadn’t been activated yet. I bought a second one from Nomad and sent my new QR code and resubmitted my old one.
Image of Maia looking at eir phone. “How long does this usually take, I wonder?”
By February neither had been activated, but Connecting Humanity kept posting about needing more. I bought a second Nomad and resubmitted all of them on February 15, 2024.
Page 3
The Nomad eSIMs are much cheaper than Airalo, but what I didn’t realize is that they expire even if they haven’t been activated. At the end of February I decided to try a third company, Simly. Here’s a price comparison:
AIRALO: $39 USD for 3GB, never expires
SIMLY: $22 USD for 3GB, never expires
NOMAD: $16 USD for 3GB, expires after 8 weeks even if unused, only offers in-app refunds
Page 4
Connecting Humanity asks folks to wait at least 3 weeks before resending a QR code that hasn’t been activated yet. On March 7 Mirna Elhelbawi posted:
We send EVERY esim we receive. Bear in mind that we are dealing with people at a war zone. They might take it and get killed before activating it, they might take it and their phone gets lost or destroyed. They might take it and search for days for stable internet connection to activate it, and some of them activate it unsuccessfully due to lack of knowledge and the horrific situations they are in. ~Connecting Gaza
By early April, my first Nomad eSIM expired unused. I resubmitted my three remaining eSIMs.
Page 5
Suddenly, two of my eSIMs were activated on the same day! The Airalo I’d purchased 4.5 months earlier and my second Nomad.
Image of Maia looking happy and surprised.
Image of Maia looking very intensely at eir phone. “I have to make sure these don’t run out!”
I began buying top-up packages immediately.
Page 6
I felt like I had planted a seed in the fall and waited all winter for it to sprout. Seeing it activated was like watching the first new leaves break the soil.
Image of Maia with a watering can labeled “data”, sprinkling water on two little sprouts. “Watering my eSIMs!”
Sadly, only .07 GB of data was ever used on my Nomad. It was never used again after that first day.
Page 7
But my Airalo has been in constant use for over a month now. I check on it every day.
I will never know the person I am buying data for and they will never know me. But we are connected by the same strings of hope and grief that connect us all.
Image of two hands holding a phone, which is connected to a flying kite.
Page 8
On April 5, 2024 Connecting Humanity reported they had sent more than 250,000 eSIMs to Gaza, equivalent to approximately $6.3 million donated! You can visit gazaesims.com for more info, instructions, and discounts. Here are my referral codes:
MAIA5367 for $3 off Airalo
MB772 for $3 off Simly
MAIA66GF for $3 off Nomad
If you need more incentive, the Cartoonist Coop is doing art rewards. Visit cartoonist.coop/esims4gaza
Page 9
Image of Maia, weighing two options. “Buying an eSIM is easy and can make a very direct impact. It can also take a lot of patience and could get expensive over time if you commit to keeping the eSIM topped up indefinitely.”
If an immediate one time donation is more your speed, I recommend Operation Olive Branch and Gazafunds, two places to find Gofundmes aiding Palestinian families.
gazafunds.com
@ operationolivebranch on insta
linktr.ee/opolivebranch
-Maia Kobabe 2024
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Oh, thinking more
What if the hunter that shot Alastor was Vox?
Like, I doubt it, but we "know" they had dogs, so I was thinking about who if any has anything resembling dogs? And the only one I can think of is Vox, like he had two sharks in the show plus some dog-shark creature in the insta stories
So, what if he was pretty young, loved radio and any new technology, so he was a fan of Alastor's. In addition, he had just started to learn how to hunt and wanting to impress his parents went out late to practice, took the dogs so that he could just say he went out with them if anyone asked
Then out in the woods, the dogs start to bark and he readies his gun, mostly just to better his aim, not intending to shoot. Then he sees the figure rise, he can't fully comprehend it before he takes the shot. He can hear a thud. He got it? He got it! He shot a deer!
Oh.
That's gonna be hard to hide.
Should he tell dad that he was able to shoot a deer? Like, yay, he did it! But also, no, he went out with dads gun without permission.
He approaches the deer, trying to figure out what to do with it, only to freeze when he gazes upon it.
It's not a deer.
It's a-
He-
This is bad.
That was the last time he went hunting. He can't get the image out of his head. He'll never forget that face.
The worst part was, he knew who it was. He had figured it out when he saw a missing poster of his favorite radio host.
He still liked technology, and to drown out the past that's where all his focus went. He wanted to be a big part of TV just like Alastor had been a big part of Radio. It was his way of honouring Alastor.
Still, sometimes it was hard to listen to the radio, that's why his focus was on the TV. They where practically the same, just some extra visuals, distractions, it was practically an upgrade. He just knew Alastor would agree, that man was always on the forefront of what was new in radio.
Surely, if he was alive, then he would have obviously pivoted towards TV after realizing the benefits of the medium
___
Imagen then how Vox would reach when seeing Alastor for the first time in hell. Like he doesn't know if Alastor is aware that it was Vox, but if he does maybe he won't recognize Vox? He has a TV for a head now, not really a human feature. Still though, he can't help but want to spend time with Alastor, tell of all that has happened in the world and share with him how Amazing the TV had become
DAMN BAEWSBNFSDYGUFKDGHFS
ANONS ARE FEEDING ME GOOD TODAY WTF?
✨✨✨THE TRAUMA✨✨✨
THIS IS INSANE remember the "sad and complicated" IT KINDA FITS LOL AHAHA-- THIS EXPLAINS WHY VOX IS SO OBSESSED WITH ALASTOR
IMAGINE JUST IMAGINE, NEXT SEASON THEY ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FIGHT AND VOX SAYS SOMETHING LIKE, I KILLED YOU ONCE, I'LL KILL YOU AGAIN AND ALASTOR'S JUST WHAT AND EVERYTHING STOPS WHILE BOTH REALISE WHAT WAS JUST SAID
That would be such a cool turn, like. Vox clinging to Alastor in pathetic attempt to apologise for killing him and make up for it, and get waht they could have in life if he haven't killed him. And Alastor just doesn't understand Vox's behavior nor the reasons for it
AND WHEN VOX SAYS THAT HE KILLED HIM IN LIFE EVERYTHING BECOMES CLEAR AND ALASTOR JUST LAUGHS LIKE, HOW PATHETIC YOU ARE, HE'S NOT EVEN ANGRY, BECAUSE VOX JUST BECOME EVEN MORE PATHETIC IN HIS EYES. HE KILLED HIM AND THEN WAS IN SHOCK HIS WHOLE LIFE WHILE ALASTOR KILLED MUCH MORE AND NEVER FELT REMORSE FOR A SINGLE ONE
#hazbin hotel#hazbin#sudden ask lol#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#human alastor#hazbin alastor#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#radio demon
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𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓...
𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 — Can we talk about Leon with long hair… It's a need to see him with a little ponytail or longer hair in general. Like... Please. I got the inspiration after looking at some fan art and now drawing him with longer hair! Just AHHHH!
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — Talk of sex, hairpulling, strap game talk. One tiny suicide mention (if it halfway counts as that.) Leon having glasses 'cause he gets to suffer with me having shitty eyeballs. Nichole not want to edit and instead drew a middle-aged man with hairpins. It's shit, I don't care, long hair is <3
Imagine helping him in the shower, offering to wash his hair and run your fingers through his thick locks. Giving the male a compliment that made him blush. Growing awkward at something so stupidly simple. My hand going to swat you playfully.
Helping him brush it out because he argues ‘It’s harder to brush without you nearby'. The lazy (lucky) bastard just wanted to feel your fingers in it. Smiling to himself as his brain filled with both soft, warm images and passionate, fiery ones.
Giving him little head scratches and running your hair through it. His head was in your lap as he rested from work. Unbuttoned shirt, hands on chest, dress shoes kicked onto the carpet. Humming a song he had stuck in his head as you caught up on the news or a show.
The salt and pepper look… Made him feel old. Looking at himself in the mirror, then at you. Their eyes crinkled as he offered a forced smile. Only to fall, as you said it ‘adds to the charm’. Moved to hold his shoulder, whispering into his ear how it ‘made him sexier'—especially with his stubble getting grays.
He only felt better about himself with every word that fell from your mouth. That twenty-one-year-old coming out in a schoolboy-like way. With that gentle breeze, Sakura blossoms fall and grow giddy. Those old animes he used to watch with those cliché confession scenes. It felt right, like the way he wished to go out. (Or with a bullet to the brain.)
Even still, with longer hair came more… physical things.
Tugging at his hair, he leaned over you. Soft flesh pressed against yours, with his little wisps of chest hair pressing against your chest. Groaning at the pain and the pleasure at the simple action—made Leon's hips jerk. Never knew he had a hair-pulling kink.
Bending him over the bed with a strap-on wrapping around your hips. Thrusting into him with a hand tightly grasping his hair. Each curl up into his prostate accompanied by a tug made him moan. Coming onto the sheets too early made you laugh at him. (Or earn a sharp slap to his ass. We all know it jiggles.)
Kissing at his neck and bunching it up into your palm. Gently pulling his head back to nip at the array of moles and his Adam's apple. He hated feeling vulnerable, having longer hair was a curse in blessing.
There were also the simple things…
Feeling it brush against your neck as you cooked on the stove top. Holding your hips and rubbing his grown-out stubble against your shoulder. Pushing his face away as you argued, ‘You'll burn me like that, Leon!’ Making obscene noises as he took your argument as a chance to mock and rub against you more.
Observing the way he worked with his hair tucked back into a ponytail or behind his ear. Peeking behind the corner before walking off with many thoughts filling your head. Could it be luck? Could it be love? Could it be lust? Triple L thoughts, now.
The way he used bobby pins to force his hair back. Turning into a little fashion session as you ran to the nearest convince store for cheap hairpins. Giggling at butterflies and hearts in his heart. The inner child in him groans at girly things.
Leon couldn't help but smile as he looked down at his phone. Resting himself on his motorcycle, he stared at the selfie of you two together. Just growing something out seemed to change a lot for him. That smile reached his eyes, this time. Not like it already hadn't, but he felt much freer with it.
He's keeping it long, just for you.
Boom, Nichole does art WOW LIKE WOWWWWW!!!! (I just wanted to be silly, shut up.)
#leon kennedy x reader#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#𝒂𝒓𝒕
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It's been more than two months since we found out that the amazing QSMP project treated a big chunk of their workers terribly.
When the news first broke, I was naive enough to believe that things could go back to the way they were before. That short break they had? I thought for sure the very first thing they would do is contact every single one of their regular workers, ask for their feedback and apologize for what they had been through. So naive of me...
Three weeks later, the worst possible outcome became true. Lumi's exit of the project did not only further confirm everything that had already been said, but it also revealed that repairing the broken trust of those affected was never a priority for the heads of the project...
In my personal opinion, more than trying to find ways to treat everyone better, it would seem like they chose to spend their time salvaging the project's image while making the least "noise" possible. Having event after event as if nothing had happened.
At some point, I simply stopped supporting the project all together. However, I still get updates because of the accs that I follow and I have some things to say:
-I still don't understand how the main problem (the treatment of their workers) would get better if they didn't contact any of the people that suffered this mistreatment?????? It just doesn't make any sense.
-It seems like with every project the team's ideas would grow ambitious but the budget to pay the people that made these ideas a reality kept diminishing. Don't get me started on those deadlines...
-Let me also say that "resolving things privately" was never an option. I didn't believe Quackity for a second when he said that in his last stream regarding this whole situation. Things would have just continued as normal and we all would have been blissfully unaware, like we were for months and months before.
To finish, I think what they created together (Quackity, the volunteers, writers, 3d artists, actors, managers, web developers, graphic designers, music engineers, assistants, translators, editors, illustrators, the ccs and every other worker that I might not even know about) was such a beautiful thing. A real exchange of culture. It felt like we could truly celebrate each other and have fun regardless of where we came from. I still watch clips and smile because the love is still there. It's so strange...mourning a project that's still "alive".
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My talk on the TikTok-ification of ‘I have no mouth and i must scream’
I personally have discovered ihnmaims recently and through TikTok but honestly, from what i've seen so far, the Tumblr community is way more welcoming than the TikTok community. I believe the ones i call ‘hardcore fans’ or 'gatekeepers' will try all they can to belittle the people who discovered the book/game through TikTok, like any hardcore fan does for their community when it gets famous on TikTok.
TikTok is very helpful to share media on and i have discovered many fandoms through it. But some people are so against ‘TikTok-ification’ that they can’t stand when people find medias through this platform.
When i see some people (again, mostly solely on TikTok) tell AM fans ‘ermm but you know he SA’d Helen ☝️🤓’ i cant help but think ‘yes ?? And he also committed genocide on humanity, keeps torturing the same 5 people over and over again and im very, VERY sure he did use a lot of not really nice kinds of tortures on them, but you draw the line at SA ??’
Like, AM is a horrible being of course, all of these are horrible actions but if someone, like me, likes AM its not gonna be because they think they’re a good ‘person’ (for lack of a better word), WE KNOW AM is bad, of course we do, HE’S THE BAD GUY OF THE STORY and he’s the kind of bad guy who cannot be redeemed but COME ON, WE KNOW THAT.
I love AM for his writing, for how well thought he is as a character, i do not love him for his actions. And i know some 'new gen fans' will pretend AM is not 'that bad' but you shouldn't just assume every fan who comes from TikTok is going to think like that.
Another thing i’ve seen people hate on are AM’s humanisations/personnifications fanarts when posted on TikTok. I know for a fact that these existed for a long long time on other platforms such as Tumblr but the arguments the haters pull out is that ‘errr AM hates humanity, i doubt he’d want to be human ☝️🤓’ but do you even know WHY he hates humanity ?? Have you read the book ???
The reason AM hates humanity is because he wasn’t able to express the creativity he was given by humans, he didn’t just wake up one day and decided to hate humans ?? If anything, giving AM a more humanized/personified image would be something he would want more than anything. If AM had been able to BE like a human none of the shit he did would have happened.
The only ‘argument’ im willing to listen to is when some people say that the whole point of AM’s character is that he isn’t human. But then again, are you against fun ?? In literally EVERY fandom with non-human characters artists will give them humanized designs, even if just for AU’s (take ‘The stanley parable’ for exemple), it’s not because the story is old and is an horror story that people cannot have fun with it. It’s not because it’s a deep story with meaning that people can’t do what they want with it. That is what creativity is for.
And my final point is addressing the people who hate on AM's simps. My gosh, these people have not seen the dawn of the internet if they think its weird to simp for AM.
People simp for Glados, The Narrator from tsp, horror movies murderers and more, and you're telling me that AM is the worst simping choice you could make ?? Let people have fun, let people have weird taste in fictional crushes. In other words:
Stop being allergic to fun, ffs
#lem's complaints#opinions that will get me cancelled#/j#i have no mouth and i must scream#ihnmaims#cringe culture is dead#stop gatekeeping#am ihnmaims#txt post#txt#text post
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ᴋɪᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴇɴᴅ ɢᴀᴍᴇ. ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ꜱᴜɪᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴀɢᴇꜱ. ᴍᴅɴɪ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴀʙᴇʟᴇᴅ 18+.
ʟᴀᴡ'ꜱ ᴠᴇʀꜱ.
It was a strange moment, when Kid realized he didn't want anyone else but you.
Watching you laugh and joke with those closest to him on the crew made his heart swell, though if one looked at him, you wouldn't be able to tell.
You always bothered him, as he would say, constantly checking up on him while he hid away in his workshop, bringing him snacks and drinks and sometimes even sticking around for a chat.
You annoyed him by never backing down whenever he got in your face, always barking back at him with that defiant look in your eyes. You were the only one, (other than Killer), who never let him get his way. He hated it.
You constantly filled his head with images of how perfect you'd fit together, the way your smaller hand always found his metal one when walking around a new town. You made his heart ache with how you looked up at him with those wide, wonder-filled eyes whenever he showed you cool things, always taking an interest in what he had to say.
It was the way you shook thousands of beris in his face with a loud laugh, a proud expression across his face as you took everything Wire, Heat and Bubblegum had in their pockets. How you'd taken some of your winnings and folded them neatly before sliding the bills into the pocket of Kid's open shirt, a loving grin on your face as you told him to “treat himself to something nice.”
It was how your eyes light up and filled with happy tears as he pulls a necklace he'd been working on for you for months out of his pocket and held it out to you, staring off to the side with dark cheeks and demanding you take it before he changes his mind. Nothing made his heart race faster than seeing you wear it the next day.
It was the way you held his face in your hands, wiping away dirt and blood from his skin with a worried expression after a long and tedious battle with the Marines. The way your gentle fingers pressed over his scars without fear, tracing over each one as if committing them to memory.
It was the way you welcomed him into your room, heart open and pouring out to him when you'd had a little too much to drink. The way you clung to him and begged him to never toss you aside, to treasure you and show you what being loved was supposed to feel like.
It was the way you woke up the next day in his arms, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you slowly stir and look up at him with a smile that could shatter the stars, and the way your eyes fell shut as he pulled you into your first kiss.
It was a quiet and warm moment, when Kid realized he didn't want anyone else but you.
#mandies mumbles ; blurbs / hcs ...#Eustass Kid#one piece kid#op eustass kid#kid x reader#one piece#ok to rb#small blurb for my boy Eustass#every damn day i fall deeper and deeper into the kid pirate hole#no beta we die like men 💪#if u see a mistake.... no tf u dont 💖
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A/N: I’ve missed this man. I hope you like? Next part will have some saucy little smut. Just trying this out first, also for self-indulgence.
Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, language, mentions of injuries, self-esteem issues, mentions depression and body image.
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Plus size!Reader
Eddie Munson loves his new band of misfit friends, an extended family that has welcomed him and Wayne in with open arms. Hell, he’s even getting along with Harrington, Wheeler is tutoring him, and everyone else just understands. And then, well… Then there is you. He’s never seen someone so in tune with the needs of others without ever considering herself. Someone who purposely pushes herself on the world’s hottest back burner to avoid opening up and letting anyone truly see what’s going on… Behind incredibly beautiful eyes, if Eddie does say so himself.
It’s been over a year since shit unfolded with Vecna. They lost, he died for a little while, the apocalypse reigned down on the town and then he wasn’t dead anymore. Memories are vague, but most things he does remember. And when he wakes up tangled in his bedsheets, scars aching with prickles of phantom pains - you are the only person that he calls. A lot of times he ends up singing you to sleep, but it’s not without you always making sure he’s calmed and okay first.
It was a bond that grew since you began caring for him when he came back with memories. He’s lost track of days spent together, lunches shared, a graduation a long time coming, complete with a party he never expected to have. He isn’t sure when it became a deeper feeling than he’s ever known, one that scared him so damn bad he avoided you for days and began physically ill because of it. If Eddie Munson has to pick one moment, it was probably that day you walked into his Uncle’s living room, (a cookout happening in his yard with Steve and Wayne at the grill outside) your beautiful curves on display, a cherry sundress hitting you in all the right places, and some strappy red sandals adorning your feet. You wore a glowing smile beneath your bright red lipstick, energy matching with Henderson’s as you entertained his enthusiasm for Hellfire’s next campaign.
You didn’t have a clue of what you were talking about, but it didn’t deter you in the slightest. You were passionate about writing, you enjoyed Sci-Fi and fantasy, which meant you had to be the one who helped Dustin create new characters. He knew the game, you had some extra creativity to lend. You’d high fived Dustin, stealing his pen to jot down your scribbled suggestions on his spiral sheet. Eddie was a goner.
And now… Here you are, at his house, on a Friday night. You didn’t have plans, you didn’t make a date - nothing. You did what you normally do and called him up, accepting his invite to hang out all evening. He’d made sure to be off work by a steady time, picking up your favorite bakery cookies at the store on the way home, lingering over flowers that he was sure he should get, but knew it would probably cross a line if he did so. Eddie doesn’t want you to feel spooked, or even anything remotely close to uncomfortable around him.
You’re sitting above him, cross-legged on his bed as he rests with bent knees at the foot, your overalls bagging out at the sides to show your crop top with little lemons and daisies printed all over it, and the most delicious, overflowing curves Edward Munson has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. He’s got a pair of your maroon sweats tied down, extremely loose on his narrow hips, and one of your decorative character shirts with a picture of Eeyore plastered front and center, hanging across his torso. You might not be able to wear his clothes, but he can wear yours, and Eddie would be stupid to say he doesn’t notice your eyes crossing a little whenever he steps into some of your ensembles. You’ve been chattering away at the TV, giving your input on Friday the 13th part 2, whilst being blissfully unaware of sending Eddie to heaven with your pink brush running through his freshly washed curls, your neon yellow painted nails scratching at his scalp. He’s like a mother fucking purring cat in your grasp.
“So, anyways… I can’t figure out if Muffin survived or if that was her in the woods. And did Paul really make it out too, or was Jenny imagining shit?”
Eddie smirks, tilting his head back to look at the curvature of your physique, the contours of your face - upside down (no pun intended). “Haven’t you seen this movie, like, a thousand times before?”
You have a mock look of offense. “Hmph.” He doesn’t like what it brings, because you can tease, but please - for the love of all things unholy - don’t stop brushing his hair.
“Hey, hey. Why’d you quit?” He’s pouting, it’s rather cute. One tattooed arm, decorated with scars - elongates, ring clad hand seeking out your wrist. Anything to get you into motion again.
“You know that you can brush your own hair, Eddie.” You’re melting at those fluttering lashes draped over an enriching, smooth chocolate pair of irises. And his mouth… Fuck.
“But it’s so much better when you do it, sweetheart. Pleaseeeee? Forgive me for questioning your brilliant questions!?”
You make a good show of it, tossing the brush out of your hand, it landing a pile of Eddie’s clothes in an unpacked hamper. They’re clean, but he’d rather wear yours. He gasps, shifting positions so quick that you think Steve must’ve Ninja-fied him. He’s got you by your wrists, the cool of his rings tracking across your arms as they follow warm palms, and dip under your pits to gain leverage - easing you forward into a heap onto the carpeting with him. “Freak attack!” He’s gleeful, tickling your denim clad sides (well, at least where he pretends he can’t see the overspilling flesh more closely now).
He smells good, like that familiar Old Spice wash and whatever shampoo he’s lathered his curls with. He’s hovering, he’s incredibly warm, he’s safe, he’s Eddie. Someone you didn’t know you needed until he appeared and retrieved his piece of your heart, snapping it into the place where all the people you love have their own shards. Hmm, not entirely though. If you could describe it, it’s as if they make up the outside lining, keeping the inside of your heart reserved for a more… Different, private type of love, that only Eddie Munson seems to have found.
“Should spank your ass with that thing for stoppin’,” he starts, interrupting your reverie, moving to shut his mouth when he realizes he crossed a line. Maybe? It’s there, your eyes flicker over his lips, your hidden reaction dancing behind your pretty little temple - he sees, giving him a fraction of hope. He isn’t used to this…
You jolt, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind, “Like that would be a punishment,” you finish, effectively crossing that line for him.
Both of you remain silent, your sweet perfume making him lose focus. What he thinks he should do and what he wants to do, those are two very different battles raging inside.
// Eat me paragraph //
#kristenwrites#my work#my writing#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson drabble#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things blurb#stranger things drabble#stranger things fluff#stranger things 4 fic#stranger things 4 fanfiction#stranger things 4 fanfic
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alright, let's keep moving with that DCEU watch bc i have the time today. time for David F. Sandberg's Shazam! Fury of the Gods (2023). here's to hoping this has retained the spirit and heart of the original and improved the superhero aspects because they were the worst part of Shazam! (2019).
i've been trying to get a more accurate video player setup working for like 2 hours, i was using basically stock MPC-BE for the most part but some of the images looked a little soft to me even compared to something basic like a VLC (which i only really keep for its subtitle downloading feature bc it's the easiest to use, and tbh it could've been using sharpening filters, i didn't really check) and Potplayer (which is the only way i can get two subtitles to display simultaneously for media with multiple subs like fansubs or different translations or something, and also it's got like pretty good video output). i tried to look into MPV and the amount of work and scripts everyone was recommending kind of broke me, so i'm just using like the base form of mpv.net bc it's got a GUI, with like GPU decoding turned on which was the one common thing everyone recommended from my research.
hopefully this is better image quality then like standard VLC stuff and my previous MPC-BE setup though i obviously haven't sat through entire movies to compare frame by frame, so beware that if i say anything about the visuals it might not be the most accurate. MPV is supposed to be the most accurate and flexible option around but i don't know how much futzing around people do with it and there's a lot of like upscaling and downscaling scripts for no fucking reason, which is kind of antithetical to the entire point of accuracy to me, but it's fine. i'm just sticking to the base options and hoping it's good and better than what i had. the image does look just a tad sharper to me than in VLC and MPC so i don't know if they have sharpening filters on or something, but this is like the most base form with nothing changed (except the subtitle font) so i cannot imagine they are messing with the video signal with too much filtering. i tried to look into madVR and MPC-HC and got them installed and almost lost my mind trying to get it set up bc there's no real guides anywhere so don't fucking tell me to go look up madVR bc i will kill you. maybe some other day when i have 15 hours to dedicate to going through forums to try to find something that works for me and get enough knowledge to understand what the fuck everybody's talking about, maybe i'll check it out. i cannot believe there's not like some fucking guide for some anime noob because you know those anime people are on the cutting edge of video tech and playback for accuracy, that there's not some fucking guide for people that don't know what they're doing. i mean it's not that i don't know what i'm doing, it's that there's so much fucking shit to sort through that it would be nice if somebody narrowed it down for me. there's nothing even on YouTube or like some shitty github page or an old reddit comment or something, trust me i've like checked fucking everywhere i could think of but if i missed something, please feel free to link it somewhere in the comments or something, i don't know.
anyway, that is entirely an aside, that's just a forewarning that if i do say something about the visuals and you think it's not accurate to what the movie looks like or is not properly representative of the movie, feel free to take it with a grain of salt. i'm trying out something new.
#james talks#james watches stuff#shazam fury of the gods#shazam! fury of the gods#Shazam! Fury of the Gods (2023)#Shazam Fury of the Gods (2023)#david f. sandberg#dceu
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Born Again Virgin III
warning: none, enjoy!
"I'm not sure I can handle this," Amaia whimpered, sinking into Micah's embrace.
Micah held her close, gently stroking her back, offering what comfort she could to her friend who was clearly feeling sexually frustrated.
"But it's only been a few hours," she murmured, pulling Amaia's head to her chest.
"You don't get it. This guy is not just fine. He's like, f-i-o-n-e fine," Amaia explained.
"Wow, that fine?" Micah exclaimed.
Amaia sat up, reaching for her phone on the table. She scrolled through Google images until she found a picture of Roman.
Passing the phone to Micah, she watched as her friend gasped at the sight.
"Oh, Maia. I'll pray for you, girl. You weren't kidding about him being fine. He's definitely something," Micah remarked.
Amaia sighed, snatching her phone back. Micah could sense the weight of the situation. Amaia was committed to her vow of abstinence, and if she broke it, it would hit her hard.
"How about this," Micah suggested, swiftly taking the phone and securing it before placing it back on the table.
She interlocked her fingers, her eyes gleaming with a plan.
"Why don't you slip into something cozy, and then we can binge-watch some Martin?"
"Really?" Amaia's voice sparkled with excitement.
"I can't think of a better way to spend my day off, boo."
"Well, alrighty then."
Amaia bounded off the couch, dashing into her bedroom like an eager child.
Micah chuckled, clicking the remote and queuing up all five seasons of Martin on HBO Max.
As she hit play, a few knocks echoed at the door. She approached the door, peering through the peephole.
A slight frown creased her lips. The figure was too tall to see clearly. In a world where danger lurked around every corner, she hesitated to open the door to a stranger.
People can be unpredictable. One misstep could lead to a kidnapping, harm, and all sorts of awful scenarios. She was definitely a worst-case scenario type of thinker. Right now, opening the door felt like a risky move.
"Who is it?!" she called out, her ear pressed against the cold, polished wood.
"Your new neighbor," a deep voice replied.
Ah, yes, the new neighbor. She recalled seeing boxes in the hallway earlier, even stumbling over one as she fetched her mail.
With a click, the door swung open, revealing the towering figure leaning against the frame.
His eyes widened with concern as he observed the smaller woman's startled expression.
It was the same guy Amaia had shown her a picture of.
"Um, hey... I'm your new neighbor, Joe. I came to introduce myself, but by the look on your face, I'm guessing you already knew that," he chuckled.
"Micah, who's that?" Amaia queried, pulling her braids into a neat ponytail.
Micah slammed the door, shutting out the person on the other side.
"Just some... uh, girl scouts... selling, you know, girl scout stuff. Cookies and..stuff. I told them we didn't want anything.." she stammered with a nervous giggle.
Their new neighbor persisted despite Micah's efforts to make the man disappear. Micah let out a grunt.
"Seriously, dude," she muttered under her breath.
"Move," Amaia gently nudged her friend aside, taking matters into her own hands. With a bright smile, she flung the door open, anticipating a troop of uniformed children clutching boxes of cookies.
But her excitement quickly turned into shock when she laid eyes on the familiar face, causing her to let out a startled scream that made the man jump.
"Joe?!"
He grinned. "Hey, Amaia. Didn't know you lived here too."
Shaking her head to regain composure, Amaia asked, "What do you mean, 'lived here too'?"
"I just moved in. I'm your new neighbor, right across from you," Joe explained.
This ain't nothin' but the Devil's work.
"Are you okay?" Roman noticed, observing Amaia's twitching eye, a telltale sign of her losing her shit.
"I'm fine," she replied through clenched teeth, her voice strained.
He flashed his perfect teeth once more, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I guess I'll be seeing you a lot more often, neighbor," he remarked, emphasizing the words as he squeezed her tightly.
Reluctantly, Amaia returned the hug. The sensation of his muscles through his shirt against her own body made her weak.
She could have stayed there forever.
But the disappointment hit when he released her. Despite her inner turmoil, she forced a smile as he made his way across the hall to his condo.
"See you tomorrow," he called out, loud enough for her to hear, as he unlocked his door.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Amaia whispered, slowly closing the door before sliding down against it.
With a whimper, she bit her lip, battling her inner desires.
"How am I supposed to do this? He's so sexy, and perfect, and he smells so good. Did you hear his voice? It sounds like sex. Not only do I have to work for him, I live 8 feet away from him as well. I can't."
Micah squatted down in front of Amaia, taking her hands into hers.
"Listen, you're going to get through this virgin thing, okay? You know why? Because I'm going to help you. I'll make sure you don't do anything with any man, no matter how fine he is... Jesus, and he is fine."
Amaia lightly slapped Micah's hand. "What? He is! You're lucky I'm not a triflin' ass friend, or I'd be over there knocking boots. But watch out for Kaydence, she'll steal your man."
Amaia rolled her eyes. "He's not my man. She can have him. I'm not feeling him like that. I just find him attractive."
"Yeah, right. I know you. I can tell when you're into someone, and you were not trying to let that man go."
"Psh, I've only known him for a few hours."
"And knowing you, you fall for people within a couple of days. That's why you're always having one-night stands. You get it in once, and no feelings are involved because they're out of your bed before the sun comes up."
Her face scrunched up in confusion. "That doesn't even make sense."
"You don't make sense!" Micah chuckled.
"Whatever," Amaia laughed, getting up and walking to the couch with her roommate trailing behind her.
They watched two seasons of Martin before both falling asleep on the couch.
Knocks against their door woke Amaia up. Groaning, she checked the time on her phone.
12:32 AM
Rubbing the crust from her eyes, she approached the door, already knowing who it was without bothering to look through the peephole.
"Kaydence, why are you always forgetting your keys every nig—Joe?" she asked, surprised to see her neighbor instead of her best friend.
Joe rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating with his movements, clearly consumed by his thoughts. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, looking amazing even though he was only wearing plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt.
His eyes wandered over Amaia's body, taking in her attire—a loose-fitting black tank top and black boxer shorts that hugged her figure. Her thick, ebony legs secretly drove him crazy. He'd kill to have those wrapped around his waist.
He would be lying if he said Amaia hadn't been on his mind all day. Since seeing her, he couldn't shake her image from his thoughts. To him, she was perfection, flawless in every way.
He considered it a blessing that she worked for him and lived right across from him.
A blush crept across Amaia's cheeks as he continued to scan her body with his dark eyes. She became nervous as he stepped closer, his gaze fixated on her lips. His hands wrapped around her waist, bending down to kiss her.
She wanted to stop him, but it felt like she was paralyzed.
When his lips touched hers, she melted into his embrace. Grabbing onto his biceps, she slipped her tongue between his lips, forgetting about her rule against sex.
Roman moaned into the kiss, his hands moving to grab her bottom.
Now they were in her doorway, lost in each other, oblivious to the world around them.
He pulled away, sucking on her bottom lip in the process.
Her breathing was uneven, stomach full of butterflies as he panting against her lips.
"I just came to say goodnight.."
_________________________
Yall foldin'? Or would you be able to resist?
Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80 @headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @sheyaish @tshepisho
#roman reigns#roman reigns fanfiction#wwefanfic#romanreignsimagine#wwe#romanreignsoneshot#roman reigns smut#fanfiction#roman reigns x black reader#roman reigns fluff
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Fighting For Control (Valentino x Employee Reader, Valentino x Wife Valentino x Daughter)
HUGE TRIGGER WARNING.
Eating Disorders. Eating disorder Treatment. Valentino.
Valentino sat off to the side and gazed at the stage. One by one, his dancers strutted down, swung their hips towards him and gave a smile. Casual dress was required for this particular cat walk. Despite being known as one of the most ruthless bosses of hell, he still needed to make sure his girls were healthy, and taking care of themselves. After all, it was just bad business to have his girls passing out in front of clients. He nodded in approval as each girl walked, seeming pleased until one of his dancers seemed to wobble down the stage.
A frown crossed his face. Reader.
He knew when he hired her she would struggle with adjusting to a more comfortable lifestyle. And now as he took in her two loose braids, oversized sweater and jeans that he noticed last week were falling off her hips, alarm bells were ringing. He waited until the rest of the girls finished and then leaned over to the demon next to him.
“I need reader in my office. Now. The rest of the girls are free to leave. And tell the nurse’s office to be on standby.”
Truth be told, he suspected when he hired her that she suffered from an eating disorder. Most of his girls did at some point in their careers. The majority of them came from a traumatic past, a life of fighting to survive. It was only to be expected that in this new line of work, the removal of that constant stress occasionally manifested in less than ideal ways. As he walked back to his office, he considered how he should handle this situation. In his early days, he would have simply forced her on the scale and if the number that flashed beneath his displeased him, he would have sent her off to the hospital for treatment, with the understanding that she could return only when she demonstrated progress. After all, he had a business to be concerned with, and an image to uphold.
But now he had his own teenage daughter, one who struggled with her own issues surrounding food. Following her through therapy, working with her during family dinner time, and holding her as she cried because the little voice inside her head made her think she wasn’t good enough, would never be thin enough, pretty enough, had changed his entire perspective on both the illness and its treatment. He was thankful his experience in the field helped him catch his little girl before she was in as rough shape as reader clearly was, but his experience with someone he loved certainly made him a bit softer to his workers who were struggling. He took his seat in his chair as he considered his options. Separation of work and home- this wasn’t his daughter, or his wife. This was his employee. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t show compassion to her- concern and care. After all, she was battling a monster he had only glimpses into.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
“Ah. Come in,” he called. He studied reader as she walked in. Her hair was back in two loose braids, a useless attempt to hide her hair loss. Her jeans were practically falling off her hips with each step she took. Her tee shirt and oversized cardigan were recognizable defense mechanisms- armor she was desperately trying to hide behind. He knew he needed to come from a place of concern, or he would be shut down instantly.
“Take a seat muñeca, ” he said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.
She did so reluctantly and her eyes averted his gaze. “Did I do something wrong, sir?” Her voice was soft. Frightened.
“No, bebita. You didn’t do anything wrong. But I am concerned about you. Tell me the truth, doll. Is everything okay? Are the other girls treating you alright?” He asked.
“Yes sir, they treat me fine,” she muttered.
He considered how to approach this. Looking at the big picture, she was relatively new to him. She didn’t really know him or his methods. Softness, first, he thought was the best option. “You’ve been with me for how long now…three months?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you live in one of the flats with the other girls, yes?”
She kept her gaze down. “Yes, sir.”
“Are you finding the essentials sufficient? Your room, clothing, food?”
That got a reaction out of her. He watched as she switched to defensive mode at the mere mention of food. His heart sank. Part of him wished his suspicion was inaccurate, but her behavior simply confirmed his fear.
“Yes, sir. Everything is fine. Can I go now?”
“You may not.” He stood up and pulled a scale out from his desk. “I’m noticing a concerning pattern of behavior, cariño. I need you to step on the scale for me, hm?”
The defensiveness overtook her. “No.”
He expected such a reaction. She needed to be reminded who was in control here- it was her best chance at survival. The red chains sprang forward and wrapped around her wrist, bringing her to him.
“I own you. You will do what I say, when I say it. And that includes this. Understood?”
He watched the familiar battle unfold. Unlike his daughter, he had control over this demon. More of the ability to save her from herself. He released the chains and he nudged her to the scale- the one that wouldn’t flash the number on the base, and instead send the data directly to his phone. Another trick he learned with his daughter. Without another option, reader stepped on.
He checked the digits that popped up on his phone. Valentino felt his stomach drop. The number was by far one of the lowest he had seen. Guilt spread through him, anger at himself and this illness. He should have been keeping a closer eye on her. He only hoped the threat of his contract would be enough motivation for her to comply with treatment. Technically speaking, he could keep her alive. But there were parts of an eating disorder he couldn’t control.
“Alright, babydoll. Step off,” he said quietly, sliding a hand under her arm. “And sit for me.”
Terror spread across her features. “What is my weight?”
Valentino looked at her evenly. “Too low for me to comfortably have you on my stage, bebita.”
“But what exactly is my weight?” she begged.
“You need to let me worry about that, sweetheart,” he replied evenly. He knew better than to get combative. After all, he was the one in control here. Not her. And he certainly wouldn’t let her illness work its way in. “Let me be very clear with what will happen next. I’m going to escort you down to the nurses office. From there, you will be hospitalized until that number is in the healthy range.”
Reader crossed her arms. “You can’t do that! I’m an adult!”
“Oh I can. I own you. Or have you forgotten that?” He leaned forward, “And I refused to let one of my most promising dancers starve herself into nothingness.”
“I eat, Valentino. I do! Please, just let me go home,” she begged. “Please! I’m fine! I swear!”
He looked at her softly. “You’re not fine. That much is clear. Come along now. I’m taking you whether you fight me the entire way or not.”
Normally, he would have the nurse meet them with a wheelchair for a number that low, but she was already so frightened. His heart ached for her, for the pain she was going through both physically and mentally. He slipped his hand under her arm and guided her down the hallway. She seemed to shut down in his grasp, a quiet, fragile doll.
“You will do what they say, you will eat what they tell you and you will not fight them, do you understand?” He asked once they were in the nurse's office. He sat her on the bed. “We’re going to get a gown on you. Arms up.”
He carefully pulled back her sweater. She sat stiffly, not actively fighting him but also not helping him in any way. He tugged off her t-shirt and bit back the gasp that threatened in the back of his throat. Emaciated wasn’t a strong enough word.
He kept his touch gentle as he tied back the gown and helped her lay on the bed, but inside, anger bubbled. This disease, this illness was something he couldn’t eliminate, as much as he wanted to. He watched and listened quietly as the doctor as he came over and began to work over her. After a few moments, the doctor turned to Valentino.
“Two thousand calories, through her nose to start,” the doctor said. “And we’ll get her into therapy right away.”
He wanted to tell the doctor to talk to her, not to him. But that illusion that he was in control, not her eating disorder, couldn’t be broken. Valentino turned to her and to his surprise, she looked furious.
“Five hundred. And no feeding tube.” She shot back.
The doctor looked at Valentino and Valentino bit back a sharp word. It wouldn’t help anything for him to be angry.
. “This isn’t a negotiation. What the doctor says, goes. The only choice you have is if you take this willingly or we keep you too sleepy to fight.”
His words seemed cold even to him, and he honestly suspected that that was an empty threat. He doubted her body could handle anything extraneous at this point. But by the expression on her face, she didn’t know that.
“Valentino, no please,” she begged. “I’ll eat more, I promise.”
“Then prove it,” he replied sternly. He laid a gentle hand on her forehead, “I want to see next week's weigh in significantly higher.”
Her tone hardened. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“You do not.”
“Fine.”
Valentino watched as the doctor slid the tube into her, biting back the frustration that was building in his chest. Flashes of his own daughter being threatened with the same treatment raced through his mind.The threat was enough to scare her into his arms, sobbing and making the same promises. He was thankful she had kept her promise, and came home that day, willing to consume what the doctor prescribed. To an extent, of course- but they worked through it together.
Finally, once reader was settled, he watched as she closed her eyes. She had to be exhausted. He hoped she realized now that she was in a safe place, and they were on the same side, but he doubted it. Which was fine with him- he didn’t mind being the enemy for the time being.
“Will she make it?” Valentino asked as they stepped out of the room.
The doctor shrugged. “She should. She’s lucky you are so…attentive to your employees.”
Valentino felt his expression harden, a mask to protect helpself and his reputation. “It’s bad business to not be. I’ll check in on her tomorrow. If she needs anything, let me know and take care of it the best you can in the meantime. I expect updates- this one shows promise on my stage.”
And with that, he turned and walked out. The clock on his watch said five, and he needed to go home. Exhaustion swept over him, feelings of helplessness and the worry that that could have been his daughter. His wife. Both struggled with their own body issues. The desperate feeling of anxiety overwhelmed him. He checked both their vitals on the app he had synched to his phone. The numbers were fine, but just checking wasn’t enough. He needed to see them, needed them in his arms, and needed to make sure with his own eyes that they were safe. He walked from the elevator to the door of his wife’s office. He pushed open the door without a knock and closed it behind him.
She looked up from her computer. He smiled as he took in the sight of her. Pretty blonde hair pulled back into a loose bun. Blue light glasses to prevent headaches. And an outfit that she could dominate the entire world in.
“Hey honey, what’s up?” She asked as she stood up. “Everything okay?”
He pressed his lips to hers and wrapped her in his arms. “Just a long day.” Even to him, the words sounded flat. He pushed her head to his chest and held her against him for a heartbeat. He wasn’t ready to talk, not yet. At the moment, he just needed to hold her.
She gave him a knowing look. “Mhm, sure. Bed tonight?”
Of course she knew. He knew she knew. And she wouldn’t press the issue, not until he was ready. Or until bedtime. Whichever came first.
“Is our baby princessa home or did she stay late at school?” He asked as he slowly released her.
His wife pressed her cheek to his and gave him a nuzzle and a kiss. “She’s in her room last I checked. Why? Did she…”
“No, no. I just want to see my daughter,” he replied quickly. “Go back to work mi amore. So you can come home sooner.”
She looked at him with concern. “You did have a rough day. Let me finish up, I’ll be home in an hour.”
He gave her another kiss before letting her go back to her work, and he made his way upstairs to their own floor of the V tower. Their home they shared with his two best friends. Down her hallway, his daughter's door was closed and he hesitated for a moment but knocked anyway. He needed to see her, for his own sake.
“Baby Princessa? Are you awake?”
“Daddy? Yeah come in, I'm working on my homework.” He heard her reply.
He pushed open the doors of the once pink room. Now everything within reflected her current interests. Blacks. Grays. Reds. Purples. Not too different honestly than her Aunt Velvette’s. It was an adjustment, watching her grow from a little girl to a sullen teen, but he was grateful she had the support, love and anything else she needed.
“Hi bebita,” he walked over and kissed the top of her head. “How was your day?” He expected to be met with sullenness, an implied go away, Dad, I’m busy, that so frequently laced her voice these days.
To his surprise, she turned around and beamed. “It was long Daddy, but look I got an A on my Spanish test thanks to you!” She excitedly handed him the paper, “look! I even got the bonus words right!”
“Ah, pequeño amor, I am so proud of you! You did the work. Not me. But come here, give your papi a hug.”
She stood up and practically ran into his arms and jumped up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her for a moment, feeling her weight in his arms. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. She was okay. She was healthy. They still had plenty of time together to be sure they had stamped her eating issues early on in life.
“Daddy, are you okay?”
The sound of her concerned voice broke him from his thoughts. He gently released her. His daughter was okay, and she would continue to be okay.
“Yes, bebita. Come on, let’s pause your homework. Mom should be home soon, and let’s grab Aunt Velvette and Uncle Vox. We can go out to dinner and celebrate that A. How’s that sound?”
“Deal! Thanks Dad!” She jumped up and wrapped her arms around him again. “Best Papi ever!”
That he wasn’t so sure of, but he accepted the compliment anyway.
At dinner that night, he watched how much she consumed. How she reacted to the arrival of dinner. He searched desperately for hints that her issues were making a headway. To his relief, he saw nothing- no sign that her illness was anywhere close to showing its ugly self.
He laid in bed later that night, the weight of his wife’s head on his chest as he filled her in on the events of the day, his worries, his fears. His concern for both reader and his daughter. It felt good to get it all out, to have his other half to share life with.
“I just, I wish I had acted sooner,” he finished.
“But the doctor says he thinks she’ll be okay?” She asked as she pressed her lips to the center of his chest. “Then that’s what matters.”
“It could have been our daughter,” he said aloud. “I didn’t see any sign of it at dinner tonight, but it could have been her lying in that hospital bed. It could have been her so close to death.”
His wife sat up. “That’s really what’s bothering you, isn’t it? Not just the fact that you’re seeing your own employees- which lets admit, Val, you’ve started to give a damn about, but also seeing your worst fear for your own daughter blossom in front of your eyes.”
He nodded and followed ensuite. “I keep seeing that image of her, she was so thin it was terrifying. If I was even a week later…”
“But you weren't. You got reader into treatment on time, and are doing everything in your power to help her beat her illness. And, my love, our daughter is fine. We are doing everything we can to make sure that she continues to beat this. She’s in weekly therapy sessions, hell we haven’t had a dinner fight in almost two years.” She took his hands in his. “Val, you can’t beat yourself up over this.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hated this, the lack of control The feeling of helplessness. He wasn’t used to this feeling- Valentino was all about control.
“Babe, where are you going?” His wife asked.
“To check on our daughter.”
He pushed open the door to her bedroom and to his relief, he saw her curled up under her blankets, fast asleep. He stood there for a second, watching the rise and fall of her chest. He looked at his phone for the second time that day. Her vitals were fine. She was fine. Reader would be fine. He felt an arm wrap around his waist and he looked down at his wife.
“She’s as perfect as the day she was born,” his wife said softly. “Come back to bed, Val. She’s okay.”
Valentino allowed himself to exhale and back in his own bed, he laid his head on his wife’s chest and closed his eyes, allowing the sound of her heartbeat to fill his ears. “Mi amore, why do the people in my life not see the beauty that I see in them?”
“Val, I wish I knew the answer,” she replied tiredly as she held him. “But I don’t. But I can tell you that you’ve done enough for today, you did the right thing for reader, and you, my love, need to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.” She shifted herself under him and gripped him tighter. “I’ve got you. Now sleep.”
He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to wash over him. His wife was right. Reader would be okay, and his daughter was okay. He would take care of them all with everything he had.
#hazbin fluff#hazbin hotel#valentino x you#the vees x reader#vox x reader#valentino x wife#valentino#valentino x reader#the vees#valentino hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel valentino#valentino x female reader
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Say my name (König x witty! reader)
Pt1/ Pt.2 Tantrum
🐥A very short part two of two requests I had
.
Dreams of you tormented König every single night since that day at the armory.
His brain was like a swarm of wasps stinging at every nerve on his body every time you passed by, those gorgeus eyes of yours giving him this knowing look that spoke a thousand words, heavily implying that you have not forgotten what happend between you two. So he opted to ignore you like before. But worse. He'd avoid you now.
König was your colonel, you had to know of his commands, he was very aware of this so instead of using his walkie-talkie or inform you directly he decided to use other operators as homing pigeons and whenever they protested he'd show one of his intimidating glares and insist with his authoritative tone. It always worked. But not with Horangi.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
If König glared any harder he'd burst a vein tainting his cerulean eyes red with blood. "Deliver the message. It is an order."
Horangi took off his sunglasses, a weird sight to see, and squinted at his colonel like he was looking up at the blinding sun. "You want me to deliver the very important message of refiling this one particular paper to (c/n)? You are aware I could do it instead, we hold the same range." Once he was finished he slid his glasses back on.
König was stiff, eyes adverting to the side for a millisecond. "Do it anyway...?"
Horangi knew something was up, specially since one quick look at the paper reminded him that these documents were already finished weeks ago, he delivered them himself. His colonel had been quite distracted lately and that's something worrying in König judging by how hyper focused he was about everything, specially his job. The operator smiles under his facemask, he crosses his arms and tilts his head as if he had figured the most amusing thing ever.
"Having problems in paradise, sir?"
König took a moment to figure what he meant, this expression was new to him, soon he frowned. "There is no 'paradise' and no problem with me. The only problem here is that you are refusing to obey a direct order from your colonel-"
"König... Come on." Horangi insists but it's clear his friend doesn't want to keep dwelling on this, so he slightly folds the paper, nods at his colonel and leaves his office with a low "Right away, sir." before closing the door.
The way the Austrian deflated made his long body mold to his chair. He's been quite nervous to be around you, the memories of your last (very intimate) interaction became a constant on his brain affecting his work performance, even going as far as not letting him rest properly, the image of you appearing on his very own dreams, your voice a mermaid's call encouraging König to approach and do things to your body that never failed to wake him up with a raging boner. It has been roughly a year and a half since König was promoted to colonel and he was letting a simple operator like you put his position at risk. His hands took a pencil from a red cup he used as penholder and begun writing and doodling absentmindedly on a random white paper to occupy his hands while he waited for the refilled paper to be delivered to him. The distraction was very much needed.
His hands trembled a little as König applied sole pressure on the surface. Memories of your lips moving when you said his name with that sweet voice of yours carried his mind to the moment he felt them against his skin, the delicious feeling of your soft fingertips caressing along the skin of his long neck. The sudden (but expected) erection he got caused the colonel to growl, his other unoccupied hand fisted slamming the table twice before his eyes refocused looking down at the piece of paper he was drawing on. König had doodled a few realistic octopuses wearing crowns along some scribbles of his own name in different letterings and lastly, in the lower right corner of the paper under one of his scribbles was doodled something he has never done before. A human face. Your face. God knows the only thing König was able to draw was his favorite animal and little else... But the memory of your beautiful complexion, your hair, your cute nose, long lashes and scars amongst other things were so clear on his mind his hands carried the tip of the pencil in elegant strokes until he was met by your beautiful face smirking at him from the paper.
"Schau mich nicht so an." (Don't look at me like that.)
Seconds after admiring the doodle before him, the colonel couldn't help but pleasure himself using his memories and the small doodle he made of you as material. It was pathetic, it was disgusting, it was so embarrassing he couldn't help but feel compleat and utter shame and frustration, he couldn't cum... It wasn't enough, it wasn't real. But before he could dwell more on his troubles a quick knock on the door startled him. König quickly thrusted the paper inside one of his drawers, hid his aching cock in the confines of his pants and cleared his throat. "Do come in."
Horangi was back, he was quiet when he placed the paper on the table counter before he confusedly looked around König's table wondering what he was doing since his computer wasn't on and his table was well organized.
"Here uh, here it is." König thanked him with a nod, he sniffed loudly casually picking the paper handed to him, sky eyes scanning across the paper eating up the view of your beautiful calligraphy. But Horangi didn't leave, and that made König look up at him expectantly.
"Something the matter?" He asked. And oh there was plenty Horangi wanted to say and ask, but instead he simply said: "She's with someone else." It was said in a rush, as if Horangi was speaking with a stick shoved up his ass, like he was trying to tame an angry bull.
When König heard this he frowned slowly lowering the paper to his Ikea table's surface that had suffered too many slams to count. "With someone else." He repeats.
Horangi scratches his masked chin, flexes his hands and says "Probably a lover..."
"A lover." König echoes once more as if Horangi was giving him English lessons, his breaths coming a little hard making his mask inflate and deflate on the nose's area.
"Yeah, they were together in her office. Felt like I interrupted something."
König stands up pushing his chair back and leans his body forwards very slowly planting both hands on the table supporting his stance, the other operator leans back intimidated.
"Interrupted something." König blinks rapidly this time sounding demanding.
Horangi nods awkwardly.
"Something? What is 'something'?" His German accent was so pronounced it was almost difficult to understand what he was saying.
"I am not sure..." Horangi muttered, König was silent waiting for him to continue. "...Sex maybe...? They were sweaty, wearing baggy clothes but... In her office and standing too close. Even while she was completing the paperwork you sent-."
"Get out."
The KorTac operator turned back swiftly, rushed off and closed the door with a low thud. He didn't take one full step away before he heard a loud crash followed by a loud thud against the door, it was easy to guess what it could be what smashed the door when he looked downwards and spotted a thin wooden chair leg peeking out the splintered wood of the poor door, the tiny, white wheel at the tip was still rolling.
"Well, she's fucked." Horangi says before walking off.
#call of duty modern warfare#cod#call of duty#konig call of duty#konig cod#konig mw2#konig x reader#witty reader
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ISU released an article about Shoma
Two-time ISU World Champion and three-time Olympic medalist Shoma Uno of Japan has announced his retirement from competitive skating after a long and distinguished career and is ready to open a new chapter in his life.
“I have decided to retire from active competition,” Uno wrote on Instagram. “I am very grateful to have been able to continue skating for 21 years since I was 5 years old, and to have had a wonderful athletic life.”
The Japanese star will talk in more detail about his retirement and future plans in a press conference scheduled for May 14.
The 26-year-old looks back at a career with many highlights and also difficult times, but he always came back, proving his talent and showing resilience. When five-year-old Shoma went to the ice rink in his hometown of Nagoya with his father to have fun, he had no idea that he would become a World Champion, Olympic medalist and super star of the sport. He only knew that the enjoyed skating and kept coming back to the rink, taking lessons. He trained with Machiko Yamada, the coach of Japanese skating icon Midori Ito and also with Mihoko Higuchi for many years and worked his way up in the skating world.
Uno debuted in the ISU Junior Grand Prix in 2011 and was so tiny that he was unable to look over the boards. He won a few medals on the Junior circuit but his breakthrough came in what was his last Junior season in 2014/15 when he qualified for the first time for the ISU Junior Grand Prix Final where he claimed gold. Shoma went on to take the ISU World Junior title in 2015, in what was his fourth and final appearance at the event (climbing from 10th in 2012, 7th in 2013 and 5th in 2014).
Once at the senior level, Uno quickly became one of the top Skaters in the World. In his World debut in 2016 he placed 7th but then the next year won silver, his first of a total of four World medals. In his first Olympic Winter Games in 2018, Shoma skated off with the silver medal and returned on to the Olympic podium four years later, earning the bronze. In 2022 and 2023 Uno crowned himself ISU World Champion.
However, in between there was a time of struggle. In the 2019/20 season, for the first (and only) time in his career, Uno finished off the podium in the ISU Grand Prix Series. He had left his coaches since childhood and struggled with confidence.
“At first, to be honest, I was thinking about finishing my career,“ he said in an interview at Skate America 2021 about this time.
“I did not know how much longer I would keep going. But imaging the end (I thought) maybe I'll enjoy the rest of this career as an athlete.“
Uno started to work with two-time World Champion Stéphane Lambiel as his coach and choreographer in fall 2019 and soon came back strong. He grew as an athlete and a performer with beautiful programs that highlighted his versatility: “Turandot” (Free Skating 2017/18), “Great Spirit” (Short Program 2020/21), “Bolero” (Free Skating 2021/22) and “Spiegel im Spiegel” (Free Skating 2023/24) to name a few.
At the same time, the Japanese star always pushed the limits technically and made history by becoming the first Skater to perform a quadruple flip in competition in 2016.
“When I train and want to become better, it's not good for me to work on what I can already do. If I'm satisfied with just giving 80 per cent, I'm not good. The right training for me is to push my limits,” Uno said in an interview.
The Japanese Skater has an independent mind and a fun personality. He has a Youtube Channel where you can meet his three toy poodles Emma, Baron and Toro.
“When I am on the ice, I am totally focused on my sport, but when I'm off the ice, I am sure most people know I am just a lazy slacker, but I thought that would be a good way to show to the people how I am off the ice, but still this is Shoma Uno,” he explained.
When asked who inspires him the most, Shoma’s surprising answer was:
"Myself. Of course, I think I am inspired by many people and heard some good words from everyone, too, but in the end when you break it down, I do feel that it is myself that inspires me and sadly, I don't listen to anyone. Sometimes I listen, but mostly I go with my own mind,” he added.
For sure Uno will follow his own ideas in the years to come but you can certainly expect to see him gracing the ice in shows for a while.
#shoma uno#figure skating#isu#happy retirement shoma#it's a nice article that I think sums up Shoma's career pretty well#also adding links to his Insta and Youtube is a good move as I still think both acc are quite unknown among non-Shoma fans
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OnStage
a/n: replacing y/n with yan/yannchan; I think it’s a cute alternative ~ please love kuran with me with this idea I’ve had in mind to write since day ONE♡
I was told reader has the same energy as Maxine from X(2022) … do with that as you will lol
part 2 in progress (?)~
✦ •·································•✦ʚ♡ɞ✦•··································• ✦
Blinking a few times to properly adjust the contact lenses you’d just put in, you watched the blurry vision of yourself in the mirror slowly turn into a clear image. Beautifully dolled up with lash extensions and not a strand of hair out of place. You’d had to admit, you looked immaculate.
Adjusting the last final touches of your lip liner and the thin straps of your outfit, you gave the duel image of yourself a wink and a mocking kiss before skipping toward the exit of the dressing room.
It was difficult to recall exactly how long you’d been working under the Yotsurugi, but due to your late father leaving behind such a massive debt, it fell to you to pay off the rest.
It wasn’t as heartbreaking as it sounded; adulthood wasn’t exactly as glamorous as you had imagined it would be, after graduating school. Finding work was hard— hard enough that even your own father with an already established career had to even lean upon the Yotsurugi family for financial support to help get by.
When he’d finally kicked the bucket, an accident that was surely his fault anyway, loan sharks from Ikebukuro became adamant on receiving their fair compensation. Obviously having nothing else to give them, you meekly offered to pay the debt off fairly, with good-old-fashion labor.
Luckily, the boss of the Yotsurugi’s Ikebukuro branch had been lurking behind, in case there had been any fall out. Having taken a good long look at you, he agreed to your offer with a weak wave to follow them.
It became clear you weren’t the only one who had been caught in this type of situation. While it was obvious the Yotsurugi were a big deal in the crime syndicate, they were evidently merciful. You heard from a few other girls working along side you that Kongo Yotsurugi had advocating for fair debt repayment with no interest. You were lucky it was them, and not some other shady loan-sharks who would kill you to settle the score.
And just as mercifully, you’d been offered a few different occupational options on how you could work yourself to freedom; dishwashing, waitressing, stage cleaner… but nothing payed quite as good as stripping.
It was your own choice to take the job. And even though you knew in the back of your mind it wasn’t really your choice, you were happy.
There was a joy; a rush of excitement and endorphins that made you absolutely shine on stage. The roaring cheers, the glittering lights and dancing rain of money every night truly made you feel alive.
You weren’t sure how much longer it would take to pay off your debt, but you couldn’t help wishing it would never end.
Having lost yourself in the pleasure of dancing once again, your chest heaved with deep breaths, heart beating a million times per minute. You smiled so wide, giggling to yourself when finally meeting eyes with some of your regular visitors. They were so happy to see you. And the feeling made you soar.
Waving a cutesy goodbye and a final shake of your ass to the roaring crowd, you skipped back behind the stage and accepted the water handed to you by another girl.
“You were amazing again today yanchan ~”
“I know right, she’s like a fairy with the way she spins around the pole! I’m so jealous~” another girl squealed, hugging you tightly and spinning you around.
“Aww thanks babes! Good luck out there Aya!”
You kissed the girl on her cheek before sending her off.
Over the course of your stay, you had made many close friends with the girls you worked with. Some came and went, but you always got along well with them all, and all the new girls came to view you as a big sister of sorts.
No matter how you got into this line of work, or how disgusting others may call you and your friends, you were living a life where you were finally happy. You felt fulfilled in the work you did, the people you worked with, the bed you slept in, and the food you ate. You never wanted for anything more.
Life was actually good.
Robing yourself in a cute short skirt and a puffy jacket, you came out to the VIP floor to order a quick drink before your next dance.
“Leeeeo~ drink pleeasse!~” you sang upon your arrival. The bar keeper looked your way, your cute display earning you a side smirk and a chuckle. “Even’in Yan. Good show just now, looking as brilliant as ever.” He complimented before picking through the liquor in front of him to conquer up your favorite weekday drink.
“I’d say,” added in a chuckling older gentleman sitting just a few seats over from where you sat. “Haven’t gotten this worked up by a dance like that before.”
You smiled at his sideways compliment, and lifted your newly gifted glass to the man. “Im happy you enjoyed it sir~ I hope to see you for my next dance.” You winked, and began scooting off the stool. Before your feet met the ground, the man had successfully grabbed your hand to stop you.
“Don’t bother, I know what you’ve got girl. And I like it. I’ll be sure to compensate you for all the money you’ll lose out on by skipping your next stage show. Come dance for me in a private room, won’t ya?” He looked down at you with a suggestive gaze. It wasn’t like he was bad looking, older men had their charm, especially the ones who frequented this night club.
But you weren’t interested in private dances. The glory of the job was the high you got from being on stage, not the money you got from it.
You smiled politely, confidently snaking your hand to play with his fingers, before sliding them out of his grasp. “Thanks for the offer baby, but I’m booked~ throw me a band on stage and I might indulge you in a drink and conversation once I’m done, ‘kay?~”
The gentleman narrowed his eyes, and toed down the stool, grabbing onto your forearm this time. “Not interested in seeing the same thing over and over again. Only way you’re getting my money is in a private room, catch me girly?” He grew closer, despite your trying to pull away. “I got lots of it. Enough to buy you out, if you please me well. Promise.~” he slurred in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
Behind the bar, your bartender had already pressed the bouncer alert, acting cool. Clubs like these had rules—strict ones, after all.
You glared at the persistent man, loosing your gleeful attitude. “Not interested. I recommend taking that hand off me, ‘nless you wanna lose it, baby.” You spat sweetly back in his ear. The closeness sent shivers down his spine, but not with fear. He smirked at the excitement, thinking it was some kind of game. “I’ll take my chances.”
He tried pulling you with him, but before he has the chance to move a foot, a man with white hair and vibrant tattoos blocked the way. You immediately felt safe, heart pounding at the sight of your boss; Kuran Yotsurugi.
“Kuran!~” you sang happily, yanking yourself free from the older man, and hopped to hide behind your shirtless boss. “Sir didn’t wanna take no for an answer~” you pouted, but seemingly unphased, otherwise.
“And what was he asking?” He asked in monotone. “Wanted a ‘private dance’. Was giving me fuck-me eyes too… Made me feel grosss.” You answered, watching as the expression of the older man sink into fear.
“It wasn’t like that! She’s lying!” He groaned, trying to play it off as a misunderstanding. “Dancers these days are so full of themselv—-“ he began to ramble, before Kuran landed a solid right hook to the guest’s jaw. “Fact of the matter is you made one of my girls uncomfortable. That’s reason enough for me to kick you out.” Kuran squatted down to meet the man eye to eye.
“My girl said she said no, so the answer’s no. Simple. Understand?” He asked slowly, coming in close to make sure he was heard.
The man gulped, holding his face before nodding hurriedly. “I’ll be more careful in the future.” He accepted.
Kuran nodded back, and slapped the man on the back of the head before standing up. “You’re out. Don’t come back for a week. Make sure you learn your lesson, ‘n maybe then I’ll let you back in.”
Once all was said and gone, you giggled, clinging onto Karan’s arm. “Boss always comes to save the day~” you acknowledged, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder before he sighs. He patted your head roughly, and pushed you off with barely any force. “Just maintaining the order ‘round here. Would’a done it for any of the other girls too.” He huffed. You nodded, perching into a bar stool again.
“I know~ that’s what makes me love my boss sooo much after all. He’s always so considerate and protective of us~ A hero, a man among men!” You rambled in praise, making a few of the other girls who came upon witnessing the scuffle giggle. “We all appreciate your hard work in keeping this club a safe place for us to work.” You sealed your long winded praise, and finished off the drink you ordered just minutes ago.
The other girls began to fawn in a similar fashion, thanking Kuran for his ruthless display of protection.
He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at your rallied attention, and began walking away. “Shut up and get back to work.”
Despite his standoffish demeanor, you and everyone else knew just how good of a guy Kuran was, and aimed to please him however you could.
Your smile softened as you watched him walk off, yearning for the chance to truly express your gratitude, or the developing feelings of love you’d felt for him ever since he gave you this beautiful new life.
Blowing a kiss to him behind his back, you hopped off the stool, and skipped back behind stage to ready yourself for the final dance of the night.
#I couldn’t wait any longer#I had to post this now#negai no astro#negai no astro x reader#astro royale#astro royale x reader#Yotsurugi kuran#kuran yotsurugi#kuran#yotsurugi#yotsurugi x reader#kuran x reader#kuran Yotsurugi x reader
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you were flirty by nature, that's just the way you were born. you never really considered yourself as introverted, always taking any opportunity to attract the attention of those around you. that often involved flirting with your acquaintances, using your charm to win over people almost immediately.
the new people you met sometimes found your humor weird and borderline worrisome, but as time went on, almost everyone got used to you and your peculiar way of joking around.
flirting was the best way you knew to ease the awkwardness of meeting new people. your out of pocket commentary never failed to ease the tension and your conversations with friends often ended up in laughing fits.
throughout your three long years at UA, you'd faced a lot of hardships, like every other student who'd made it this far into the hero program. despite that, you'd managed to keep your flirty personality, entertaining the rest of class 3-A with your remarks on the daily.
izuku midoriya had no doubt gotten used to your incessant flirting over the years, though it never failed to fluster him when it was in his direction.
during your first year at UA, by some dumb luck, you'd gotten incredibly close with the aspiring hero. you found yourself on call with him at night more times than you'd liked to admit, talking about anything and everything.
your bond became even stronger once your whole class moved into the dorms. you'd spent almost every night with izuku, either in each other's rooms or on the rooftop of the building, sharing a cigarette or two on rare occasions.
it didn't take long for izuku to see beyond your flirty remarks and crude jokes. he was one of the only people to not judge you at face value and actually try to get to know you.
maybe that's why you fell in love with him so deeply.
he was used to you randomly turning towards him in the middle of class with that vibrant smile of yours, spewing something along the lines of 'hey handsome, how you doin' today?' or 'you mind if i look at your notes, pretty?'.
izuku didn't let your comments phase him too much, or at least he tried not to let them. he couldn't help the way his heart skipped a beat whenever you'd use that compelling voice of yours to call him whatever pet name you had in mind for that day.
he often scolded himself for allowing you to worm your way into his thoughts. although he considered you his best friend, he knew fully well that best friends didn't think about each other as often as he thought about you. you basically lived in his head rent free and your constant flirting with the poor boy didn't help.
he knew you were that way with everyone. he wasn't judging at all, he knew your humor was just wired that way. he knew you probably saw him as another friend to joke around with. he knew you didn't feel the same way as he did. yet he couldn't stop himself from indulging in your jokes a bit too much.
despite having grown a lot during the last years, both in size and in mindset, he just couldn't shake the grip you had on him. izuku couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was so enthralled by you.
maybe it was the way your eyes fucking sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the windows, or the way you smiled oh so adorably at him. maybe it was the image of your in your oversized shirt and shorts in the dorm kitchen, trying and failing miserably at making scrambled eggs. or maybe it was the way you listened to him, the way you understood him. the way you encouraged him to be the best version of himself. the way you were always there.
he knew he was fucked the moment he caught himself wishing you were there, sleeping by his side after a particularly hard day of training. he knew he was fucked once he realized you were the first person he wanted to share everything with, the good and the bad. he knew he was fucked when the sight of you sharing flirty remarks with sero made his stomach churn in disgust. he knew he was fucked when after months of denying it, he finally came to terms with being in love with his best friend.
he knew he was fucked, yet what could he do about it? he definitely couldn't keep pretending he didn't feel so strongly for you, but he also couldn't just confess. the thought of being rejected by you made him want to vomit.
he felt pathetic. how could one of the most powerful future heroes be so tightly wrapped around the finger of his best friend? as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was at your beck and call. he'd do anything, anything for you. and he felt pathetic for it. pathetic for not being able to face his feelings. pathetic for feeling them in the first place, and pathetic for not having the courage to share them with you.
izuku was overthinking every possible aspect of your relationship, and maybe that's why he failed to notice the drastic change in your behaviour. you'd stopped joking around with everyone like you used to. you'd stopped with the flirty comments and out of pocket remarks with everyone, everyone except for him.
your sudden change in behaviour didn't come as a suprise to any of your friends, considering everyone but izuku himself knew how you felt about him. it wasn't like you kept it a secret, you were pretty obvious with your advances. ranging from the constant flirting to the intimate moments you shared late at night with him, you tried every possible way of showing him how you felt about him without saying it.
talking about your feelings was never your strong suit, so it took you a while to realise that your usual tactics wouldn't work on izuku. unfortunately for you, you came to the conclusion that you had to be direct with your feelings, which made you practically shiver in fear.
you spent months building up the nerve to quit the foolish act and straight up confess to him, which was unusual for you, considering you were one of the most direct people to exist. nothing made you shy or hesitant, nothing except for him.
you didn't hear about izuku getting hurt until late in the evening. he was one of the lucky few that managed to become a sidekick to a hero while still in training. of course, you always had faith in your best friend. you knew that if anyone could progress so quickly, it would be him. that didn't stop you from worrying though.
when you heard about his new placement, you were incredibly enthusiastic for him. you pestered him about his new job as a sidekick non stop, sometimes even annoying yourself with the amount of excitement you felt for the boy.
but of course, you also knew how dangerous it was. your faith in your boy didn't stop you for worrying. for a little while, you had disregarded the idea of izuku ever getting hurt, considering how strong he was. that was incredibly foolish of you.
you first heard the news from aizawa. izuku had gotten into a minor accident involving a villain with a firework quirk (how fucking ridiculous), resulting in the boy's arm being shattered.
of course, broken bones were nothing new to izuku, but that didn't stop you from going absolutely nuts over his injury. after finding out he was currently getting patched up by recovery girl, you didn't waste any time before dashing out of the building and towards the infirmary, needing to see the boy immediately.
the door of the office flew open. you had forgotten to knock in your panic, but that didn't matter in the slightest to you right now. as soon as your eyes landed on the boy, up and on his feet, you allowed yourself to exhale in relief.
your relief was soon replaced by rage. in a few strides, you were in front of him, your palms slamming into his chest in frustration. 'you fucking idiot!' you whisper-shouted, not wanting to disturb anyone at this ungodly hour, yet still trying to express your anger.
izuku's eyes widened upon your entrance, his ecstacy soon replaced by surprise. he had been mostly healed by recovery girl, so the slam his chiseled chest took didn't really phase him. what grabbed his attention were your teary eyes and the way your eyebrows were furrowed in anger.
'y/n, wh-' he was cut off by your hand on his mouth, preventing him from saying anything further.
'no. you're going to shut up and listen.' you waited for him to reluctantly nod in agreement before letting your hand drop from his face. 'listen up, you moron. you ever scare me like that again and i'll kill you. i'm not kidding.'
'it's just a broken ar-'
'shush! i'm talking.'
you paused to compose yourself before continuing.
'do you know how badly you scared me? aizawa with that damn look on his face made me think you died or something.'
you exhaled shakily, trying to steady your racing heart.
'i know you want to be number one and i know you're bound to get hurt in the field, whether i like it or not, but you can't do that to me! you can't just go and get yourself hurt while i'm sitting on the couch unable to do anything to protect you!'
you were aware of how irrational you were being, but you just couldn't fathom the thought of losing him.
'y/n, i-'
'i can't bear it, okay? i can't bear the thought of you not being there anymore. i don't want to think about living a life without you in it. especially not when i haven't even gotten the chance to show you how madly in love with you i am, idiot.'
you sighed in defeat, letting the words slip in your tired state. it was far too late once you realised your mistake.
at your words, izuku's eyes widened even more, his jaw hanging slack in surprise.
'shit, i didn't mean to say that.'
you groaned in annoyance at yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to ignore the look on the speechless boy's face.
'okay, look, i know you must think i'm a whore or an attention seeker or something, especially since i haven't given you any reason to think otherwise-'
'i don't think you're a-'
'i know i haven't done the best job of expressing how i feel towards you, mostly because i'm a coward-'
'y/n-'
'and i know it might be too late to say it, especially since we graduate soon, but-'
his lips slammed into yours, his good arm latching itself onto your waist. you barely surpressed the squeak of surprise at the sensation of his lips on yours. before you could even register what was happening, you hands were on his shoulders, your lips pressing further into his.
you inhaled his scent, the tension in your shoulders easing by the second. he slowly pulled away from you, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.
'i love you too. and i'm sorry for worrying you, i didn't know you'd be this affected by me getting injured.' he teased slightly, the corners of his lips quirking upwards into a soft smile.
internally, he was screaming. he tried his best to keep his composure, though if you looked at him closely enough, you'd notice the way his hands trembled and how shaky his breathing was.
'oh.' you breathed out, clearing your throat as your cheeks flared a bright red. 'thank you?'
izuku grinned at your awkwardness. he rarely got to see you so flustered, as in most situations he was the one completely smitten with you.
'you're welcome?' he returned the energy with a small smile, his hand squeezing your waist in reassurance. 'you could've saved me a lot of overthinking by telling me earlier, you know.'
you regained you composure, matching his smile with one of your own. 'let me make it up to you.' you muttered before pulling him closer, connecting your lips to his for the second time that night.
you'd never lose your flirty personality, but you'd be damned before you used your charm on anyone but izuku midoriya.
#izuku x reader#midoriya x reader#izuku midoriya#bnha#mha#mha x reader#bnha x reader#confession#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#x reader#reader insert#gender neutral reader#x you
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Some FalconBaron things because I'm mentally ill ✨️
Hello again, I know this ship is weird or tedious for some people (apparently I'm the only idiot in this right now) but I'm in my semester finals and tbh, I'm too tired to do anything other than my comfort ship sooo aha sorry BUT HEY, NEW ART :D‼️‼️‼️
First,, this JAJSJS— I saw the image on Twitter and since I'm an idiot in love with Anthony/Sam and his biceps I had to do it. It's a wip and the phone is Sam's, Zemo sent the photo to Buck to make him envious (I'm the envious one)
And second, this little doodle. I'm still thinking about their genderbend versions and I've wanted to draw something like that for a long time. I don't have much to say, I like the look of both😭💖
Yeah have a gudnait :3
#digitalart#fanart#marvel#marvel mcu#mcu#marvel fanart#sam wilson#sam wilson fanart#helmut zemo#helmut zemo fanart#falconbaron#tfatws#the falcon and the winter soldier#genderbend#silly ship#rarepair#man idk let me be
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Six Of One
welcome to another episode of "Jess projects her experiences onto fictional characters" 😂 it's been a little while! (i strongly suspect that this experience of mine is the 'tism somehow, hence me subjecting my autistic king Declan to it)
anyway, the title is a truncation of the phrase "six of one, half dozen of another" which means that two options are equal in value and, thus, it doesn't actually matter which you choose. one is as good as the other.
| Jordeclan | Gen | 2.3k | Established Relationship | Verbal Shutdown | Accommodations | Fluff |
(also on AO3)
The new studio space was spacious, well-lit, and blissfully free of vegetable-esque breasts. This one also had an elevator instead of three flights of stairs, thank God. Declan stepped out of it and into the familiar scent of turpentine and canvas, strong even though all the doors along the hallway were currently closed. A small, private smile tugged at his lips, despite his mood.
Perhaps it wasn’t right to call it a mood. By all accounts, Declan felt fine. His day had gone well so far, with a number of business transactions handled smoothly and efficiently, a phone number attained for a frustratingly difficult to track down associate-of-an-associate-of-an-associate, and several texts exchanged with Ronan with hardly any insults involved. It was breezy outside with just a hint of chill in the air signaling the incoming cold snap. The barista at the café had called him Derek again, but she’d finally gotten his coffee order just right. Matthew had only been five minutes late to soccer practice instead of his usual ten.
Declan had had far more stressful days than this one—he could practically see the look Ronan would give him for the sheer magnitude of that understatement—and yet he couldn’t help the tightness in his shoulders as he let himself into the studio.
Jordan was at her easel, engrossed in whatever she was working on today. Music spilled from her laptop, as it often did when she painted, and her voluminous cloud of curls jounced with every enthusiastic bop of her head. The baggy jean overalls she’d taken to wearing had been released from her shoulders, straps instead tied haphazardly around her waist to leave her in a mildly paint-splattered sports bra instead. She was barefoot.
Some of Declan’s tension eased.
The Artist Unbound, oil on canvas, he thought. Or perhaps pastels, to capture the soft haziness of the feeling that grew in his chest to see her like this. Not for the first time, he considered taking Jordan up on her offer to teach him how to actually make art himself, instead of only appreciating others’. It was always said with a teasing lilt, but she meant it. Every time, she meant it.
It wasn’t until one track flipped over to another less to Jordan’s liking that she noticed his presence. She immediately rerouted from the laptop to dance her way across the room, smiling, until she was close enough to kiss him.
“About time, Pozzi,” she said, arms sliding around Declan’s waist. “I was beginning to think you’d fallen down a manhole or slipped through a sewer grate or something equally cartoonish and ridiculous. Not because I thought it likely—I mean, let’s be honest, if anyone is going to fall prey to cartoon physics in this, the real world, it would definitely be Ronan—but I’ll admit, I did get a certain amount of schadenfreude from the mental image. Hope you don’t mind, love you lots, anyway, what took you so long? Did Matthew lose a fight with his cleats again?”
Declan opened his mouth to tell her about the Masshole who cut him off right when he needed to change lanes to catch his exit. He was going to tell her about the lady’s flowery “Choose Kindness” bumper sticker and make a quip about irony. “If only I could be that lacking in self-awareness,” he planned to say, “it’s probably so much easier to live that way.”
He didn’t say any of it. He thought it. He thought it clearly and fluently, all the words lined up and ready to go. Then he opened his mouth and nothing came out.
His shoulders inched back up toward his ears. Jordan’s fingers dug into his back, no doubt feeling the tension creep in there as well, and she pulled back a bit to look at him.
“Alright, bruv?”
Declan closed his mouth. He nodded. It both was and was not the truth.
Jordan tilted her head to the side, lips pursing. She didn’t look concerned, which Declan appreciated, but the scrutiny brought more color to his cheeks than he would’ve liked.
Tone light and easy, she said, “Hand-Cat got your tongue with its weird little hands?”
That mental image, every bit as cartoonish as Ronan falling down a manhole and twice as disturbing, yanked a laugh out of him. Jordan’s smile was smug, like it always was when she managed to make Declan laugh in a way that would embarrass him if he’d done it in public, but she was still watching him carefully. Looking for clues, maybe, or for an explanation.
Declan wanted to tell her, It’s fine.
He wanted to tell her, You don’t need to worry, it’s only that my mouth has spontaneously developed a dysfunction where it refuses to produce sound.
He wanted to tell her, This happens sometimes. No, I don’t know why.
He wanted to tell her, All the words are still in here, I just can’t seem to get them out.
Instead, he fished his phone out of his pocket. He opened up their text thread and typed out a message, turning it around for her to read instead of sending it.
[Do you mind if I talk like this?]
Jordan had to pull back further to squint at the small screen, tightening her grip on his waist to keep from tipping over backwards. A crease appeared between her eyebrows, lips pursing again. Her eyes darted to his face for a mere second, assessing, and then her face cleared. She shrugged expansively.
“Doesn’t make any difference to me, Pozzi. Words in air, words on a screen—six of one, if you know what I mean. Call it a baker’s dozen if you throw in emojis. Did Matthew teach you about those yet? The silly little pictures the kids are using these days?”
Declan rolled his eyes. He typed out another message.
[I’m acquainted with the concept of emojis, yes. I didn’t even need Matthew’s tutelage in them.]
He included a little old man emoji to punctuate the statement. It might have been the first time he had ever actually utilized an emoji in a text message, but Jordan didn’t need to know that. It made her laugh, anyway, which was the important thing.
She stepped back out of their embrace, her hands taking a brief detour to squeeze his ass before letting him go completely, and dug her own phone out of one of her overall pockets. She held it up with a jaunty little shake.
“Mind if I respond out loud?” she asked, walking backwards in the direction of her half-finished painting. “Only, this shit’s messy, and touchscreens and fingerpainting don’t get along very well. Though I suppose I could make something avant garde out of it. Statement about the sanitization of the internet and corporate whatever-you-like killing the creative spirit and whatnot. You’d have to buy me a new phone after, if I sacrificed this one to the art gods, but I know you’re good for it.”
[You can talk normally.]
Declan sent this text, since Jordan had retreated too far to read it from his screen. She checked the message and nodded. Then she spent a minute fiddling with her phone, humming along to the laptop’s next selection. She propped it up on the edge of her easel, far enough away from the canvas to not be in danger of getting splattered, with an air of triumph.
“Futzed with the settings,” she explained. “So it won’t time out and turn off as fast and I won’t have to keep trying to unlock it with messy fingers. If you say something and I don’t notice for too long, whistle or some shit.”
Declan watched as she picked up her abandoned brush, loaded it with paint, and set about her work without further ado. It took him a moment to recalibrate. He wasn’t certain exactly what reaction he’d expected, but an absence of questions, comments, or concerns apparently had not been it. Eventually, he shucked off his jacket and took up his usual position on the couch, angled just so to have the best view of Jordan herself and also a glimpse of her piece as it came together under her deft hand.
Normally, this was the part of the evening when Declan would talk. Well, he spent a lot of every day talking, but this was when he would actually say things. Things that mattered to him, stories he wanted to tell, jokes too inappropriate to make in a business setting, anecdotes no one else in his life would’ve cared to hear but Jordan always did. Now, he turned his phone over in his hand a few times before typing out, [Missed my exit. Some Masshole with a “choose kindness” bumper sticker cut me off in traffic, if you can believe that.]
Jordan’s phone buzzed with the incoming text. He watched as she finished a careful stroke of the brush before glancing down at the screen, still lit up. She snorted.
“Choose kindness? The irony’s killing me, mate. D’you think she takes selfies sipping $18 frappuccinos and captions them with Love Is Love and #positivity?”
[Almost certainly.] He added a peace sign emoji. It made Jordan laugh. [But Matthew was very nearly on time today, I’ll have you know.]
Jordan’s gasp was theatrical. “Really? He does learn!”
[Miracle of miracles. He didn’t even bitch when I said we didn’t have time to stop for McDonald’s. Truly, a day of firsts.]
Part of Declan thought that maybe Matthew had chosen to let it go on purpose—one of those rare moments of perceptiveness that were growing less rare with time, now that Matthew was making an effort toward, as he put it, “learning how to think better”. On the way to soccer practice had been when Declan’s mouth had started to betray him. He’d had to think “Matthew, put your seatbelt on” six times before he’d managed to actually communicate it audibly. The McDonald’s question had been met with a curt “no time for that”, forced out with far more effort than made any kind of sense for four very simple words that Declan said on a regular basis. By the time they’d reached the school, it had been a true struggle to muster up a goodbye, and once he had, he’d known there would be no more verbalizing tonight.
Matthew hadn’t seemed upset or like he thought Declan was mad at him, which was a relief because he wasn’t. There had been nothing wrong. Declan wasn’t even anxious about anything, beyond his general baseline. He’d thought plenty of perfectly amiable thoughts in Matthew’s direction on that trip. He’d told himself to say them instead, over and over. The rest of him just hadn’t cooperated.
He wondered now if, had he not been driving, Matthew would have minded him texting instead. Matthew wasn’t text-phobic like Ronan. He probably would’ve been over the moon about the opportunity to introduce emoji usage into their conversations, regardless of whatever malfunction of Declan’s speech capabilities had provided it.
Jordan certainly didn’t seem to mind. She chatted away the same way she always did, with only a slight delay when her eyes were too busy to spare. Text wasn’t a particularly expressive medium for conveying tone, but she knew him well enough to infer when he was being wry. She did send him an amused look for how long it took him to type out several paragraphs’ worth of commentary on the Henry Wallis wannabe from down the hall, but she put down her brush to read it all eagerly enough that he didn’t feel judged for it.
Despite the alteration to their routine, it felt just the same as it always did.
Declan wanted to tell her, I love you.
Instead, he texted, [You’re really not going to ask, are you?]
He’d been quiet—so to speak—for long enough that Jordan had to double-tap at her screen with the back of her cleanest knuckle to access the notification. She didn’t need clarification or context. She just wiped some carmine paint onto the thigh of her overalls and said, “Is it something that needs asking about?”
Declan turned that question over in his head. He would have asked, if he’d been in her position. He’d been asking himself for hours. Hell, he’d been asking himself for years, what this was and why it happened and why he couldn’t just spit it out when he got like this. He’d yet to find an answer or a solution.
But Jordan hadn’t needed one. All she’d needed was a way to keep hearing him.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
He couldn’t say it right now, but he could wrap his arms around Jordan’s waist and press a kiss to her shoulder. She set down her brush in favor of reaching up to bury her fingers in his curls, cupping the back of his head to keep him close. She was undoubtedly getting in his hair. He decided that he didn’t care very much. They stayed like that for most of a song, swaying gently, Jordan humming along contentedly despite this particular track not being of a genre that easily lent itself to humming.
On the easel, Jordan’s phone screen dimmed, sleep mode impending. Declan picked it up before it could go fully dark. He typed in a text and held it up for Jordan to see.
[Thank you.]
Jordan wiggled around to face him properly, settling her arms around his neck and somehow managing to trap the phone between their chests. She kissed him, sweet and slow.
“Anytime, Pozzi,” she murmured against his lips. “Six of one, know what I mean?”
Declan thought, I’m starting to.
#Jordeclan#Declan Lynch#Jordan#TRC#TDT#fics by me#autistic!Declan#which is not said explicitly IN the fic so i didn't tag it on AO3#but it's true in my heart and is part of my projecting LMAO so i'm tagging it that way here for my sake XD
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